"Beautiful Day"

31 July 2017:

"It's a beautiful day
Don't let it get away
It's a beautiful day" --U2, "Beautiful Day"

I was just sitting here feeling anxious about silly things and this song came on Pandora. About half-way through, I stopped and thought about the song itself. And then I had a memory...

My friend Bonnie, sits in her apartment in Greensboro, hosting a bunch of us as we play some game (maybe Risk? it was Risk a lot!) after gathering for a grad-school potluck (translation: everybody brings something cheap, it probably isn't fancy, but it's still good).

Clear as day, I can see her in a kind of complete-image memory: she's shuffling cards and singing this chorus as it plays in the background. And we are all, in that moment, pretty happy. We are poor, always a bit (or a lot) stressed, but we have each other and we have our cheap potlucks and board games and laughter and music.

So much has changed since then, and Bonnie died at a cruelly early age, but that little memory reminds me to pause for a bit and stop stressing over little stuff. It's a beautiful day, after all.

Baby Shower

30 July 2017: "Everyone's here!" --my friend Cara, walking into her surprise baby shower today.

I haven't seen Cara, who used to be one of our lecturers, since her going-away party about two years ago. But she is back home (in PA) for an extended visit with her parents this summer and her family surprised her with this shower. She's a wonderful person so it as no surprise to learn that her family and friends are also wonderful.

Brenda (our department's amazing secretary), Cara, and I.

Baby Driver

29 July 2017: "He had an accident when he was a kid. Still has a hum in the drum. Plays music to drown it out. And that's what makes him the best." --Doc talking about Baby, in Baby Driver

I wasn't sure about seeing this movie, but Amy wanted to and I had heard enough about it to intrigue me. It is fun (if hyper violent, which isn't my favorite thing...) and weirdly charming. I also found myself wishing I could physically move through the world Baby does. Kid is smooth. And I love what the film does with the concept of always having (and, in fact, needing) music in your head.

Five Things Podcast

"That really had a profound impact on who I am in a big way because I constantly saw my mother doing social justice work as a lunch lady and I saw all of those cafeteria workers doing that because, you know, there was need in our community and there was injustice and things like that. And I saw those women right a lot of those wrongs. I saw my mother pay for children's lunches and I saw ladies slip them extra rolls or whatever, but doing it in a way that was never self-congratulatory or shaming or anything. So often, since then, in my own role in social justice movements, people have asked me 'What's the first act of social justice you ever saw?' and that was definitely in the lunch room." --Silas House, in a lovely interview on the Five Things podcast, talking about his mother's work as a lunch lady in his elementary school.

I met House back when he first visited Shepherd and kind of instantly fell for the guy. I mean, not in a romantic way, but in a "he is so amazing/wish he was my friend" kind of way. And this was after I had already fallen hard for his books.What he does in this interview encapsulates so much of what makes him compelling and admirable and makes his voice such an important one. Look at what he does there by linking lunch ladies with social justice: he takes working-class women and connects their basic decency and compassion--and their every day interaction with real people--with a term that the right-wing has vilified. Because what these women did was social justice. Because social justice is a good and (duh) just thing. 

This interview is so charming--the perfect companion for my morning walk. And what a cool concept for a podcast.

"Foul Shots: A Clinic"

27 July 2017:

"...and the lovingly unlaunched
foul shots we’re talking about now—
the clinic having served to bring us
together—circle eccentrically
in a sky of stolid orbits
as unlike as you and I are
from the arcs those foul shots
leave behind when they go in." --William Matthews, "Foul Shots: A Clinic"

Kind of a quiet day here, one spent doing a lot of thinking about writing and not as much actual writing as I would have liked. But yes, that thinking is a part of the process. I know this. And I do feel on the verge of getting done what I want to get done by the end of the month (my continued, slightly irrational pursuit of a typed to-do list I made for the month of July). Anyway, this poem, which is a process piece that anyone who has worked at a skill can relate to, spoke to me today, so here it is, today's "listening" post.

"For Moses, After He Learned to Say the Letter S"

26 July 2017:
"You learned to pronounce the 's' in 'sky.'
The ky has gone out.
Never again will stars twinkle there like diamonds.
No longer will we gaze upon the ky in the dwindling night before bedtime.
It's all right.
Our time in the ky was short and miraculous.
Who knows what new wonders the full sky holds?" --John Darnielle, reading a poem he wrote for his son and shared on The Hilarious World of Depression. 

(And because I heard the poem and didn't see it, I am guessing, almost certainly incorrectly, about the line breaks.)

Listen to the whole poem, which starts at about the 7:45 mark of the episode. Lovely and moving.

And yes, I've already blogged about this podcast twice before.

"Dover Beach," again...

25 July 2017:
"Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night." --Matthew Arnold, "Dover Beach"

Just got done listening to a couple readings of "Dover Beach," because I felt a need to close my eyes and hear Arnold's words. I've blogged about this poem before, five years and five days ago, when the terrible shooting in Aurora, Colorado happened. Here I am again, finding Matthew Arnold's words running through my head, this time as I wrestle with two, very different tragedies.

The first is the disastrous and cruel vote on health care that happened just a few minutes ago. I found myself crying as the news broke. People will suffer and die. It's that simple. This pain, anger, frustration, and sadness over our current political situation sits right below my chest--I can feel it physically sometimes. What to do in the face of such cruelty and disregard for common decency, as more and more comes at us every day? Arnold's words come to mind..."Ah, love, let us be true /
To one another!"

The second tragedy is no doubt smaller in terms of scale, but it's been three years to the day since my brother died. I went into today determined to focus on the good memories. Most of the time that works just fine. But at least for the next few hours, I find myself drawn to the sadness of it all. I look back and feel all over again the sense of impotence and frustration. What could we have done differently? What would have made a difference? And that sadness and frustration is no doubt connected to a Senate that just voted to strip away health care from millions and a president who offends every value I hold true. And here's the thing: my brother had good health care. And he still died of an opioid overdose. My heart breaks for all of those who will die without access to health care, specifically for mental health and addiction. What to do? Again, Arnold's words come to mind..."Ah, love, let us be true / To one another!"

Of course, as I alluded to when I wrote about this poem in 2012, Arnold's poem comes in for some criticism for what might be read as a retreat to insular protectionism and almost nihilism. But I don't think that's the only way to read it. Because if we are true to each other and really love each other, we will do what's right. We'll take care of each other and fight back against those dark forces pushing against us. It's all we can do.

Ruth

24 July 2017: "I used to wonder what on earth I was going to do with my 262 plots my mother left me. I didn't have to wonder long." --Ruth Coker Burks, in the short film you can watch here.

I first heard about Burks in this StoryCorps piece. She's a remarkable woman and a model for us all.

Homecoming King

23 July 2017: “'Hasan, you gotta be brave...Your courage to do what’s right has to be greater than the fear of getting hurt.'” --Hasan Minhaj, quoting his father's advice to him.

Minhaj's entire special is well-worth watching: funny and touching.

David Brooks Goes to Lunch...

22 July 2017: “Can I also just say that the sentence ‘Insensitively I led her into a gourmet sandwich ship' is possibly the funniest single sentence that has ever appeared in The New York Times?” --Dana Stevens on this week's Slate Culture Gabfest, discussing David Brooks' unintentionally hilarious recent column.

I got a lot done today: cleaned bathrooms, organized books in my office, finalized (!) my teaching materials/syllabi for the fall, and made lots of progress on my portfolio. This also means I spent a lot of time listening to good old podcasts. The Gabfest crew's discussion of Brooks' piece was a fun highlight.

"Shattering The Blue Velvet Chair"

21 July 2017: “Well, who else is gonna do it?...When I think back to those days I think of this ferment, this activity, in people’s kitchens and living rooms…[They were women who said] ‘We’re not gonna wait. We are going to recognize ourselves and each other.’” –Joan Larkin, in the latest episode of the Poetry Off the Shelf podcast. I blogged about a previous episode here.

"You've Got to Hide Your Love Away"

20 July 2017:

"Everywhere people stare
Each and every day
I can see them laugh at me
And I hear them say
Hey you've got to hide your love away." --John Lennon, "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away" (though the version I heard today was the fantastic one by Eddie Vedder)

Everything is Wonderful

19 July 2017: "Forgiveness is the spine of life." --Esther to Miriam, in Everything is Wonderful, a CATF play I saw today. It's a really fine exploration of forgiveness, redemption, and community.

Double-check those figures?

18 July 2017: "Thousands." --my niece, Krista, telling me how many guests she was going to have for her birthday party in November, when she turns 5. Love that optimism!

"The Pool and the Stream"

17 July 2017: “Architecture and its details are in some way all part of biology. Perhaps they are, for instance, like some big salmon or trout. They are not born fully grown; they are not even born in the sea or water where they normally live. They are born hundreds of miles away from their home grounds, where the rivers narrow to tiny streams. Just as it takes time for a speck of fish spawn to mature into a fully-grown fish, so we need time for everything that develops and crystallizes in our world of ideas.” --Alvar Aalto, quoted in this episode of 99% Invisible

I finished listening to this one this morning on my walk. It's a fun and charming episode, connecting modern architecture, swimming pools, and skate boarding. Give it a listen.