And It Was a Total Beach Day. That's What Happens When I Get Out of My House Early

I brought a book, lunch, snacks and say, "Okay, let's do this sunny day before they go away to snow flurries and ice." I sat with my feet in the sand from 12 until 6:30. Well, the sand and then the water and then the sand and then the water.

I needed that day. Mindless relaxation and sunshine. A treat before August comes to a conclusion (which is right around the corner)

And back to Monday. Window installments part two today, and back to work we go. Edit, edit, edit.

I am sad that these days will fall to the side rather soon. One of the benefits of living near water is getting out to clear and ease the mind.

My one goal was to finish the book I brought, but the company was too good, so not much reading was accomplished. The worst part of the day - Chinese food for dinner. I absolutely don't get it. It's so gross on so man levels.

Okay, time to make the donuts. Bye sand. Bye beach. Bye Day of Letting Go.

And Then There Was the Trim. Hmmm. Painting a Room From Scratch is Harder than Paint by Numbers.

Next up on the new front porch was the ocean white trip, which we did around the windows, ceiling, and floor. You'd think that it would take a few minutes because the areas are small, but the truth is, taping up the areas took my energy out on Friday, and painting took my energy out yesterday. It's meticulous work, and now I need to think about the wall paint (although I'm inclined to decide only when I figure out the window treatments, either shades or curtains). What I do know is that I am going to spent a lot of reading and writing time in this space as it's already calling to be out there.

Perhaps that is my nosey neighbor tendency. Actually, it's because I'm always drawn to natural light and the porch has this all day long because it faces south towards the Long Island Sound.

My Saturday started out slow. Like most people I know, it started with shock about Chadwick Boseman, Howard University grad, icon, and hero to so many I know. Leo was trying to figure out who he reminds him of and I said, "He kind of has Lossine and Abu in them...a cross between the twins. But, much better looking (ha ha)."

And I was thinking of seeing the movie with Chitunga when it came out, missing Marcelle, her son, and her husband by just minutes (as they were exiting as we arrived). I only realized this later from Facebook posts.

And I am thinking of idols, role models, influencers, narrators, story-tellers, and magic, and how T'Challa brought all of this to the world generations way too late. Ask why such a film wasn't made previously, and you get everything that is wrong in the United States. The timelines tell the story. History has its chapters.

Today, we tackle the next phase of the porch, which I think is going to be a light smoky gray stain. We shall see. It might be nothing at all. We shall see as the day unfolds. That's the way I'm allowed to roll these days and I will take it.

And Just Like That, 30 Years. Um, Time. How You Play All of Us Like You Do. It's Beautifully Cruel. Nefariously beautiful

Look at this gorgeous Northstar, Class of 1990, and wonderful friend from high school.

Phew. Melanie Nappa. 30 years later, and her oldest will be attending Fairfield University. How does this happen?

Time is beautifully cruel. Nefariously beautiful.

In my senior year of high school, Melanie and I were trained as counselors in North Syracuse, where we worked with young people who experienced trauma and had difficult home situations. The social workers we worked with were patient, intelligence, instructive, and mentoring. Once a week for a year we'd meet for reflection, and then with the young people we were assigned. We were 18. What did we know? Actually, we were sponges and it is remarkable to learn, 30 years later, what became of us. It is also remarkable that our senior year internship stayed with us as adults.

Chitunga and I met up witht he Nappa-Carrols last night for a good ol' high school parking lot party. In other words, we tailgated outside their hotel. Melanie and Tom were dropping their oldest, Mikayla, at Fairfield University for her freshman year (she, of course, is not pictured here). On the way up to their hotel (about 8 miles from our house) I said to Chitunga, "You'll see someday how odd this aging thing is. I am looking at myself in the mirror wondering if they'll recognize this mid-life, aging fart."

I totally forgot that Tom was Captain Northstar in his senior year, a roll Dave Grover played when we inherited the reigns. I have vague memories of his humor, zest for life, and popularity, and I remember that Melanie and him started dating. He's now a dentist and, like me, Melanie went into education, earned her Ph.D from Syracuse, and is now employed by the University.

Crazy. Our paths strayed so far apart, but folded inward once again.

Truth is, Melanie was one of those glimmers of hope and love when I was in high school. I always thought highly of her, and was glad we were brought together in our senior year. We graduated with so many kids, so having specific memories with most was rare. Rather, there are snapshots and polaroids of the way it once was. Young adults...adults so young...for sure.

Time and friendship are conspirators, and they test us with definitions of 'unconditional.' I texted Melanie last night and said, "We're family now. Your daughter has an uncle on campus." Unconditional friendship is holding one another up without obligations, and always knowing we have one another's back. That's almost a Northstar pact.

I loved catching up with Tom and Melanie last night, tracing the steps of who we once were with who we are now (from CNY parties to Vince Vaughn movies being shot in our homes...who would of guessed any of it?). I didn't realize Tom was a Cherry Heights kid, too, as he started stating the names of his friends from school. The memories began coming back. In high school, each year becomes a massive divider of the human beings, even if one class has vague knowledge of the other. Tom graduated with Cynde, so he was amongst the upperclassmen giants to be admired from afar. Although two years apart, they always seemed unapproachable and enormous. Ah, they were just kids like we were, doing the North Syracuse thing.

So wonderful to reunite and to have a few minutes of temporary pause in the chaos of adulthood (all of us fresh with Covid-19 negative results).

A highlight of the week, if not entire summer. Here's to more gatherings in healthier times!

Note to high school kids: cherish every second of time and space that adolescence offers. Now will not be tomorrow. Yesterday will in front of you ad nauseam before you know it.

Yes, time is beautifully cruel. Nefariously beautiful (how lucky to be alive right now). Phew.

RIP, Chadwick Boseman. The loss, evidence for the court. Too soon...way too soon. An absolutely iconic actor who gave T'Challa life and offered young people a superhero they've always needed, but never knew was out there. You are the story. You wrote it for so many of us. Carpe Diem.

And He Says, "Write for 120 Minutes," Then Stain for 120 Minutes, Then Read for 120 Minutes, and See How That Goes

The floor is stained. Now, I need to decide what to do with the window trip and paneling. Chitunga says to leave it as is, and not to paint. I showed him options and he says, "Just Leave it."

I know curtains will eventually make the room and I haven't found the ones that I want yet. I will. If the Crandall chair is going out there with the new pillows, a ceiling fan, etc., then the curtains will make it the actual reading space I desire (grading/writing, too). We shall see.

I know CT was hit with some major storms yesterday, but all we had was good downpours and thunder. The big stuff seemed to go east of us, although the entire afternoon seemed ominous as if it was coming.

I cooked last night, and am in preparation for the next interview for THE WRITE TIME (it will be very, very hard to top this coincidence...The Great Whatever is watching over me on this one).

That, and a friend from high school who married a boy from Cynde's class, will be bringing her daughter into move-in day at Fairfield this afternoon. The goal is to have them over when she kicks them off of campus (either that, or breakfast on Saturday morning).

I made great progress on POW! yesterday, too, so it's getting there. Horns down, I might just accomplish this weekend goal and get that off the list.

Meanwhile, Dr. Moss. I need psoriasis help. It is too much. I'm waving the white flag again.

Running Them Errands in the In-Between Spaces. Home Repairs. Touch Ups. Oh, How Crandall Disgraces...

Can you guess what color we're using to stain the front porch?

None of these. Because the stain we wanted wasn't in stock, and the stain we got, which was in stock, wasn't on this chart. Par for the course, I suppose.

Also got rods for the curtains, and now need to decide on the paint. I picked out a couple of ceiling fans, too, and already think we know what furniture will go out there. Of course, they have to finish the electric still, but I'm getting anxious. I'm ready for my reading chair and my morning coffee to be transported up front.

Also got groceries, returned sink parts we didn't need, and did some shopping with Tunga - got him hiking boots for his trip to Maine for the next week, and a couple pair of pants. Also picked up a cheap pair of Adidas runners. Anything has to be better than the awfully designed pair of Sauconys I have now. I can't run or walk in them. 1st complain I've ever had with that company. Hoping they broke the mold when they designed them. They really are terrible, but when I find UGLY, loud-colored kicks for $30, it's hard for me to resist.

Likely to stain the porch today, and we'll have to decide on wall paints next. I'm thinking in the blues family, simply because it gets so much sun every day. Of course, I'm always a fan of orange, too, only because it reminds me of my grandmother Vera's kitchen.

We have the heat returning, too, after Maude gave us 24 hours of comfortable temperatures (great running weather).

And I'm getting there. I want to have POW! edited and ready by next Monday, which means I need to be in ram-mode for a few days longer. It will get done! I need the runway cleared to take off on other projects...of course, NWP just notified me that I have two weeks before for big reports are due, so I'll eventually get to the sabbatical projects. I am hopeful.

Ah, but today I'm somewhat home obsessed. I like to take things off my list.

Yet Another Unpredictable Moment in My Life as a Dad. When THE UMBRELLA PROJECT Has a Dance Sequence & @ChitungaC Finds a New Song to Dance To

I think Chitunga and I were both remarkably surprised by how good THE UMBRELLA PROJECT is on Netflix. Uncle Mike suggested it and we gave it a try last night. After episode one, I said, "Well, what did you think?" in which Chitunga said, "I think we need to watch the next episode."

First of all, the writing and narration of this series are remarkable. I'm mesmerized by the story, the imagination, the characters, and the quirkiness of the entire show. That is probably why when they broke out dancing to Debbie Gibson, I could only laugh, channeling my 9th and 10th grade friends who used to jam to this, too. It makes sense, since that is the age of the kids in the home.

Phew. To have those superpowers. I wish I wrote a plot line like this.

So, as Chitunga and I went to hit golf balls (not me, really, him), he announces, "I've been listening to Debbie Gibson all day. I'm addicted."

Please don't let Boy George know. I think he'd be crushed to know that he is being off-sided like Tracy Chapman was.

Where does one get a kid who loves 80s pop music? Well, I got one.

I was also impressed they played some They Might Be Giants, although I didn't get into them until the 90s. I need to do research to see if they in bars around the time Debbie Gibson was in malls.

Anyway. Big fan here. Just watch the scene from the show. It was such a funny, brilliant moment and I hope the writers keep doing stuff like that to appeal to we Gen-Xers. So awesome.

I've Waited to Blog About EVERY BODY LOOKING by @BecomHer (Candice Iloh) & Today Seems Like the Perfect Time. Phew! This Writer.

Those who know me realize I have three passions have intertwined within life: a love of words/poetry, a zest for original stories, and an appreciation for narratives where young people find their voices and soar beautifully into their worlds.

EVERY BODY LOOKING is a jackpot of all three and hit every one of my passions, captivating me from page one until I finished. I absolutely cherished the ending, Candice Iloh's metaphors, the beauty of the poetry, the intelligence of the narrator, and the grace in which language is used across the page.

One can find more about Candice Iloh on her website and pre-order EVERY BODY LOOKING from Penguin Random House. I recommend taking some time today to do both.

 I've cheated the world at times, especially when given an advanced copy of a text like Iloh's. This summer, I already began using pages from EVERY BODY LOOKING as mentor texts when working with teachers and students. The exercises were huge hits, and I can't wait to use her work in future Writing Our Lives conferences across the nation with middle and high school writers.

Iloh's story is tough, but it is also composed with gentleness, fluidity, precision, and care. Ada, her narrator, overcomes (and erhaps that isn't the right word). Ada, rather, finds herself triumphant when looking at herself in the mirror to realize she has become/became exactly who she was always meant to be....a wonderful, strong declaration for any individual to realize.

For me, however, the narrative arc through elementary, middle, high school, and college scenarios was the most intriguing. Learning with Ada throughout all these years was exceptionally written. As Jacqueline Woodson penned on the front cover, EVERY BODY LOOKING is "Beautifully crafted and ultimately healing." I 100% agree. It won't be long before everybody starts looking towards Candice Iloh's way, either.

I am thrilled that Sharonica Nelson of the Red Mountain Writing Project will be celebrating Candice Iloh's brilliance tonight at 7 p.m. EST / 6 p.m. CST / 4 p.m. PDT on Facebook, in the next National Writing Project episode of THE WRITE TIME. If you can't listen in, the interview will be available on YouTube, and on the National Writing Project website. You can also listen to Candice Iloh's interview by downloading NWP Radio onto your phone (or subscribe via your podcasts).

I absolutely love everything about Candice Iloh's writing, vision, and purpose. I believe this is only the beginning for this educator/author/artivist!

I thoroughly enjoyed Candice Iloh's first book, and can't wait to read more of her work in the future. NCTE and NWP - make sure this writer is central to the radar.

While Hiking with 24-year Old Legolas, @ChitungaC, I Realized How Grateful I Truly Am For All That He Has Brought to My World

Saturday night we built a fire, using all the wood from the tree branches I cut down that have sat for the past month to dry out. Yesterday, I asked, "Want to go for a hike," and Chitunga quickly suggested Sleeping Giant in Hamden, across from Quinnipiac University.  He's hiked there several times but I have not.

He's approaching 25, and I am having all types of flashbacks of me at that age, with my long hair, my road races, and my hikes at the Beargrass Creek State Nature Preserve and Jefferson Memorial Forest. Actually, back then I billed myself as a naturalist, and with my Nike hiking boots, kids and teachers in tow, it was normal for me to climb and lead 25-30 miles of trekking a week. I absolutely loved being outdoors, walking trails, learning wildflowers, naming trees, and getting comfortable with landscapes.

Actually, I was hired by the City of Louisville at age 25 to be a full-time naturalist and I accepted the position, until 36 hours laters when Ron Freeman offered me a position at the Brown. I was lucky that Barbie Bruker-Corwin understood my decision to leave the Louisville Nature Center, because I had interned with her for several years while earning my Masters. It made sense that I took the naturalist job for just a few short days, before heading into the classroom.

And bring back yesterday. I know that Chitunga has taken to the outdoor world and last summer my greatest memory was when he shared with me his weekend cottage in the Adirondacks, a friendly gesture from a man he interned with. It was stunning. He often takes off to go hiking and more recently spent time in the Catskills. It never occurred to me before to ask, "Hey, can I go, too?"

I'm not sure how far we went, but I know we were out for a few hours.

I also know that Chitunga is part Elvin and I'm pretty sure he was trained by Legolas in the Lord of the Rings. Either that, or he's very connected with the Ents, because he flies across rocks, branches, trails, and trees. He's quick. I kept thinking, "Okay, all those years I hiked daily, and I was lighter and younger, did I move like that?" Then I wrestled, "Is it becomes my legs are taller that I can't glide along the trail like he does? Am I now old? Is it supposed to hurt this much?"

He moved. And it was impressive. And I loved every second of it.

We took a yellow trail out and decided on an orange trail back to the car. The trouble is, although he was a good 200 yards ahead of me all the way, somehow on the orange trail, I couldn't see his shirt up ahead. This resulted in me going off trail some, and then finding myself on the red trail, which was basically climbing rocks up, and then climbing rocks down, for a good hour. I ended up on a highway somewhere, and then walked towards the University, where I found him already rested, dried of, and relaxed. He needed the key to the cars so we could leave.

I said to him, "You are taking us to the first gas station and I'm treating us to cold drinks a.s.a.p." I was drenched. Other than running in the Derby marathons, I don't ever remember being that soaked through. It was 90 degrees and full humidity, so we knew it was coming. I just don't think we planned on going out so far. I didn't realize that we'd perspire so much, either. Liquids were a necessity.

Or maybe he did know, and I love him for that, too. It felt awesome. I thought a lot about being his age, what my rituals were during those years, and how much nature and hiking were a part of my every day life. I definitely felt old on the trail, wondering why I couldn't maneuver as quickly as Chitunga was doing. And, I admit, it wasn't the same breathing as running (I didn't use the same muscles, either). It was tough. I kept thinking, "What if someone passes out? How do they airlift someone who falls down the rocks and breaks a leg? What if that is my fate?"

I didn't want to know, but I imagined it, just like I imagined spending the night when I didn't see the end of the trail, ended up on another, and couldn't keep an eye on Tunga's blue Patriot shirt.

But it felt great to be outdoors, especially hiking with him. Perhaps I don't tell him enough within the everyday parenting, but I love this kid more than I love myself. He's 24, finished a Masters, and heading to the work force this Fall. He's kind, thoughtful, super intellectual, hard-working, funny, and motivated. I often tell him, "Sometimes I think you're a figment of my imagination, just because I admire you so much and I wonder if I've created this alter ego in my head to help me make sense of my world." He's just that chill and cool.

Then I realize he is very real. I'm so grateful.

I'm not sure my legs, thighs, calves, and ankles will forgive me, but I can say that the adrenaline, exhaustion, sweat, and hike triggered amazing joy in my mind, both in memory and with the present opportunity to go at it with the kid. I hope to maintain more hikes with him, and it's okay that he's faster, more agile, and elf-like as he moves. It's wonderful (crossing metaphors here) that he invites Hagrid along with him (that's Potter).

Happier that at 48 (twice his age) (and with not much practice) I was able to sustain myself for a few hours. It was definitely a challenge (because the ups and downs were crazy), but I did it....it was good for so many reasons, and doing the hike with Chitunga remains at the top.

Shoes and elephants with that kid. Elephants and Shoes. Phew. 

When At the Last Minute You Have Nothing Prepared, You Quickly Reach For the Props on Your Shelves

A couple of days ago, I was asked if a previous graduate student and I would be willing to be on a panel for Graduate School orientation (totally online) to discuss faculty/student collaborations and to highlight how the campus is set to assist with research initiatives.

To be honest, I was simply booked as a caboose, as the highlight was a welcome from administrative leadership, a discussion of library resources, followed by Elisabeth Muller's research (which did win the 2019 Library Research Prize for Graduate Work), and then my summary.

I knew the others had everything covered and they wanted me to tie a bow on their package and send everyone on their way. The intent all along was to have a slide made up, but I went for a quick-reach instead and grabbed books off my shelf. (Really, Crandall, you didn't have 1 minute to make a slide?)

There is a Playbook for Graduate School Success, I began with a reference to Kwame's book. And then went through the following talking points, holding up each book as I summarized with words:

1. You typically fly Solo in graduate school, and the work is on you. Still, if and when you can collaborate with peers and professors, collectively, you're at an advantage. Be sure to hold on to YOU in the process, but also see yourself as part of a community of others.
2. There are multiple Flying Lessons that will be offered in each and every course - each to play a role on your stories. Be strategic in your coursework, and collect the best thinkers, ideas, projects, and insights so you have them with you at the culmination of your graduate school journey (keep a folder/box/drawer ready for the work you do).
3. Be sure to Cultivate your Genius. Our goal as a campus is to make you as brilliant as possible so you're able to enter your profession and/or career with pizazz, depth, knowledge, and skill.
4. We are a Jesuit University, which encourages being men and women for others. As you do your work in nursing, engineering, business, education, or the arts, don't forget that the work you do should aim towards building a Nation of Hope.
5. Finally, know that all Research is Action. Aim throughout your coursework for the action you desire and be sure to document it as data. Design the world you want to live in.

I said I would be two minutes and that is what I was. I am trying to figure out what the rhythm and flow might be to begin graduate school during these times. It is strange, indeed, and I wish everyone luck.

Because I Embellish When Storytelling, Here's My Long Island Sound Story From Yesterday

After morning meetings, writing, and prepping, I looked at the clock, the high tide calendar, and my next interview, and said, "Shoot. If I leave now, I can do 1.5 hours of kayaking on the Long Island Sound...which I did....expecting no winds and smooth waters.

The Sound had a different mind, however. I should have known when I saw all wind surfers out on the water speeding, doing tricks, and flipping in somersaults that it probably wasn't the best day to kayak. I thought, "Well, you wanted a work out, it's almost 90 degrees, what's a little wind and choppy waters?"

What it is, exactly, is fatigue. I have my usual route, but I couldn't take it the entire way because the waves were coming in all directions, dumping ocean water in my kayak and making it nearly impossible to move. Of course, I got quite a distance out before I realized I needed to head back in to interview Candice Iloh at 3 p.m.. When I started back I thought, "Cripes. Will I be able to do this?"

It was fun, but messy. Rough. I was soaked and the boat was loaded with salt water. It became heavy, and my arms were aching (and I enjoyed every second of it, even if I felt like I was rowing in place). I made it to the shore safely. I also was home in time for the interview.

The sound usually doesn't move in the ways it was moving yesterday (and I'm guessing this is a commercial for Fall weather and hurricane season to come). It was sort of entertaining trying to navigate the waves without flipping over...but it was a tinge scary, too.

Going to get a cup of coffee now, then I imagine I will complain about my sore shoulders, triceps, and biceps for the rest of the day.

But it's the weekend....ahhhhhhhhh.

Only one ZOOM meeting at 11 p.m. - then I think I will read all day.

I'll Take an Evening Like That: Backyard, Burgers, Cutting Up Firewood, and Butterflies on the Butterfly Bush

Like most K-12 educators and college faculty, a summer typically spent outdoors, gardening, appreciating the warmer weather, and letting the brain chill-out was somewhat superseded by the insanity of Covid-19, the up and down meetings, the constant changes, the numerous calls to help out colleagues across the nation, the sharing of information, the practicing of online tools, and the data-gathering from numerous resources updating numbers, probabilities, science, and political decisions.

Yes, I'm heading to sabbatical, and on August 21st, 2020, I can attest the pace has not ceased since last March. It has been non-stop thinking, creating, planning, re-planning, writing, dreaming, hoping, revising, revisiting, and fact-checking.

Perhaps that is why after I spent 9 hours on ZOOM calls yesterday, I decided I'd complain a little (about cooking) but headed outside to barbecue nonetheless. I talked to the elderly woman next door who lost her husband this past year and the teacher to the other side (all over the fence and at a distance). Each has different wonders and fears.

I grilled my hamburgers (delicious, by the way, because for two years my lil' sister has sent me spices that are perfect for fish, chicken, and beef), then ate outside with the potato salad (that required me to boil actual eggs successfully...as posted a couple of days ago).

Afterwards, I took time to chop up firewood for the fall from trees that came down with the last tropical storm and I also just sat and looked at my butterfly bush that was loaded with customers. In other words, I enjoyed a summer evening, even as the cicadas are singing their back-to-school songs.

The dinner was delicious, and for a second it almost felt somewhat normal, except we typically have a backyard full of friends to enjoy such an evening with us....

...that has subsided temporarily.

It will return.

The hamburger was delicious, my potato salad-making abilities that passed my mom within the Ripley gene-pool is definitely with me, and I'm heading into this Friday extremely proud of my CWP teachers who work so hard, my colleagues at Fairfield University who have not given up evert second during the summer for whatever happens this Fall, and for everyone who is doing their best to be kind to their neighbors, this nation, one another, and a potential tomorrow.

I feel as if I'm still running on adrenalin mode (which will make sense, I believe, when NWP makes some announcements today) and I look forward to this beautiful Friday ahead.

Life is simple, really. Follow nature. Look to what is good. And when you lift the cover of the cooler on the back porch and find there's a housefly-orgy, just let them screw and reproduce (with hopes the maggots don't land themselves in your trash cans any time soon).

Like most, I'm tired of the maggots. I know they wipe away the dung and have a biological purpose, so I'll let them be.

TGIF.

When I Was Younger, Just a Sad Little Kid. I Noticed Things My Grandmother Did.

What's summer without expensive dental procedures? It's all good. I'm basically a textbook case for dental interns everywhere at this point - a case study in root canals, crows, cavity refillings, chipped teeth, and Buddhism. When I was younger, just a bad little kid / My momma noticed funny things I did. / Like Shooting puppies with a BB gun / I'd poison guppies and when I was done / I'd find a pussy cat and bash in its head /  That's when my mamma said / what did she say? She said, "My boy, I think you'll find a way to make your natural tendencies pay."

I provide to dentists. I give them everything they've ever wanted to know, study, explore, research, and comprehend. I give them my mouth. Yesterday, it was a suspected cavity behind a filling next to a crack that might have been a nerve, or my twin brother Ryan who never developed. Long story short? Take care of, as I always do. What is a visit to the dentist without a couple thousand dollars worth of work? I'm used to it. I'm pretty sure I've funded two to three children of dentists through college. That's how great my teeth are.

Yesterday, however, I got so much novocaine that my nose went numb. I couldn't feel my breathing and I was like, "Well, that takes care of my sinuses." Then, two hours after the novocaine wore off I felt a stream of snot dripping from my nose to my t-shirt. Fun. How was I supposed to know?

I've come a long way since Dr. Pelozi in Mattydale, and today's dentists are still asking, "What the crazy hell did that man put in your teeth? I'm finding orange peels, puppy dogs, and dinosaurs back here?" I'm thinking, "Um, the 80s were a different time?"

Alas. I am lucky to receive treatment. I hate it, but I go with it. As I've said since my 20s, my mouth is worth more than I am.

As With Most Adages, I Am Strong Enough to Confess...Well, I Was Sort of Right. Kind Of. Maybe? But Very Close.

The quote is "Youth is wasted on the young," and I've always ascribed it to George Bernard Shaw. Of course, when I was thinking of the adage, I wanted to find it's true origin and, alas, I learned that it is more complicated than I first realized. The premise is the same, but the origins are a little more sketchy than originally intended.

Youth, it is true, is wasted on the youth. 

Attributed to Irish wits, both George Bernard Shaw and Oscar Wilde, there's never been a precise quotation. There has, however, been reference to Shaw saying,

"Youth," he replied, "Is the most beautiful thing in this world - and what a pity that it has to be wasted on children!"

Touché.

It was Bernard Shaw in a newspaper column (or so it is reported).

I was thinking of it last night, as high school friends and I talked on the phone and started thinking about our teens and twenties, and we reflected on whether or not we made the best decisions. We went back and forth on all of that, especially in relation to working with young people today.

I was of the demeanor that youth today have no patience for adults. The way they see it, we have created a world for them that is full of lies, selfishness, deceit, political parties, anger, a refusal to see history, and stupidity. They'd rather get us out of the way. Still, others don't think it is that bad. I guess this is interesting fodder for Gen X types who had childhood in the 70s and 80s without too much crazy drama. Kids today are normed with school shootings, testing anarchy, politics, and now viruses. They know 2011 as normal. They are post-post the histories, and with the Internet, just over it. They want better. With cell-phones in their hands, too, they want it all pre-ordered and on its way from Amazon with a snap of fingers.

And still, here I am thinking about this, as I guide decisions for the teenage and twenty-something crowd. I told my friends, "Maybe it is time to give the reigns to the next generation. I mean, we served our time. We did what we would: The Real World, ET, MTV, etc. - we are the entertained culture who had a pretty remarkable world (I'm reading Douglas Coupland here in full-force). Yet, there's the Baby Boomer, 60s, and 70s crew still hanging on to different times and ways of knowing. Then there are those that cling with all their might to mythologies of racial, cultural, and social power that their people built (god dammit it) and others take away (because their ancestors took it away from those they exploited). All so fascinating.

I'm not sure, however, youth is wasted on the young, as much as it deposits naivety grounded for jealousy - aw, to be so young. I think it is more that the present and future are really out of our control and only time (and historians) will tell. Youth is gifted to the young...a present for more optimism, hope, trust, and curiosity. Age, then, is burdened on the old. Ah, fuck. Another day to deal with all this shit. I just want a beach and some margaritas.

Even so, I'm hoping and optimistic that the great American social experiment will continue in a favorable direction, despite the setbacks we witness daily.. I have my doubts given the way some people act, promote, carry on, and vindictively choose what I don't see as good, but I really think that youthfulness, integrity, ambition, drive, and knowledge will lead us ahead....long after I'm gone.

I can only hope so.

Yes, youth is wasted on the young.  Thank God. 

These Days, It's the Smallest Things We Must Celebrate. Crandall Boiled His First Egg Ever. Actually Two. He Is Proud

I'm not anti-gametes, and I have no problem with Humpty Dumpty. I bake with them often, and even scramble them from time to time. But I  readily admit here that last night I successfully boiled my first two eggs.

Yep. Cracked the shells, peeled them, and everything. The whole shebang. And, it is true. Edem taught me how a few weeks ago (boiled eggs are Togo-lese thing), but I still had to look it up for reference. I just didn't know how long to keep the ovals in the water.

Why am I boiling eggs, you ask?

Good question. I wanted potato salad, and since my last (and first attempt) was so good, I thought I'd try my luck again. This time, I even gave in and added a chopped up dill pickle for spunk.

No raisins. Who puts raisins in potato salad?

And I was successful. We had pulled pork, coleslaw, and potato salad. All the fruit is cut up for the week, as well. Whenever I make a good meal like this, I want to run around like my father used to and feed the world. "Yo, try this." "Hey, want a bite." "I can't help but share this with you."

Boiling an egg was not that difficult. It's not Emmy- or an Oscar-worthy , but I'm giving myself a blue-ribbon for a nice job, well done.

Applause. Applause.

All for me.

(I bow proudly)

With a Family Wish, Love and Memories from Chitunga, Cynderballz and Me. May the Light and Life it Brings Offer Peace and Hope

The Syracuse trip home was short and purposeful, as my baby sister and her husband laid to rest a central figure in their lives. Pops. Not Poops (as John joked during the service). Anyone who knows Casey and Dave know the centrality of Pops in their life. He was their heart, their humor, their patterned day, and their best friend.

The same was true for their boys, Sean and Jacob.

Cynde ordered a rosebush online and we both doubted it would be what we ordered - it wasn't. On Friday before the service, we went to Hafner's in North Syracuse to get something that was more relevant: two solar lanterns and a butterfly bush. They have the best shed out back with full sunlight, and I imagine the plant would do remarkable out there. If planted, it will grow as tall as the shed and welcome summer monarchs, swallowtails, buckeyes, and other traveling creatures looking for nectar on their quest back home near the equator.

Light and Life. Life and Light.

It can never replace Pops, but it can be a location to look outside and remember him, love him, and feel his grace.

Losing someone is never easy and losing someone now is harder than usual.

As I watched Jacob and Sean during the service, I had memories of Casey, Cynde, and I as we came to see the passing of our grandparents. It was always tough, especially seeing our parents break down. Probably the most vivid memory from the weekend was when I looked back to see Chitunga holding Sean in his arms, letting him feel and let go of his sadness. Soon after, Cynde joined. As if instinctive, my father, being Butch as usual up front to be in the crowd, looked back and saw that it might be time to get Casey, which he did. Then, Casey, hugging her oldest, reminded me of how temporary it all is and meaningful. How fast, too, as it seemed like it was our relatives hugging us when we were younger.

All love to the universe and Great Whatever for helping every one to heal. We hope the butterfly bush and lights bring a smile to their home, just as Pops always did.

Rest In Peace, Pops. Look over your beautiful family and keep them safe.

The Hay Is Down, the Seeds Are Watered, and My Father Remains the Master of Building a Fire No Matter How the Condition

 It was a somber day, Saturday, as we paid our respect for Pops, Casey's father-in-law and Dave's Father, as the Southern Hills Posse paid respect for their friend, family member, brother, grandfather, father, and cousin. He was a loved man who made tremendous memories with many, especially in the Fayetteville-Manlius community. It was a beautiful day for a beautiful ceremony.

Butch and stopped on the way home to get hay to finish the pull-fill, grasss=-seed replacement. Then, because it was almost 90 degrees, he decided he'd like to build a fire.

Of course, the fire pit was wet from watering the grass seed, so he poured gasoline on the fire. That worked, until it sort of dampened out, so he said, "I'm going to get my leaf-blower."

He did. It turns out that when you blow into a fire pit with a leaf blower, it is much easier to keep a flame going.

This is Butch's genius and it was successful. Dylan came over and sat with us and when Papi went to bed, he brought me over to experience drunk Nikki (which was one for the record book).

Phew. hard to believe it is Sunday already. Time flies by much to quickly. 

Whistled While We Worked. The Pool Pit That Once Was Is Now a Flattened, Grass-Fed Mud-Pit. We Earned Our Keep

The lion' share goes to Cynde and Mike who worked with the heavy fill last week. Chitunga, Cynde, Mike, and I only had the top soil to work with, and it spread out really easy. We had it spread, flattened and watered within an hour.

Hard to believe the pool is no longer, the ol' baseball field is back in play, and that grass will be growing real soon. I'm also missing the Oak trees in the backyard, destroyed by the Ash boars...insane to think the entire shade was gone by one summer of bugs.

Holy New Back Yard, Batman.

Ah, but we settled ourselves down with burgers, hot dogs, and CNY corn-on-the-cob so all is well. Glamis was of no help.

The physical labor was worth the exercise. We were exhausted. But it's done. Grass seed is down, and sprinkler is on. It's done. 

Different Summer, But Same Picture. Two Peas in a Pod Making Sure The Neighborhood Stays as It Should.

Chitunga and I rolled the die and came to visit the folks in Syracuse (just in time to fill in the pool with top soil - knowing the heavier stuff was already done). I shot this photograph almost immediately and it is the same as the one from last year, the year before, the year before that, and the year before that.

Buddies keeping an eye on Amalfi Drive. Pepsi to the side.

What I'd just say?

Pepsi to the side?

What?

Pepsi.

God Damn, It. I can't hear a single thing he's saying.

YOU LOOK GOOD, DAD.

Sure. I'll take Chitunga to Chubby's.

Um, Mom.

Just let him go.

And we're back. We had BLTs followed by peanut butter ice-cream, some Big Brother, and then time for bed.

No pool, though. That's the saddest part. But CNY has put its heat on. 

Bonus. When You Hear Lots of Noise and Wonder What the @#$#@ Is Going On, and It's Just Tunga Being Tunga. Thankful

Wasn't in the market for a new shower curtain or upstairs bathroom look, but I guess Chitunga was. I thought he was power cleaning the bathroom while I was on my computer in my bedroom office, but he was redecorating to his liking - contributing to the household.

Boom. Love it.

We can now alternate our bathroom look because we have two styles to choose from.

And we'll have to enjoy this next week, as we are waking up and heading to CNY for a long weekend. We both have obligations early next week that we have to attend, and we're super conscious about spreading and/or getting anything, so we're tepidly paranoid, yet cautiously optimistic.

Looking forward to a change of scenery for a couple of days and maybe even a Wegman's sub. Also, hoping the heat will subside some. It's been miserable, and we still haven't had the promised thunderstorms or rain.

On a good note, enjoyed a burger ordered in Lordship last night. Great take out. I miss that lifestyle from time to time and was thrilled not to cook for a change.

And we're off. 

When I Read THE TALK @CrownPublishing in March I Couldn't Wait for it to Debut. Well, It's Out. Such a Great Middle School Text

In March, while traveling to and from the North Texas Teen Book Festival (the last trip before the shut-down), I brought an advance copy of The Talk: Conversations About Race, Love, & Truth with me. The collection is edited by Wade Hudson & Cheryl Willis Hudson, and is a Crown Book for Young Readers through Random House Children's Books and written for a middle-school audience. As noted in yesterday's #ProjectLit talk, however, it is a book for everyone to do what the title says....to have a talk with one another. 

I told Rebecca Marsick and Kim Herzog, who came with me to the festival, that they needed to read it as soon as possible - it will be a must-have for 5th-8th grade classrooms during the upcoming years. Each of the contributors offered a new perspective and made you think (well, made me think). Yes, the writing was geared towards a younger audience, but as Cheryl Willis Hudson remarked last night, "The book is meant to be shared and discussed with many." That's what stories do when shared with others. They help all of us to grow.

Wade Hudson and Cheryl Willis Hudson, "the legends" as Renée Watson called them, discussed how they wanted to have a follow up text  to We Rise, We Resist, We Raise our Voices, to address the toxic environment set forth in this country since the 2016 election (seeds planted long before this generation came to see what has gown). They wanted to have another book to keep kids engaged with love, hope, and possibility. "The Talk" they explained, "is something Black parents are familiar with … it is something that all parents need to have with their children. Sometimes there is no control. It pushes conversations about self-esteem and who you are on the planet." They discussed the goal was to elicit ideas from authors who have been speaking truth to power and who write for a multicultural audience to capture the numerous talks needed within a diverse society. They felt the conversation would be incomplete if there weren’t many voices, including White authors…as the conversation needs to be broadened. "If the problem could be solved by people of Color it would have been solved years ago." As editors, they hoped for an intergenerational text, one where people around the world could talk about systemic racism and injustices. "More history needs to be told," they stated, "to empower and to enlighten. We can move forward, and through history, people can find hope."

At one point, Cheryl Willis Hudson shared her quilting project, and the need to spiritually uplift and to reflect on stories in whatever art from works best.  "We’ve been stuck too long."

Wade Hudson discussed his story, "The Bike," as well, which highlights when a young boy first learns he lives in poverty –  relevant today with layoffs and joblessness. He wanted to share his story, and how his father shared hardships with his sons. He finished the evening by reading an excerpt from his story - the one when a bike did not arrive on Christmas morning. 

Another author present for the meeting was Adam Gidwitz, a White author who spent time writing about his family's immigration story from Lithuania, but with the intersections of a grandfather's success within a racialized south easily exploited for financial gain. His story, "Our Inheritance," processes his family history  and sets out to explain economic disparities to his daughter, even those that arise from both pride and inequity.

"Middle school kids are as smart as anyone," he shared with the audience. "They are full of optimism and a sense for justice. They aren't carrying the weights on them like adults do, and they are open to raw conversations. They have clarity in their thinking. They are ready." THE TALK invites conversations to our homes, including the story from his Lithuanian ancestry, as he moves to teach his daughter to care for the people you live around.

Gidwitz shared a talk he had with Joseph Bruchac about having two ears and one mouth - we should train ourselves to listen twice as much as we talk. As a White man, as White people…two ears, and one mouth. We should listen twice as much as we speak. … THE TALK is an invitation into other people’s homes. 

I was thrilled to see Renée Watson on the panel, as well, as she described THE TALK as a tool to have conversations with kids. She was excited to have something that was practical and and an example for what can spark necessary conversations. She admitted that all it took was a request from the Hudsons and she was in. I really enjoyed hearing how she's maintained a writing schedule through the pandemic and how she's moved beyond a stifling reality into a place to find her artistry. "That's what artists do," she remarked. "They look for upheaval and injustice, and they create. They make stories." Currently, she's writing about joy, especially the joy found by Black young girls in numerous communities. "It's a celebration of who they are and where they come from."

Renée Watson also encouraged journaling and told teachers, "This seems like the perfect time to have young people write what they are thinking and feeling. They need moments to process all this, too...to make art out of the chaos. It's a way to help them to gain control of their own lives. Making something is powerful"

Similarly, Renée discussed that listening is also an active word. It's okay to fall back, take in the books that are coming out, and to listen to the conversations. Listening is the priority.

"Find the people who are rooting for you."

The panel additionally discussed resources like Rethinking Schools and Teaching Tolerance as go-to spaces for teachers. They also tried to name movies and/or other books that have blended voices like this collection has, but they couldn't think of too many (I thought about Free to Be You and Me from back in the day) (I also thought about Scary Pockets, and how they musically mesh funk into a variety of popular songs with multicultural talent). 

But then Cheryl Willis Hudson mentioned "Glory" sung by the Detroit Youth Choir, and I had to look it up. She's right...it's a musical variation of what THE TALK is setting out to accomplish. 

I will definitely be promoting this book in all my Connecticut Writing Project and National Writing Project work. As awesome as the texts, so are the artistic contributions by powerhouse artists and illustrators. Simply awesome.

Because I Could, I Tried to Nap. Tried? Well, I Put a Faculty Meeting on Audio, and Just Listened, Closed My Eyes & Pretended

I didn't really sleep, but friends and I were sharing photographs of our dogs sleeping heavily on the lazy day of summer (because the heat was high and the cicadas were singing). Joking, I laid in bed and said, "I think I will join them." Snapped a photo & hit send.

It lasted 30-minutes because no one was sleeping through the high-shrilled voices who raised their hand to ask a question then proceeded to ask 54 of them. The  questions my colleagues asked were interesting, and I have to applaud Dr. Christine Siegel and her phenomenal integrity while answering them (phew). She's good at what she does and I wouldn't want her job. It's impossible, especially as we try to balance out our economic ways of knowing with our human ones.

I did, however, grow more alarmed about the Fall than I previously was, especially when nursing faculty and law scholars began asking hard-hitting questions about the liability of returning students. The question that got me was, "Has administration run the numbers of death percentages expected as a result of the choice to stay open?"

Yikes. It's inevitable it will spread, but death percentages are low. Let's hope our community is not one of the locations.

Alas, I won't be there. I can mark myself safe for 6 months as I sit on my ass writing from home. It's just that I want to visit my parents, but after the call I'm a lot more paranoid than I was before. I tend to trust our nurses because they work in the field and see everything. They are straight-forward and honest with their recommendations. They are like, "Wash your hands, close your circles, and stay home," which I've done since March.

Ha. Just realized if I get Covid the photo above is likely what I'd look like in a casket.  No fears. I've told the boys that they are to turn me into soil and to grow a tree out of me. I'm sure I've got some worm-nutrient beef within me. I'd like to spend my afterlife reaching for the sun with my green leaves, providing shade for others, offering shelter for the birds, feeding the insects, and swaying in the wind. That's the goal.

Two ZOOM projects today and some much-needed editing and re-organizing. I also have to plot the CNY weekend visit....tent in the back yard?

The reality that the pool won't be there just hit me. Phew. That's rough. 

I've Got My Frog Shield for Teaching (Too Bad I'm Off the Books Until January). Thanks, Susan James

A package arrived in the mail and it was Pelican love for Frog. I am very thankful, as shielding into safety is the game for the Fall.

Alas, I'm not teaching (and if I have it my way, I'm not mingling with anyone other than on Zoom). I have to say, however, that I love my protective covering, and if need be, I will put it to use, indeed, in 2021.

Sunday was a wonderful day of running, cleaning, mingling, swimming, and watering. The salt mist that came with the tropical storm has everything extra dried out, and I don't imagine the trees will hold onto their leaves much longer. I think they will have an early demise because of that storm and the lack of water.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to save the grass. It's been too dry this summer, so I'm watering.

Feels weird to wake up on a Monday and not immediately getting on the calendar to align instruction for the day. I think August will really be my friend and I look forward to thinking more thoroughly on a few of my own projects.

On second thought, I might just start welding in my new frog screen. Metallic lily pads coming your way soon.

I Guess I Can Claim I'm Officially Moving Towards Sabbatical Status...CWP Labs Ended, It's August, & Day One - The Sink

 Before and After.

For the last week, we've all been reporting water found on the floor and upon investigation, we learned that the faucet on the sink was slowly leaking down the back of the cabinet (and began a persistent drip). When we got inside (and it took us a few hours to unhook because of the rust) we learned that the faucet was definitely ready to go.

We got a new one, but guess what? No one has faucets designed with the water spout and a 2nd hole for the soap. They either come in three holes or one hole, but definitely not two.

Long story short, we opted for a one hole and plugged in the soap hole, with an idea that we might be able to drill a new soap hole in the marble down the road.

Of course, then we realized the dishwasher died. No, not me. The actual dishwasher. That's for another day, because Crandall's home repairs can't handle any more in 2020. The wallet is officially tapped. Everything I've saved is going into the windows and new front porch. The sink was a bonus for the week's surprise.

Meanwhile, I'm excited that I didn't have to pay someone to do the work, because that would have been extra stupid. Instead. We problem solved and figured it all out. I'm not as willing to take risks with electricity, though, so the dishwasher is off limits. It's not plugged in. Rather, it is directly wired to the back (which seems absolutely crazy to me.

The evening goal was to chill out and watch movies, which seemed rather lame for a Saturday night. I know it really sucks for the young ones right now because it isn't the usually weekend crazy that we're used to (update: no movie. Chitunga drank beers and smoked cigars, while we contemplated the universe). All the hook-up and party scenes are squashed so unless someone is having a social distanced soiree at home, it is absolutely isolation mode, which is extremely boring.

I really wish I could get away for a couple of days to claim a vacation. I need one desperately. 

With Joy, Happiness, Respect, Grace, and Pride, I Am Thrilled to Say the 7th Edition of Ubuntu Academy Was a Success.

Our numbers were down by 12, we didn't know if technology would be available, we worried about getting materials to the kids, and we doubted whether or not kids would want Summer enrichment during a pandemic.

They proved to us that they were ready, willing, focused, curious, interested, and dedicated...even during a tropical storm that took away Internet, electricity, cable, and passageways on roads, they still showed up (for Nic Stone's Shuri, for William and Jessica, for the Connecticut Writing Project tradition, for literacy support, for collaboration, and for composing.

On the last day, the students compiled a letter to their teachers about what they need in the upcoming year, an with love and support for their teachers (they know it will be challenging). These young people are thirsty for knowledge, desire language and opportunities, have incredible senses of humor and tremendous cultural pride.

They are beautiful.

I am so lucky to be a part of their lives each summer. We were missing a few, but the majority showed up (as Will & Jess had to operate from backyards and a car).

Love these kids, love these teachers, and now loving the fact that my days will not be ZOOM-dominated (the first time since March!).

Happy Saturday, everyone. 

It's Friday Y'All, and I'm Simply Thankful for the Teachers I Get to Work With Every Summer. They Are the Best.

They are without electricity. There are trees and wires down everywhere, and they drive to William's mom's house to sit outside on lawn chairs so they can run Ubuntu Academy, our two week, adapted online literacy lab for immigrant and refugee youth.

Meanwhile, my 1-year old MacBook Pro fizzles and the screen needs to be replaced, so I have to run to campus for the day to get it worked on and to retrieve a loner. I love the one they gave me.

And I am thinking of Tuesday's lesson plans, when a crew of kids and I collaborated on an As In poem (thank you, Kwame Alexander...your gifts are endless).

Here's to the Friday, the last day of 6 weeks of literacy labs and CWP's ability to sustain the excellent work we've kept going for the last 7 years. It definitely was different, but 100% successful, and I'm proud of my exhausted, committed, and dedicated teaching crew. They make every second of the efforts worth it.

Grateful

/grate-full/

to be accepting of what you have

appreciative,not to be greedy

As in,

It was night-time, and I wanted a snack

and my sister brought me a bowl of ice cream

with M & M’s and caramel sauce, 

and said, “This is for you,”

My stomach was happy.

As in, 

Eid Mubarak, when everyone has a smile,

and kids are running around with candy

on the streets of Sudan, and 

parents hand it out with prayers.

As in,

sleeping in to 11 a.m. during the summer

when a tropical storm brings winds through the trees

and the temperature drops by 20 degrees

As in, 

seeing, smelling, touching, hearing, and tasting,

the flowers on a sunny, spring day

when butterflies chase the snowflakes away

As in,

being good with others

eating, dancing, singing, laughing,

talking, and enjoying life.

As in,

being able to find peace within,

and not through others.

Congratulations, Aidas! 2020 McCloskey MAAC Postgraduate Scholar-Athlete

It was officially announced yesterday that Aidas Kavaliauskas is one of 2 recipients for the the 2020 Bob McCloskey Insurance MAAC Postgraduate Scholar-Athlete Scholarship.

This is a tremendous announcement and a well-deserved accomplishment. It was a true pleasure to write a letter of recommendation for this award, and an easy task...as Aidas has been a friend to the Connecticut Writing Project at Fairfield University both as a mentor in our Sports Writing Young Adult Literacy Lab and with the 2019 screening of Hoops Africa: Ubuntu Matters as part of the Saugatuck Story Fest.

Sports stories are life stories, and he's writing his own. In the summer of 2019, Aidas traveled to Zimbabwe with Vilia Baumilliene, another Lithuanian student from Fairfield University, to work with Hoops4Hope, my cousin Mark's international non-profit that promotes sport as community engagement with youth. From the letter of support I wrote,

First, I wish to detail Aidas’s excellence as a role model to the work that I do. I direct one of 150 National Writing Projects across the nation, and the only one residing at a MAAC school. This work primarily focuses on K-12 schools, teachers, and students, where I run institutes, workshops, professional development, and conferences. Unique to the Connecticut Writing Project has been the creation of several Young Adult Literacy Labs during the summer months, where 100s of kids come to Fairfield University to focus on writing in a wide variety of genres, including sports writing. Aidas, on campus during the summer months, was first to volunteer for our camps, especially to discuss his love of basketball, his strength of learning in a 2^nd language, and his story of perseverance, athleticism, academic achievement, and personal goal-setting. 50% of our young people are on scholarship from high-needs school districts, and Aidas’s has always been willing to share his life with them.   

In the summer of 2018, my cousin Mark Crandall, founder of Hoops4Hope Africa, contacted me with a question, “Do you know of any athlete who’d like to work with programs in Zimbabwe for a couple of weeks this summer, especially if they are from Lithuania?”  I scratched my head, called Coach Johnson, and WOLA!, it was confirmed that Aidas was, indeed, from Lithuania. The Kazickas Family Foundation, established in 1998, supports projects and vision for young people from Lithuania to experience culture, the arts, social welfare, technology, and medicine The foundation wished to collaborate with Hoops4Hope to provide an opportunity for a Lithuanian student, especially who might help mentor them on ways to create similar youth programming in their own country. There were many calls across countries, with regulators of NCAA sports, and with leaders across campus. The quick story supersedes my doubts that Aidas Kavaliauskas would ever be allowed to spend the summer in Zimbabwe. Yet, he did. He also became one of two athletes named that year as a “Stag for Others.” 

At a time where we are cleaning up tree limbs after a tropical storm and donning face-masks to keep viruses at bay, news of Aidas's recognition as a MAAC scholar provides grace and hope. Of course, now I am thinking it will require another steak dinner on Mt. Pleasant, as that seems to be the go-to meal whenever he stops by. The boy can eat!

I can't wait to see where Aidas Kavaliauskas goes in his future. He will finish his Masters at Fairfield University and then move towards a vision that has been building for many years. It will be amazing to see what comes next for Aidas.

CONGRATULATIONS!

Because a Coastal Storm That Downs Trees and Wires is a Perfect Day to Re-Paint a Bedroom

We knew we were going to be inside all day, so it did seem like a perfect day to redo Chitunga's room. It's the first paint job done on Mt. Pleasant, because I've liked the clean paint look where every room in the house was painted the same (plus I'm color-stupid and don't want to ruin the fresh look). Not any longer...we managed to get the cathedral ceilings, which called for borrowing our neighbor's ladder and Chitunga's room revised.

I was in my room when Chitunga started, and was working with Jessica and William in Ubuntu Academy. When the winds picked up, I simply loved watching the trees rock back and seeing Dorothy, Toto, and a few tumbleweeds rolling down the street.

Then the winds really picked up and I started getting reports of down trees everywhere. I had an afternoon Academic Council meeting and was online and ready, when we lost Internet, and the University apparently went without power. When Chitunga and I  drove around Stratford, we were amazed at how many trees were down, roads were closed, and hot wires were flailing in the streets.

We've had a few coastal storms in Connecticut, even hurricanes, but none of them had winds like this. It reminded me of the Syracuse Labor Day storm back in the day. Just chaos everywhere. Today is a day of absolute clean-up for most of the State.

I haven't caught the news to see how bad it was everywhere else, but rumors are it was rather intense.

I can say, though, Chitunga's room is almost finished. He picked the colors and seems very pleased, although I think the labor it took was a bit more intense than he surmised. It looks good; I'm inspired to start thinking about the rest of the house, too. I need Cynde, however, to bring her color palette and aesthetics to help me.