Made It to Syracuse to Meet Lucille, the Latest Addition to the Isgar Crazy (and Scored a Curved Cucumber for My Mother

I was able to grade the items turned in late and then headed to Syracuse for a short while in celebration of a few birthdays and a graduation party. This includes meeting the latest to the canine crew, Lucy, who has been with Cynde and Mike for just over 24 hours (funny, this angle makes her look like Benji). She's a definite mix of many things and it will interesting to see what her adult look will become.

Shy. Skeptical. Still checking out her new digs and these nut jobs her took her in.

I grilled chicken for the parental units after catching up on podcasts through the hills of 17. Hit horrible traffic with Newtown construction and then again in Syracuse. Leave it to the powers that be to do construction on all the major roads all at the same time. It makes no sense...so getting to one side from Syracuse to the other is a pain in the ass.

The humidity broke and we could sleep with the windows open and that is always delicious. Watched Olympics (at volume 52) with dad as mom played games and made the upstairs sound like a casino). Chitunga flies in at midnight tonight, and will be staying with the Kurtz's and Alyssa. 

Here's to what the day will bring.

Dinner at Lil' Pub and a Short Walk Afterwards to Thank My Dog-Sitters and to Congratulate Rebecca's for her Graduate School Completion

I often think I'll pay in cash, but always like when they say, "Let's do dinner instead." That way I am included, too. It's rare to get a bad meal at Lil' Pub and the view is unbeatable. The temperatures by the water were 15 degrees cooler, too. Still, we ate indoors because we didn't know what the storms were going to do. They all passed.

It was a hot one again yesterday. I mowed the lawn, was drenched, walked Karal, was drenched, then weed-whacked, so was drenched once more. It's the Kentucky days in me...hard not to play in the extreme heat. Feels like a blanket...a wet, lung-suffocating blanket. 

The falafel I wanted on Saturday night was satisfied on Sunday by the water (although I wouldn't get it again...I'll stick to authentic middle eastern places for that). 

I think the highlight of the evening was when a father and son asked me to take their photo along the sea wall and I positioned them in several good locations. They didn't speak English, so it was tricky, but I'm sure when they look at their photo reel, they will be, "Ese hombre blanco toma fotos geniales."

I'm trying to tie up CWP work this morning and then will start thinking about Syracuse, my nephew's graduation celebration this upcoming Saturday. Several Capstone projects came in late last night, too. Ugh. I need to finalize that work, too. 

Not sure if the weather finally breaks today as each and every day they've said, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. Maybe it will be today. 

We'll know in about an hour.

All I Remember Are My Star Wars Figurines, My G.I. Joes, and My Godzillas. They Terrorized My Sister's Barbies.

I don't ever remember Cynde having Barbie Dolls, but I remember Casey and her friends would play with them. If I was asked to join, I'd bring my spaceships and laser beams to destroy their Barbie-dom. Yes, the dolls were everywhere, but they never seemed to catch my interest.

I have no idea why I chose to watch the Barbie movie that came out. I saw it won awards and there were all these readings of feminist texts, so I watched to see what the social commentary would be. The only good thing about the entire movie was the Indigo Girls song. Get rid of the flick and give the singers a Grammy more or two. Seriously, that was one of the dumbest movies I've ever seen, and I was trying to be optimistic, academic, and intellectual about what I was watching - like some big social commentary.

But it was only the Indigo Girls and Weird Barbie (of course with was Kate McKinnon and the Indigo Girls that made it only slightly (and I mean slightly) tolerable. McKinnon and the Indigo Girls are geniuses...not sure about what the rest of that move was supposed to be. As the kids say in school, "That was cringe-worthy."

Or have I just entered a new phase in life where I'm incapable of seeing artistic genius for what it is? I can't imagine any one sees that as award-worthy? Are we that desperate for good films?

I laughed more at the fact that I watched the film than the humor of the film. Even Will Farrell's character was 1-dimensional and stupid. I'm still shaking my head wondering what I was suppose to get out of it. 

That's how I spent my Saturday night (dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb). Can't reverse my decision, but now I have Sunday to recuperate. I'm focused on total recovery. 

I Need Rest. I Am Exhausted. I Am Looking for Only a Couple of Braincells to Fire Up So I Can Finish This Final Weekend

It's been a year. Scratch that. It's been several years and in the Book of Job meets Groundhogs Day, I keep thinking what else will be thrown my way to keep the work going...how much can a human being endure? I took on the extra work as part of our collaborative teamwork efforts, but then the team slowly disappeared one by one and all that was left there was the work. As always, I do it/did it for the students. 

Capstone is complete and now the 20-45 page papers are coming in and they need to be assessed so that I can turn my attention for the CWP summers I'm hired to lead. I'm still trying to assist the graduate programs, so the students don't lead a coup of what they've been through. I chose optimism, happiness, and cheerleading and it worked. But as I was grading yesterday and running materials to campus and organizing summer employees and setting up all the details needing attention I realized, I AM FRIED. I need to sleep, to be mindless, and to have down time.

I don't see any of this until mid-August, but I need to find salvation to make it through all that is ahead. I was on campus and like the school year, the hallways were empty. I know that many enjoy the summer breaks to rejuvenate. I haven't had that since I left the K-12 classroom.

It's now time. Not this year, but soon. Too much is too much and I'm definitely feeling the too much, even though I have these final assessments to get through. They students are exhausted, too. It's the nature of the work, but it doesn't make any of it right. 

I saw a commercial where a man set out to fix a community bench that needed repair and I was like, "How the hell does he have the energy to do that -- to do good...to think positively of making this world a better place?" 

And I realized...enough is enough. It can't go on this way and I know it -- feel it -- with all my might. But I will grade today because I have to and it is the right thing to do.

Sleep, however, is the cure. I need sleep and rest. Period. 

My line is drawn. I cannot let the exploitation continue.

If Only I Knew this was a Sign for an Earlier Summer that Would Depart Earlier, I Would be A-Okay with It.

I like the dry, no humidity days of June where it is warm by day and cool by night. Nope, we're getting the global warming, so it's 90 by 9 a.m. with 100% humidity so it feels like 110 degrees. It's okay to hover indoors, but I dod like to get outside for fresh air - which is limited. It's like inhaling a sauna and I'm okay with that when it's the two or three weeks in July; I just don't want it in June. Let me have my one month to enjoy crisper days.

The heat is radiating from the roads making an oasis of pond-like mirages. It's a façade, however...just the heat cooking the pavement and grasses and flowers and cars and homes. 

Karal loves getting in the car but I can't let her near it until I run the air condition for a short bit.

Ah, this post makes it seem like I'm miserable from the heat, when really I'm miserable from 10 hours of grading. I had a round of assignments come in Monday and Wednesday, and I'm trying to catch up on them all because there's another round arriving on Friday (such is summer teaching....all so fast - and I feel bad for the students). 

Anyway, tonight the storms are so supposed to bring some relief for the heat, but I don't think it will bring relief from catching up on the grading. I do this to myself, but I am officially drawing a line after this year. I stepped up BIG TIME for my colleagues for the last two years and they, well, departed. So much for stepping up for the team. There needs to be others to have a team, but alas, I'm Hans Solo at this time, especially in secondary education. 

If I close my eyes hard enough...will it all just go away. 

Doubtful. 

As I've Grown Up and Moved Around, I've Always Been Fascinated at the Types of Magazines that Lie Around on Tables in Lobbies

I did professional development in one of, if not the one, wealthiest school district in the nation. It's a fascinating demographic, however, as the wealthier homes rely on the workers of other homes, so there are the super wealthy, and then the struggling others....hence, it is very diverse, but in more complicated ways than we usually do. We had the program at a facility which had a lobby with CTC-G magazine - a showcase of gorgeous homes (and furniture) in the area. The lowest cost of a home advertised was $998,000 and they went up to 20-30 million. 

Anyway, I thumbed through the magazine and was brought directly to the Hamptons where similar magazines lie about. Gorgeous homes with minimal furniture. I think it'd be funny to do a similar magazine for everyday people and the crazy ways they make ends meet in their homes. They should see the supplies all around my house awaiting classrooms. It is far from minimalism. Then again, don't they have numerous home shows about flipping homes, etc....even a channel? 

There used to be magazines everywhere, but now you rarely see them. I'm wondering about the Uber-wealthy class, and they still rely on print or have gravitated to digital spaces for home-gazing.

The trip there was 23 miles away, but it can take hours! I am happy to report that I made it there in 1/2 hour. I made it back in an hour (which wasn't that bad)

And I taught my last Capstone class. Now to grade and grade and grade, while fantasizing that I have such a home and pool to jump in on these hotter than usual days. 

The Basil Has Begun to Grow...Pottery a Gift from My Nephew at Christmas, "What Do You Want? I Found It on Clearance and I Know You Love Sales"

It's about this time each summer I regret not growing more vegetables. I do herbs, blueberries, perennials, and annuals, but I haven't put in squash, peppers, and tomatoes for a couple of years. Not sure why I fell out of favor from that other than the Farmer's market is every Monday right around the corner. Besides, it's hard to keep up with the literacy labs and teacher institutes in July.

But the basil is growing. I'm waiting for the arugula. They're my two favorite.

I'll be heading to Greenwich Botanical Center today to run professional development for the middle grade teachers. This is their last week, and the district calls for all-day PD. Phew. I know they will be cross-eyed, so I'll do what I can to make them laugh and enjoy the day. I spent most of yesterday finalizing the presentation, knowing that it's 23 miles away and can take 2 to 3 hours to get there. I'm hoping the traffic will be lightened at 10 a.m. so I can zip over a little faster. Coming home? I'm must going to pray to the traffic Gods....not that it will work.

I'm catching up with Chitunga, too, and watching the 2nd season of White Lotus. Three episodes in and I've decided it hits all my nerves and anxiety. The characters drive me nutty, but they're believable and so detached from accountability and responsibility. It's maddening. 

Ah, in the meantime, I must do traffic so off I go. 

Now Back to Sunday, Father's Day...Thankful That the Friends Thought it was a Beautiful Day to Sit by the Water & Break Bread Together

Ger Duany remarked when he visited a few weeks ago, "You have a wonderful community of people that surround you. You should feel very lucky. It is true. I've found staff and faculty from across campus that have kept me sane, grounded, laughing, and fighting onward. There are good people everywhere and you simply need latch onto them when you find them.

There's nothing better than a Leo dad joke. They never get old. To be honest, none of the jokes get old. Just a crew of people helping one another to find better joy in life...ironically with none of the "kids" in tow...they are too busying adulting in their own life.

So the Father's Day ritual was spent amongst friends and that was perfectly fine as it was a great day of Dockside, conversation, and no humidity (that arrived yesterday afternoon). 

The crud is back. Nothing like dripping sweat from every pore just because you sneeze. Our first real dose of summer (I much prefer the warm days without all the moisture).

Finished the 2nd to last Capstone course last night and only have one more to go (followed by a day of doing professional development for Greenwich Public Schools). 

Today, though, I have space to grade, grade, grade, grade, print, and grade. I'm trying to keep my nostrils above the whirlpool...Definitely appreciated the Sunday late lunch. Breaks always do feel good.

Well, Monday, I Put Off This Prayer Since Saturday, But Wanted to Offer One Up to the Rainbow Bridge to Start this New Week

I was living in Kentucky, I believe, when I happened to be home as the Isgars got hooked on another puppy. This was, a totally black lab named Bella, who was instantly drawn to my sister, Cynde, and who quickly became an adorable, cuddly friend with whoever would have her. I had Baby at the time, then Glamis, and now Karal. They all loved Bella-bean because she was a dog's dog...and a human companion. I loved her, too. She's alway been one of my favorites.

I remember sitting in the back seat to pick her up because Mike was at work and he wanted me to assist Cynde. She was midnight black, small, and I held her in my arms and said, "I'm so in love." I was jealous he was going to stay with them and on com home with me to Kentucky. So beautiful. Always so regal.

Bella craved play time, especially with a hose. She was obsessed and loved her sprinklers. Watering the lawn was like Disney World to her, and any opportunity to be chased was a fantastic time. Glamis and her had a special bond, as they were close in age and had similar temperaments. She didn't mind chasing her cousin who loved picking up an item only to be chased. They would go round and round and round. Karal's arrival was a bit younger, spunkier, and probably a pain in the ass to Bella, but she tolerated it. She still played. She embraced Karal and let her know quickly she was all about the laps in the living room.

I always loved visiting Cynde and Mike because I could count on Bella coming up to my lap for hugs and kisses. She was a loving dog and she knew who her people were, especially Mike and Cynde. Dylan and Nikki. She was the family dog above all family dogs. I can't imagine getting one any better.

Sadly, at age 14 (98 in people years) Bella let them know it was her time. She played her role and she was loved for every second of it. She's one of those dogs that is almost irreplaceable...she was just precious...and so, so loving....so central to their lives...to the magic of their existence.

That was hard news to learn the day before Father's Day, and I'm especially feeling for Mike and Cynde's loss. The lack of noise following is always disturbing...the ending of rituals and patterns can be haunting. She crossed over the rainbow bridge on Saturday and is now running with Jake, Dusty, Tizzy, Baby, Glamis, Chipper, Smoker, Zoie, and Juliette Catherine Alanis Madonna Potatohead Scrappy Doo Houdini Olivia Dennis (my first dog). She is with numerous other dogs, too, as Mike comes from a long lineage of dog people.

It's always a lot. Always devastating. Always emotional. But Bella lived a tremendous life and was so much a part of the ritual that it's almost impossible to imagine a world without her. The backyard was all hers...and she loved when cousin dogs visited. Prayers up, beautiful creature ... we are all better human beings because of you. 

And much love to the Isgars for the time being --- it's a slow, painful crawl, but at one point the memory will be all you need to invest in another. I'm already looking for you. You'll know when you know.

Productive Saturday Prepping @CWPFairfield Summer Programs in the Back Yard of Mt. Pleasant. We're Getting There...Slowly But Surely.

With the lack of space on campus, CWP's office has pretty much been booted to my home. It's now a storage bin for school supplies, books, and materials to work with teachers and K-12 schools. It's all good, though, as Fairfield Magazine came out this week celebrating the success of grants for CWP-Fairfield ... work that is beyond and in addition to my University responsibilities (probably why I have to do the work from home as my own administrative assistant). I love it, though. This is work for K-12 educators and their students. It's extra-special this year since our programs have been named a 2025 Divergent Award program for Literacy Innovation. We'll celebrate the hard work over the summer....over $100,000 in grants!

I'm excited to host another teacher institute, too, and to bring forward another year of Young Adult Literacy Labs. Our theme is two-fold: They Call Us Writers and Writing Our Lives - Humans Who Teach. The whole design with the grant work is to rejuvenate passion and possibilities with the teaching of writing and to support the voices of young people as we guide them to embrace their cultures, histories, narratives, and opinions. We'll publish all in the 11th edition of POW - Power of Words. Hard to believe that we've put out a book a year since we redesigned our programs. I keep calling it a formative experiment but after a decade of success, I believe it's an experiment that works!

But it is on my back, as I sit at my back patio unpacking boxes, creating writer's notebooks, and organizing materials into bins. I was on campus today, too, grabbing more boxes that were delivered (many of them just left in the hall....glad I went in). 

This week culminates the first of two graduate courses I'm teaching and I'm looking forward to call this to an end. Love the students, cherish the standards and design, but our faculty voted to remove the course expectations. They won't need to be taught after this year...at least not by me. Interesting, too, that the majority of people behind the redesign have jumped ship. We shall see where this all goes.

I'm loving the theme and books chosen for the summer and can't wait to get them going and moving along.  Also thrilled to teach the writing of so many of my friend, too. 

Ah, but it's Father's Day and and I always have loved this one of Dad and Chitunga...beers in each hand. I know from my Iowa visit that the kid misses his Tuesday/Fridays with Papi Butch at Chubby's. Here's to the Dads out there....everywhere.

Going Into Saturday (with Thunderstorms Last Night), Trying to Focus on What Matters Most and Planning Ahead so It Doesn't Cause Any Emergencies

It's been a year. It's been quite a few years of trauma, too, and my nature is to stand my ground, to look for hope, and to go forward to do what is best for teachers and young people. I'm fueled by the precious time I had with Chitunga in Iowa and I'm thinking about seeing my family in a couple of weeks and to celebrate my nephew's graduation. In the meantime, there's a mountain of work to be done in July in support of writers in southern Connecticut and the land has been planted so that we can bloom in amazing ways.

Thankful to Akbaru and Pam last night, for gathering over salmon and pasta (even Klondike peanut butter bars...so good). Always great to unwind on a Friday night over good company and food and to catch up with an amazing kid. 

My house currently looks like a warehouse of books, supplies, and plans for the literacy labs and teacher institute, and I need to get on top of this over the weekend so I'm ready for the days ahead. I also had a call from a National Writing Project colleague in Long Island who has been going through her own bureaucratic trauma, which seems to be the ways of higher education these days.

Excited for the rain...good for the milkweed I planted all over the yard. It matched the disappointing news that a project I worked on for the last year was tossed by the publishers at the last minute because of academic hubris and language. We feel terrible informing you that we need to cut ties, especially because the work you submitted is absolutely amazing and we are better people for reading it. Alas, this is the way of our institutions, and in the end we have to follow what they see moving forward. Unfortunately, your on-the-ground, scholarship in action is not what they are looking for at this time. They are looking for linguistic theory and criticism, rather than a display of what works with refugee-background youth and day-to-day practice. 

That's the world I live in...the disconnect between the hard work of teachers who work with youth vs. the scholars who work with the intellectual battle of controlling language. I just shake my head.

It's all good. As Akbar pointed out nonchalantly last night, "Crandall, you serve a higher power and mission many of us will never know." 

I guess I do. I work for what is right. Practical. Useful. I'm not into the game of hubris and self-aggrandizing and, for that, it's easy to toss me to the side. 

I've learned this lesson many times and it is the way of these parts. I am strong. I simply need to repurpose the project so it does good for those who actually labor in the challenging demographics of K-12 schools with little, to no, support. I will defend classroom teachers and young people every time.

Incredible, Irreplaceable, Spur-of-the-Moment Night Out with the Sealey-Johnson-Wooley Crew to See Trombone Shorty and Boi at the Amphitheater

They had extra tickets, and I made the time. I heard that Trombone Shorty gives a concert like no other and Boi, 1/2 of Outkast, was the opening. The performances were amazing, the dancing was meant-to-be, and the instrumentation was out of this world. We ordered Chinese Food on Mt. Pleasant, ate, pre-gamed, then took the train into Bridgeport for the concert. Was fortunate to meet up with Chitunga's good friend, Gino, and teaching superstar Kim Herzog, who were also at the concert. It was impossible to sit in the seats for long. Dancing was meant to be.

Dave, Kris, Isaiah, Ishy, and Val will be relocating to Penn State after this weekend. They are dispersing in southern Connecticut for the weekend and I get them on Sunday night. Their house is being emptied today, and they need to find locations before their home opens up in Penn State later this week. Isaiah has an internship with Blumenthall in Hartford, Ishy will be starting a new school, Dave has retired from West Hill (I can't imagine what a hit it will be for the school to lose him), and I'm seeing the heartbeat of my Stratford survival departing for the next phase of their life. 

I knew when I met Dave I had a twin soul in the Universe. It feels a little tragic to know he's going to move a state away...5 hours. Phew. And Kris is also kin spirit, and I can't help but think of all the Abu, Lossine, Chitunga, Kanyea, Michael, Akech, and Edem evenings we've had...guiding one kid after another in intellectual possibilities with love. 

They have their own entourage to look out for...all eyes on Ishy at this point. 

To me, they've been my Stratford survival and that is why last night was extra important...necessary... special. It's a great way to say adios for a little while. 

Thanks for the ticket. It was a spectacular evening of dancing and love I'll never forget. 

They Never Get Old: Writing Conferences with Students, Even if They Were Back-to-Back for Four Hours Last Night. Progress Was Made

I always love when elementary, science, history, and math teachers ask me how I learned to teach the way I do, and I simply say, "It's easy. Brown School. National Writing Project. Teachers teaching teachers." I also love Foxfire methodologies, action research, student participatory research, high standards, and creativity. I know how to plan backwards, and when it all comes together as it usually does they wonder, "Where'd you get this style from?" 

30 years in classrooms. Best mentors in the world. Learning the poetics of research. Curiosity. 

Last night, 20 students met with me regarding their data collected over 5-months after they did a two week action-research course with me in the winter session. They had a data plan, reviewed literature, and now have to do something with what they collected. This is an academic process that is heavy, developmentally, but light in terms of research authenticity. It is inquiry all the way and what the National Writing Project does best. Truth is, K-12 teachers rarely have a second to digest the academic jargon so many of us put forward to maintain our careers. They are in the field daily, understand kids, and need to know they powerful enough to put their work in front of larger audiences. They need to share their studies and what they learned from collecting data on their students.

Ah, I was shy of two hours - the usual for parent/teacher conferences. Same pace and energy. Not stop meeting, working on my toes, taking notes, guiding, and building relationships. It's the best that teachers do...and it brings me back to all the writing conferences each year with K-12 youth. SO SO SO important and where much of the great teaching occurs.

But can I admit something? That exhausted me. Conveyor belt conversations...productive, but they take a lot of mental energy. So I went to bed early last night. I had to. I was fried. 

And I've Made It Home to Stratford, After a Wonderful Omelet at The Breakfast Club in Des Moines, Iowa, and Two Flights with No Incidents

I will miss the many paths to walk, especially with Chitunga, the kid I love to talk with more than anyone else in the world. He is in a good place, found a wonderful apartment, and is on his own road to find out. I spent the flights rewatching The Good Lie, and remembering all the stories with South Sudanese kids who I was fortunate to mentor in Louisville, Syracuse, and even Bridgeport. It means even more knowing two of the actors in the film. It was an emotional experience to revisit the story, especially as I try to find serenity in the one I've been living for over 20 years. 

Sadly, the omelet was the only substantive meal I had all day, as pretzels don't cut it. At least there was leg room on the two flights back. The ones on the way were there were miserable on my knees. 

Now, it's time to prep for tonight's graduate Capstone, to pick up Karal from the incredible Shirley Klein, and to redirect all passions to CWP summer work. 

Always great to return to your own bed, even though I had no problems with the air mattress provided by Chitunga. I just hate having to leave the conversations I've always loved having with him.

Here's to the journeys...all of them. You just never know how the chapters will be written. 

And We Went German Pub on the Final Night, and I Resolved to Have a Beef Pastry Dish with Gravy, Peas, Carrots, and Potatoes

It was delicious. I had to teach, so I did, but after Tunga came home from work we met colleagues out for drinks and then found a good space to get pub food. I got a Guiness/Steak Sheppards Pie and it was outstanding. We came home and finished season one of White Lotus. I'm a little perplexed, because I knew the final episode what supposed to resolve issues, but for us, we had a million and one questions. It definitely hooked us along, but we are critical and need to know more.

Nonetheless. Great show.

I walked through the artsy fartsy sectors of town and I picked up a few items to make Chitunga's apartment more a space to live in. We worked his crockpot for the first time (a lamp recipe that termed pit great) and I put another 7 miles on the Sauconys.  I knew I had to teach, but wanted to exercise first. 

Today, I leave Dodge and hope to make the connecting flight in time. It's been a fun few weeks of eating well, exploring, and spending every night waiting for midnight to hit so we can watch the skyline lights go out. I can get used to that, as they all blink off shortly after midnight. 

I wish he lived closer. I wished I lived closer to him. 

Btu back to the grind we go. He's having eye surgery this Friday and I wish I could stay anotther week, but I didn't know. Prayers up for quick recovery.

I love this kid to death

At at Zombie Burger + Drink Lab in Des Moines Last, a Few Blocks from Tunga's Place. Delicious. Another Great Day of Hiking, Touring, and Even Lifting Weights

Tunga's like me. I never know what side of the bed he'll wake up and what mood I will get. He's a list kid, super organized, and obsessed with his routines. On Sundays he works out, does laundry, grocery shops, and prepares for the week. I was like, "Wait a second. I'll go crazy if you leave me to my own devices," so I found myself grocery shopping, working out, and then seeing his desire to see more the state. We traveled to Ames for Iowa State University. Impressive campus. Caitlin Clark left her mark. We also saw more lakes, traveled varying locations, and hiked around the capital. Even after dinner and Zombie Burger + Drink Lab, we took another walk along the river and by the stadiums. He asked me if Iowa exceeded my expectations and I had to admit it has. There's a lot going on here...it's just peculiar to see so much empty from what was going on in yesteryear. Seems there's tax breaks for building new, but nor restoring what was just built and didn't work.

But it is definitely a capital/insurance hub for the Midwest. There are choices for living life just about everywhere. His apartment is beautifully located, too. He's central to just about everything, and I told him he'd miss the proximately to it all if he was to ever leave.

I just wish it was 5 hours away from CT and now 6 hours by plane (after making connections). I get it, though. I fled CNY for Louisville for 15 years. It makes sense to find one's way on your own. He's stubborn like me in that way. 

I admitted that the pull back home didn't come until my late 30s. I knew I need CNY and the drastic four seasons again. I didn't last long, but loved the return while I had it. Right now, Connecticut offers the perfect medium for my worlds...although the traffic is miserable and I wish Tunga and the family all lived closer. 

He's back to work today and I'm back to teaching online. I need to be extra vigilant to make this and next week work, especially if I want to make for Sean's graduation party. 

It will happen, but I'm also needing to return to Louisville to pay Sue and Dave a visit. I'm long overdue.

Phew. 

11.8 Miles of Iowan Trails Yesterday. We Weren't Quite in the Ironman Crowd, but We Tried. Beautiful "Lake" (kind of ponds) Trails and Olmstead Parks

He said after he fried eggs and steak that we were going to walk about ten miles, but I thought he was kidding. Nope. We walked almost 12, and covered several parks in the area and landmarks. I'm all up for walking. The trouble is when we sat in-between parks. Then getting out of the car was rough. These bones. But I made. Easter Lake and Gray's Lake (where the Olmstead Park is). We also did McCray, but by driving it. Today we head to TBD....heading to Iowa State University.

Also found a Kohl's and got him more picture frames for his apartment. Many empty walls can use memories of his other lives. 'The photo is from McCray Park across from the city. The tallest building is where Chitunga's office is (34th floor). The dome-like skylines of Iowa are beautiful, probably because most of it is flat. 

Definitely wore treads in my sneakers with all the hiking, and if you know Chitunga you know he walks like Legolas in Lord of the Rings. He has air under his feet and keeps an extraordinary pace. 

Highlights: Chew-bacca lager at Confluence Brewery and the incredible farmer's market right out side Chitunga's apartment building that goes for several blocks. Everything you can possibly need is purchasable on Saturday's all summer long...and the crowd was much more diverse than everyday Iowa. He just hates crowds, so he didn't last long. I could have people watched for hours. 

Alright, we'll see where today will take us...we finished The Gentleman on Netflix, and I remember how to make coffee in the French Press (I can thank Mark for that) Such a good cup of coffee, and if he sleeps in like yesterday, I'm all about self-sufficiency.

Lot's of Hiking. Good Food. More Walks. More Walking. More Food. Iowa is What It Is. Food and Walks. Walks and Food.

Chitunga worked. I walked. I think I hit every street in the city. Met him for lunch, and hit more streets. Not much open or going on. People watching fascinating. River running fast. 

After work, we went to a bar, and followed with a burger joint before returning to Guy Ritchie's The Gentlemen, a British show of Dukedom, drugs, and corruption. It was a riot and we enjoyed every second.

But too much food, makes one tired. Now it is the weekend, and we'll see what the adventure will bring our way.  

The river has more bridges than any other river I've seen....like ever street has a bridge. They are everywhere.

Iowa flatlands. City with many empty buildings. Midwest American City of many moving parts, roads, restaurants, and pathways. 

Flatlands. 

Iowa.

Definitely a New Experience: Waking Up in Your Kid's Space Trying to Get Acclimated Over His French-Pressed Coffee

My flight was delayed and delayed and delayed, but I made it by 11 and we sat up talking until 1 a.m. - he had an 8 a.m. meeting. He's in a great location, and has set himself up nicely, although I have to laugh that every cupboard has items organized, efficient, and spaced perfectly. In fact, I feel like I'm a giant dirt ball going to ruin his things. He's also a man of a million smells and the air fresheners are thick - almost to the point of mall department store perfume departments. It's the Axe phase most middle school boys go through - it's just Chitunga has expanded and built upon the smells he likes in his spaces. 

He warned me about the train (he lives by the tracks) but so far no locomotion. The traffic outside can be heard, though, people coming downtown for work. I discovered the art of tying a black pillowcase over my eyes to block out the sun to sleep a little longer. My brain starts working as soon as it detects light. Funny, he's at the almost 30 phase where his brain doesn't shut off at night and he can't fall asleep. I hated that bit...the part where the frontal cortex comes to fruition and you realize your full rational self. All the logic (and worry)(and wonder) falls into place. 

He bought a new couch...and adult one (he said). Online. I will never understand this generation's online shopping obsession. It's nice, but feels like a couch you'd get online. Like sitting on bricks. 

But it's great to come into a space where you're so represented: Butch, Sue, cousins, Aunts, Uncles, Louisville, gifts over the years, books, artwork. He's brought Connecticut (and Syracuse) with him is his DesMoines space. It feels like home away from home. 

And with the 2nd bedroom, I also have my own bathroom. They are nice. Even the air mattress he purchased was comfortable. I laughed, though, because the towels he left me are tied with a bow (fresh from wherever her purchased them). It's funny, because I've always used out-of-town guests to advance my own home -- that is, new beds, new items, rearrangements, grown-up things as people came to visit. 

And I remember the Pier One gift card my mom got me so I could begin adulting in Kentucky. 

Heading to the terminal, the culture of human beings changed in the same way it used to as I headed back to the midwest. All the cultures, wonders, and diversity of the world, get rather weighty and milky as you head towards the gates. The people watching was irreplaceable. I'm still in awe, actually.

This coffee, however, is delicious. I just have to find the scent that is causing the headache. It's just one and it's a smell that pinches right at my temple.

Here's to the adventure. 

Heading MidWest for a Bit & Teaching a Grad Course from Des Moines. More Importantly, I'm Finally Visiting Chitunga in Iowa...Way Overdue

I won't land until 9:30 pm, Central, but I'm posting now. I finished a 4 hour grad class last night and need to get read for next week, but I'll grade, plan, record, and teach from Iowa because (a) I want/need a break, (b) I want/need to see Chitunga, and (c) getting there is long overdue. Even so, it's almost impossible to find a break with CWP-Fairfield work and the lack of colleagues to teach the courses required to get students certified. Picture me inside a balloon underneath the ocean. I'm trying to stay dry, but all the leaks have been starting and I'm simply trying to survive...

...and do my best for the students (some things will never change)

...and invest in a profession I love (and needs incredible support).

I booked the flight a while ago and will problem solve how to get the course taught, but I imagine Chitunga, like me, will need his alone time so I'll be left time to work on the materials needing to get done. And I will see a new part of the nation. Of course, I'm also having flashbacks of every Iowan I've ever met...recall taking in a kid named Joe when he interned at the Louisville Zoo. He was from Iowa. His host family couldn't take another second of him and somehow dropped him at my place never to be picked up. I was stuck with he kid for the entire summer....he never stopped talking...he talked at the pace of Droopy Dog...and he was as interesting as a fence post. Actually, a fence post is much more intriguing. And he didn't have a car and I had to drive him everywhere. I sort of have a bad taste about the State in my  mind.

Karal is staying with Shirley (I am so, so, so thankful. I owe her BIG TIME) and I'll return next Tuesday night late...Chitunga and I are hoping to meet up again in Syracuse at the end of June, too. Yes, Mom...I now know what it was like for you when I lived in Kentucky all those years. The distance is good, I suppose, but it's also not fun.

Also, I'm not sure who turned up the humidity in CT yesterday, but they can turn it back down. I love June for warm days and cool nights. I don't need to sweat as I type indoors. I also don't want to turn the air condition on...that's for July. 

Ah, here's to travel. Not sure what adventure the day will bring, but I do look forward to waking up in my kid's apartment. Curious what the amenities will be. Looking forward to spoiling him.

There Are Many Pleasure To Being the Mt. Pleasant Porch Writer, Including Progenitors Who Sing Italian Operas as They Walk By

The beautiful thing about spring, summer, fall writing and work is I operate from my front porch and am witness to the Universe of Mt. Pleasant. In addition to the diversity of the U.S. walking by my house to Wooster Middle School are the countless number of others who meander down my street doing as they do: exercise, strolling, running, taking kids for walks, and recollecting with Italian opera ballads at the top of one's lungs, including this fellow who I captured somewhere between grading a Think Piece and prepping an asynchronous research course for tonight. It's simply precious.

Last night, I had the honor of hosting perhaps the last Johnson, Sealey, Wooley gathering before their big move to Penn State, although we made arrangements that they might move in for a few days as they need to be out of their house before their house is ready (the Metallica concert is in August...that can wait). 

Dave made the most delicious lemon pasta dish (I'm so learning how to make this for my mom and sisters) and I grilled up a storm. I'm so used to the back and forth gatherings, that I haven't gotten my head around the fact that they are actually moving away from here. They are family and so much a part of my routine. I love them to death: intellect, craziness, laughter, and good ol' figuring out the life shit stuff.

I'm waking up to a household of dishes needing to be put away, a class that needs to be recorded for tonight, and a warehouse of supplies needing to be sorted in my office on campus. July is approaching fast. But if I could assist today's post with loud operatic male singing, I would, simply to capture the joy this man brings to the street every day.

Bio-Indicators. I Have Psoriasis and My Legs are a Barometer for the Stress in the Work I Do (This is What Happens When I Don't Stay On Top of My Health)

My sisters, Mom, and I have psoriasis. It is hereditary and it is invoked by stress levels that produce the excessive skin reproduction in spots that is out of our control (but in our control, because it is a measurement of stress). I am on medication, but insurance only allows treatments at a paced scale, and even when I am mentally feeling in control of the amount of work coming at me, my body has a different level of measurement. My legs get inflamed, and it tells the story of the internal material I am navigating, but have no control of...

...this is the work being put upon me. It shows in my skin. 

Next week, I go for treatment, which is 100 wasp stings of Kennalog that will subdue the stress on my legs for a few month. Still, the body reacts as it will to what we are willing to endure mentally. I'm in this to support teachers, who I know support young people, but our institutions wreak another havoc. I'm aware of this, as are my legs - and the are burning internal, biological warfare right now, articulating another scenario. 

Yes, I know I should do less, fight less, and operate to calm the biological battle in me, but this is the work of our times, so what do I do? I stay on top of it (thank the Great Whatever for insurance), but that might not even be enough. 

Little is known about psoriasis and the way it plagues our bodies, and I'm thankful it is only on my legs and not on my neck, scalp, or arms. Still, I know that one solution to curing it is living a calmer life of self-care, push-back, and human self-perseverance. I feel lucky when my stress level is subdued and 99% of the time, I like to think I'm on top of my game, but then the body has another story to tell. It is not liking the insanity of work that has been placed on me this year as so many of my colleagues have departed, and I'm doing what I can to sustain programs for our students.

This is what my body is telling me, and I have to rearrange the narrative. I know our systems most definitely don't care about how its workers are treated. I feel as if my legs are on fire. My symptoms show externally, and I imagine it is nothing compared to the internal damage such work causes. It will be gone upon Kennelog shots. But for now, I chronicle the legs as evidence of how a body reacts to the inequities, harshness, and realities of the work place.

I'm fortunate to work and to have work, but I wonder, "At what cost?'

This too shall pass (I hope).

Loved Celebrating 2023 Graduates in 2024 - the Science Trio I Had in Content Literacy, Action Research, and Capstone. Brilliant Teachers I Was Proud to Teach

There names didn't appear in a commencement program until 2024, because their graduate degree was confirmed in August. So, they called a few weeks ago to ask me for a program and I said, "I owe you dinner anyway. I promised to have you over." Last night they came, and it was wonderful to hear the experiences of their first year: one in Trumbull, one in Westport, and the other at Fairfield Prep. They were easily three of the smartest students I've had over the years and Fairfield University's Math and Science Departments should be proud. They were top-notch all the way.

"I'll only eat chicken," admitted Amanda, so that is what I cooked (with Kris Sealey's Trini spices). Also made potato salad, grilled vegetables, had appetizers, and a good bread. They brought many desserts (of which I drove over to friends after they left - I love desserts, but no my tastes and Italian desserts are not my style...will never understand why they are favored by people. But I am thankful....and giving. Let those enjoy them that enjoy them.

Back to grad classes for the next four weeks (all online) and to balance out CWP's summer programs along the way. Always fascinating to meet with old students to hear more about their experiences and to recognize, well, I'm one of the only ones left. They have no idea the turbulence behind the scenes the last few years...I did my best to keep them all protected. This is the way of good teaching, I've learned. They don't need to know the uglier side of it all.

Wishing the best for these three educators and loving that a beautiful yellow Jeep was in my driveway. I sent to Chitunga right away, as that was the plan all along, but both of us are economical strategic and know that Jeeps look good, but guzzle gas. We dream, but live on Earth.

Perhaps, one day. 

K-12 teachers have just a few weeks left. Here's to all of them and the incredible work they do.

Pool Boy. Pool Boy. Can You Come Help Me with My Deck? Why Yes. My Son Purchased Me a Powerwasher and I'm Quite Magical

10 a.m. - 3 p.m. I worked on my friend Oona's deck. She bought an apartment near Walnut Beach but knew the back patio needed work. There were barnacles growing on everything, and layers of black and green mold. She wants to repaint it, but first it needed to be cleaned. 5 hours of power washing, with an incredible roast beef hoagie from Lassies. That was worth the entire time of labor. So good.

Oona sat in a sun chair watching and simply said, "This is therapeutic." I said, "I know." I imagine this is what a hygienist feels scraping tar off of teeth. It's laser sharp water work removing all the stains. Even the furniture. "Oh, Bryan. That came with the place. I'm throwing all that out." Ah, but when I got the power washer to it, the furniture was like new. It simply needed all the years of mold washed out. Then it was like brand new. "It even has a print of leaves." 

Yup.

I do find power washing hypnotic and I'm amazed at all the good it can do. Of course, Oona's sons still need to prep for a paint job, and that will be a long, tedious task (I hope they beat the heat). 

I even power washed the green electric box outside of her home. "This isn't supposed to be black, you know?" I returned it to its green state so the grandkids can use it as an Island like we used to do as kids.

And someone filled her fridge with fancy sparkling water, which I drank enthusiastically to fight off the heat. Beautiful day. But after 5 hours, my hose needs some rest.

At night, I was also paid in dinner....two great meals in one day. Chitunga did great buying me a power washer. I will be sure to make a living with it for some time now. 

I Always Figured My Mid-Life Crisis Would Be Something Unique, But I've Promised the Boys and Family, I'm Not Taking In Any New Kids (Just Sneakers)

I have a thing...I like my sneakers with suits for work, but I also love my sneakers for long hikes (and a vision of returning to running, although my hernia and knees desire otherwise). I wear off treads of shoes quickly, because I'm always on the move, whether intentionally or unintentionally. So, I cycle in and out of Saucony purchases, and I wanted both new running and walking shoes. So I did both, although I like them so much I may wait until Fall semester to break them in (just work out the platforms I currently have).

And I napped yesterday. Maybe it's the pollen, but it definitely is the Cottonwoods. My eyes were swollen and I woke up wanting to go back to bed. By 4 pm I gave in and napped for an hour. I didn't want to cook. I didn't want to see people. I didn't want to work or thing. I needed to sleep, so I did. If I look back in history, this is normal. The pollen does me in. 

My goal for this Saturday is to enjoy 85-degree weather, to plant the Milkweed for monarchs (fingers crossed it works) and to simply settle into the warmer days of summer. I still don't have my air on, and I don't want it on. I like June because it's warm during the day and cool at night. You can keep the windows open for sneezes and watery eyes. 

But it will be warm, which does change the directions of things, including how I hope to best spend my days...hopefully outside....definitely in soil with seedlings.

And with that....we have a Saturday. It is now June, and technically I'm off contract with the University (years, right).