 It’s hot. Several days running over 90 degrees and no AC. Plus my low back is in rebellion so I limp through the morning walk, waiting til after breakfast to dose up with anti-inflammatories to get me through the day. And I got exposed to some mysterious allergen (brown tail moth?) that has had me erupting in a wildly itchy rash for five days. Sometimes change is hard. Other times, when I think, “You’ll never be quite the same,” I say “Thank goodness. I certainly hope not.” My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 298: 87 words, TOTAL = 49,253; 10,747 remaining
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 I am a newcomer to Juneteenth. I wish I’d been taught its significance from childhood onward. The idea of designating Juneteenth a nationally recognized holiday feels both exciting and right. Let’s discuss it in our schoolrooms and conference rooms. Let’s teach and learn the stories – the harrowing and the celebratory – of this day, the history that preceded it, the history that ensued, and the ongoing struggles of the present. Here are some links to start us off. The first is my favorite, as a jumping off point for white people: https://www.waysideyouth.org/2020/06/18/10-things-we-want-white-people-to-do-to-celebrate-juneteenth/ https://www.juneteenth.com/history.htm https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/the-read-down/juneteenth https://www.npr.org/2020/06/19/880754362/what-is-juneteenth-historians-explain-the-holidays-importance https://www.tulsahistory.org/exhibit/1921-tulsa-race-massacre/#flexible-content My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 297: 95 words, TOTAL = 49,166; 10,834 remaining  The threshold of summer, at last, reaches north, Where summery mornings sing busily forth. For when they arrive they announce themselves loudly, With flowers abloom and puffed birds preaching proudly. The goldfinches flit and the peonies droop; The bullfrogs harrumph and the tree swallows swoop; A duck family glides on the still-water pond; Two muskrats are feasting on lush cattail frond; The maple leaves, backlit by dawning sun’s rays Surpass stained glass windows in summoning praise. My breath catches short and my heart goes ablaze For all that is lovely in Earth’s glory days. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 296: 94 words, TOTAL = 49,071; 10,929 remaining  The sight of exploration and discovery in a 7-month-old infant is mesmerizing. Fiona’s sensory receptors are working at top speed – so many new sights, sounds, smells, tastes, textures. Some elicit intakes of breath, squeaks and high decibel coos of wonder – dogs, peonies in full bloom, seagulls flying past. Her little fingers touch pavement, polished bronze, bark, grass, sea stones, ice, and in her face you see the workings of her highly absorbent brain, taking it all in. Of course, “taking it all in” is largely performed by mouth. Fiona gamely takes food offerings from her parents’ fingertips. The scene recalls a baby bird reaching up to Mama bird. Today, Nellie gave Fiona a lemon slice. Not all explorations lead to delight, but that’s part of this magnificent journey. How else will those elaborate facial muscles learn to communicate delight and disgust so exquisitely? My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 295: 143 words, TOTAL = 48,977; 11,023 remaining  Okay – I know my writing has been spare this week. How can I lose myself in literary musings when I have the prospect at my fingertips of mingling limbs and life with my dear little Fiona? What is it about grandchildren? They seem to dissolve the hard, defined edges of our selves into soft, blurry, blobs of love-drenched protoplasm. When Fiona’s restless head settles down on my shoulder and her body relaxes against mine, I long to stop time. What’s that Buddhist mantra? I have arrived. I am home, in the here, and in the now. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 294: 96 words, TOTAL = 48,834; 11,166 remaining  “Fiona, are you ready to hear a story?” “Ga mmmm Mma bbpppsst” “Great! Here we go. Once there was a little girl named Fiona who went skipping along the forest trails of Sutton Island. She found a house with a very cozy Mama Bear lap on the back deck. She spent all morning basking in the cozy, sunshiny lap. Then, the Mama Bear gave Fiona some lunch. The carrots were juuusssst right, in her mouth, her hands, and all over her sweater. “After that, Fiona was sleepy, so she went to sleep in a great big bed with a tempurpedic foam topper and a circle of pillows all around. Soon, an old woman came in and said, ‘Who’s that sleeping in my bed?’ But it was only Gramma Bear, so Fiona got to keep sleeping as long as she wanted.” My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 293: 140 words, TOTAL = 48,738; 11,262 remaining  Our prospect for the summer is to break our on-island record for number of days in a season, a coronavirus silver lining. That we have this place to escape to without leaving our home state is a precious gift. An even greater gift – reconnecting with family here in this rare jewel of a setting. Fiona had her inaugural Sutton visit this weekend – including her sometimes-balanced sitting sessions on grass, bench, deck, tiny chair; some face plants in the mossy lawn, bug bites, meeting two old dogs who made her squeal and squawk and gawk, scratchy grass on her bare hands and feet. How wondrous to witness the fifth generation of family plunging into this rarefied atmosphere of blue and green, wind and wave, delight and discovery. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 292: 126 words, TOTAL = 48,598; 11,402 remaining  When I picked up Logical Family, I had never heard of Armistead Maupin, his transformative serial novels of the 1970s and ‘80s, or the 1993 “blockbuster miniseries” that “entranced millions around the world.” I stumbled upon Maupin’s memoir (2017) online, and was intrigued by the title. The idea is that we are not always born into a biological family that fits who we are, our authentic selves. So we must seek our “logical family.” Maupin was a gay man born into an arch-conservative southern family in the 1940s. He was a conservative activist and served in Vietnam before beginning to “find himself.” The book made me laugh out loud and ache with pain. One deftly navigated feat is Maupin’s depiction of his father as both raging bigot and loving dad. Maupin’s close friendships with people like Harvey Milk and Rock Hudson also add to the book’s wow factor. This is a superb slice of history as well as a compelling life story. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 291: 162 words, TOTAL = 48,472; 11,528 remaining  Masks on the Fisher Farm farmers this year, and on me. No tantalizing bins a-bloom with leafy greens, bright carrots, radishes, turnips, displayed around the shed-space. No leisurely browsing and choosing just the right head of lettuce that calls to me. Only a big brown paper bag, filled to the top with plastic-bagged goodies. We still choose our own wrapped flower bouquet. Changes may not be ideal, but they’re better than cancellation. I’ll take it. Dinner salads this week have been heaven. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 290: 82 words, TOTAL = 48,310; 11,690 remaining  I just signed my name onto the Black Lives Matter mailing list. It is a powerful global movement, not just a meme on social media. Trying to pay attention. Three African-American University of Maine alumni spoke to 300+ people on a UMaine-sponsored Zoom conference today. Two are Maine business owners; one is a Brown University professor. I continue to be shocked by testimonials from Black Americans – my neighbors! – about their lived experiences: getting spat upon, demeaned, called the n-word, harassed, pulled over. Then I’m embarrassed to be shocked, so oblivious. One man gave up daylight-driving because of chronic cop stops. A woman talked about becoming pregnant shortly after Trayvon Martin’s murder. Her first thought on learning that she was carrying a boy? Dread. How would she keep her baby safe from murder-by-cop? I’m glad our whitest-state-in-the-country is engaging in this work – uncomfortable, difficult, essential. Keep talking; keep reading. Consider this: Overhaul or abolish police and prisons. Sounds radical, but the more I learn about the origins of both in our country, the more I believe we need a radical reboot. There are better, safer, more humane ways to establish justice. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 289: 161 words, TOTAL = 48,228; 11,772 remaining |
AuthorRobin Clifford Wood is an award-winning author, poet, and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her children, grandchildren, and granddogs. Archives
April 2024
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