Drugi rok polskiego Nowego Roku w Connecticut, gdzie piłka spada znacznie wcześniej, a ja mogę nie zasnąć.

Year two of a Polish New Year in Connecticut where the ball drops earlier and I can stay awake. 

I have my traditions, which usually means I'm in bed by 10 p.m. - I live too much life during the year running like a rocket ship, and on New Year's Eve I like to explode early, which is why Kaitlyn & Dominik's Polish celebration arrived exactly at the right time. We lift our glasses at 4 p.m. as opposed to midnight, which allows us to celebrate overseas from the comfort of our own homes. And I like guessing what the Polish celebrities are saying in their star-studded welcoming of a new year. 

Besides, I do my yearly montage, begin a new blog, and set up the 2025 birthday video, all while watching the last decade of such work (it's my way of reflecting and calling it a year. I'm in the habit of reflecting daily, so doing so on the 31st puts me on the edge. I'm not happy about the year that just was (although being promoted to full professorship was a tremendous accomplishment), but I'm tired from the grant work CWP accomplished, a summer institute, and the Young Adult Literacy Labs (that received a 2025 Divergent Award for Literacy Implementation from the Initiative of Literacy in a Digital Age). I've been in full grind mode, which I hoped to let go of with a road trip with Chitunga. He's on the road. I was grounded in Connecticut. I hope to meet him in New Orleans for a get-away weekend. We shall see. 

And I am really wanting to lie on the couch under blankets reading books. It's funny to see many of the tech-gurus I've followed for years admitting that they are pulling away from the digital spaces for more ol' school, ol' fashioned book time...a reprieve from the cyber pace and grind. I get it. Social media is fast, never ending, frustrating, and more and more problematic.

It's funny, too, because the last class I taught, Class of 2007, are now in their 30s and having children and as they do, I am seeing they are pulling off of social media because they don't want their kids to be brought up in it (they were still in school as Facebook was just beginning, and they were the ones who convinced me I should blog every day so they could keep up...which I have done...this is year 18 and I am promising myself I will try to make it to year 20, although such blogs are no longer in vogue.

But, I like to write and think daily, and online it's better than in a book no one else will read off my shelves (and it's easier to add visuals, too). Perhaps one day I'll got back and read all 6,205 posts from the last 17 years....again, I'm referencing John Boy because I watched a Walton's Christmas. Although I don't have a mountain, there are Crandall traditions that have kept me going for years...in the National Writing Project tradition.

Almost bought a gigantic silver reindeer bowl because it was so tacky. I passed. I can resist when I need to. Finally, Chitunga made it to Bonnie & Karl's. The world is a miraculous place at times.

And with that..this is my last Cluckity Cluck Cluck post of 2024. I made it another 365 days. Tomorrow, something new.

Gambling with this Monday Morning Post, Not Know Where I'll Be or If Any of These Arrangements Will Finally Work

I've had only two other mini-vacations in the last 14 years, both with Tunga...once in Key West to visit Milford & Sue, and last spring to visit him Des Moines. Chitunga and I knew we wanted to do a vacation together, and it presented itself when Alyssa and her family needed a ride to Miami. Tunga was flying to Syracuse and said, "Sure, I'll drive down with you," and decided to make a road trip out of it from Miami to New Orleans following. I said I'd join him only if I could, not knowing what the holiday status would be and if I'd be needed longer in Syracuse. So, I booked a flight to Daytona Beach and told him to pick me up there.

My flight, of course, was delayed, and delayed, and delayed due to fog in CT and storms elsewhere. I'm thankful that I didn't have to live my day at the airport, though, as I booked locally in order to make the trip work. Alas, they kept delaying and in the last email, they noted it would be a 10:15 p.m departure and 1:30 a.m. arrival. I'm making a run for it, knowing that I'm not sure what kind of human I'd be at 1:30 in the morning any more. I have dog sitters, the house arranged, the bags packed, and optimism in my back pocket. I know, though, that I'll either be in Florida at the time you're reading this (hopefully still in bed) r I'll be stuck in Connecticut without a way to get to Florida until Thursday (in which case makes for a dud trip). 

The plan is to drive along the southern coast until we reach New Orleans, stopping to see people here and there (and do the sight seeing that Chitunga lives for). I just want to say that I'm taking a mini-vacation before another semester begins. 

Avelo airlines cracks me up. Every time I called they said I was person 435 in line and it would be 320 hours before the next agent would be available. I chose not to wait.

At 6 p.m. Sunday, while I'm twiddling my thumbs wondering if I will actually get out tonight, I decided to write this post. I will either be in Florida this morning ready for this adventure or I'll be waking up in Connecticut ticked off and needing to cancel my flight home next Sunday. I've been lucky that my travel during the holidays has typically been on the road and with my own pace. Relying on airlines is rather tricky...and risky. Not so fun. 

So, who knows? I guess only time will tell where I'll wind up. It's out of my hands now. 

UPDATE: After getting a message it was all good to depart at 10:45, I was dropped off at the airport, walked to the gate, sat down, and received a text that it was cancelled. I am bummed, but last night I slept in my own bed and now I will try to see if there's another way. The poor agents at Avelo airlines. I controlled my disappointment, but others were irate, police were called, and it was a mess. Somehow, I can't help but see it as a metaphor for where we are right now. We can only hope for better. 

And I Return to a Gift of Non-Carcinogen, Anti-Charcoal Kitchen Utensils. Entering My Graying Period of Life I Suppose.

I always laugh when it comes to anything domesticated. With no weddings or showers, my house has always been make up of scraps, hand-me-downs, and the occasional clearance racks. I was just excited to have kitchen utensils until I learned at Thanksgiving (and later confirmed through several news outlets) that the black utensils we often used should not be used because they can cause cancer.  Ugh. Well, they've been replaced and I am thankful. Either there's truth to this story, or the grey utensil-makers of America have led one hell of a campaign.

I traveled home via the Massachusetts route and LOVED listening to James by Percival Everett. It truly is brilliant writing. I didn't want to pull in my driveway, but now have to find another 4 hours to finish (which I should on my flight today). I also stopped at a McDonald's at 2 pm to get lunch, and I'm here to say, "Um, this new economy is bogus. I'm in the middle of nowhere....I had to pee so go indoors to get my order, I find giant iPads and no employees, and it takes 30 minutes. That is some bull. I'd rather spend the money in a sit-down restaurant (not that I should be eating that crap anyway). 

I did a Cynde when I returned, and went on a rampage to get all my holiday goods down. That was easy, but now I can't find where I put all the stuff that stored. Perhaps I move them to an upstairs bedroom. They most definitely weren't in the basement.

Karal is exhausted. She's wanted nothing but sleep since our return, and although she visited Pam and Jake, she really only wanted the couch. I did, too, but because I'm home I'm already into the go-go-go mode. I'm just in the mood to purge it all. I need a bed, a toilet, and a chair to work. 

Now, time to enter a mini-adventure mode for a week. I've not taken time off in 14 years, accept when Tunga and I did Key West. He talked me into a road trip after dropping Alyssa off in Miami, so I said, "Okay. I can do this." I'm letting him take the lead and will simply flash my credit card when necessary. In truth, I want nothing more than to absorb all he has to say and offer on this adventure. I'm also just looking forward to something different. The parochial life at the University has dulled my sense of being. I need a revival and rejuvenation. We'll see where this takes us. 

The Celebrations Went Fast, But Now It Is Time To Leave...Another Year Ahead of Us for Love & Hope, I Believe

I came home early this year in order to catch mom's birthday and to stay to say the same to Cynderballz (which is today). There's a book I need to listen to, and a house I should check on (of course, there's the mail, too). I hope traffic will be easy on me, as coming to Syracuse was smooth sailing.

Karal, I believe, will miss the routine...she has snack time, nap time, play time, and outdoor time all arranged with all of us wrapped around her paws. Of course, if she even thinks we're returning, you'll run to the door...she likes her Connecticut patterns, as well. 

I will be leaving Amalfi Drive with loaves of bread, orange chicken, tubs of sherbet, cookies in the freezer, new stock of detergent & colas, as well as organized frames for the grands on my mom's hutch.

Cynde is invited over for an omelette in the a.m. if she'd like a birthday breakfast, but I've yet to make a good omelette. I will try (and I imagine she doesn't like mushrooms now that I think of it).

I won't be hitting snow in my travels, either. That's another blessing.

It's just a matter of moments before mom will asks, "So what are you going to forget this time?" I guess after 34 years of Bryan-departures, the probability of me heaving items behind would be high. That's actually a conversation Chitunga and I had while at the Freight Yard Brewery...how home is always where the heart it....and he has it in Connecticut, in Syracuse, and in Louisville...so he shares those spaces with me....

...he doesn't share Roskide, Denmark, however, and I miss all those times there...then again, I'm not quite able to share Des Moines...not just yet.

Here's to the road...and Happy Birthday, Cynderballz!

Spent the Day in Oswego, NY, Bargain Shopping with Her & Her Husband, a Tradition Cynde and I Will Hopefully Continue Down the Road

I love getting the 50-60% of holiday shit I don't need. I usually stock up, store away, and get excited during the next season when I bring materials up after Thanksgiving. This year, I bought much more for the ever-growing nativity set, and will add more tacky to it, summoning Grannie Annie with the little finds that come my way (I had to pass on the brass choir frogs for out front....They were $160 dollars, but I would not get them unless they were under $50...that's just the way I am.

The funny thing is I bought a bunch of items for Casey & Dave and, lo and behold, when I went to store the goods in the closet of her ol' bedroom from last year, I found a whole stack of things I bought her last year that I totally forgot about (which is a bummer). I will likely wrap it up for her birthday next year. It will be a lot of loot at once.

Boo on Maria's of Oswego for being closed. They riled me up for a good breakfast, but nope...so we ended up at a sandwich shop. It sufficed, but I was 100% ready for an omelet. Once I get that on my brain I'm unfocused until I have one. Nora's didn't quite cut it.

Today should be a day of football games and, I suppose, wrapping Casey's birthday presents for next year. Probably should help cut some of the food out of the fridge and do another Price Chopper run with Papa Butch (he says he's out of Pepsi...there is a lifetime supply of it downstairs).

As for the cookies and chocolates...that will be impossible to deplete by departure. I got mom tins so she can make gifts for her friends (as she had me cook them last week and now they are clogging the upstairs freezer). 

And my flights are booked to Daytona Beach for a spur-of-the-moment road trip with Chitunga (who has been on the road almost 24 hours as he heads to Miami with Lys. For now, though, taking one day at a time.

And the Most Impressive Part of Christmas Day is They Made Room for Me at the Adult Table, After I Sat Down in the Kitchen Alone

And move on we now have permission to do. Bye Bye Christmas Holiday. Let's start thinking about a new year. Of course, thinking about leftover creamed potatoes is more than welcome to stay for a little while. At least Mimi Sue doesn't have to put her Christmas decorations away. She never got them out. She does, however, have to figure out an eating plan for all her cookies and chocolates.

I think I binge-watched 5 hours of Blackish after everyone settled down for the night - well, fell asleep. Butch decided, too, that it might be nice to bathe after the holidays finished. He even wanted his hairs cut, so we got that in, too

Christmas Day, 2024. 

As for Clearance shopping, that depends on the invitations that come my way this morning. We shall see.

Finally, wishing the best travel day for Lys, Chitunga, & their band of drivers heading to Florida with a 3 a.m. departure time. You only live once, and when you drive to Florida from Syracuse, it teaches you exactly why you hole to never do it again. That's not true. I was always up for the adventure in my 20s & 30s, too. I hope they see the world (well, eastern sea coast) and enjoy every minutes of it.

And It's the 25th Day of December, 2024. Another Christmas Celebration in Central New York - Nice Layer of the White Stuff Caressing the Ground

Karal is welcoming the day with her morning barks at Mimi Sue for a bite of her bagel. Dad is wondering what day it is & why mom is always yelling at him (as he lies back for a nap next to all her empty Diet Coke cans and piles of holiday treats). 

There are scratch offs. Perhaps we'll win, most likely we won't (and there's that Mega-Millions ticket that could be worth 900 million dollars, but won't be).

Nikki's at the hospital doing Christmas care for those who can't be home for the holidays and Adamo is spending the day in Poughkeepsie. 

Casey and Dave are awaiting John's prime rib,  but they got mom her Panera cinnamon crunch (which arrived unsliced)(and is beyond sticky to cut in half)

Very little traffic on the streets in a quiet neighborhood and I'm feeling like John Boy Walton typing these letters to the page as another year is chronicled on Crandall mountain. 

And Cynde didn't have the patience for a Horton ornament tradition, so hung all our bulbs on her own.

This is Christmas. Chitunga and Lys are driving to Florida tonight (and he took the better bottle of bourbon ... always forgiven). The runny nose has returned to sinus cement, and I need to start peeling the carrots and potatoes. 

There's a ham to be baked. Oink Oink. And for some reason, Cynde has stored Rudolph's nose on the table by her tree.

Snap. Need Dog Food. Need Cheeses. Need to Think About Christmas Morning Bagels. Also Should Get a Mega-Million, Cuz That Would Be Nice, Too

The thought of going anywhere near a store today causes my blood pressure to rise, but if I can muscle it up early, I should probably do one more run. Shoot. Should also do a liquor run, too. I was out yesterday and I could only think, "What happened to Cicero? Why so much traffic?" 

And the light do no align correctly. Only couple of cars can move at a time. Fa la la la la la la la la.

It's Christmas Eve, and I'm going to prepare my parents dinner (they want to bypass any chaos this year) and I'll likely spend most of the day in the kitchen. As predicated, the snow began to fall around 10 p.m. and we'll maintain a white Christmas.

Karal also go some cousin time yesterday, because she was growing anxious to have doggy play time. She, too, will not be part of the chaotic traditions, as we're slowing down this year. No Flake Like Mike or Dave's Christmas Cracker. 

But I do have a new story for the holidays. Mom came out to her chair wearing her pajamas as we were watching the SNL Holiday Special for the 4th time this week. She was doing her iPad nightly tradition of watching UFOs in Wooster, Massachusetts, when I hear her say, "What is this? Oh, my God," Well, whereas she pinched her oxygen chord earlier in the day which set off the alarm that she couldn't hear, I immediately jumped up to help her. She had these straps coming down from her pajama top.

"Oh, Oh. My," I heard her saying, I know what this is."

And then I witness her pull down her bra which she didn't finish when she went into the bedroom to change. "Oh, I thought I took it all the way off." 

She then curled up the bra and placed it next to her Reindeer food and chocolates.

This was, of course, the night before the night before Chrismas (that would be tonight) .

And here we go....

Spicy Stewed Chicken, Chocolate Glazed Raspberry Home-Made Sherbet, Kanyea, Courtney, and a Lil' Malia Celine Sunshine for the Evening

Santa's gonna love on Malia-nugget, and my curiosity will rise to see how fast this lil' creature will take on every word she can possibly handle. 1.5 years old and a chatty human who wants to know and learn everything. Pure joy. And the two most important people in her world: her mommy and daddy. I'm amazed by how much she grew since summer. And that laughter and happiness is contagious. 

Ah, Courtney...you masted that stewed chicken, but my stomach does not do well with the spices...but can I stop eating? Absolutely not. I licked my bowl and asked for 2nds and 3rds. So good. But the GERD and heart burn. 

I have today to heal. And Trader Joe's was still open. And I got my Danish Kringle for coffee in the morning. I am thankful. 

So now it is time to get Christmas-read. Sad to see Louisville lose the championship game of the NCAA tournament, but they should hold dither heads high...they fought incredibly hard this seasons. My heart breaks for Anna DeBeers, as I've been watching her rise to stardom for several years. It will be hard not to see her on the court next year. What a champion. 

Temperatures should be balmy today...heading back to the 20s after a day where it began at 2 degrees. And  it might even hit 30. I'll be wearing shorts.

Now, to bake the ham today to scent the air, or wait for Christmas Eve to tease the stomachs.

1828 - Euclid Hotel in Clay, New York. 2024 - Chitunga, Alyssa, and I Have Dinner There. Pretty Remarkable Landmark, Actually

Tunga, Lys, and I went to Freight Yard to get a craft beer, then ended up down the street at the Euclid Hotel. I drove by that place every day in high school, to and from work, and never paid any attention to its age or history. That's a pretty amazing lifespan, actually...pushing almost 200 years. That's almost unheard of, actually. The food? Well, about what I'd expect from an almost 200 year old restaurant, but I'm glad we went (the beers at Freight Yard were wonderful)

And bringing home an open face, hot turkey sandwich to the parental units was a hit, too. Not bad for a 7 p.m. brought to your lap treat.

The snow fell lightly all day and it was beautiful (even if it is very cold). Karal and I got 3.2 miles in, and that is always a better day (even if we had to bundle up). Looking like we'll have a white Christmas, which is always nice, although today I'm thinking only black and red cardinal colors. It's been a wonderful NCAA volleyball tournament and I'm happy for alma mater making it to the final match...and in the hometown of Louisville. Wish I was there in person to see the games, but something tells me I'm better off watching a television screen in upstate New York.

And a special thank you to Nikki Isgar who brought a tray of cookies to Mimi's which included Magic Layer Bars (which have greatly been missing from my mother's freezer)(especially before the actual holiday events). 

On the way home from Euclid, I recalled how I paid for college by earning commission at Sibley's up the road at Great Northern Mall. Insane that I made the money I did then, but also that those stores and that world no longer exist.

1828 Clay. 1990 Clay. 2024 Clay. Nope. Nothing sits still.

It's a Tough Life Being the Spoiled Grand-Dog in Upstate NY When There are Light Flurries Falling from the Sky

Had to leave the house by 7:30 for Dad's cat scan, and got their holiday banking taken care of. Karal visited with her cousin, Lucy, and there was cube steaks and smiley fries for dinner. Productive day? I'm not sure, but we caught dad before he put buttered bread in the toaster. That was a win for sure.

I think the day tired Karal out early. I decided it was too cold to go out to shop or get dinner. Easier during daylight hours in the winter. I very well could have given in with Karal. I'm determined to beat the cold down before it beats me down. 

Had another successful Price Chopper run with Papa Butch. We're two for two with no incidences. Fingers crossed we make it through the holiday. We bought 3 tubs of sherbet, so he should be good for now. And after he buttered bread and then tried to put it in the toaster, he now has two slices of buttered bread at his side, pretending to be he parakeet. All is well on Amalfi Drive. I think we should name her Bernadette.

And I vote not to have to get up early to take anyone anywhere to a medical appointment. It's cold out there at this time of year, and how is anyone supposed to leave their house before 8 a.m.? I'm out of practice for sure. 

Okay, Saturday....bring forward what you will. I think Karal and I will be ready for it.

Pulled Off the 80th Celebration of Mimi Sue, But Someone Need to Come & Get Butch Who Has Been Blubbering All Day (Who is this Man?)

Early morning Cat scans with Butch this morning (but we got him to take a bath and he loved watching all of mom's birthday wishes. Made the cake, as I do, and also a sausage tortellini soup, all the while I've been sneezing like a madman...even bought some Mucinex to help keep my brain in the drylands.

It was wonderful waking up at 6 a.m. and coming out to my mom pop-eyeing her iPad to see the wishes that were coming her way. I didn't anticipate the documentary going over so well, but that brought the most joy ("Hey, I've lived quite an interesting life, haven't I?"

One birthday, a holiday, and another birthday to go. With tissues of course. 

I suppose I now need to start thinking about Christmas shopping, but really I just want to get dad to the doctors and, perhaps, come home for more sleep...it's the only way to dry up a cold.

And I caught the Louisville/Pitt game in Syracuse - final four...not sure where my head is with this because it's too stuffed up at the moment and I have to have dad at North Med by 8:15. 

Do You Know What Today Is? Do You? Do You? It's Susan Marilyn Crandall's 80th Birthday (& We Are Under No Circumstance Allowed to Throw a Party)

Happy Birthday, Mom! 

I know. I know. Cynde told me that you wanted nothing but a low-key, uneventful birthday, especially as you celebrate the 80th lap around the sun. But you know me (and you know us), so when Cynde called with an idea, I immediately had the idea in place. First, make a video invitation. Second, create a platform so others can leave notes and upload videos. Third, convince you that I'm working on a memory project for the National Writing Project and need a volunteer to do a test run, and Four, create the documentary. 

We're thankful to so many who were willing to send photos, offer insight, and participate on this celebration. The best part of it...your day doesn't need to be disturbed. You can sit in your chair, plug in your earphones (to tune Papi Butch out), and walk down memory lane.

Your birthday celebration begins this morning...right here. We love you. The good news is when you read the blog this morning, you can yell over to me because I'm home to celebrate with you. I'll send you the direct link so you don't have to participate via my daily blog.

As the sands in the hour glass, so are the days of our lives. Enjoy. This was possible because of friends, family, and neighbors. Here's to you!

Just Need To Enter My Grades, Pack Up (Wake up), & Then I Can Start Singing Emmet Otter's Jugband Christmas

Okay. I think I'm ready for a Syracuse departure. The sniffles will have to come with me, and I'm sure Karal will be more than enthralled for a road trip. I have to download a book, first, and fold the laundry in the dryer. No rush, but I'll be hitting the road soon.

I am thinking of all the holiday changes over the years, and how the last decade (and more) has been a fanfare to A Flake Like Mike. The transitions are something...the last nephew all that is left to graduate from high school. Crazy to put this in perspective of my parents who have memories that transcend 30 years on my sisters and me. Then I think about 30 years, and how so much changes.

I'm wondering how the pain in my legs will go with a drive to Syracuse, because they have not been thrilled with all the grading of the last week. 

And I'm thinking of all the years of driving 13 hours from Kentucky, exhausted from teaching but always driven to make it by Christmas Eve. Then there were the years Judy flew up from NYC, and all the years over Bonnie & Karl's after the Barnwell Christmas Eve.

Go Cards! There's a final four game to be played Thursday night, too. Slow and steady wins the race. We got this.

And 72 Hours Later, With Only One Project Withstanding (I Am Patient & Have Faith It Will Come in), I Have Finished Grading

I have repeated to all who will listen, "You'd think after 30 years, you'd have a better mechanism for finishing out the end of a semester." Nope. It is this way and will likely always be this way.

I have given up obligations, avoided phone calls, text, and emails, all because I wanted to give my students feedback on their work. I was once again fortunate to have spectacular rosters of learners, most of whom impressed me beyond my expectations. This, however, takes time, care, and purpose - when investing in the future generation, you don't like to rush. You simply want to guide. 

I'm thankful I had leftover food, and just enough Thera-flu to help me make it through the day. I was determined and I wanted to get a good night's rest so I could wake up, today, with a clearer path for getting things done. Grants, meetings, planning - that all had to wait until I could tend to the students. They will always come first.

And I'm cheering dog bladders. The weather was miserable yesterday and I didn't get Karal outside until about 7 p.m. She didn't want to untucked from her fox-like curl. Ah, but I needed her to pee...no being can go that long without the loo.

Today, I am taking it slow...nursing this cold so it doesn't deepen, and finishing the last minute tasks that remain on my agenda. To say I am fried is an understatement, but I can say I've made to this point. Phew. It's a lot and why I can have nothing but respect for any and all who go through such rituals. Teaching is not easy. Good teaching is even harder, but when you believe in what you do, you do what it takes.

And On What Day of Christmas Did My True Love (Well, Me) Do For Me, A Cut on the Inner Earlobe!!! Who Knew an Ear Could Bleed So Much?

Didn't know ears could bleed so much, but after a day of grading, a long walk with Karal, and preparation for a collegial dinner, I took a shower and managed to slice a scratch in my ear that wouldn't stop bleeding. It was deep, too, and I went through many soaked tissues, only to finally find a way to get a bandaid to actually stick and work to stop the bleeding.

The colleagues asked, "Oh, did you pierce your ear?" and I was like, "Nope, stretched it with a finger nail," in which they replied, "What? Do you have talons?"

Perhaps. I just know I caught it pretty good. 

I made a creamy mushroom, spinach, chicken dish, served it with linguine, and enjoy the salad that I made to accompany it. It was the last gathering in my house before I finish grading and hit the road to upstate New York. I didn't get as much accomplished today as I hoped, but I made progress. I think the cooking put a little delay in getting things done. 

But, I have all of today to work towards reaching my goals, and I only have two project still waiting to be delivered. There's always a couple. Always.

And I'm sneezing. Still in the caked up nostril and sinus phase of my life. It clogs at night and drips during the day with plenty of sniffles. I just want to sleep, but I need to finish the semester's work before I can let my mind go to relaxation mode.

Oh, and I put away four baskets of laundry. That is always a good day, as I feel on top of the world that the washer and dryer are finally empty.

They called for freezing rain and snow overnight, but I don't think we got that in coastal Connecticut. Just dreariness and the need to keep the heat cranking. I should go in the office to pick up packages that arrived, but I'm not sure I want to deal with traffic and the I-95 hubbub. I just want to get this grading done so I can say, "Phew. I survived another semester. 

In Need of Another Weekend Superhero Cape - Day 3 of Fall Semester Grading...We Got This. Today, I'm Hitting the YA Literature Projects

I've spent the past week reading philosophical statements from undergraduates, and now must transition to the YA Literature course for seniors and Graduate Students. I ended up swirling around cushions because I've put too many dents in my usual spots. And it was another day for NCAA volleyball, so my heart was content, although walking Karal was a bit arctic. I'll take it, because the sun was out and for the next few days, it doesn't look like we'll even see blue skies.

I'm excited to dig into the grad projects, though, because I gave them options to write their own novels (of which a couple of them chose to make graphic novels, including Cooper Grayson pictured here (to the left)(thank you, Shane Carley).

I have to say, like the Honors course I taught last fall, I got lucky with this year's crop of Philosophy students. The class caps at 20, but I allowed six more in and I'm thankful. I have/had a crew of amazing thinkers and writers, many of them choosing to go into law school and medical school, but finishing out their education minor, nonetheless.

I figure with two more days of grading, I'll have them all done (except the annual chasing of a couple of students which also seems to be an end-of-the-semester tradition)(sometimes the same ones, but what are you going to do?).

Oh, my gosh. I just had a sniffle...please no plague like in previous years. I want to enjoy this holiday break. 

Happy Sunday, world. I'm cooking for friends tonight, so I need to meet my grading goals. I got this.

Karal Does Not Enjoy Grading Season and, I Admit It, I Can't Do the Late Nights Like I Used To - My Brain Shuts Off

I tried to finish one of my classes last night, so I could start this morning with the other. I had good momentum, Karal crushing my spine as she lays on my neck and back, just sighs. She's like, "Why are you on that machine all the time." I wonder, too. But at least in NCAA Volleyball tournament season, there's a lot of good that comes from the background noise. 

The highlight of yesterday was lunch with Dr. Margaret McClure, my intellectual sounding board on all things research and a light of reason in a complicated, politically-charged reality on college campus. We ate at Mecha, and there's nothing like pho to fuel the day.

And I'm thinking I'm in need of new chairs. The two I sit in most to do the work I do are not cutting it any longer. With one, the springs are pushing at me and causing pains in my back and legs, and with the other, I've worn the cushion down. It's just not comfortable.

Today, I'm going at it again, and told Leo I will join him for dinner and another night of volleyball. At this time of year, sports help to ease the pain, but I'm ready to say, "No more. All done." And this will come with extra oomph this year, as I'm not teaching a winter course, I'm not doing winter sessions, and I hope not to do much work (although I know I will. I have projects I'm working on)

Here's to Saturday. I wouldn't mind if it warmed up a little. My bones are getting old. 

Watched NCAA Volleyball (Go Cards) After a Day of In-School Rejuvenation Equates to Hot Damn. Each Year I Celebrate the Wins When They Arrive.

I'm partial. I was cheering on the Cards as they moved forward in the tournament last night. Congrats to the final 8.

Yesterday, I went school to school, to start finishing and wrapping up this year's professional development and investment in young writers. I lie a little, though. I never made it past Central High School. I needed my spirited rejuvenate, so ran writer's workshops, and saw the joy on the faces of immigrant- and refugee-background youth seeing their summer writing in final publication. It's always rewarding and beautiful to give back to the world. It brings a smile to my face. 11 years of Young Adult Literacy Labs work and I know it makes a difference.

Yes, it's Friday. I don't know If I am coming or going, but I know that yesterday, I felt happiness from working with high school students. It makes me want to work even harder, but I'm in need of mental rest (as evidenced by in the editing of this post - I'm typing everything backwards and having to rewrite it). 

I heard from a colleague of mine who has quit coaching track after 30 years to focus on his administrative roles and family. He loved his work, left his legacy, but knows it is time. God grant me the knowledge and wisdom to help me see what I need to do next to sustain myself another 15 years. The older you get, the more you see the need for such changes.

And with that, cheers to Friday.

Haircut. Pho. Grading. Those are the goals, as the project are piling up in my inbox. Slow and steady wins the race and on the other side...a break. 

It's Taking Me a Couple of Days, But I Have to Post This Photo of My Dad. I Just Wish I Was There to Dance With Him.

Last year, my mother bought all of us these warm hoodies to be worn on the coldest of nights. I keep mine in a downstairs closet, because I rarely get cold. I admit, however, in the deepest of winter mornings, I come down in my underwear and put it on while making coffee and starting my day. I must look exactly as my father does in this photo.

Actually, Dad has lived his later life with dementia, so he's excused. I don't have one. The photo is hilarious because it is hilarious, and because I can imagine my mom screaming at him to put on pants. What's better is imagining my Mom screaming at him to put on pants. I'm not sure if she even noticed that she captured a holiday songfest on the t.v., as well. My dad is the living, Elf on the Shelf. As long as he doesn't go outside to snowplow in such an outfit, I'm okay with his indoor attire (note: Cynde reported he does go outside in this outfit).

Good for him.

Up on the rooftop click-click-click.

I'm off to K-12 schools today until the afternoon...and then it's back to grading. My goal is to be done by Sunday, but there's a lot of $@#$@$ coming in (and then there are always the pleas for extension, which I gave until Sunday when I imagine I'll still be grading anyway).

It was in the 60s yesterday. But I know where my blue hoodie sits...when that temperature drops, I'm totally joining my Dad's bopping about.

Thank the Great Whatever I'm Not the Only One Who Has Desperate, End-of-the-Semester Reality Checks. "Is That PBJ in a Hot Dog Bun?" (Not Me, This Time)

One of my colleagues asked if anyone had peanut allergies. No one did, and she said, "Phew. I haven't eaten all day." Many of us had been in back to back to back meetings. When she started eating, I asked, "Wait? Is that a hotdog bun?" and she responded, "Why, yes it is."

I felt such relief. I thought I was the only one who resorted to PBJ in a hotdog bun during desperate times when I have to eat something and I'm pretty much out of everything. I don't believe, though, I've ever packed such a sandwich for out-of-home dining. I then asked, "Can I take a picture of your sandwich? It pleases me so much to know that I'm not the only one who has these kinds of days.

She is pregnant with her third child, teaches three classes, and it's the end of the semester. This is the way some of us are force to roll (no pun intended). I wonder, too, if she knows how good it is to grill such a sandwich like it was a grilled cheese. I thought twice about sharing all my trade secrets, though.

Storm comes in today: winds, rain, thunderstorm. I need to grade, but also need to do a little campus work with a printer. I came home last night for chicken noodle soup to get ahead of a cold that I believe is starting. Better to stay ahead, because it's typical to fall sick as soon as I take off for Christmas. I don't want to be out for the count this year like I was a couple of years ago.

And with that...let this day begin.

It's Always Wonderful to Receive an Unexpected Gift in the Mail, Especially When It is a Hand-Crafted One from an Author Friend

It's was a pretty groggy day, and not knowing it was going to be I lucked out by taking Karal for a long walk early in the morning. An hour later the outside world was awash. I, however, used it advantageously by writing, grading, working, planning, and even catching Whetne walking Sai before the rain...I had Ezra Jack Keat's The Snowy Day with a stuffed animal for their Christmas. I've had it since I bought it last year...glad I caught them during the dry part of the day. Such a happy 1-year old. 

The mail truck arrived after it turned dark and I felt horrible for him having to slosh in this wetness, but when I retrieved the goods for the day I was happy to see a small envelope from Ann E. Burg. It was a tiny box, and when I opened it there was a note that said, "I made Otis while taking a vacation at the beach." Actually it was this she made, not Otis, but I named the ornament Otis, nonetheless...a hand-crafted sea shell painted to look like the beach. It's wonderful and I quickly added it to my tree with joy and purpose. Nothing like a new ornament - a personalized one at that.

Today is going to be a long one. Although I don't have to teach at night, I have professional development and meetings all day long (which will sadden Karal who has been attached at my hip since Chitunga left. In fact, she's wrapped around my body as I write this morning, sleeping on me as if I'm her human pillow. I'm not sure if she has a cold, is depressed, ate something weird, or is just being her usual needy self, but she has not allowed me any space for days. Whenever she thinks I might leave her she shakes. It's sad.

As for the great dinner Sunday night (and Saturday for that matter), last night was microwaved chicken tenders and a slice of Naan. That's the problem with cooking...when there's no leftovers you have to start from scratch and I didn't feel like taking the time to prepare another meal. I took the shortcut and when with way to easy (and gross, actually). 

Time to get my focus on and prep for way too people-y meetings. The older I get, the more I hate putting on the performance. I get so much more done when working alone and weaving my world.

Attended the Walnut Beach Tree Lighting Ceremony & Even Waited for Santa Who Was Caught on I-95 Traffic. Great Evening for a Sunday Night Meal

I had brie, chicken, and mushrooms in the fridge and knew I wanted to make a dish, so I cooked the shrooms win wine sauce, got sage, thyme, and oregano, simmered the spinach and baked it all together in a cream sauce made with the brie. Let's just say it came out stupendous and after we heard Boys & Girls Club singers do many carols, including the 12 Days of Christmas, and Santa finally arrived, the tree was lit (although I had to take this photo because we left before Santa finished with the kids.

We lit Pam's tree and called it a night. I invited Bev, Leo, and Oona to Pam's for dinner to eat the entree, although I had no idea how it would turn out. It came out delicious.

I spent the day peer-reviewing articles, cooking (of course), and grading as a few more materials came in. I also folded and put away laundry, walked the dog (I could tell it warmed up because my feet were frozen to the sidewalk), and read some more YA texts. I also booked a few writers for Spring episodes of The Write Time.

I love the lights. I love driving at night to see all the lights and sitting in my living room to appreciate my own. Sadly, Karal stayed behind this evening as her energy can be a tad bit too much when having friendly gatherings.

It's the last week for graduate courses (although mine have ended) and I met with a few students to cover their final work for the semester. My house smells divine, and I'm guessing that was the brie, wine, and spices. The scent is magical. I'm also thankful to Bev for bringing great Tuscan bread which was awesome to soak up the sauce and will be wonderful with this morning's toast.

Yep. Another Monday. But we got this. 

Day One of Grading? Rewarded with a Meat Tower, Homemade Gyros on a Very, Very Cold Day. I Love Being Fed.

I just want to be done already, but I have a week of materials straggling in. I'm caught up for now, but am ready to rid intellectual responsibilities to zone out for a while. I've been binge reading YA novels from Boston, walking the dog, and looking at recipes to try.

Pam took a break from watching White Lotus and she said she had towered her chicken castle and if I wanted to chop up cucumbers, onions, and shallots, I could eat, too. So, I ate.

I also learned that a neighbor lost his wife. They have two little girls and I've been watching her fight cancer for over a year: walking, jogging, getting fresh air. When they didn't come by for Halloween, I was curious. Another neighbor was outside, so I bravely asked, "Is she okay?" I learned she passed away this summer. It's shocking. So young...two little girls. It makes sense now why the grandparents are always out back grilling and helping out. I just guessed she was still ill. Bless that family.

Now, it's another Sunday. I have chicken thawed and it's my turn to cook. I bought all the ingredients yesterday and this morning I'll see what I can do...a brie, creamy chicken and mushroom soup. We shall see. And somehow a Lifetime Holiday special played as I was working today. WTH are those season shows. The cheese is likelier cheesier than today's soup. 

They're just so dumb.

Attended the Department of Modern Languages & Literatures Event at Bellarmine Hall Last Night & Honored to Be Peer with Dr. Michelle Farrell

I graded in my office until 5:30 pm last night before going to outgoing Chair, Dr. Michelle Farrell's, end of the year research celebration of junior faculty. As Chair, she opened to showcase the scholarship of up- and coming scholars who are doing incredible work and bringing our students with them. The celebration of intellectual leadership and excellence is something we can all celebrated more.

Too often, we stifle the excellence of a many for the narrative of a few. I believe this is called administration.

Fairfield University truly has remarkable minds doing out-of-this-world work, but the ballgame become whose narrative does such work belong to...the institution wants to own as their own, even when they do little to support such vision.

I'm super proud of my colleague's leadership, and I I recognize genius in Dr. Michelle Farrell. She has done a remarkable job with students of multiple languages in a cross-curriculuar way that allows majors in 2nd language-expertise a power and brilliance that deserves recognition.

But it's a Saturday morning. I'm reflecting on a crazy week, and I have much to do to finish this semester strong. I can say, the Department of Modern Languages & Literature were fortunate to have Dr. Michelle Farrell at their helm as long as they had her. She's a change-agent, a visionary, a hard-worker, and a brilliant colleagues.

I am so lucky to be invited to her end-of-the-year celebration. Put brilliant people into leadership and this is what you get. I wish their new Chair tremendous success and I look forward to seeing all Michelle chooses to do in the future. Her expertise and intelligence transcends any singular space.

When Phoebe Yeh Makes a Recommendation, I Typically Stop Everything To Read (She Hasn't Served Me Wrong Yet & I Am Thankful)

It was wonderful having Phoebe Yeh in our audience at NCTE, especially since I read Dear Manny a few weeks ago - the 3rd book from Nic Stone in her trilogy. In Boston, my students and I were presenting on Patricia Park's influence of our work through her YA novel, Imposter Syndrome. Later that night, Phoebe wanted to be sure I had a copy of Mahogany L. Brown's A Bird In the Sky Means We Can Still Breathe, which comes out in March, 2025. I told her I did have a copy, and I would prioritize it as soon as I got home. Coupled with this is Yolanda Sealey Ruiz's voice message, "Crandall...we need to do something together on Mahogany Brown's new book." The message came, actually, as I was sitting on my couch reading it. We've already pitched our idea - we will now wait. 

When Jason Reynold's penned Ain't Burned All the Bright I was quick to distribute 50 copies to 50 friends for my birthday. It was a Covid 50th and I threw a birthday party with my birthday brother in Indiana, Paul Hankins (via ZOOM, of course).  A Bird In the Sky Means We Can Still Breathe is crafted in a similar vein, but with more stage presence, theatrics, and voice of character. Each page feels like it can be performed and I love the chorus quality of the book (reminded me of For Colored Girls Who've Considered Suicide. The words are meant to be read out loud.

What was most punching about the story, however, are the voices of children abandoned, orphaned, jailed, and fostered during the Covid-19 years, and the stories they had to tell as the nation worked through an international flu that some wanted to deny and others used to destroy. Those living in poverty took the biggest hit and the numbers don't lie. Loss was everywhere and tremendous.

As I was reading and thinking about where Browne's book could land historically, I thought of Hesse's Out of the Dust and Anderson's Fever 1793. Of course, the covid pandemic is much more recent and, because it was not fun, something we all can easily dust from our immediate memory. I had to stop and think, in fact, how long we were at home and how we adapted. Because of the National Writing Project network, I've been used to a ZOOM life much longer than most. I knew who to connect with and how. What I forgot, however, is the in-home survival strategies, as Chitunga returned from graduate school (denied his graduation) and Edem was living home, too, after everything in Iowa shut him down. We survived, but it wasn't easy (that's when Karal became accustomed to being walked three times a day because each of us had to get out of the house and all of us were frustrated. On weekends, I'd walk Karal 8 miles - to the beach and back - simply because I could and I needed to be with fresh air.

What resonated with me most in Browne's poetic/versed/theatrical storytelling was how she brought representation to kids that were not on the radar of also living through the pandemic...kids who lost family members, lived impoverished lives, had incarcerated parents, and were the last to receive help. They, too, had to find a way towards hope and the title of her book says it all. 

I have all of Mahogany L. Browne's verse novels on my shelf and definitely will be keeping this one and sharing with students in YA Literature (and I have a particular teacher in New Haven in mind who would appreciate a class set...her kids are change makers, too).

And it's a Friday. I appreciate it, but I'm tired of always thanking God for another Friday. I think we all need a month of Fridays or even a year. But I will count my blessings that another is upon me and carry on as I always do. And now there are 5 other post-NCTE books to be read...they are lined up beside me like patient warriors. I'll get to each as I can.

And the Final Turbo Was Taught (with a little philosophical, artistic help from Richard Stine)...Always a Helpful Text for the Final Push of a Semester

I was gifted Richard Stine's artwork, The Art World of Richard Stine while still teaching in Kentucky. I believe the school librarian, Kayo Wicks, wanted me to have it because his art work was often how I spoke in faculty meetings. While earning my doctorate, I crafted a research statement from 9 of his images, including "Madman Emptying the Ocean with a Spoon," which I changed to "Fork" when referring to the art of teaching. In many ways, his craft parallels my ways of knowing.

Yesterday, as an exercise to push kids to go outside the box should they wish, I distributed 28 images of Richard Stine's artwork with questions, "What does it tell you? How does it tell you? What does this have to do with life? What does it have to do about education?" Philo - love / sophistry - teaching. For the love of teaching, I explained that books, and classrooms, and institutions can only capture so much about living and learning. We have to see and to think deeply, which is at the core of Stine's imagery. 

They discussed the images given to them in small groups and then collectively, before I unleashed them to work on their own creeds in a workshop setting. First-attempt philosophical statements is the primary goal of the course after reading Noddings, Freire, Dewey, Addams, etc. Yes, academic referencing & citation are huge to show 'ya know what ya know,' but I also believe it's important to push boundaries of how you share this (which artists like Stine do). I'm very wary that text-centric communication can be esoteric and exclusionary. Bring forth artists. Bring forth the opinion of kids (their insight was a requirement for this course as we worked with elementary and high school students).

I've had back-to-back dream Fall semesters, first being asked to do an Honors course and then teaching Philosophy this semester. By luck, I've had incredible students (and, yes, Tommy....you were in both and I credit the excellence partially to you...even though you talk very little, but remain one of the sharpest thinkers and writers I've worked with at Fairfield University). 

So, yesterday was a win, even though I never got to my 2nd cup of coffee, only ate a waffle, and didn't feed myself until 6 p.m.. It was one of those days. But today will be different as the breathing room opens its gracious arms and I will have time to think again.

College teaching is different from high school teaching, in that you're not quite sure of the relationships you're building...as K-12 teaching builds tremendous relationships with students. Even so, you feel the connections in the semester's work and small notes at the end....and later in emails where they reach out...usually with a memory of my more eccentric moments than the ones where I'm trying to be smart.

And as I handed out all the evaluations the last couple of days, I realized I don't need them any more. The ladder has been climbed. Still, I like the feedback as I'm a lifelong learner myself. I can't imagine a time where I ignored what my students have to say. 

Pedagogy as Gift (Luke, 2006). It's the Concept that Keeps on Gifting. Classes Should Be Designed as Presents for Students to Unwrap & Enjoy

I love metaphors, even when I'm exhausted. Phew. The road trip to LaGuardia Airport and back at 5:30 a.m. was not the best way to begin a day but I was there and back in about 2.5 hours. I simply can't believe that many people are on the roads that early, not to mention the volume dropping people off for early flights. Ah, but Tunga made it back safely and so did I.

Last night ended the third time I taught young adult literature and it truly is a gem to have in my course load. We accomplished much, but the greatest achievement is showcasing the power of choice and selection, so students can find their own trajectory and meaning with the work. They design their own projects, too, which should be arriving in another week. I love planning and showcasing knowledge as we highlight a variety of genres, but I also love personally selecting one book to give each student on the last night of class...usually in line with the projects they are working on. NCTE made it even better, as so many authors graciously signed the books I selected. I told the kids, "I'm not wrapper, but I try."

I also make my cake, but I've posted before on that deliciousness. 

Today, I have the last turbo of the semester, a grant meeting, and then I can go home and crash. I'm very ready to find down time as it's been go-go-go for quite a while now (I'm not even sure what downtown is).

Now I await projects. My standards are high and I hope the students deliver as they have the last few times I've taught the class. For now, however, I need to get my head in philosophy mode, so I can do as I do and then come home and go for a long, brisk, but necessary walk. 

Here's to the semester that just was.

Last Night with the Eagle in the Nest. He Left the Lillypad this Morning After a Great Week of Doing As We Have Always Done

I know Teddy Mascari was wondering when it gets easier to see them leave again. His kids are juniors in college and I'm thinking, snap, the boys are in the last years of their 20s and also in the early 30s. I hate when anyone leaves me, because I'm used to doing my leaving myself. It's never easy. That's the point...and every time there's a return, the conversation grows denser. Why? Because life will life us all - it's always complicated and tricky. 

With that noted, I loved having Chitunga back home this past week because nothing brings me happiness quite like when he finds something funny and chooses to share his laugh and a smile. We also had Alyssa with us this time, which brought additional joy. Tunga can be a workaholic like me, but I also love seeing (and bearing witness) to the gentler side he shares with Alyssa - she balances him out nicely...makes him more real.

This morning, I have to drive the 42 miles to Laguardia to drop him off at the airport (it should be an hour drive, but with morning traffic it can be 2 to 3 hours). That's NYC for ya.

We went to dinner last night. He went to the gym and I walked to the green to meet him. The first restaurant had its oven down so we ended up at Paradise Pizza, which is also a favorite. We sat at the bar like old times. We talked growing up, accomplishments, the importance of family, distance, and work/life balance (which I've always failed at, so am not a good role model for him). And accounting is more intense than academia with its spreadsheet demands.

Karal will be rather distraught once again, especially when we take off without her. She loves her big brother and she gives him little room for alone time. She's obsessed with being at his side. 

I will return from Laguardia once again facing Mt. Pleasant in the solo-artist mode. When there's life in this house, there's much of it...but when it disappears, it really disappears. My kitchen sink will miss all the dishes and my floors will miss tripping over the shoe collection. We've been here before and we'll be here again. 

Here's to safe travels, though. As I told him last night, "We're not supposed to know what comes next...that's the importance of adventure." 

But I sure to love having him home, in his bed, while it lasts. Just a matter of time before I'm all gray. Phew.

Last Beer for the Year (Perhaps One of the First, Too). Helping Chitunga to Clear the Fridge Before He Returns to Iowa. Crazy Belly Filler

I really did have the booze thing cut completely off, even beer and wine. Didn't miss it much and likely won't miss it again when he takes off. I figured, though, with NCTE and his birthday, we'd be celebrating regularly, so I stocked the fridge. That, and hosting Thanksgiving, resulted in many gifts, of which I'll like keep hidden and out of the way until the next frolic (although there are three bottles of Basil Hayden and that is really good stuff. 

As for the Stellas, it's basically drinking cold water. And it fills your stomach. And you pee a lot. There's nothing really redeeming about it. I'd rather have a glass of water.

Chitunga wanted to get together with Bev & Leo before he left Connecticut, so we potlucked what we could from our refrigerators and had a short catch-up festival. Lys returned to Syracuse and made it without incident (as she has to teach middle school biology in the morning). 

I prepped the two cakes for the last classes this week (a tradition for the final workshop evening), and I'm already ready to sit at home in front of the holiday lights grading without all the noise and distraction of the University. I'm not sure how the college kids are taking it, but I wouldn't want to come back after Thanksgiving just for one week of classes. I'm thinking about those that fly across the country to their schools. What a pain. We know enough now that there's no reason to be face-to-face for all classes. I'd want to phone in the last week I was them. 

And I almost napped yesterday. We were watching a football game when my eyes got heavy. I laid down against a pillow and said, "I thinking I'm crashing," but then there was a good play, I was stimulated, and then I was up for good (albeit I'm beat from the last week...all that preparation). 

Ah, but it's another Monday and the workweek beckons, so here we go once again. 

Posting This Here, But I Need to Move Away from the Deliciousness of Holiday Bourbon Maple Pecan Bars Because They're Just Too Good

I owe it all to Kaitlyn Marie. I requested the bourbon maple pecan bars, but didn't intend for them to be leftover at my house to pick at every time I walk through the kitchen. I sent Pam home with a few bars, and she gave them back last night as we ate mashed potatoes and a chuck roast sandwich she read about online. Damn, those are good and my guts can't handle such luxury.

Chitunga and Lys did a road trip to New London & Mystic for the night, so I simply stayed back and worked on computer projects while continuing to clean from the holiday gathering. Of course, there was a great football game to watch - Syracuse defeating University of Miami (an upset, indeed, but also a return to the 'cuse having winning seasons and possibilities. It's been much too long. What a game. 

I do love setting my house up with the lights, as unwinding in the evening is that much better (this photo with Lys, Chitunga, and Karal chilling on the couch the night before. It simply makes Mt. Pleasant feel that much more like home.

Last night, I found a couple volleyball gams to watch and chose to simply enjoy the evening and quiet house. Chitunga returns to Iowa on Tuesday, and I wish she simply could stay home through the month until Christmas gatherings are over.

And the temperatures have dropped. I perused the week ahead and thought, "Jeepers, looks like the winter season is upon us." At least there's not the snow squalls that upstate New York are receiving. Did Watertown really get almost six feet of snow? Ugh. Keep it up that way. I don't miss that at all. 

Now, what are the odds I can do a salad-only diet until the food shenanigans arrive with the stockings. Happy Sunday, all. I hope you are finding comfort wherever you are. Just like that...it's another December 1st.

I Always Love the Day After Turkey, But I Have No Idea How (Or Why) Anyone Goes Shopping. There's Decorations to Put Up & That Is an All-Day Affair

Wednesday. Preparation. Thursday: Preparation, Cooking, Friends, Family, Eating, & Cleaning Up. Friday: Lights, Tree, Decorations, & Gifts I Purchased on Clearance the Day After Christmas. In other words, this is a heavy three days of non-stop labors. Of course, we do this with tryptophan running in our system. There's also long walks with Karal, and she seems to be acting as if she did all the work. Lys & Chitunga went out to meet Gino last night, and she simply curled up like a fox and fell asleep. 

The outside lights are out, the tree is up, the knick-knacks are distributed, and a pile of things to be given out and wrapped are stored to a corner. I also folded two loads of Thanksgiving laundry from the place settings and table cloths. Chitunga was good about washing them last night (which I appreciate...today, however, he was moving slow...perhaps a little too much of the bourbon gifts from so many. Hey, it's his 29th year...let him live with joy and the very slow morning that followed. 

The two tables now have their holiday place settings, including the hope placemats I picked up on clearance a few years ago (back when Christmas Tree Shop still existed and there were more places to actually shop. Not many of those types of stores left, but I know where the few still existing are - and I love cleaning them out when I get the good deals.

And it's leftovers galore. We ate well again the day after, but still barely put a dent in any of the food. I think it is because this year charcuterie boars were in every room and you just can't help but snack from them, especially when there's cranberry jalapeño jam.

Chitunga and Lys are taking a road trip to Mystic today and spending the night, so the home-front will be rather quiet. Here's hoping he is not taking my car so I have wheels to live a life. It's all good. I simply love having him here in his old habits, especially seeing how he shares his life with Alyssa ('babe'). I love watching them together.

Now, however, I must get the week ahead prepared, and lay out plans for the grant that was just received. I love having the ability to do for kids and teacher. It is the kindling that fuels the fire & purpose. Happy Saturday.

Accomplished Another Thanksgiving & Remain Thankful to Friends & Family...the Food...the Company...the Gathering...the Joy

But I am stuffed. So much food. So much eating. So many leftovers. 

And I aim thinking of the preparation and the cleanup and I'm thinking, "What if we just gathered and ordered pizzas?"

Ah, but the turkey was good...the stuffing...the carrots....the bourbon. Let's just say that everyone who came brought me big bottles of bourbon. This is crazy, because I have not been drinking for months now, and well, now I have a fully stocked bar. I can open a bourbon store.

The desserts, too, are out of this world...Everyone was so stuffed that no one wanted desserts...in fact, I didn't even make post-dinner coffee. But we are cleaned up now and I should think about Christmas decorations. I also know that we hit all the clearance last year (Nikki and Adamo inspired) and when I bring up the boxes, I should be pleasantly surprised. 

Finally, God Bless the Great Whatever for putting a halo over Ms. Oliwia who fell down the basement stairs as I was slicing the turkey. That could have been so much worse than it was.  A bump on the head, a few bits of screaming, but a wonderful trooper who recovered rather quickly. The alarm is something we'll likely not forget for quite a bit 

Another Thanksgiving season has finished, and once again I am thinking about the excess and why we put forward as much as we do. It's a lot...and we're just one house with one gathering. 

Today, though, I want to move. Simply move and minimize the intake.

This One Punches Hard...Too Soon. Too Important. Too Beautiful. Rest In Peace, Jason. You Modeled Mentorship & Brilliance The Entire Way. I Remain Thankful

Dr. Jason Courtmanche, Director of the Connecticut Writing Project at Storrs, passed peacefully yesterday with his wife, Amy, and his two kids, Cormac and Elsa, at his side. He was 55.

This one punched me in the gut, as Jason has been my mentor, friend, colleague, and spirit since arriving to Connecticut in 2011. He took me under his wings, guided me into the political part of my work, and modeled exactly how you use intellect, wit, a passion for teachers and young people, and beauty to make the world a better place. He was an English professor, a champion for writing, and an incredible family man. For the past year, as he learned of his cancer, he fought with pure hope and devotion (as he always has done). Each and every day, he shared his joy of journalism and news, his appreciation for gardens, light, skies, and trees, and total joy for his wife and kids. Not once did he complain, share any pain, or question this journey. Instead, he maintained happiness and purpose. He wrote. He shared. He championed everyone around him.

This is hard.

Jason and I were NWP roommates at the Annual Spring Meeting where we advocated for writing instruction, our work, and the importance of funding programs for teachers. We lobbied each and every year with Jim Himes, Chris Murphy, John Larson, Rosa DeLauro, Richard Blumenthal, & Joe Courtney. They always welcomed the two of us, and our teaching teams, with open arms, tremendous respect for the work we do, and appreciation for educators and classrooms. Jason showed me the ropes and, together, we have maintained National Writing Project work across Connecticut. We even loved doing shots with John in his office on St. Patrick's Day (although John would probably deny it)

Jason fell during the summer of 2023, thinking it was another bout of Lyme disease, or some aspect of Covid. He kept passing out, and finally ended up in the hospital where they found cancer spreading throughout his body. He couldn't be at his 2024 summer institute for teachers because he was hospitalized, but he continued to take part from a screen so he could champion their leadership. He never let the cancer stop him from what he loved most - being one of the best cheerleaders for writing instruction in our State.

We learned Jason was moved to hospice over the weekend, during the NCTE convention. I knew things were progressing rapidly, simply by his actions on social media. As a man who was constant about sharing news on his feeds, family stories, teacher greatness, and school coverage, his posts began to be more focused on nature...the beauty of a blooming flower or the light that hit a particular leaf in a certain way. He captured bliss daily...simple posts & reminders of how precious life is.

Jason and I live the world of grants. To do what we do, funding needs to be constant...that is, finding ways to invest in teacher leadership and young people. Jason's youth programming was stellar, as he published writers across the state each year and advocated for the excellence of public schools. He remained a lifelong learner, too, always asking questions, reading abundantly (I mean, non-stop), and trying to find solutions for a complicated world. He also weaved a foundation for his incredible work by networking, building infrastructure, and threading excellence in all he could.

And he loved a good margarita, as that was the go-to after lobbying in Washington or leading workshops in this or that state.

There are a million and one thoughts running through my head as I process the news, but the one that keeps coming to the forefront is the absolute integrity in which he lived his life. It was a spiritual strength that was at his core...something stronger than his literary passions and elbow-patched, sport coat meanderings. He lived by actions which were often underscored by his intelligence and question for brilliance. I sent him a collage of the beautiful photos he was posting to Facebook in his final months and wrote that these images were giving me purpose for my life. I wanted to return the favor as he moved back into hospitals and hospice. He hand-wrote a note & mailed it to me, outlining what he knew to be inevitable and naming he'd give the fight his best shot, but was practical by the statistics. He used each and every second of his last days (and entire life) to do good for others.

I always felt like Robin Williams meets Pee Wee Herman meets Jim Carrey when working around him, as he was always poised, articulate, determined, and astute with language, literacy, traditions, and canonical ways of knowing (his heart was always with Hawthorne). At the same time, he loved to laugh alongside me, especially as the lobbying work became more obvious to me and I'd ask questions of the offices. What's the craziest lobbying group you meet with each year? It turned out there is a passionate crew of chicken-lovers who speak for the chickens and raise funds to support them. When I asked, Do they come to the halls of Congress dressed as chickens or do they where suits like us? Jason chuckled and said, "I think of such questions, but Crandall will actually ask them."

We put so many miles on the ground together, walking from building to building, creating folders that advocated for our teachers, and sharing a love for National Writing Project work. We had a brotherhood that is hard to describe, and sometimes I'd look at his face and wonder if we shared bloodlines, histories, and family beyond our titles. Each and every year, Jason won incredible teaching accolades and every student I get at Fairfield who had Jason in their undergraduate days always sang praises of his classes being the best, a life-changing opportunity, and most important classes they ever took.

Phew. 55 years young. Way too soon. And I'm simply thinking of our more egotistical sides - the days when we talked about our own college experiences - when we discovered we both had long, luxurious hair that made us feel kingly and indestructible. When we realized this, we immediately found pictures of these days and passed them along to one another. Generation X hippies, perhaps....nerds who loved words...geeks who found meaning in books and discussing ideas....men who lived in our heads. 

I am feeling for his family right now...his UCONN friends...his teacher leaders. It all came on quickly, and it is true - Dr. Jason Courtmanche is irreplaceable...the shoes will be impossible to fill, as he always took enormous steps in all that he did....a true teacher....a dedicated leader...a profound intellect. And I'm thinking about my first visit to his campus, where we laid out collaborative plans for the future. He knew I was a Syracuse guy and he covered UCONN basketball as a journalist during his undergraduate days. He made sure I could step into Gampel Pavilion, to feel the legacy (and rivalry) of college sport. He loved his work, that campus, and the labor of the National Writing Project mission hosted in the State.

I went for several walks yesterday where I simply let the memories return and the emotions do what they do. The tears are with tremendous respect for a man I admired, learned from, and appreciated. We operated in the parallel, always finding guidance in one another....

this loss will be felt for a very, very long time. 

It is somewhat surreal, but I know the WWJD philosophy of how Jason would get things done: focus, scholarship, a celebration of teachers and young people as writers, and always those reminders that life is beautiful...precious...something to be cherished. Something to be captured in literary forms.

Dr. Courtmanche led by example, and I know his influence lives within me...within Connecticut....across the National Writing Project network, and throughout all the schools he's influenced. I will carry his fight onward and look to the sky, the sun, the rain, the glimmers of hope, and human kindness to do the work as he graciously mentored me to do. This is the Jason way....and my heart sends all it can to those hurting the most from this departure.

I am a better man because of Jason Courtmanche. Today, Thanksgiving, I'm giving thanks for the influence he had on me and for all he brought to our world. Jason's resilience has been remarkable and throughout his fight he maintained a focus on beauty, justice, intellect, and family. He remained a remarkable man until the very end. He leaves a legacy behind...and will now be a brilliant star in the sky.