Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

I am never going to one of those huge theaters that have multiple floors of seats.  I woke up (thankfully) when my husband's alarm went off, while I was deep in a stressful anxiety-riddled dream of being lost in an unfamiliar city's huge metroplex movie theater. G and I went with people I barely knew, and they left me behind (concessions? bathroom?), and I had to find them/my seat on my own. No one would help me. No ushers. And flight after flight of stairs, which are hard for me. I was clutching my ticket, which had a handwritten note on the back for someone I didn't know, trying to find seat 22-b 1/2, M side. Whatever that means! And I was panicking, because once the house lights went down, I'd never find my seat. Truly frightening. And it was not even a movie I cared about seeing.  I'm still groggy with a headache. I hope coffee and the light of day will help. Dreams are, for me, not usually pleasant. They are either mundane (earlier in the night, I dreamed about

I've got a new poetry book to read, annotate, and write a review about! I've had a nice little hiatus since the last one, and it's time to get my "learner brain" going again. This time, it's a book I chose: my friendly acquaintance Matt Minicucci, who was the poet in residence at the Frost Place the summer I confronted momma bear and her two cubs, has a lovely new book out titled Dual . I wasn't sure what to expect, but from his past work and our pleasant conversations those years ago, I knew the work would be insightful, interesting, and a delight. I've read a few, pondered on a few, and I can't wait to have a little stretch of time to immerse myself in the poems. Many of them require a more-than-nodding acquaintance with Greek mythology and other works from antiquity; it's sheer luck I'm reading this newer translation of the Iliad at the same time. Reading Matt's poems makes me feel both smart and humbled: I am pleased I can follow w

Another football post.  I was glad to see that the Ravens lost to the Chiefs; I'm not a huge Chiefs fan, but the Ravens have often proved, as an organization, to be all swagger and not a lot of substance. Good enough. The Lions-Niners game, while again, not featuring "my team," was a tale of two halves, as the announcers say. The Lions looked like they were going to make Detroit history--and then they didn't. I'm sad for their fans, because, until the last couple of decades, being a Pats fan was much the same. And while we are on that, it seems that the stretches of disappointment are back. Such is the lot of a New England sports fan.  So, in two weeks, we'll make some food and gather around to watch the spectacle that is a uniquely American secular holiday: the Super Bowl. The years when the Patriots are playing, we also have plenty of food, but it goes largely uneaten, as we are glued to the game. The other years, the event is all about food. We don't go

Today, the two NFL finalists will be determined by physical combat on the frozen-ish fields of commercial glory.  I'm not bitter that my team is not in the conference championship; this is something that is, for the most part, earned. They did not. That said, two games today: one at 3pm, one at 6:30pm, and likely I'll be fighting the Toddler in Chief for TV time.  That's okay; we have two televisions, and one of them can be dedicated to pbs kids or Disney Channel.  I've been talking with my Brit Lit students about why cultures need heroes, and how we toss around the word "hero" far too casually, in the modern sense. While I would likely appreciate a cup of coffee, you bringing it to me does not make you a hero. And it is highly likely I'll get some push-back for this next statement, but I stand by it: people who are rigorously trained to do a job, and then do it well, are not heroes. Unless, of course, what they are facing is well beyond the scope of their

Today, I was supposed to take my quiz bowl team to a tournament. We are not going. Half of the team couldn't make it, and the weather has been an ongoing challenge. Add to that the ever-present rise in things like covid and flu, and yeah... not happening. I hate to disappoint kids, but it was like pushing string, trying to make this happen. So, it's not. Heaven forbid if I got sick or went off the road or some damned thing-- I'm needed, and sometimes, things have to shift. Life has those moments, doesn't it? When you have to cut something that you would like to do, in order to preserve some sort of sanity, balance, or to heed practical considerations? Instead, today I will engage in various forms of huswifery: baking bread, getting groceries, cleaning the fridge  (probably should do that first), etc. I want to get my literal house in order. I need to; my family needs me to clear some time in my days to be available to help out. Tomorrow, I will read at church, grade pap

It's beginning to look like the theme of this winter, as far as school goes, is delay... as in, we have another two hour delay today. Which, to be honest, is fair: we have a band of freezing rain coming in during the exact time kids would be getting on the bus and getting to school. Pushing the opening two hours gets us out of that window of nasty business-- but into steady snow. Sigh. It's Friday, amen. I recall that in the movie Sense and Sensibility , the youngest daughter, who really loves asking personal and insightful questions, is told that she should restrict her commentary to the roads and the weather. I guess I tend to ask tough questions a lot, as well. And speaking of things about which we are not supposed to talk, there's always politics and religion. (And I already told you about the weather and the roads.) On npr the other day, I heard a really interesting interview with two people, Mike Graham and Pastor Jim Davis, who have written a book about the mass ex

Winter slop and so on...yeah, that's what's on my mind. It's icy out there, at least my driveway and steps are.  Woohoo. That said, we do not have a delay this morning, so I'll be navigating it carefully. The main roads are fine, I hear. And more of this treacherous weather coming in tomorrow...o yay. Snow, you can move. Ice scares me more. I called our plow guy, and he'll try to get out here with some sand, but it won't likely be until after I have to leave for work, but at least it'll be done.  OK, done ranting about weather exigencies. I started watching a new murder mystery series on Hulu last night, titled Death and Other Details . It was okay, but I fell asleep in the last episode I watched. What I like is the main plot. What I did not like is the gratuitous sex--and not just suggested sex. Why did we need that? I mean, I'm not a prude, but if it does not serve the storyline, why do it? I have no problem with a same-sex couple being married. I do n

In Brit Lit yesterday, I got to musing about what, really, will be left of our culture when we are long gone. We're reading Beowulf excerpts, and I posed the question to the kids: why are we even still reading this? I mean, other than you have a teacher who thinks it's pretty great and I'm making you? They hit on all the "right" answers, things about cultural heritage and a cool monster/hero story. But I pressed the question: why? Why this? Why the Odyssey and the Iliad ?  And what are we leaving to history?  And will anyone be able to read it?  With the over-reliance on digital technology, will anyone a thousand years from now be able to access our ideas? And will they even be worth it? Who are our cultural storytellers? What is our story? I know, too many questions to ponder this early in the day. But they are ones that dwell in my head, and I drag them out into the light probably more than I should. I am a poet, a writer, a person who treasures the written wor

Yesterday, for the first time in many years, I began a semester of teaching British Literature. I was actually nervous: had I forgotten things? Was I going to be too rusty? I think we got off to a decent start, though, so that's good. And the American Lit class went okay, too. After a semester of the focus being on writing, a literature-heavy schedule is a nice change. Both classes are quite small, only six students in each. Our enrollment at the high school is small, but seems to be starting to build back up. It's never been all that large, but with families having fewer children, and others choosing to either home school or send their kids elsewhere (especially during and just after the pandemic protocols), we've had pretty low numbers. When I started teaching there, many families had four or five children, one had twelve-- not so, and not possible nowadays. Couple that with few places to rent or buy, especially on hourly-wage-earners' income, and we have the situatio

  “The world will ask who you are, and if you do not know, the world will tell you.” ―  Carl Jung This quote was embedded as part of yesterday's homily at church; the context was in reference to our relationship to/with God, but even outside of that context, the quote resonated with me. Who am I, to me ? That's a tough question to wrangle with. I know what and who I am, as I am in relationship to others: family, work, community, etc. Daughter, mother, sister, wife, teacher, employee, friend... but who am I, to me ?  We are raised to be dissatisfied, aren't we? We are not thin enough, smart enough, well-spoken enough, rich enough, helpful enough, and so on. To be satisfied, to be enough  for oneself is a really hard task, especially after feeling "less than" in so many ways for one's entire lifetime. We are cautioned not to let our heads swell, not to be overly proud, not to feel we have "it" all together. Puritanical bull-pucky. I'm beginning to

I started reading Caroline Alexander's translation (2015) of the Iliad this weekend, and I'm not disappointed at all. It's been quite a few years since I have read it, and the last time, it was a prose translation which I did not like at all. I first read it in my undergrad Classics in Translation class, and it was in verse. I loved it. Let's recap the story:  The tale begins with two dudes in a major pissing match; both have enormous egos, one has a real grievance against the other, and it's all over "spoils" from war--women-- and how, when one of the women is essentially in protected status (daughter of the priest of Apollo), her return is refused, even after a huge ransom is offered.  Achilles basically tells Agamemnon that he is a jerk, saying he's done more of the hands-on work in battle, and Agamemnon just takes the good stuff because he can. Achilles tells him to return the girl, take the ransom, and move on. But Agamemnon prefers the young girl

I've been up since 5:50 am, which is about an hour later than I have been getting up--so, for me, that is sleeping in. And it was sorely needed. I put a movie on last night just before 9pm, and I have no idea what it was about. I fell asleep in my chair before the plot even got rolling. I'm not even that sure who was in it, and I certainly do not remember the title. I woke up a little after 10, turned it all off, and went to bed.  That said, I have a stack of final papers to wade through sometime today. I'd like to get those done before I go to the grocery store, so I can clear my desk for the weekend. I might even get that done. It's damned cold out, so I'm not rushing to head out, but I have a tentative plan to go with Meg around 10am, so that's what I'm aiming for. I'd like to not hurry at the grocery for the first time in a couple of months, so that is a goal. But yesterday, I wrote a bit about taking some time to myself each day, to recharge and let

I'm intrigued by the notion of "wasting time." I was raised in a strangely complex dogma, squinched between "find something to do or I'll find something for you" and a parent who reveled in sitting to read, to listen to music, or to have conversations. Needless to say, guilt won and still wins. I'm constantly filling my time with necessary and sometimes unnecessary or trivial projects and chores. Granted, a neat and clean environment does bring me joy, whereas chaos and clutter do not. That said, though, I always feel like I have to earn my "down time," to justify sitting and reading. That's just plain unhealthy.  Time to think, to read, to listen, to ponder deeply is essentially generative. But my art --my writing-- was seen as a cute hobby, not an actual, worthy pursuit. I've got to break that cycle: creating is doing. Rest is important. And I'm the adult in the room, answerable to no one but myself-- certainly not that strident,

It is a smidgen cold out this morning at -2 degrees. Yes, it's January, and yes, it's seasonally expected. But that does not mean I like it. My classroom will be quite chilly.  That said, today is Thursday, and it's almost the end of the week and of the semester. Those are both things I do like. And I have tentative plans to do something "normal" with Meg and Holly when I get home from work-- just coffee and a wander around TJMaxx, but still, those are things we like, and we have not had a chance to do since mid-November.  It's interesting how situations shift your "normal," isn't it? What used to be a fill-in-the gap thing to do when we were bored is now the field trip of choice. Going to the grocery store and not having to rush is another thing that I'm looking forward to. Sleeping past 5am! Granted, our "new normal" has a lot of new challenges and routines to establish, but it'll be nice to welcome back some of the used-to-be

We had measurable snow yesterday! At least it's light and fluffy-- well over the predicted amount, somewhere around 8 inches or so. Maybe more? Who knows. I'm hoping the plow guy shows up, but if he doesn't, I think I can run/gun it through the powder like some strange Subaru advertisement.  That said, the crappy weather necessitated Meg and Tim staying in Boston an extra day; they'd gone down Monday afternoon, with the expectation that his first post-transplant check-up would be done by noon or so Tuesday, then they'd be home. Nah. Apparently, Mother Nature thinks it's a riot to snarl up everything with freezing rain and snow in the Boston area, and they had to hole up in the Double Tree. (Not awful.) We've been back on Holly duty, and lucky for us, we've gotten rather good at it. G spent two nights on the couch again, though.  I am hopeful that the weather is decent today (the predictions are good), that Meg and Tim can get home mid-day, and Holly will

Four more days. After an extended weekend that was, as I figured, packed with chores and family things, we have the final days of the first semester. Am I ready for the flip? Not really, but almost. The computer work I needed to do got accomplished this weekend, anyhow, so that gives me a fighting chance to be where I need to be come next Monday.  In the meantime, though, we have final presentations, papers, and so on this week. There are kids who were complaining the other day about the audacity of another teacher-- can you believe he is giving a test on the last day?  I was flabbergasted. I had to butt in: "Well, that's when you give a final exam, right?" They felt that it was just outrageous. I have no idea what they thought they'd be doing on the last day of the semester, but I know from prior experience that if you don't have something planned that has a grade attached, most of the high school kids will take a "personal day" instead of coming in. So

Today is Martin Luther King, Jr. --Civil Rights--Day. (And I'm still annoyed that NH was the very last state to officially recognize the holiday.) Given the national and global furor over rights and who gets 'em, it seems like we should be looking deeply into the lives and works of those who insist/ed that basic human rights should not be something apportioned out, like some sort of charitable hand-out, with restrictions and qualifications attached.  Arbitrary variations in human skin tone, biology, gender, faith-- these are not, and should not, be factors in whether someone is given fundamental respect and understanding. To use religion as a basis for exclusionary ideologies is to weaponize one's faith, and that subverts the entire reason for faith-based living practices. It is not some dangerous practice done by extremists in foreign countries; believe me, it happens in my own little town, and that scares me. This is not an "over there" or "used to be"

At long last, the band is back together. My little family is in the same zip code; in fact, we are all within the same square 100 yards. Amen. Holly was overwhelmed to see her parents-- at first, she was very upset, but then needed all the hugs and loves. Poor sweetie has been missing her mommy and daddy for what, to her, feels like forever. We were all crying. And it was good crying-- not frustration, hurt, or despair--relief. So much relief. The road ahead is a long one, but we will do it together. It was super nice to make a simple meal of meatballs and spaghetti for us all. And to sit and just talk. Then, after tub time, Holly went home to her house, but this time, she'll wake up to her parents, not Papa on the couch.  It was really nice to sit and watch the Bruins game with G last night, just us. Well, we both fell asleep in the 3rd period, but I woke up in time to see them win in OT. Having to scoot over and share the bed last night was different... for almost a month and a h

I heard this beautiful arrangement by one of my favorite actors, Mandy Patinkin. Children must be carefully taught, they will listen, and what are we showing and telling them? Worth a listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJFOqSBqwKQ&t=125s It's why I do what I do. Take care, C

The never-ending to-do list is looming.  I've taken a much-needed personal day today from work; there are house cleaning, organizing, and so on things to do. I need a bit of time, and the bonus is that I didn't have to figure out a sitter for Holly today, as well. Yes, we have a three-day-weekend, but that's already pretty packed with things on the must-do list. And to be honest, I'm flat-out tired. My students all have ongoing papers/projects to work on, so they are all set for the day as well. I'll keep my computer on and check email in case they do have a question. Today is going to be a day of moving at a saner pace from one thing to the next, punctuated by Holly-things. We'll likely make something or other-- she loves to use the glue stick!  Although I did groceries yesterday, there were a few more things I needed, so I placed an Instacart delivery for this morning. It's a luxury, I know, but it saves walking around a big store. There are a few things t

We are still in a waiting pattern here in our little town north of the Notch. Waiting for the weather to straighten out, waiting for daylight to return in the mornings, waiting for our family to be put back together in the same zip code. I'm trying to figure out what to do tomorrow: do I take a personal day and wait, patiently, with the Toddler in Residence, or do I find a sitter, go to work, and hope for the best? I have some personal days that I can use, and to be honest, I'm very tired. This is a three-day weekend coming up, but I suspect it'll be just as chores-packed as all the others have been. And I have to build my Google Classrooms for second semester, grade papers, and so on... I'm pre-tired.  While Milton is not my favorite poet, he has a point. Sometimes, in our weaker moments, we rail on about the time we've wasted, or that has been spent in ways that are not what we wanted or needed. But that time, as Milton concludes his sonnet, even if spent in waiti

What started out as steady snow turned to wind-lashed rain overnight, with the temps rising to 40 degrees. I think we escaped damage here at our houses, but I don't know about other places yet. We will likely still have school, though we are on a 2 hr delay-- which I don't mind the slower start to the day. It's still pretty windy and rainy out there, and I'd rather deal with driving in full daylight. I hope all of you are safe and snug; I've been reading reports of widespread flooding and wind damage in NJ and Maine, Meg tells me that it's messy in Boston with predicted coastal flooding-- this is how thing are going to be, more and more often, due to climate change. We will have to adapt and we will have to adjust our lifestyles-- likely, people will complain even more about both. Enjoy paddling, then.  Be safe, and don't take risks with downed trees, power lines, and flooding. And please, enjoy Pooh: "It seems that it may turn out to be...a rather blu

It's so unreal to think that the first half of the school year will end next week. I know we've worked hard, but seriously, where has the time gone? Yes, that's a cliche, but it's still valid. I have to mentally shift from creative writing and composition (both ends of the writing spectrum) to a fully literature-steeped semester. I will be teaching both American Lit and British Lit, both dual credit courses, and, to top it all off, I'll have all new students in one of those classes. I know who they are, but they are new to me and my methods, so we'll see how that all goes. I hope well-- I do try! I've been waiting for several years now to be able to get back to teaching Brit Lit, and I'm nervous/excited. It's what I do best, or so I've always thought. I guess we'll see if I can blow the dust off and shine. I'm also waiting for new poetry books to review; I should be getting a couple sometime soon. In the meantime, my brain should be less

I wonder if people who travel a lot often have an urge to move furniture, or if it's just us who are stuck in one place for lengthy stretches who do so? Yesterday afternoon, while I was putting away the creche and all the pieces that go with it, I looked around me and thought, hey, this is a great time to move some stuff around. And that then involved the living room as well. And some things got stowed in the den. The end result is pretty good; I still need to vacuum the rug, but I think it'll suffice.  I get bored with my surroundings, and the unique layout of the house precludes doing anything particularly interesting, so relatively minor shifting is all I can really do to give things a "fresh" look. Pretty much, I play musical furniture.  A practical-ish choice I made was to put a small table in the living room, which necessitated moving the chairs around, too- it's a little crowded, but the dining room is far too chilly in the winter months to be comfortable f

So, it's Sunday. And it's snowing-- we haven't gotten enough to make it worthy of "storm," but it's out there making things look a little less brown/gray/faded.  There's a poem that lurks in my head, one by Robert Frost, that really creates the tension of living in the north country during a real hum-dinger of a snow storm. It's titled, "Storm Fear," in which he confronts the direness of being snowed in full-on. He calls the storm a "beast" and the speaker assesses the situation, finding that he, and his small family, will likely not be able to survive without outside help.  I haven't been in that situation too many times, but there were a few when I was growing up in northern Vermont, one winter in particular, when the snow had us blocked in tight; well below zero with a wind, and the drifts packed against the doors several feet up. The road was impassable for days, until they got heavy machinery to clear the drifts. Snow was p