Report from Chicago (day one)

This post is especially for my friend Marjorie Boyer, who was hoping I'd keep the status updates coming on FB... I wanted to say more than would fit there, so here we go!

The sun came up (another everyday miracle) and I was able to see the lake. It's frozen!

(morning at Lake Michigan, as seen between the buildings...)

I accidentally got up earlier than I meant to, but that gave me plenty of time to get ready to go have brunch with one of my favorite OWU alums. We had a giant meal and talked and talked over multiple cups of coffee.

See that little bit of light in the picture above? That's about as much sun as we saw all day. It was pretty grey, and there's been light snow. There's slush all over everything, and salt. I keep having to clean my shoes and watch out for slush-puddles. (Alas, I did not see any slush funds.)

There are lots of smart and interesting and personable people here at the conference. And, judging by the people I saw out and about, Chicagoans seem pretty unflappable. They will not be flapped!

I crossed the river a couple times--also frozen!

(Ice floes on the Chicago River)

I got a little turned around on my way "home" to the hotel where I'm staying--after successfully finding the hotel where we're doing the interviews (different), the hotel where I went to hear a panel (another different), and the Bombay Grill, where I had some delicious curry.

As I kept trying to orient myself, I had lines of a new poem running through my head--about getting lost, feeling awry--and so I'm going to go write those down.

But first, and also: alas, signs of the colonizer. (They are everywhere, as those colonizers are the heroes of our national mythology.)

("The Explorers," at the Michigan Avenue bridge)

(The site for the fort was ceded through a treaty made in Ohio, 

after the Battle of Fallen Timbers... Here's a link with more info.)

And, to end on a lighter note: I thought this sign--in the back of the room where I heard a panel of papers on Emily Dickinson's poetry--was somewhat entertaining.

In addition to being stuck in the back of the room, apparently the bloggers and tweeters are also never fed, and so they had to nibble on that piece of paper.

I hope you're having a lovely day, wherever you find yourself.

Cheers,
Karen

Happy 2014 good luck food

We were traveling home from Detroit on January 1st, so I didn't have a chance to cook any good-luck foods. It was already a spot of good luck that we made it through a snowstorm--er, correction, Winter Storm Hercules!--with no problems. From Detroit to Toledo, the snow was really steady and the roads were slushy and bumpy. It was slow going, but everyone was driving safely and carefully, and the whole way we only saw one car in the ditch. That felt darn lucky.

There was no snow at home. And when we got there, everyone who was making their black-eyed peas and cornbread and kale and pork and sauerkraut and  posting photos on FB made me a little envious. So I thought: we can do that on January 2nd, right? We can do that and still have good luck for 2014, don't you think? There must be a special dispensation for travelers and those others who can't cook on the 1st. Hmmm...

Well, I hope so. In fact, yes. I'm declaring that the good-luck foods I made today are just fine and right on time and they were delicious, too. Even the teenager ate some black-eyed pea soup, and he does not like beans nor soup. That in itself is kind of magic, yes?

I made the Chipotle and Black-Eyed Pea Soup I saw on BlogHer; here's the link.

My variations: well, our grocery store did not have chipotle chili powder, so it turned out to be non-chipotle. (I'd like to make it with chipotle chili powder sometime, as I adore anything chipotle-flavored--maybe the Mexican grocery store on the other side of the railroad tracks will have some...)

And I forgot to buy an immersion blender today. I got kind of caught up in work stuff--I had a long meeting, then I was making a syllabus for a course I'm revising a whole bunch. And making a new-ish syllabus is always like trying to put together a puzzle when you can't see the picture you're aiming for, and sometimes there are pieces missing, or--more often--too many pieces to fit in the puzzle. After today's work, it's time for me to cut some pieces from the picture, even though they might be awesome and beautiful.

And when I walked outside to my car, I forgot all about the idea of shopping at all--it was so very cold outside. The snow was beautiful, but the wind was so strong it was almost scary. There were actual snow drifts, with those cuts in them that look like desert hills, just like I've seen on the prairie. (I've never seen that in Ohio before!) Some kind of instinct kicked in and I just wanted to get home where I'd be warm and safe.

So I still don't have an immersion blender, and the two neighbors I thought most likely to have one didn't either, so I used a potato masher. Not the same result, but it was darn close! Side dishes were: mac and cheese (thereby making the teenager very happy), cornbread muffins, and a green salad.

We said our gratefuls at the beginning of the meal, the hubby & child declared the food good, and we all had seconds of something, and it was a good dinner after a full day. May we have good luck in 2014, and may you have good luck, too.

Happy new year!
Karen

Giving thanks: extended play version

Hello, friends.

I'm having a hard day. Nothing terrible has happened, but I've got a couple worries on my mind.

As a distraction, or perhaps antidote, or perhaps balm, I'm thinking about what I would post today for my daily FB status update in the "30 Days of Thanksgiving" practice. And it's a LOT, too much to fit in that little box. So here it is.

-- I'm grateful for a warm house and food to eat and jobs we're good at that we like--all the things that make up our daily sustenance.

-- I'm grateful for family; they are far away, and that makes me a little blue, but I'm looking forward to seeing them again. And talking by phone & catching up on e-mail and FB in the meantime.

-- I'm grateful for my beloved dead--those ancestors of blood and spirit who have passed on, and friends, too, who are no longer here. I love talking to them and remembering them.

(Some wedding pic.s; top: me and the Goralski sisters--my Aunt Agnes, my grandmom Marie, and my Aunt Frances; bottom: my grandmom Mildred and granddad Bill Hayden)

-- I'm grateful for the music that's playing on my stereo (a Pandora.com station of Celtic music). I'm grateful music is my companion and helps me express my heart.

-- I'm grateful for knitting, and for expressing love through handknits.

(My sister-in-law Donna wearing the prayer shawl 

I made for her, summer 2013.)

-- I'm grateful for my friends in town who are my village, helping us raise our son and give him and us support and create a good life for us all--one that includes goofiness as well as classical music.

(July 4th, a couple years ago, my friend Jonalyn teaching.)

-- I'm grateful for my friends who live in faraway places--friends we've made along the way in Maryland, Georgia, California, Minnesota, Chicago... And my goodness, I'm grateful that I get to keep up with them on FB. (For all its silliness and weirdness, FB is still a boon to me for that reason!)

-- I'm grateful for my friends and colleagues whose work is revitalizing native languages and cultural practices and narrative traditions and art and philosophies. It's hard work, but so needed. And I'm grateful for those native friends and colleagues who are making art informed by these things, taking us into the future.

-- I'm grateful for my students, who give me hope for the future and make me proud and make me laugh; and I'm grateful for my colleagues, who are so damn smart.

(With the travel-learning crew in May 2013, 

in South Dakota and in Minneapolis.)

--  I'm grateful for dinner last night with my friend Chris and his daughter Maya; they fed us wonderful food and shared laughter and stimulating conversation with us. It was exactly what I needed!

-- I'm grateful for our friends Cy and Debbie, who have invited us to go to a Thanksgiving buffet at a fancy restaurant with them later today. Exciting! We get to share the meal with lovely people, and we don't have to deal with the half-broken stove. Once again, just what I need!

-- I'm grateful for the faraway teachers and friends who enrich my spiritual practice. They help me see beauty and love. They have made my life immeasurably better.

-- I'm grateful for my friends in South Dakota, whom I miss. And I'm grateful for the land, and the spirits of that land. I can't wait to go back there.

(I heart the Missouri River!)

-- I'm grateful for the writers whose work I love and enjoy, those stories and poems that help me discover another new way to think about the truth of life. Sometimes I read things I barely recognize, and sometimes I read things that sound like they came right out of my heart.

(One of my favorite places to buy books! Here's their web site!)

-- I'm grateful for animal companions--the ones who live with us and the ones who live with our friends and family. Even as one in particular tests my patience and optimism (ahem), I recognize the sweetness of having them with us.

(The culprit... being too cute and "tagging" me 

when I come up the stairs.)

-- I'm grateful for the health of my physical body--that it lets me walk and dance and laugh and sing and think.

-- I'm grateful for sitting here and writing in my pjs, a cup of tea brewing. I'm so very grateful for finding my voice in my writing, and sharing it with others.

That's not even the whole list. So for now I will say, to the four winds and all the spirits all around: thank you!

May you feel the love of gratitude today--and many other days besides.

Cheers,
Karen

Report from the county fair

Where I grew up, we did not go to the county fair. I can't even recall if there was one. (There must have been, right? Aren't counties are required by law to have annual fairs?) It just wasn't a thing we did, living in the suburbs of D.C.

So when we moved to our little town in Ohio, the county seat, I did not realize how much of a Thing going to the fair would be. Everyone here goes to the fair; some of my friends have kids who are part of 4H and such. The fairgrounds are right in town, just a few blocks away (a nice walk). And the school kids here get two days off from school for the fair!

 

(These guys were butting heads. 

Who do they think they are, goats?)

When we first moved here and Dexter was little, we went to the fair every year. Our attendance is more hit-and-miss of late, and this year we went without the boy--who went with his friends. (Good lord, going to fair with his parents would be about the last thing he wants to do these days! Plus, Patrick and I held hands, which I'm sure he would have found mortifying.)


The purported highlight of our particular county fair is the Little Brown Jug harness race. I've never been to the race itself. (Admission is expensive that day, plus there's the whole "I teach all day on Thursdays" thing.) I'm a little suspicious of the racing industry anyway, having grown up in Maryland. I'd rather visit the horses who live at the fairgrounds during non-fair time, saying hello on one of my walks or bike rides. For us, the attractions of the fair have been the rides, the food, and the farm animals.

 (People attach lawn chairs to the fence along the race track months ahead of time

to claim good seats for the race. 

I think these have been there for a while...)

The rides are what you would expect--carnival rides, some for little kids and some for daredevils. One year, Dexter was finally big enough to go on the non-kiddy rides, about which he was VERY excited. We chose one for all three of us that looked pretty innocuous: everyone sat side-by-side in a row, and the thing moved the row of chairs back and forth for a while, then around in a circle. There was no upside-down-ness involved, so I thought it would be okay.

 

 (One of Dexter's favorite rides from days gone by...)

I've never felt so sick in my life! Since then, we have mostly avoided the rides.

Way in the back of the fairgrounds, there's a place for the tractor pull (which we can usually hear, late into the night, at our house), demolition derby (which always reminds me of the end of this book), school bus races (which are just as awesome as you'd think they are) and lawnmower races.

 

(This year's parade of lawnmowers

before the races got underway.)

Somewhere in my files I have a picture of my pants leg, splattered with mud from the demolition derby. It was exciting!

Our county fair is full of contests--best corn and soybeans, best rhubarb, best tomatoes, best photography, best quilt (several categories), best pig, best chicken... too many to name. It's fun to look at the winners.

  

(I'm guessing these looked more delicious

on the day they were judged...)

 

(This was one of my favorite quilts from this year.)

(Confession: I entered my knitting one year and won a blue ribbon! But, truth be told, there wasn't a lot of competition. I had all sorts of ideas about how to reform the contest so it would tap into the hundreds of women in our county who knit all sorts of beautiful things... But then I remembered: I am the egghead outsider. I need to just calm down. Maybe later, after I've been here a while, I can offer my newfangled ideas to the folks who've been doing this their whole lives...)

I think, for some people, the contests are the whole point of the fair, especially the animal contests (which seem to include some serious if good-natured competition). But us? We wouldn't know the difference between a Bantam and a Rhode Island Red; we just like to look at the animals.

Of course, being a fiber person, I'm less interested in the neatly shaved sheep and am more interested in ones like these:

  

(These ladies were the only fleece-still-on of the bunch.)

And here's what I really see when I look at them:

(Don't you want to just bury your fingers in those curls?

Or is that just me?)

There are always some fancy chickens.

 

(I swear there's a chicken underneath that outfit.

Doesn't he look proud of his blue ribbon?)

And it's entertaining to walk amongst them while they crow and cluck.

This year, the stroll amongst the rabbit cages took a turn to the dangerous...

 

(I can't help but notice she's wearing a lot of eye makeup...)

And then to the positively macabre!

 

(And yet she/he looks so cute, not at all like a zombie.)

My goodness.

This year, in the tent that's all about farm animal babies, instead of eggs that would be hatched during the fair (one of my favorite things), they had a bunch of already-hatched chicks and ducklings. They are cute as heck, but I kind of liked the excitement of possibly seeing an egg hatch while you were there.

 

(duckling pile-on!)

All in all, it was a fun visit. Which of course included the requisite fried food. (It's just unpatriotic to go to the fair and shun the funnel cake. I draw the line at the deep-fried Snickers bars, though.)

(Maybe she opted for the deep-fried Snickers...)

It's the last day of the fair today, which means Fall is really here. I hope the new season is bringing you some time to reflect on your harvest. Do you have a county fair where you live?

Cheers,
Karen

Letter to the Editor

A few months ago I wrote a letter to the editor of our local newspaper, the Delaware Gazette. It's a pretty small paper--or at least it seems that way to someone who grew up reading the Washington Post--but we subscribe because it covers items of local interest that the Columbus paper doesn't.

So a few months ago, they covered an event around the opening of the film 42, which tells the story of how Branch Rickey signed Jackie Robinson to major-league baseball, and the various difficulties they faced during that process. The film's premier was a huge deal here in town because of a local connection: Branch Rickey first coached at Ohio Wesleyan University--my employer! And the character, played by Harrison Ford, even mentions Ohio Wesleyan in a monologue as being a formative experience in his rejection of racism. Woohoo!

But I thought it was ironic and troublesome that, at the roundtable discussion at the premier, there was a representative from a team using a Native American mascot--well, really, a caricature of one. You'll see what I mean in my letter, below.

Well, I got all nervous when I sent it, thinking that after it ran I'd face some people who didn't agree with me or thought I was making too big a deal out of the whole thing. I braced myself, but felt it was important to speak out. (I'm taking a Homeland Security-inspired stance on these things: if you see something, say something.)

And then... nothing. They didn't e-mail or call me, didn't print the letter, nothing. Patrick and I scratched our heads. Our little paper publishes the most wacky, illogical letters you've ever seen; they print stuff that's ridiculous on a regular basis. And yet here was something I thought was calm and well informed, and they ignored it.

Well, I guess I can't leave well enough alone. Or rather, I still think the issue is worth raising. So here is my letter, copied below. I hope you find it thought-provoking. Or at least non-crackpot-ish.

Yours,
Karen

14 April 2013

Dear Editor:

I read with interest your story on yesterday’s front page, “Robinson and Rickey remembered at roundtable,” and appreciate the fact that the film 42 has brought more attention to the story of Branch Rickey and Jackie Robinson. However, I could not help but notice that one of the roundtable speakers serves as vice president of the Cleveland Indians. I’m surprised that a panel on sports figures who stood up to racism in the 1940s would remain silent on the glaring ways in which professional sports teams today perpetuate racist ideas of American Indian people.

The defense of American Indian team names and mascots usually goes something like this: it’s just something fun, it does no harm. Recent research suggests otherwise, however. A 2008 article titled “Of Warrior Chiefs and Indian Princesses: The Psychological Consequences of American Indian Mascots” shows that even “positive” stereotyped images of natives, such as Chief Wahoo and Pocahontas, “has a negative impact on American Indian high school and college students’ feelings of personal and community worth, and achievement-related possible selves.” In other words, even positive stereotypes make native children feel less valued, and feel that they have fewer possibilities for a meaningful future. These are not, in fact, harmless images, even when they are not overtly negative.

Another defense of using Indian mascots says that they “honor” native people; but it is not honoring (or respectful) to create a grinning caricature and perpetuate false ideas about native cultures. A more suitable honoring might be to invite the descendants of Ohio tribes to participate in ceremonies in the lands where their ancestors are buried, as the Newark Earthworks Center has done, hosting members of the Eastern Shawnee Tribe of Oklahoma; another way of honoring would be to bring more attention and resources to the efforts of Miami University’s Myaamia Center to revitalize the language and culture of the Miami Tribe. We need to recognize the full humanity of native people and admit that it is not appropriate to use and abuse their images for entertainment.

Just a few months ago The Smithsonian held a symposium on the issue of Indian mascots; more information can be found at http://nmai.si.edu/connect/seminars-and-symposia/archive/

Readers can also gain interesting insights from the blog “Native Appropriations,” at nativeappropriations.com

I hope that your readers will remember that most people in 1946 were blind to the racism that Jackie Robinson endured—racism that we now see plainly. And I hope that we will recognize and address our own racism toward native people so that the next generation can look back at 2013 and see that we, too, like Branch Rickey, were courageous, faced our wrongs, and righted them.

Yours sincerely,

Karen M. Poremski

Breaking radio silence

Hello, friends! How have you been?

I've decided to break my silence to share some linguistic tics I've been noticing around the innerwebz lately. What surprises me is this: rather than bugging me, they make me laugh.

Here's one: shortening the word "feelings" to "feels," then using that in a sentence.

Example: We went to our son's high school orientation a few weeks ago. The experience brought up a lot for me--pride that he's been doing so well in school, worry that he'll get lost in the labyrinthine building and be picked on by older kids, amazement that he's getting so tall and growing more independent, annoyance at his unwillingness to let us help him figure things out, sadness that he's not my baby anymore...

Using this new linguistic pattern, I might shorten all of that to the following statement on FB or Twitter: "We went to the Boy's high school orientation night tonight. I am having all of the feels."

Ha!

(Our dear goofball at Science Fair a couple months ago.)

Here's another linguistic tic: using the pattern "Because [noun]"; in this case, the noun serves as the reason why you would do something that might not be... completely rational. And it works really well when this phrase is set off as its own sentence. One hundred percent grammatically incorrect! But funny!

The Bloggess provided an awesome version of this structure in a recent post that included a discussion of the phrase "because wine." (Go ahead, take a look; I'll wait for you back here. Be careful not to have any food or drink in your mouth when you read her blog--dude, that stuff might end up on your screen. To be fair, the "because wine" post takes a turn into a less funny/more difficult subject... but take a look at this other post. I had to read it out loud to Patrick the other day because he wanted to know what I was guffawing about at the breakfast table.)

I have also been thinking about knitting-related phrases that fit this pattern. For example: "Yeah, it's 80 degrees outside but I decided to cast on for these wool hand-warmers. Because malabrigo." Or "I have three unfinished lace projects on the needles but I need something easier, maybe in garter stitch. Because Game of Thrones."

(Last year I made these for my friend Mary. 

And gave them to her in July.)

Now, these are fairly specialized, so if you're not of the knitterly persuasion they might not speak to you. (And I haven't actually seen GoT, but I hear it's all the rage.) Here's a non-knitting example: "I was supposed to finish that report by Wednesday, but I decided to extend my deadline to Friday. Because naps."

Or: "I was so busy I stopped exercising and put on some weight, but now that it's summer I decided to get back into my routine. Because prancercise." (If you've already seen the original prancercise video, check out this rendition of Urban Prancercize by R. Vincent Moniz, Jr., and Jonathan Thunder. It is sublime.)

In other news, life has been handing me a platter piled high with events both wonderful and sad. The wonderful: Last week I went on a trip to Quebec as a chaperon for the Boy's 8th grade French class; it was great! (I hope to share some of that here soon.)

(Here's one of the photos I took in Quebec... 

more soon, I hope!)

Even more wonderful: In May, I went on a trip to Rosebud, Minneapolis, and Chicago with students from my "Reading Native American Literature" class. (That was one of the most fulfilling experiences of my career, my goodness. I'm writing about it in several ways and hope to share some of that here.)

(Here's a photo of me in the Badlands, 

taken by one of my students.)

The sad: in April, my friend Julie died. In May, my friend Sherry died. Last week, my friend / teacher / beloved elder Albert White Hat, Sr., died. On a daily basis, I find myself mourning them and wondering how the rest of us can go on without these people on the planet. At the same time, I know that we have to go on  because of what they meant and did and made possible with their lives. I am grieving. It's a process, and not an easy one. (I may or may not share some of that with you here... we'll see what feels right.)

I hope your summer has started well. Keep your chin up, and I'll do the same. At least the innerwebz provides a few LOLs now and then, eh?

Cheers,
Karen

P.S. Does anybody else have a Thomas Dolby earworm now?

Spring's late arrival

Yesterday we turned off the furnace and opened the windows to welcome the first day we could--long awaited, it seemed forever ago that we'd smelled the air drifting through the rooms, felt it on our skin, remembered that it will slam the door to the study if strong enough. Only a few months and we have forgotten the habits of warm days, the way we are when the outside moves inside.

(The daffodils are just about ready to bloom...)

Every year I am amazed and joyful at the waking up of the earth, our annual miracle. Yesterday it seemed like the house woke up, too. The slamming door, yes, but also the sheer curtains dancing in the window at the top of the stairs, dust bunnies emerging from under furniture and rolling across the blonde hardwood floors. The sun revealed translucent marks on the countertop where we'd forgotten messes.

This is the best kind of housekeeping: aided by the light and the breeze, welcoming the smell of warm, damp earth into the house. Saying goodbye to winter, sweeping away its sticky, its crumbs, its fluff. Turning to a new day, a new year, a new spring.

May you enjoy spring.
Karen