Procedures Went Well. News Was Good. The Waiting Offered Results That Were Wanted. And Now It Is Time for Recovery

It's hard to function when you are elsewhere, but need to be in another place. Mom had a procedure yesterday morning which I know was on her mind for weeks. I inherited my distrust and frustrations with doctors from her, although she spent much more time visiting them throughout her life. Now that she's older and needs them, they often come with procedures one doesn't want. It was a minimal procedure, a heart ablation, but still it wracks up the nerves. She is now home and resting as it is doctor's orders to be a couch potato.

Yesterday, before I heard how things were going I tried to imagine what my father was doing without her at his side, and chose to do #VerseLove26 prompt #29 to make the Invisible, Visible. I was channeling the worry that comes with caring for aging parents, but also the memories that my mother once did this for her own (and my father's parents). It's part of the cycle and not easy. 

I spent most of yesterday grading and when I thought I was in a good place to head to campus for meetings I decided that I'd rather stay home to get ahead on more grading. I'm trying to live my a better self-care mantra, especially after 15 years of relentless demands with little to no support. The only help I will get is the help I chisel out for myself, which is peace-of-mind time and setting boundaries. The CWP work remains a joy and I love my students. Not sure about the meetings with so many other agendas that are harmful and hot helpful, though.

Anyway, off to campus. Full day ahead. 

This Morning

b.r.crandall

I imagine him

sitting at the window

counting coins,

listening to 

telenovelas 

in Spanish he

won’t understand, 

his hearing aids

charging or lost 

in the laundry

with yesterday’s 

Lucky Strikes

& crushed cans

of Milwaukee’s Best.

Cars will drive by

& he’ll wave,

perhaps cry,

worrying she’s not 

in her chair 

under a blanket 

covering her

purple toes.

He’s already forgotten

his morning medicine 

but he’ll mow the 

lawn a few times,

after fussing

with the

 recycling bins. 

A stranger will

aide him today,

unwrapping the meals

dropped off by wheels,

and no one will 

answer the phone.

We’re all

on call.

Just waiting.

Thank You I-95 for the 90-Minute Return Home Last Night to Go Five Miles. One Lane. Construction. But Construction. Just Orange Cones

Of course on the last class of the semester, I finished at 7, talked with students until 7:30, and head home to sit in a parking lot. I was in the far left lane, too, so no way to move right to exit for an alternative root. I just rolled my eyes and went with it. I could have technically slept in today, but knew I wouldn't. I need to be on the ready to pivot back to Syracuse should I be needed.

I liked yesterday's prompt for creating instructions for #VerseLove and after a hike (where I found a golden duck), I came back to simply capture what April mornings are like for me as I put myself in the poetic seat. I'm miserable in the morning, but I do marinate on what I might write until my brain gets in gear. Mostly I spend morning consuming the thoughts of others (through reading...not through talking... definitely not in the morning. Just keep quiet).

I'm sending all my good vibes to Central New York to be with family this morning, and will sit home awaiting news by the phone. I do have a few days of meetings galore, but I'm keeping all my options open, just in case. I did get all the laundry put away yesterday, so that was a step in the right direction. 

And I'm heading into grading mode. The sooner I get them off the plate the better for summer plans (which includes 200+ kids on campus). 

In the meantime, the 28th #VerseLove26 poem. 

April Instructions for Punxsutawney Phil 

b.r. crandall

Wake up 20-minutes

before an alarm

& hate the startling

process of 

morning shadows.

Give a middle finger

to the world & tell

the universe

to go %@#$ 

itself.

You need coffee first. 

Dog out. Dog in. 

Yogurt. Granola. Fruit. 

#VerseLove. Prompt.

Thoughts.

Doom-scroll subscriptions 

to international outlets

reporting the demise

of humanity. 

Play lay your games.

Audio…1st five letters.

Sing Nants ingonyama 

bagithi baba / Sithi uhhmm ingonyama

with feet firmly planted on 

cold, linoleum tile

while mediating 

social behavior with a joy 

for  deleting emails, 

texts, & messages.

Take a Walk. 

Ignore the leaf-blowers - 

men who love having 

tools in their hands. 

Peacocks. (the same ones 

that mess with mufflers).

Contemplate life.

Look for birds.

See new roadkill.

Reflect. 

It will

become 

a poem.

And That's a Wrap on Monday Classes for a While. Yay. One More to Go Tonight. In the Meantime, #VerseLove26, #27

Love me some Dave Wooley prompts. Miss his daily dialogue to prompt my thinking and our frequent gatherings to feed one another and discuss the state of the world. I began my day yesterday thinking about his prompt to take everyday distractions and to work them into a poem. His poetic prompt on Ethical ELA was superb, as was his model poem crafted from his brilliance.

It took me a while to think of an idea, but then I started thinking about what annoys me most when using the phone to get things done (try making a hotel reservation these days or getting medical attention). That, and the number of texts I get from strangers wanting things from me. Of course, all this led to the inane way our nations is being run right now (yes, almost $60 to fill a compact car) and the total disregard for everyday financing which should not be a problem because our nation is causing that problem. 

I'm just shaking my head. And although I don't make daily calls to The Great Whatever, I do find myself talking more and more to it each night as I try to calm my brain down before sleep. And if anyone has any Crisco...I might try that to get this humped-back creature threaded correctly.   

On Calling God this Morning

b.r.crandall

It wasn’t an emergency

so I didn’t hang up.

I just pressed 1 for English 

& listened closely because 

apparently the options have changed.

No, I’m not selling my house,

No, the windows are already new, 

No, my trees don’t need trimming,

and No, Mr. Fraternal Order of Police,

you already make more than most of us.

I simply didn’t want to drive to Kohl’s

for their Amazon drop-off center,

because I don’t have a vehicle big enough.

Just a question about Mathew 19:24. 

For the life of me,

I can’t figure out how to get 

this camel through the eye of a needle.

Apparently, they need one for his ballroom

because we’re at a turning point in U.S. history.

Yet, here I am again, 

number dialed 

& you’re telling me 

it is no longer in service.

I was hoping to, at least, be placed on hold, 

but now I have to hang up & try again.

Cough Cough. Last Sunday Night with Monday Morning Frustrations for a While Now. This Week Ends Another Semester of Classes. Time to Ride Low.

Summer programs begin in July. They are plentiful, lofty, robust, exhausting, and well-recognized. I will take the labor of supporting them any day over the days of meetings. Teaching is fine, as is research, but the amount of time spent in meetings, retreats, etc. that is a total waste is mind-numbing. In the summer, we meet very little. I simply report what needs to be accomplished and it gets accomplished. It's not all the other bantering and social positioning. It's simply great teachers doing wonderful work for kids.

The lawn was mowed for a second time yesterday (much easier this time) and it's prepped for the upcoming yard work I hope to this weekend as I think about gardening, planting some shade where the neighbor cut it all down (on his side) and cleaning up the backyard aesthetics. 

I'm thankful for Pam who made chicken enchiladas so I didn't have to cook and for Rico who entertained Karal extensively. I also got a lot of grading done and some of the laundry put away (emphasis on some). I also baked two cakes for the last grad classes, a tradition I've kept for 15 years at Fairfield for the last night of classes. They eat and work, while I walk around a workshop.

Yesterday's prompt was simply to take a drive and write about the backroads. I, on the other hand, like to shorten my drive so I can get out of the car and walk. The views never get old, so #VerseLove26, day 26, was about outdoor writing once again. I was thinking there might be a nice collection to put together of CT poets doodling their outdoors....that's something to keep an eye out for. 

Lordship 

b.r.crandall

it’s easier on 

weekends to

drive along

short beach

(larger than 

the longer one

where teenagers

occupy cars

as if drive-ins

still exist).

We park Katniss

(never-green-no more)

and leash Karal

for a walk along

waving gray lines

that meet an 

eggshell horizon —

where the

lemon strip

hovers between

pigeon-blue clouds

& glacier stone.

This is our prospect

of an ocean,

a movement along

the shoreline

(to curb our 

inner drive) —

where Golden Hill

Paugusetts once 

hunted deer —

where ferries

transport travelers 

from Bridgeport 

to Port Jeff —

where ospreys

hawk the sea

with barbed talons

in a hunt for 

bluefish, sup,

& fluke