Rereading Egger's THE EYES & THE IMPOSSIBLE as Philosophical Discourse with Undergraduate Students (Beach Read Triumphant)

I only had one goal yesterday, and it was to get to the beach and to reread The Eyes & The Impossible. I was lucky to have dinner with Eggers last November during a Penguin-Random House Dinner and am proud of my autographed copy (with a shout out to Valentino Deng, What is the What?). By chance, I assigned it the week after we did an exercise with Allegory of the Cave, so I'm feeling rather majestic that the YA-Newbery Winner was offered as a follow up. We're working with K-12 kids this semester, discussing ideas about why we learn and teach, and I paired the book simply because I always put a YA book in my courses. I feel like I won with this one.

I also won with the beach yesterday. I put an umbrella up next to Leo and Bev, and dug in, pen in hand, while looking at the ocean at low tide, wading in the waters, viewing the trapped minnows in all the wading ponds (um, they scattered like sperm with every step I took), and I couldn't help but think this has likely been a scene for millions of people for 1,000s of years. During the day, feet wandering over sand contemplating the complexities of aquatic life - the glory - and the tininess of our being. We have such a short stint and we need to make the most of it.

Johannes and his eyes. Bertrand and his coda. The quest for freedom and the knowledge there are other words. Perhaps this is a perfect metaphor for why we teach others - to show another word beyond what we think we know.

I actually anticipated I'd still be reading today, but I finished last night after making dinner for a family of 8, but being the only one at home (I was pretending it was a Wooley, Johnson, Sealey Saturday night of yesteryear).

We also at the decaying, leafy time of year where molds hit my nostrils, makes me sneeze, and clogs my brain. I sleep with my windows wide open and it is par for the course, all while hearing I-95 traffic in the distance and the humming of Metro North trains.

Today, I hit the journal articles and grants. Once I get in the mindset, the flow will come naturally. As will the tissues for the season.

And more art to captivate and distract us from time to time.

PS: There is nothing more beautiful than a random gift left on a doorstep. Thankful for Beth Boquet, a stack of 50 poems, a bourbon chocolate bar, and a new birdhouse in the shape of a frog from Mellow Monkey. Human connectivity. Kindness. It gets me every time.