Dare to Care

My one word for 2024 was Cherish. Looking back at my blog, I was able to read some of my experiences of cherishing. I wrote about it three times in January: here and here and here. I had so much to cherish: my two-year-old grandson, looking forward to a new granddaughter coming, cherishing the optimism Kamala Harris brought to the campaign, and the birth of Phoebe in August. Then the unexpected and awful happened: my granddaughter got sick and died. I revisited the word cherish at the end of October here. Now in November and December, after the election and three months after Phoebe died, I’m still reeling. I’m feeling guilty for finding things to celebrate, I’m foundering in my faith, and I’m finding less to cherish each day.

We set our painted rocks outside last winter, and I guess the paint we used was not weatherproof. Here is what I saw today in the cactus garden:

I’m going to write about my word for 2025 on Thursday. Will you choose a word for the new year?

Today I went to Swamp Creek Park with my daughter and grandson. We met six other moms and about eight children, ages 1-6, who many gather together informally once a week to play outside. The mud puddles and creeklets seemed to be flowing all over the park. Everyone was decked out in rubber boots. Most also had rain pants and jackets on. The weather was in the mid-forties and it sprinkled on and off, but fortunately it never rained hard. I was definitely the wimpiest person there, with my cold feet and wet gloves. Even the one-year-olds loved the water and mud and getting into nature. I loved this sweet experience.

The scenery was lovely and interesting, as I think is always the case in the Pacific Northwest.

Highlights of NCTE

1. Seeing at least a tiny bit of Boston.
2. Meeting up with so many friends from Slice of Life, Ethical ELA, and Poetry Friday.
3. Listening to the brilliance and excellence of Ketanji Brown Jackson and the humor and vulnerability of Kate McKinnon.
4. Rooming with and getting to know Tammi Belko.

   

5. Glenda Funk rushing in to the children’s luncheon, but stopping by to bring me a saguaro-shaped emery board I had admired on her blog once.
6. On the last night, Tammi and I were thinking about where to go for dinner, when Glenda Funk graciously invited us to join her at the
7. Little, Brown and Company dinner with authors Andrea Davis Pinkney, Quartez Harris, and Leslé Honoré.
8. Riding across the Boston Harbor by water taxi on a crisp beautiful day. (And the riding back to the airport on the Massachusetts Bay Transit Authority bus.)
9. Presenting with Sarah Donovan, Kim Johnson, Leilya Pitre, Tammi Belko, Wendy Eberard, and Ann E. Burg about Words That Mend, and bathing in the beautiful poetry that was written by the 75 or so participants.
10. Walking in the rain with Sally Donnelly and getting delicious take out at Greco’s and her warm embrace and shared tears.
11. Happy hour at Serafina’s with a table jammed full of Slice of Life friends.
12. Laura Purdie Salas introducing me to so many gifted people at a gathering of poets on Friday evening. I was a total poser, but it was fun to be with them.

    

13. Volunteering for about 11 hours alongside other professionals in the local literacy affiliates at NCTE. I didn’t get to go to as many sessions as I would have, but I felt that working was a great way to participate as a retired person. It was very rewarding.
14. Hearing the passionate keynote of Bryan Stevenson, attorney and social justice advocate, founder of EJI.org, Equal Justice Initiative.

Jars of soil collected at the site of lynchings of Black people between Reconstruction and WWII are displayed at the Legacy Museum in Montgomery, Alabama. (See more here.) In his keynote, Stevenson told a beautiful story about a Black woman who was collecting soil from a lynching site when she was approached by a white man. Their encounter was healing and impactful. This poem is based on that story he told:

Stop.
Ask what’s going on.
Hear the history.
Listen to the lynching stories.
Say their names.
Dig your hands deep into the soil.
Dig into the injustice.
Dig into the oppression,
the abuse, the violation.
Unearth justice.
Unearth hope.
Unearth our stories.
Stop burying truth.