Been Needing to Cultivate this Genius for Some Time. @GholdyM - Thank You. This Book. This Book.

Truth: I pre-ordered Cultivating Genius: An Equity Framework for Culturally and Historically Responsive Literacy by Gholdy Muhammad as soon as I learned it was being published by Scholastic.

Truth: I've wanted to write a reflection on it for some time, but academic life and projects (not to mention home-stay and online transitions) kept me distracted. Still, it was the book I've left out on my dining room table so I can see it every day...be reminded by it...keeping its energy, karma, and wisdom floating throughout my house.

Truth: I'm working on a collaborative project to name best practices in adolescent literacy and, stopping everything, I re-read Dr. Muhammad's book again yesterday. Best practices, indeed. The book was moved from the dining room table to my desk upstairs as I began to write and think.

Truth. When I came upstairs from getting a glass of water, I had to capture this photo (as my screen rotates through numerous photos and this one seemed timely): Abu Bility, the #1 Teacher mug given to me by a 5th grader, a baseball with a poem written across its leather given to me by a senior visiting CNY colleges and Universities, and a Sushi-Pen given to me by the family I lived with when I went to Japan with a Fulbright Memorial Scholarship.Abu, introduced to me as a sophomore in high school as a  refugee-background youth, is now teaching in Syracuse. He's inspired me tremendously and helped build the CWP-Fairfield programs in Connecticut to be what they are (his influence on the programs can be felt in the article William King, Jessica Baldizon and I wrote this spring for the Journal of Adolescent & Adult Literacy, "We are All Projects...Together We're Strong"). Abu, and the 7 other young men taught me that history should come first (which I wrote about in Educating Refugee-Background Students: Critical Issues and Dynamic Contexts). I was cultivated by them.

Truth: My doctoral work and life-ever-after is owed to many people, including the boys and Dr. Alfred Tatum. At the Literacy Research Association annual meeting in 2010 I nervously approached him for advice. I had begun to conceptualize the study and wanted critical feedback. It was the first time I ever met him, and he listened to what I had to say, thought about it, and simply responded, "Don't go ahistorical. Delve into the history." To the library, once again, I went.

Truth: I did what he suggested, and ten years later Dr. Gholdy Muhammad's book arrives - it speaks volumes to me. The book is a must-have for all educators who work responsibly for equity, history, and culturally-rich pedagogy. In so many ways Gholdy puts into language - into a brilliant framework - the genius that I've needed for some time. It's will be on all my syllabi this upcoming year and I will be sharing it in all professional development I do in schools, with young adult authors I'm blessed to collaborate with, and my National Writing Project family. This is the book.

Truth: I realized while I went through a second reading of Cultivating Genius: An Equity Framework for Culturally and Historically Responsive Literacy that the only way I could capture what really needs to be highlighted is to say, "Don't read my blog post. Order the book now. It's all there." All I'm able to do is share the genius Dr. Muhammad cultivated for the rest of us. It is wisdom, tremendously overdue. The cover, with its roots and leaves offers the perfect metaphor. Here's some reasons why:

• the minds of young people need to learn that pens are weapons to battle injustice;
• young people need to be cultivated within their own 'literate societies' toy develop skills, to help one another to meet an end, to write, and to envision a greater humanity for all;
• Historically Responsive Literacy brings critical, sociological, and cognitive theories together to empower young people to seek 'emancipatory' and 'humanizing' trajectories for themselves and for 'mental freedom,' 'political power,' and an ability to set the agenda so their voices will be heard; 
• story is singular, stories are plural. There are multiple stories needing to be heard and understood; 
• keeping knowledge to the self is a selfish act - sharing knowledge is the way to grow; 
• we need a literary presence for all voices and visions to be shared, to select the texts that speak to multiple identities, and to promote multiple responses to texts (I'm reading Vertovec's recognition of super-diversity here, too);
• there are urgent pedagogies I've been trying to name for 25 years, that Muhammad (2020) nails in one book: use of diverse forms of text by diverse authors, harnessing of positive energy to push through weariness; building of collaborative curriculum with youth; teaching in ways that move beyond sanction norms and processes; listening to students even when you don't agree or understand them; making it impossible for students to fail; writing and selecting on teaching practices, teaching unapologetically, decentering self as teacher, and becoming a scholar of the discipline you teach and knowing the meaning and histories of your content areas (including the diversity of thought and the oppressive structures in place that keep some voices from being heard...throughout the history we teaching in school);
• Gholdy's 4-layered HRL Framework cultivates identity, the pursuit of skills, the pursuit of intellect, and the pursuit of criticality is golden like here name; and 
• I quote here, "And transformation has to be collaborative. This level of change does not happen if our universities, schools (and leadership), and communities are not working together toward this progress” (p. 169) (this - the heart of why the CWP team wrote as we did in JAAL this spring - had we this text as a reference, it would have been CENTRAL to the argument).

Truth: I'm giving Cultivating Genius: An Equity Framework for Culturally and Historically Responsive Literacy a standing ovation. It's long overdue. It's smart. It's needed. And finally, it will be transformative within the schools that seek ways to cultivate genius within, with, and for ALL learners. I cannot sing enough praises for the book, so offer a cyber high-five, a tweeted hug, some blogging admiration, collegial appreciation, and an absolute celebration to Dr. Gholdy Muhammad and her text. It's as a small 'thank-you' from those of us who do the work that we do.

So, thank you.  

Hoping It Is A Good Sign For All Still To Come - @CWPFairfield Goes Online Today

As we worked Sunday night on last-minute tweaks for the first day of Game On! Sports Writing and Little Lab for Big Imaginations I, a storm flew in overhead. For most of the hour it was thunder and rain, but as we finished the last tiny bits the sky cleared outside my window and a rainbow appeared.

Okay, I'll take that. We'll take that.

We debated whether or not to have the 7th year of Young Adult Literacy Labs at all, given the national situation, but we followed our friends in Arizona's lead (LOVE JESSICA EARLY) and said, "Let's try this online thing." With 4-weeks of a successful summer course, and 8 weeks with two courses moved online in the Spring, I saw the potential of what could be done. We moved to two hours because who wants to be on ZOOM for 6 hours, except those who create department retreats, and we lowered the cost. The result? We have just as many kids as if in person, but our kids are coming from all over the country.

We gotta write! A'ight? Bring on 6 weeks of literacy labs!

The tricky part for me has been modeling what is possible with the teachers who are running the camps, so that they can see the multiple ways to mix things up  to make the learning fun (online) as if we are in person. We are bringing guests, interviewing athletes, singing songs, writing, and learning: 120-minutes  we hope flies by because they are so engaging.

Elementary and middle school kids! We hope we are engaging, because we feel we earned that rainbow. High School kids...you're up next.

Day one of this pilot! It's all about to go down. I can't wait. Fingers crossed it all works. 

Slight Innovations on the Crandall Chair. Amazon, I'm Not Sure If You Are Friend or Foe

Rewind.

2014 or so, when Abu and Lossine were regular fixtures at Mt. Pleasant in the Summer, and we needed another chair for the rare occasion we all sat down to watch a movie. I stopped at Pier One on the way home from work and said, "Let's go to the back and see what they have on clearance." We all saw it at the same time...a $45 corner chair. The humor was that it was from the Crandall collection so we bought it right away.

Soon the Crandall chair became my go-to place for reading, coffee, writing, and thinking. Alas, the odd shaped cushions started to loss the shape and eventually it was like sitting up against dust. What did I want for $45?

Frustrated, I tried to find pillows in the measurement of the chair, but that was impossible unless I wanted them custom made for 10 times what I paid for the chair. So, I divided the measurements by 4 and said, I can easily get thick throw pillows.

Wola! $16 bucks for 4. Well, except for the fact that when they came, there were no pillows. I only ordered casings. So, I went back online and found 4 pillows for a similar price. They arrived yesterday and when Edem and I opened them up, we were like, "How are these pillows?" They were vacuumed so airtight, they seemed like communion wafers. Ah, but it was fun, because once we opened the bags, they went 'poof' and then filled the pillow casings nicely.

This is all to say that the Crandall chair has new fixings. Something tells me the chair will end on the porch when it is finished, because I already can tell it will look good with the pine floor.

It's the small things in life...and I should say that I woke up yesterday morning with one of Crandall's stress-induced sinus migraines and thought I was going to die. I know that they are always a sign that it's time to slow down. It's impossible to keep these sprinting days going.

Well, they should be settling some. I only have two more research papers left to grade, and our literacy labs will only be 2 hours a day, as opposed to 6 (sans a teacher institute, too). Phew. No clue how I'd have the energy for all that again this summer. I can slow down in July, even as the work continues.

But how about them pillows (no, Lossine. No drool for you)?

It is Saturday. This Was a Week. I Will Be Grading All Day (but It's Okay, I Cherish @halseanderson)

Hvor heldigt at jeg mødte dig. 

I was glad to introduce friends for another episode of THE WRITE TIME (shhh. be patient). Here's a hint, this episode will be with my CNY, Danish-traveling, woman-warrior friend who, as Rhiannon calls it, "is the most human person you'll ever meet." 

Rhiannon joked with me for years that she knew one day LHA and I would meet and connect. She had a hunch and she was right. I love any one with energy, passion, drive, mission, muscle, mind, creativity, fight, wit, humor, and wisdom. Yes, superheroes are fictitious, but I recognize the ones we have amongst us - in real time - and when I see them, I gush. I admire. Eventually, I reach out.  To me, to Rhiannon, to teachers everywhere, and especially to young readers finding their way in this world, Laurie Halse Anderson is truly a Wonder Woman (this is a book plug - if you don't have Wonder Woman - Tempest Tossed in your to-read pile, get it now)

Yesterday, Rebecca Marsick kicked off NWP's THE WRITE TIME with a free write which prompted us to speak or shout about something that matters to us, and explain the differences between the terms if we wanted. I went poetic and quickly doodled,

it always begins with a leak,

       something to say, 

   something to speak,

for everything we hold deep within.

sometimes a loss,

    the occasionally a masterful win,

cuz the humanity stuff, our way of being alive,

  can be quite the task,

& all of us need moments, at times,

to rip off our ridiculous mask.

there's a time to let the thinking out,

 to scream inner truth and finally shout

  into this complicated world...

 emotions, frustrations, anger, joy - 

       a place to be twisted and swirled,

'Speak' is the butterfly, 

       learning to stretch its wings.

           'Shout' is the dragonfly 

                with a flight for greater things.

Okay, I'll take that for a rough draft, but for today, I have graduate papers I need to work on. In the meantime, I'm thanking the Great Whatever for all the generosity its sent my way, for the National Writing Project, for Lauri, for Rebecca, and for the luck my world has happened upon.

Mike Isgar Mike Isgar (THE DAY AFTER) Mike Isgar Mike Isgar Mike Isgar Mike Isgar

I woke up yesterday realizing I failed. It was my brother-in-law's birthday and I traditionally dedicate my blog to him (but I already blogged). When I realized it I said, "Oh, Lord. Please protect me. Mr. Frodo Feet will be upset." 

Yup. He let everyone on Facebook know how disappointed he was in me. What he didn't realize is that I already made up for my error and found a way to celebrate him the day after his birthday, extending the celebration another 24 hours.

Here's to you, Mike Isgar. It's always about you, it will always be about you, and we love you always. Why, because who doesn't love a day of Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike
Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike

New York Gians &Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike

Lenny & Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike

Yoda & Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike  Yoda & Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike

Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike
Playboy Bunnies & Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike

Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike
Ten Commandemts & Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike

Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Marvel Comics & Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY (part III). Because a Facebook song is not enough. Because an Animoji is not enough. I now have a Calendric wish for you special day.

You should definitely be Google-able now.

And at the 32nd Hour, 4 Weeks, I Now Await the Final Projects. Phew. What a Thrilling Ride

Let's not take a full 4 hours tonight, but...Okay...let's take as much time as we need.

Last night, my graduate students presented their research that we packed in during the last four weeks using a retro, self-study, fill-in-the-gaps methodology in response to Covid-19. It may have been an ill-suited sequence for a research course, with the need to be adaptive and supportive, but I think it was a tremendous success.

Retro. There was no way to collect data in 4-weeks, given everyone is on home-stay, schools aren't open, and the clock moves too fast. I'm not sure if it is a methodology, but I made it one. Students chose tableaus, memories, artifacts, lesson plans, etc. that they experienced the last semester, then designed...

Fill-in-the-Gaps. That is, they asked, "What else can I learn?" by adding surveys and interviews to take their research question further. This, of course, came as a result of a literature review, data plan, and now the findings.

Phew. Data. Data. Data.

4-weeks. And they rocked it. In fact, several of them need to take their research presentations on the road, beginning with a departmental presentation to NAME and SHOW where our University program lacks in preparation. I'm all for this. They lived the work and their scholarship, in action, is calling out where student needs are not being met. Go them.

One of my students used the UNLV YA Literature Summit as a data point, attending 16 presentations, including a Keynote by Matt de la Peña, which he highlighted in his study. For over a year, he's been working with YA literature to flood reading experiences in his classroom and to show his department how choice, culturally-relevant literature, dialogue, and youth-centered practices improves the reading of high school students (this, in position of traditonal, canonized texts). Using a 10th grade class for the trial, and comparing them to the 11th and 12th graders he also teaches, he is proving, once again, that YA-centric classrooms quadruple the reading of adolescents. They read more, they participate more, they enjoy more, and they grow more. He used Matt's story of being a reluctant reader, but also an example of a kid who told the author he loves his books because they're about basketball. When Matt asked the kid for his 5 favorite parts, the kid described 5 scenes that had nothing to do with basketball. The author proved his point.

When we promote student interest in the classroom, they walk away with so much more than just the plot of a single story.

So, it's time to put on my CWP summer hat, as we begin next week and my buddies and I planned abundantly late last night. Yes, I still have to grade, but I'm okay with that because these graduate students rocked and I'm super-proud of them for what they accomplished (patting myself on the back, too, that the feedback I'm getting).

The engagement was real and pure. I went to bed feeling slightly satisfied. 

And the Evening Ended with Making Bitmojis with Mindy K! Yes, We Must Be Heading Toward Literacy Labs!

Mindy K's Bitmoji Mood

Orientation One was a success, with Mindy Khomvongsa teaching us these really cool locations to make cartoons of ourselves, which was an idea the Little Lab instructors had for one of the three themes they planned for summer when things kick off next week.

That was the last ZOOM call of the day, and after 13 hours of them, I can say I am seeing lights, stars, and flashes whenever I turn from the screen. Many of my graduate students have ordered special blue lenses - I think I need them, too.

I spent a large chunk of the day grading and finishing a guide for Penguin Random House (can't wait to see this book in the hands of adolescent readers). Joanna and I also met to get our Google classroom and files ready for the onslaught of upcoming labs. We are trying to cross all the t's and dot all the i's so that kids have a fantastic time learning with our stellar educators.

Meanwhile, I now have a front patio floor. They put the pine wood on yesterday and it looks great. It's been interesting to see how it goes day to day, that is when they are here to make progress.

Last 4-hour graduate course tonight. We got this. Of course I'm yawning, but it's what I have to tell myself. 

One More Class to Go for the Summer Research Lab and We Are All Reaching for the Stars

My metaphor for last night's grad course was that we are almost to that stat we've wanted to touch, but this week is the final haul. The bags under our eyes, the breathing, the focused intend, and the odd humor let me know that we're all very close to the edge...

...pacing the cage...

because we see an end to it all. This was an intense 4 weeks and I'm so glad that I spent five years reworking the way we'll roll out research methodologies in the future. This sequence was harsh on our students. It's a lot of work to do, especially after student teaching. I am watching these students try to reach the finish line as if they are collapsing in a marathon just feet from the goal. They don't have much left, and it's sort of cruel that this is the way it's been done for so many years. From now on, the design will work in support of student teaching, rather than an addition to it.

With that said, I'm extremely impressed by how much has been accomplished in this short time and I can attest that each student's folder is thick with accomplished work, meeting of expectations, and miraculous insight. It's just that it's a lot...to do intently...in such a brief time. The turn around from me, too, is also impossible, but I've dedicated myself to seeing each and every student successful.

We all just want to reach the star. I imagine we'll also get sick when we get there.

Okay, Tuesday...there's one more class of Methods, two publications to tweak, the teacher's guide, and CWP online summer to work on.

And go. 

There's Not Too Many Who Can Pull Me Away from My Computer...But It Was Father's Day

I got in a groove about 7 a.m. Sunday morning and only grunted at Chitunga as he awoke earlier than usual and departed for a while. I knew he was hunting for fire pits, but with this a busy weekend and all I didn't know if he would find any. He returned by noon and said, "Come on, Dad. I'm taking you to lunch."

I made a face which he responded, "I hate when you do that. It's annoying."

It was my Crandall crooked-lip face. I made it because going out to lunch was not part of my agenda for the day. I said, "Let's make a deal. I need to go for a run, then cool off. Why don't we get take-out at 3?" He thought it was a good idea, and then took off again. At 2, I g0t a text saying, "I'm picking you up. Be ready."

I responded, "We said 3. I hadn't even showered yet," but jumped in.

Then, we went to Pam's to have a mini-picnic, which turned into drinks, which turned into ice-cream at Scoopy-Doos with Bev and Leo.  At 9, I returned home to work on my writing projects (and made headway).

Tunga also said, "I ordered a fire pit and it won't be here until later this week." I knew that was what he was up to, and I love him for it. I know how excited I get when I'm doing something for him; today, that was in reverse. I love spending a day with him...and know he called in sick so he could spend a day at home. His sleep pattern is all off because of the overnight shift, so I know today was extra hard.

But I appreciate him, and he made the day more wonderful than I planned. He actually pulled me away from my desk. I am grateful for that, as I am for the son that he is. Phew.

Before and After Covid-19 Head. Finally Saw Jerry at Fade Factory. One Step Towards Normal at a Time

It's Father's Day, and Mom said she wanted to see the haircut I got on Friday night from Jerry at Fade Factory in Stratford. Well, here's the before and after, although I should admit that the top is still long (I just have it pulled back after the shower). I wanted to keep the length on the top so I can do hipster-wanna-be shit from time to time (perhaps a pre-cursor to the midlife crisis as I long to my 20s when I had postern-modern hippie tendencies).

I actually took a picture each day for 120 days to chronicle the hair growth, simply because I wanted to see what would happen. I don't mind looking like Kramer...I just hate hair on the back of my neck and around my ears. I can still get the wave atop if I let bed head win the day, but I don't have as much thickness to create the fire-pit look.

The goal for yesterday was to kayak, but I failed. I worked on a writing project until noon, went for a run, then while cooling off began another writing project. I had a little Csikszentmihalyi flow theory going on because at 6:30 I looked up and thought, "Fudge. I missed high tide again." So I went to Walnut Beach for a walk, and had a couple socially distanced beer with friends. It was nice to talk outside of the conversations that have been going on in my head these last few weeks.

But, I'm back at it again today. I need to inhale, focus, and target grant reports, budgets, CWP-summer, the finishing of a Grad research course, and more chisel work on a writing project I'm growing proud of. The 2nd one has to be kept hushed for another year or so (seems like there will be a lot of this in the upcoming months)

I am glad, however, to have the sides and back shaved down some. Jerry is a master with the blade. We talked much about what happened to his business since March, and he's looking at the predictions and reality, and thinking the worst is still to come. He and his wife have already discussed options for when, and if, that time comes.

I love that guy, left him a good tip, and said, "If we go through this again, let me write you a check to cover a year's worth of cuts. You know that the boys and I are always in here. We felt naked not being able to visit every couple of weeks."

Phew. Praying for better. That's all I got. Happy Father's Day to all the men out there (and mothers) who parent the young people in their lives (I know in many households women hold down both roles and I see you....so do the kids). 

So Nice To Be Thanked For a Gift You Forgot All About Until Someone Says, "Thank You."

I promised myself I wouldn't spend another day behind a computer screen from sunrise to sundown, but that is exactly what I did (although barbershops opened back up, and I got in with Jerry at 7 p.m. - I like my tight cuts and long top...this Covid-19 hair thing has been a trip).

In the evening, I got a text from Stefania who said, "Dr. Crandall, I'm putting your bowls to use." A couple of summers ago, I put together a thank-you gift for all the hard work she did for CWP-Fairfield, all to match her love of pink and baby blue. I forgot I put bowls in the collection of items. "They were perfect for snacks at our first outside, social-distance gathering," she wrote.

The wine doesn't look bad either.

But Cheetohs? I still don't know who eats those. So gross.

And just like that, it is another Saturday morning. I wish I could get my body to crash and sleep more than six hours, but I'm usually up with a racing mind as soon as the sparrows start singing outside my window. I'm not good about falling back to sleep either. I would love love love to have a night of full, peaceful rest...the kind where I sleep 10 hours and wake up thinking, "Wow. That was rejuvenating."

Setting a goal for 4 hours of work, then kayaking the Sound during high tide. I wanted to do that last night, but when I looked at the calendar, I saw that low tide had already sent in (it's not as much fun or smooth when it is low tide).

Okay, weekend. Here's a shout out to you!

The Humidity Is Back. I Mean, Really Back. I Look Like a Seal When I Run in the Summer

I knew at coffee time that the yuck was back, because I was wiping moisture off my brow over a bowl of Raisin Bran. Then I ran. Phew. Pea soup like I haven't experienced since Kentucky and Louisiana. Heavy rivers to tread through and then there's the weight of carrying wet clothes. I'm sure people are like, "Is that man swimming, or running?"

It's gross. I like to say that sweating is a sign of a healthy body. I know that sweating is simply genetic. I'm a fat runner.

I think I may be more TGIF today than most days. Had tremendous meetings yesterday until 10 p.m. and only have one ZOOM interview today (with my dear role model, Rose Brock). Can't wait.

In the mean time, I'm totally in heat. Not doggie heat, but Crandall heat, and I will need to turn on the air soon. It's that gross.

I also started driving copies of Nic Stone's SHURI to people and the smiles that arrived upon delivery made the mileage worth it.

But to be honest, I'm ready for a long, long sleep. I just want to zonk out for a while. I'm exhausted.

Truth.

A Day of Fingersnaps, Arrivals, Smiles, Productivity & Direction. Not Bad for a Humpday.

I was writing. I mean, I was really writing. And I was making progress, too, when UPS pulled up (Oh, when that Wells Fargo Wagon comes ah, riding down the street)) and two guys pulled out a push-cart I knew my books arrived. Yes, I'm a National Writing Project director who orders 200 copies of Nic Stone's Shuri, a Black Panther Marvel series published by Scholastic because (a) I read an ARC and loved it, (b) know this book is going to do much for middle school readers and Marvel lovers, (c) I mean, it's Nic Stone, and (d) I wanted a shared reading for teachers and kids this summer with older CWP literacy labs.

I loaded all 200 books into my house with a smile (and Hey, nice purple font, Scholastic. I like that move).

Meanwhile, I uploaded new writing and charts towards a collaborative project I'm working on and I managed to live through 4 hours of ZOOM conferences with teacher researchers in my graduate course. I have to say, as we head into the 4th and final week of this speedy-rendition, they are doing amazing work in a very short amount of time. I'm also wondering if is succeeding because I'm really teaching it as a teacher writer. I've planned everything backwards, balanced out the parts, expected things on quick due dates, and guided the process. I am in awe of what they are accomplishing, but I've also lucked out with good minds and good writers. They're driven to make it easier.

Who'd of thought a research methodology course could be taught in 4 weeks during a pandemic? Each and every session has proved fruitful and, once again, I'm intrigued to continue teaching in hybrid spaces for some time. I know many of my colleagues across the nation have been been doing this for some time and have no desire to go back to traditional classrooms.

As for today, Chitunga to the dentist, Crandall to online meetings, conference calls, and a new YA book launch. In truth, however, I simply want to reread Shuri and return to my own writing projects. Yesterday, I felt like I was on a roll.

Situated and Content. Well, The Laundry Room, Anyway. I'm Just Hanging On

In the 24 hours before a new blog post, I imagine myself writing 1,000 things for the next morning, usually with incredible political incite, rage, disappointment, research, and brilliance. Alas, at the end of each day, and in the morning, I'm too exhausted from my other writing routines to go in that direction. I need my blog-space to be my unwinding space...where I reflect on the mundane, the simple, the overlooked, and the trite.

New dresser in the laundry room. Drawers full of towels. Finally hitting the beach look that I've envisioned for the 2nd floor of Mt. Pleasant.

That's it. That's the post. Just an observation that it has happened. 5 years later. Thanks, Pam, for the castaway.

Meanwhile, I reviewed two research articles, graded 14-hours of literature reviews, attended a phenomenal NCTE gathering featuring Tonya Perry, and hosted another THE WRITE TIME which was debuted on Facebook live. At 11 p.m., I also had a beer, which I didn't deserve, but told myself I did.

Also got a run in, and bought another 3 weeks of groceries. I live by science and not the whims and fancies of politicians and selfish Americans. I don't want to be contained at home; I just don't want to  be responsible for being the one that spreads anything to others. When the advice given is so doable and logical, I adhere....pain in the ass, but not agony. I heard from my friends in Texas and Florida today. They're running out of hospital beds, as predicted months ago. News channels are scaring them (well, that's what they do). Numbers rising fast.

This isn't scary if people simply listened. Alas, I imagine they're doing something else, because that 's what Americans do. Well some of them...My household is content and happy to be home (and fortunate we can be). The grocery store was still devoid of all the products I'd like to have, but it wasn't a wash. We're set for a while. It does look, however, as CT is opening back up. We shall see.

As for Fall reopening, and collegiate realities? Well, higher education has needed a wake-up call for some time. I wish I could say high salaries were the reason for the cost, but that's not true for faculty (who in CT are often paid less that public school teachers). Yup...they done turned it into mini-businesses with too many executives on top, and started catering the college experience as if it is supposed to be a luxury hotel for undergrads. So many amenities. The kids lose...as they have a mortgage payment upon graduation.

Higher Education. Phew. We shall see.

Yesterday's Bed-Head and Today's Tuesday. Welcome to Who-Ville and Productivity

Covid-19 head will not get old. I love waking up to see what shape and contortions my hair will be in (and I've begun to play a game as if the hair was a cumulus cloud - I see a lovebird flying towards a collapsing wave).

That's my usual smile for the day, and then I catch up on the news, head back to work, and realize there's a lot of "ugh" out there right now.  Edem and I picked up a dresser to keep towels and sheets in (fits nicely in the laundry room - thankful to Pam), and learned of the craziness that has been going on in Connecticut beaches. Sort of spring break meets frustrated teens and twenty-somethings who've had it with everything and are using social media to congregate with overnight bonfires...except the beaches are closed off except to local residents, and the teens are parking in the neighborhoods and walking down. There are signs in all the lawns saying don't park here.

A brawl kicked out on Friday, one that became viral rather quickly, and then on Saturday, kids were found passed out in their puke, some bleeding, left behind by friends in lawns and on driveways. Meanwhile the beach looks like a garbage dump, as they aren't taking their party supplies home with them. It's a pot-smoking, booze fest of nakedness...including rubber gloves, surgical masks, and condoms.

...exactly what is appealing to our species at that age...Oh, to be young...

And the kids are obstinate, full of cuss words, and astutely anti-authority. That's typical. I hated that phase when I was there, and I've hated it long since. I get the fact that youth need places to go and don't want to be contained at home with their parents, but the photos and videos being posted should want every parent saying, 'Um....just go out back and play checkers, honey. You'll be much better off."

As I said to Pam when she showed the videos, "That's pretty disgusting." Normally, the beach is beautiful and people who go are stewards to the sand. That is not the way of this trend, though. Yikes. I guess they're all throwing themselves one heck of a graduation party without adults - kids congregating from all over the state. Fascinating. 18-year old girls showcasing thongs and boys flexing beer muscles. Beach party, 2020 - everyone walking around doing selfies in their phones and uploading to Instagram.

These times. These times, I tell you.

Great 4-hour class yesterday, and today a day of grading, writing, grant-editing, and article-reviewing. Funny, I'd love to go for a walk at the beach, but maybe not.

In my senior year of college I flew down to Florida to do what seniors do, and my friends and I lasted 20-minutes before we decided we enjoyed one another's company way too much to be surrounded by the foolishness and idiots. We left the beach and found our own adventures, and had a blast.

Yuck. Humans. The evolved species. Yep.

Well, Glamis. It's Monday Again. Give Crandall a B+ for the Weekend. He Did His Best

The brain crashed at 4 p.m. Sunday afternoon. Satisfied with the two-day writing marathon, I realized I wasn't going to be able to transition to planning for tonight's class, so I went for a long walk and came back with a headache. This headache craved mindlessness, and I know it was caused from exhaustion, more than anything else. The 7-day a week marathon for the last few months cannot be sustained. This head needs some off-time now and again. So from 4 p.m. to 10 p.m. Glamis and I watched All American while texting Nadia Craft in Los Angelas who was watching, too. Netflix blitz.

Love that girl. Class of '98, still doing great.

The trouble was that I use Chitunga's account and he was upstairs watching Netflix, too. I kept getting booted off the show, having to wait for the streaming to buffer again - 'there are too many devices using this account at this time.' Okay, Netflix. Too many is two. I did get the mindlessness I crave.

Carol is out front working on the front porch, measuring every angle and thinking out loud in both English and Polish. Glamis is out back lying in the sun...day 3 of perfect summer weather (it's so great when there is no humidity). Edem and Chitunga are still sleeping, and I'm heading back upstairs to the office to prepare for tonight's graduate class. They are sending me literature reviews, so I know what I'll be doing all day today and tomorrow.

But I'm going back to Carol. He is clever, measured, precise, and paced. Every week day he comes to the house at 7 a.m. and works until 3 p.m. - We see progress over and over, and people who walk by the house see the same, often commenting on it to him. I've decided that is sort of how we need to be on our writing projects. Not the sprint that I've taken the last 48 hours, but the marathon....slow and steady wins the race.

Ram-mode is a great metaphor, but it isn't necessarily the greatest way to live life on a weekend. Even so, every now and again Mario needs to become Super Mario in order to the win the game. That's what I did, even if it did give me a tremendous headache. Not much has changed in my life - I've always been this way.

I Apologize for the Man-Nub - It's an Alternative to Tying Things Around My Head To Keep My Thoughts In As I Write

I did as promised, yesterday. I buckled down, focused, and kept the ram-horns moving ahead, and accomplished 50% of the writing goal I had for this weekend. I was side-tracked a little when I thought of a visual to create that would save me a lot of space in a chapter that is already limited for text. Rather that paragraphing it out, I simply tabled it and turned it another chunk into a digestible image. I can be self-disciplined when I need to be (he types knowing he's a fat-ass runner who ate a cookie for dinner and drank a bourbon before he headed to bed).

The hair was falling in my eyes as I wrote, so I pulled it back with the only hair tie I could find. I've always been a better writer when I tie something around my head to symbolically keep in my thoughts, but I found the nub-head worked just as well. The back is not long enough yet to reach pony tail status, and I'm wondering if I will have the patience to try such foolishness again. Although my barber opened back up with limited appointments, I'm not quite ready to leap back into that world again. Grocery stores are enough. People are gross.

One thing I've learned from being on home-stay since the 2nd week of March is that I can survive without much need to interact with others. It pays off that Edem and Chitunga are here and distract me when necessary (funny story: Chitunga's friend is dating one of my students from last year. When he met her she asked what it was like living with Dr. Crandall. He responded, "It's like living with myself. He does his own thing, and I do my own. We basically both work all the time. We occasionally touch base) 

Chitunga is still working overnight, so when I retire from working at 10 pm, Edem and I have been watching All American on Netflix. I can't tell if it is in the Beverly Hills 90210 genre, The Blind Side tradition or a little Finding Forrester meets Friday Night Lights . It's a bit grandiose and over the top at times, but the performances are good and the writing somewhat intriguing. 

And Taye Diggs is the father in the story - the coach. I still want to know why he began following me on Twitter a few years ago. It was in the first weeks I got an account, and he was one of the first ones to follow. I actually forgot all about that until Edem suggested we watch the show. At the time I was like, "huh?" and even now, I'm like, "what?".

Okay, Sunday - you are spending 1/3 finishing the writing project, another 1/3 reading/planning for Monday's class, and another 1/3 doing something that isn't work-related. That is the goal for this day of rest....to partially rest...at least somewhat.

Channeling Doctoral Days This Weekend. Horns Down, Charging Ahead, & Making Things Happen.

I just spent two, incredibly inspiring days with 100s of writers and educators during the UNLV YA Lit Summit. The highlight for me was Gilly Segal and Kimberly James presentation, where they discussed six years of friendship, what it's like to co-write a novel, how they researched I Am Not Dying With You Tonight, and the ways their fiction has eerily come to life at this moment in history.

We also were given their insight, wisdom, emotion, and truth, which will remain with me for life.

The graduate research course, CWP summer programs, the conference, and a crashed porch has me with very few cells left to fire, but I have to get on it, because that is what I'm committed to do. I have a writing project due in two weeks, and my accountability partners need my part by the next time we meet. For the first time in a long while, I have a non-ZOOM, non-committed day, and I plan to use it to my advantage. I'm going into ram mode...

...that's the mode I was in for 1,460 days as a doctoral student, and 365 days in my first year as the CWP-Fairfield. I lived in my office, I budgeted every second of my day, and I went after what needed to be accomplished. Of course, I've done this for years, but ultimate ram mode kicks in when the time comes to charge forward with extra-might, and that time is now. I wish I could be rewarded with a cartoon version of myself knocking all the items off my to-do list at the end of it all, but truth be told, I'm not hitting the to-do list except for one item today. Tomorrow, I'll get to the recommendations, readings, plans, article to peer-review, grading, and maybe even some house-cleaning.

Today, it's doing some serious work to create the shittiest first draft possible. It's been planned for a while now...it just needs to be composed. Then, the sculpting begins.

Happy weekend, folks. There's so much the world needs right now. I certainly hope you're doing your part with love, integrity, semblances of good, empathy, and joy. We need all of that right now.

Live from UNLV - The YA Lit Summit (& Online Vegas Style) - Congratulations to All Who Made the Event Possible via ZOOM

True story. I have wanted to continue the tradition of the YA Lit Summit hosted by Dr. Steven Bickmore (and loved attending in the first years when at Louisiana State University), but the June date never worked with CWP-Fairfield's super-summer programs. For two years, I nurtured my love for YA books at the summit, but realized my pace wasn't sustainable. So, I kept up with my YA Lit people online and through NCTE while maintaining the loyalty to NWP.

For me, the home-stay, social distancing has allowed for me to once again attend Bickmore's party. He and his team held the entire program online via ZOOM sessions and break-out rooms and it was stupendous. I was registered some of my favorite teachers and graduate students, and they've all reached out with appreciation and applause. Day one, attendees got hear from Steve, Ashley Boyd, Crag Hill, Paula Greathouse, Alan Brown, Matt de la Peña, Jim Blasingame, Rebecca Chatham, Morgan Jackson, Candace Flemin, Jenny Paulsen, Amy Piotrowski, Sharon Kane, Alice Hays, Katie Sluiter, Shelley Martin-Young, Josh Allen Samantha Vitatle, Candace Fleming, Kia Jane Richmond, Louise Freeman, Ritu Radhakrishnan, Jen Nails, Trisha Barba, Malleli Machuca, and Chris Crowe!

Quick Love Fest - Chris Crowe is simply a beautiful man. His writing, his advocacy, his vision, his historical knowledge, and his soul. I just need to take this moment and give him a round of applause. Applause Applause Applause Applause Applause Applause Applause Applause Applause Applause.

Today, the knowledge continues with "Joy is an Act of Resistance" starring Stephanie Toliver, Kekla Magoon and Sophia Sarigianides (huge heart to all three). We will also meet with Steven Sheinkin, land earn with Ashley Boyd, Janine Darragh, Derek Riddle, Amanda Melilli, Beckie Maldonado, Sarah Donovan, the Bickmore father/son door, Waverly Whisenant, Alison van Norman, Connor Warner, Nora Peterman, Kimberly Jones, Gilly Segal, Amy Piotrowski, Rick Williams, Cindy Koudelke, Julie Hoffman, Diana Scrofano, Kia Jane Richmond, Stacy Graber, Jackie Mercer, Mandy Luszeck, Darby Simpson, Kristina Bybee, Jennifer Ansbach, Scott Glabb, and Ashley Hope Pérez.

Phew. Susan James, I hope you're ready for this.

All this from an upstairs office (aka bedroom)(aka shifted work space)(aka home) in a pair of shorts and a semi-presentable upper-half. It's wonderful to see so many friends, to be engaged as we are, and to see that this can happen - it is possible.

It also has me thinking about the exclusivity of traditional conferences, too, especially in regard to the lack of budgets for teacher travel and professional development. As a field, we should seek ways to continue bringing such work to the communities that have never been afforded such opportunities. It's possible.

From the laptop of my home, I'm getting all this expertise.

And I thank all who presented and organized these two days.

(He's Shaking His Head) (This ZOOM Life Cannot Prevail) (He's Okay with It, But OH MY GOD, REALLY). Some Celebrations

I need to begin by the fact that I woke up, did my traditional bowl of Raisin Bran, but failed. I poured it on a plate, instead of a bowl, and when I added milk, I realized the error of my ways.

I very much can end the day, too, with a similar story. As I sat on ZOOM and in meetings, and in planning sessions, and in in writing groups, and in a conference, and in graduate courses from 8 a.m. until 9:30 p.m., I failed to make dinner for the household, and when I came downstairs, I was delighted to see that Chitunga went to get food - Popeyes. Hey, I can't complain. I made myself a plate, but then remembered the trash needed to go out, and when I returned, Glamis the Wonder Dog had jumped up and devoured the chicken and potatoes meant for me. She was hungry, too.

I have to say, however, that an impromptu meeting with teacher leaders in CT about transitioning online initiated an activity about having students go OFF-ZOOM to listen to a document and to use Google Docs as a location to record their thinking (chat room style) as part of an online class.

So, I tried it. 14 pages of single space reflection later from students connecting to text, listening, writing responses, and responding to responses, I realized the recommendation was spot on. One student, Mallory, event created this Meme to post in the document as a way of expressing what the conversational, yet textual, exchange meant to her. I will take "Google Doc Chat Room" as a hit for this historian of the future. Love the brain power she felt.

We actually had class for almost the entire 4 hours. I was shocked myself, as all were engaged, interacting, and moving things forward.

Granted, I yelled at myself in front of the students to declare, "This was wrong of me. No one can sustain ZOOM for that long," but the feedback was pretty astounding. The running document shows this, too. Everyone was connected, engaged, and excited to take part in the learning.

News flash: I didn't direct the learning. I participated in it. I will forever be a learner.

At this point, we are 50% of the way through the course (midterm time....really?) and I'm super thrilled that we are all enduring this together. It's a lot...for all of us...

...but we are making it work. I'm simply proud of them all.

But, Glamis. I want my chicken. And Chitunga, "I can't believe I came down after a 12-hour day and you had dinner. I am so lucky. Otherwise it would have been a bowl of ice cream, probably served in a spaghetti strainer."

Now Accepting Part-Time Employment to Pay for Unexpected House Projects (Waaaaaaaah). Oh, Home Ownership

When we moved into Mt. Pleasant several years ago, we made do, knowing that there were things that would eventually need out attention, like the front porch that was beginning to lean forward and that was inhabitable because it was crooked. Still, it was fun on Halloween and for Christmas decorations. For shits and giggles, I had them look at fixing it, in addition to the windows I've been saving for on the 2nd floor of the house.

Salesman says, "Sure. This will be easy. They can pump it up in no time."

Carpenter, builder, and handyman comes and says, "Sir, there is no foundation under this porch, it's built on dirt, and water has been leaking in between the cracks for decades. All the wood underneath is rotted out and it is only a short time before the weight of the roof will collapse it (the roof above the porch is in great shape). I was there for every step, and he was right. Believe it or not, the entire porch was being held up by ply-wood. When you flicked the wood, it crumbled. We immediately put up support beams to hold the roof up.

He called his bosses. They came back. They grumbled and groaned. I knew it wouldn't be pretty. It was ugly. "Boys," I yelled upstairs. "We ain't getting a pool any time soon. Sorry."

It's one of those things I know has to be done, and they sweetened the deal up with promises of pine wood, a ceiling fan, new windows, and sturdiness. My credit is good, but I'm like my father...I bury any savings I have in milk cans in the back yard and bury them deep so no one will find them (that's not true, but it was what big Pete always teased).

I'm jumping in with a yes, though. Here we go. And Chitunga immediately stepped up and cut out the rhododendrons (which we both hated) and relocated the mailbox that was installed on the doorway of the front porch. Yikes. Good think I took on summer courses.

Frustrated that I can't do it myself.

Blessed to be fortunate to reinvest in the house. 

Signed, Sealed, Delivered...Well, It Already Was Mine. Driveway Sealed. Check. Large Garbage, Check. Porch? Today.

Edem started taking the large items out of the garage early in the morning, as the Town of Stratford is coming for large items. I asked him why he wasn't waiting until later and he said, "What if the driveway sealers come today?" I said, "Well, they haven't called."

And they didn't call. They just showed up. The driveway is now sealed. That happened yesterday.

And the funny think about the large item pile up at the front of the house is that within an hour, most of the junk was picked up. As I wrote, planned, and taught from my 2nd floor office, I couldn't believe the number of cars that stopped and took things (including an old, small VHS t.v., two faded and broken porch umbrellas, boxes, two pieces of furniture I was going to sand and paint (but decided I wouldn't since it's been 4 years), lamps, weedwhackers and lawn mowers that don't work, and even styrofoam.

Shoot, if I knew it would be that easy, I would have dragged them to the curb years ago. The point is, we can now park in the garage again. It is operable.

Then I get a text from the men who are replacing our upstairs windows and working on our front porch. "We're coming tomorrow morning." I told them about the mess and they responded, "That's okay. We'll just add to it."

Alrighty then. That's what they're doing right now. They started at 7 a.m. (sorry neighbors...I thought the birds were bad as the sun rose: hammers and drills are much, much worse).

I should also say that Chitunga and Edem spent several hours in the back gardening, planning, building a mini-shelter for our tomatoes and, most importantly, transported enormous boulders from one location to another - Connecticut is extremely rocky, which I would not have known if I didn't live here.

Okay, Tuesday, two radio shows, grading, and MORE WRITING.

I also should say that yesterday was a beautiful day for running, too.

Rest in Peace, Pat Lemery. You Can Tell Grandpa Ken You Gave Him & Vera Some Time Alone, But You're Back!

As a young man, Syracuse rituals meant that on the weekends my sisters, mom, dad, and I would travel to Hamilton and Sherburne to visit grandparents. Hamilton was associated with Loch Lebanon, ice cream from Hobie's sub-shop, looking out for Mr. Nu, going through Grannie Annie's knick knacks, and a smoke-filled arena from Spence and Aunt Rena.

Sherburne meant Wink soda, perhaps a lunch at Ozzy's or pizza from Lewis's, a trip to see Betty Luly or Hugh and Alda, but always, always time with Pat Lemery, my grandma Vera's best friend. Usually she'd be at the house when we arrived, and if she wasn't, we'd get assigned the duty to wait for her on the front porch. I don't remember her ever driving - just that my Grandpa Ken used to say, "Yakkety yak, KC. You and your brother go and see if Pat is coming." That was the duty because KC was a talker when she was young. I think my grandfather simply wanted the silence for a bit before Pat came with for Sherburne gossip and cocktails.

It's hard for me to picture Sherburne, NY, without Pat Lemery, as she was a staple in the town. Her house was always clean, she was tremendously gracious, and she loved to sit and talk. I remember when Chitunga, mom, and I visited and she pulled our heads in close to get a good look at us. She could barely see, but she had magnifying lenses for her books (which were always piled by where she sat) and I always loved seeing her three children's high school pictures: Jack, Jim and Betty Ann. As kids, these photos captured an adolescence that came long before our own. The photos were more youthful than the black and white ones of our parents. There's had a hue of brown to them - an advancement of sorts.

Fast forward, my sisters and I became teenagers, too, and we'd often go to Sherburne for the pageant of bands (Cynde performed), and when we were old enough to drive, we'd come to town to visit Pat and our grandmother Vera. Grandpa Ken passed, and Pat became the permanent fixture on our visits. Always Vera and Pat...Pat and Vera. When Grandma died, it was Pat who was our Sherburne saint. She was family.

Soon, my sisters and I had senior year portraits of our own, moved into our adult lives, and became reflectors of our own pasts. Jack and Betty Ann were always a part of our world while growing up. Pat was KC's godmother and her son, Jack, was Cynde's godfather. The Lemerys and Crandalls were simply united. Living in Syracuse, too, we'd often visit Betty Ann in Liverpool.

In my head, people get frozen in the time where I last saw them. Jack and Betty Ann's kids are still little kids, playing with toys, and running around like cartoon hedgehogs.

My parents and I visited Pat and Betty Ann last year. The year before, Chitunga, my mom, and I did the same, making a road trip down memory lane. Although memorable and special to me, I know the memories for my parents were immense....all those years - a completely different time.

Pat lived to be 100 years old. That means her childhood was in the roaring time of America's post-WWI festivity, her teens in the depression of the 30s, and her young adult life during a 2nd world war. Her kids and family would come together in the 50s, grow up in the 60s, and begin starting their adult lives in the 70s. That is the time my sisters and I came into the picture. We were post Civil Rights marches, Korean and Vietnam Warms, and Woodstock. Pat Lemery's 100 years saw incredible change across the American landscape, all from the angle of a two-floor house on Main Street in Sherburne, NY. It's pretty remarkable to think about how much life she would have seen in ten decades.

My mother let me know Pat died on Saturday, and a part of me sunk into my own ribcage and stomach. We knew it wouldn't be long, and the passing came over the weekend. It is sad to see the ending of a legacy. I am sending love, comfort, peace, and memories to all who knew Pat, especially her immediately family, grandkids and great grandkids. It is something to lose someone who seemed destined to live forever. I am thinking of my family today, especially KC and my dad who had an extra-bond with Pat. I look at the photograph above and wonder, "How did she even recognize me when I visited?" I still see myself as a little kid skating on the sidewalk by her house. And I'm hearing Grandpa Ken picking on Pat, the moment she arrives. Pat will laugh and respond, "My God, Ken. I left the two of you alone for almost 20 years. You'd think you'd be glad to see me in the picture again."

In the sitcom of our lives, this is the only way I can imagine it plays out. "Hark," I hear my grandfather say. "Let's make a drink."

May the 3 of them look over us graciously, especially during these times.

The Poetic Blues - Honored to Perform for Red Mountain @writingproject to Kick-Off Their Summer Teacher Invitational

So wonderful to spend a Saturday night reuniting with Attallah Sheppard and presenting a few poems to the University of Alabama Red Mountain Writing Project in Birmingham. It was their Summer Institute Kickoff. and there are very few people as special and dynamic as Dr. Tonya Perry. When she calls, I answer.  It's been a long time since I wrote a blues poem, but I channeled my days in Kentucky, some blue grass beats, and figured out what I had to say., and began with a new one, written just for them. Attallah rocked as always, Jaeden Henderson is the man, and I did what I could. In total, we mastered a 50-minute set. Phew. We should do this for a living. It made for a fantastic Saturday evening. 

Attallah is meant for this work. She's just magical. Here's to the 21 teachers of 2020!

Poetry & Blues

for the Red Mountain Writing Project Summer Cohort, 2020

My heart is marching, My soul sings songs

My heart is marching, My soul sings songs

& I’m composing…I’m writing wrongs.

This is poetry,

this is the blues

this is cosmic symmetry

and a celebration of hues

This is the Diva

This is the Frog

This is our karma

& national dialogue

My heart is marching, My soul sings songs

My heart is marching, My soul sings songs

& I’m composing…I’m writing wrongs.

This is about legacies

this is about rights

this is about prophecies

and our ongoing fights

This is about Red Mountain

This is about the ways writing prōjects

This is about our doctrine

towards each other to humanly connect

This is about justice

This is about peace

This is about fairness

& a scripted masterpiece

This is about language

This is about words

This is about wreckage

northern flickers & beautiful songbirds

My heart is marching, My soul sings songs

My heart is marching, My soul sings songs

& I’m composing…I’m writing wrongs.

This is about teachers

This is about youth

This is about alters

where both can tell their truth

This is about playgrounds

This is about art

This is about classrooms

where we give them a start

This is about literature

This is about books

this is about being circular

as we model how it looks

This is about notebooks

This is about seeds

This is about scrapbooks

& finding ourselves through weeds

This is about community

This is about friends

This is about serenity

& making our amends

My heart is marching, My soul sings songs

My heart is marching, My souls sing songs

& I’m composing…I’m writing wrongs.

This is about me

This is about you

This is to be free

& do what dreamers do.

This is about crying

This is about being strong

This is about trying

& coming along

This is exploration

This is the door

This is versification

where you’ll explore

This is a walkway

This is an entrance

This is a pathway 

where you can take a stance

This is poetry,

this is the blues

this is cosmic symmetry

and a celebration of hues

This is the Diva

This is the Frog

This is our karma

& a national dialogue

Our hearts are marching, Our souls sing songs

Our hearts are marching, Our souls sing songs

& we’re composing…we'll write these wrongs.