Snow, football, and finding joy--




Snow. Lots. And it's still snowing. The predictions are about spot-on, this time. Lucky for us, it's the fluffy kind, but even so, a foot or so of fluffy is still lots of snow. Our snow day was called yesterday, mid-day, which is a blessing. Parents don't have to scramble to find child care, and other preparations can be made in a sane moment. I honestly do not mind one bit; it's early enough in the semester that a shift in the plans is no big deal, especially since it's a Monday. 

So, I'll bake a pie. Clean bathrooms. Fold laundry. And sit here with a cup of coffee, wrapped up in a fuzzy fleece robe over fuzzy fleece pjs. It's cold-- no lie. We warmed up to 6 above during the night. Yesterday never cracked zero. My heart goes out to those in deep south states who are without power and without the means to manage this sort of thing, but even so-- this is not the first time, and their governors should not pooh-pooh much-needed infrastructure upgrades. They still can't manage to understand the difference between climate and weather-- and it shows. 

Speaking of the weather, that second half of the Patriots/Broncos game. What a hoot that was. Leaf-blowing the yard lines? I remember watching a game some years back when they had to literally plow the lines, too. Such is January football in cold states. I was amazed that the Pats won; so many nay-sayers (and they are thicker than bugs on a bumper, as my dad would have said). But yet, there's the wholesomeness and grit shown by the young QB and his wife that sustains. Something good in America? Sure, it's probably partly hype, but I honestly do not care. We need something good to hold onto. And the pure joy on Vrabel's face, humble pride in his players, the process, and their hard work. It is something to behold. And, for what it's worth, it's what I need right now. People might recall that the first time the Pats won a Super Bowl was right after 9/11. We need heroes.

The news this weekend has shattered so many people, myself included. The cinematic brutality is both breath-takingly horrifying and almost impossible to process. I am finding it so hard to compartmentalize: I am passionate about the stories and poems I'm teaching, I'm super excited about my new book coming out for presale this week, and I am proud of the football team I have grown up with all of my life. But then...there's this overarching miasma choking off all available air and joy. I don't know how to navigate this, but here we are. 

So I'm gonna cheer for my football team, take care of my family, support my students' academic journey, promote my little book, and pray a hell of a lot. I'd go outside and flop in the middle of the yard to make a snow angel, call upon real angels, maybe even St. Michael the Archangel, but I'd never get back up. (Aging is a pain.) How do we celebrate in the midst of so much damage? 

I suspect that we absolutely have to. Otherwise, the darkness wins. 

Stay warm, friends. Stay focused. And keep each other safe.

C

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