August Farewell 2022

It’s been almost two months since my last post, and perhaps this will be my last. It’s too soon to tell. I still have to finalize part one (11 chapters), with 3 more parts to follow (51 chapters in all). I feel a sense of urgency to finish. (I even had a dream about a future where a group of people were sitting around a campfire, their main source of light, reading a battered copy of my book. They were looking for ideas about how to rebuild a sense of community. Yeah, sure, I thought when I woke. It made me laugh…)

The world has changed in ways I could never have imagined in the eight and a half years I’ve been blogging. There are still moments of peace and beauty, kindness, and everyday acts of heroism but they’ve not been enough to stem the tide of cruelty, stupidity, and unreason that now dominate almost every social institution.

That’s why I have decided to finally retire from teaching. There’s no longer any wiggle room for me to challenge the oppressive status quo in dumbed-down standardized curricula. Academic institutions have increasingly become solely concerned with their survival, competing to maximize the number of students they can attract while cutting faculty and sacrificing the quality of the education they provide. It’s especially tragic when education fails to take a stand as libraries and school boards are under attack to make sure future generations have no opportunities to learn to think critically, feed their curiosity to learn more, or express their joy and wonder through creative arts.

Now, I prefer to garden,

A gift from squirrel gardeners

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Potentilla, cone flowers (Echinacea), and nine bark in bloom

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Carrots, tomatoes, and chard nearing harvest

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to spend time with family,

My Nephew and his twin sons (3 ½), my granddaughter, and daughter

at the Park Point Beach on Lake Superior

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Meeting my grandnephews for the first time as their dad introduces us.

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My nephew and his sons at lunch – Sam (blue shirt) and Ben (black shirt)

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A family gathering – my granddaughter, grandson, daughter, nephew, grandnephews, and me

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to dog sit,

Sweet Cinnamon spent a few days with me while my daughter was traveling

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and to work with two dear friends who are helping as readers for the book manuscript I’m editing, We Remember: Stories about Ojibwe Child Welfare. It’s based on a critical ethnographic study I conducted two decades ago. I had to put it aside many times for too many years in order to teach.

In the process of answering my readers’ questions about things I assumed everyone knows, I find myself having to explore issues more deeply and completely so I can explain them with greater clarity. The process has brought us closer, even though one friend lives in Oregon and the other in Alabama. They both feel the manuscript is compelling and still relevant today, a fact I find depressing. Yet that makes it all the more important for me to finish and share it while I can.

In the process of preparing the manuscript for possible publication, I realized that some of my older blog posts need to be kept private. They’re posts about the study findings. Few people have viewed those posts in recent years anyway. It will take some tedious time to change them from public to private, though. There are at least 30 of them!

I am deeply grateful for the blogging friends I had when the essays were posted. They provided incredibly helpful and supportive feedback, much like my manuscript readers now.

I am also grateful for the newer blogging friends who continue to share inspiration, knowledge, beauty, and kindness. I will try to keep up with your blogs even though I doubt I will post much in the future.

An aside, I’ve had to block comments on all posts older than 45 days because of a barrage of spammers this year – more than 100 a day on some days. The only open space left for comments on my blog will be this post for a short while and on the contact page. Some days, only one spammer finds it…

I can’t make any promises about my ability to respond to comments in a timely fashion, though. I need to stay in my own culture and “language” to be able to keep editing.

Sending my gratitude and best wishes to all. 💜

Reflections on the Last Day of June 2022

This morning I open my heart to gratitude

and find I’m not disappointed

June 30 2022 2

June 30 2022 1

witnessing impossibly tiny late bloomers

June 30 2022 3

and those still valiantly emerging

despite too many obstacles to name

June 30 2022

https://youtube.com/shorts/ABW4dAqXRkc?

life in living color

June 30 2022 4a

despite the illusion of meaningful connections

and forces of darkness

that threaten all of us these days

helping me remember the gifts

that come from being present

June 30 2022 5

Acknowledgement:

Inspired by morning observations and Maria Popova’s depth and eloquence:

“Lives interweave with other lives, and out of the tapestry arise hints at answers to questions that raze to the bone of life: What are the building blocks of character, of contentment, of lasting achievement? How does a person come into self-possession and sovereignty of mind against the tide of convention and unreasoning collectivism? …” The Marginalian

Memories of Another June

Reflections (Literally) – Tuesday, June 28, 2016

I should be editing today, but I promised my granddaughter I would share this story. We didn’t have a chance to work on it together so I’m writing it for her.

More fierce storms rolled through on Saturday evening when my granddaughter was spending the night. She grew frightened as the sky darkened and warnings about severe storms headed our way sounded on the radio.

She was on the verge of tears. “Ahma, where can we hide?

I have another idea, Sweetie,” I replied. “Let’s go outside and offer tobacco with a prayer. I’ll teach you how. The lightening and rain haven’t come yet so there’s still time.”

I showed her the garden I had chosen, but she found her own special garden by the ninebark bush. When she finished, she smiled and we went inside and read a story.

When the thunder and lightning ended, and the rain abated for a moment, we took our little dog out. I laughed when I saw the huge puddle in the alley behind the house. It was covered with little popping bubbles.

Ahma,” my granddaughter joyfully shouted when she saw the puddle. “The puddle is tooting! That’s what happens when people are swimming and toot (fart). It makes bubbles in the water.”

Just then, the rain began again, and bubbles appeared on all of the puddles the whole length of the alley. My granddaughter laughed and danced with delight despite the rain.

The next day, she sang a song about “The Tooting Puddle Bubbles.” (Try saying that fast!) We went outside the next morning to look for the bubbles, but they were gone. The biggest puddle was still there, though, and we took some pictures.

I’ve gone a little overboard posting them…

June 2016 tooting puddles 1

The illusion of bushes, buildings and fences growing out of the asphalt intrigues me.

June 2016 tooting puddles 2

June 2016 tooting puddles 3

June 2016 tooting puddles 4

May we all find simple moments for gratitude and laughter during and after storms along our path.

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June 1, 2022

This weekend, I spent time with my daughter and granddaughter. We laughed about some of our memories. My granddaughter, now 15, said she would like to read stories from the “old days,” so I’m posting one of our simple, joyful adventures.

Six years have passed since this was posted. The storms have been arriving frequently this year but it hasn’t been warm enough most days for “tooting puddles.” Little Pinto is no longer with us, but we’re fortunate to have photos and memories of the love and good times we shared.

Late May Reflections – 2022

Sunday – May 22, 2022

on this Sunday morning in May

gray sky is visible through slots

of window blinds still closed

I take a moment to delight and reflect

in wonder at the words and wisdom

synthesized and shared by Maria Popova

traveling from dust motes to galaxies

helping me remember perspective matters

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late may 2022 1

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something this wee break revealed

while tackling deeper levels of decluttering

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late may 2022 2

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and kneeling on earth cleaning and repairing gardens

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late may 2022 3

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taking time to listen with awe and gratitude

to the impossibly lovely serenade

of a tiny finch sitting in the honeysuckle

singing her song in good times and bad

touching those who listen awakening hope

***

Sunday – May 29, 2022

These days, we sometimes need to be reminded there’s more to life than most of us realize. Caught up in busyness that binds us to a life spent pursuing the elusive happiness of “stuff,” we miss the beauty that can be found anywhere if we simply stop for a moment and change focus. Look up, look down, gaze into the distance, focus up close, turn around and notice what encircles us. There are so many mysteries we can explore.

I remember the questions I asked as a child. What are clouds made of? What makes lightning bugs sparkle? How can bumble bees fly?

I was never curious about weapons. In fact, I hated cartoons because they were violent. How could hating and hurting others be seen as funny? I tried to avoid the bully boys on the block where I grew up, but my father forced me to fight my own battles. I had to use the only weapons I had – wit and words. And of course, there was always curiosity in things I found far more interesting, like water-striders, pollywogs, and microscopic organisms found in pond scum.

These days it feels as though I am surrounded by people who never learned to see the wonder of life in all of its fragility, resilience, and ultimately, its power to blow or burn or flood us out of existence without much warning. Guns will not save us, but they may just end the lives of people whose intelligence and skills might save our lives and the lives of many others.

“To be human is to live suspended between the scale of gluons and the scale of galaxies, yearning to fathom our place in the universe. That we exist at all — on this uncommon rocky world, just the right distance from its common star, adrift in a galaxy amid hundreds of billions of galaxies, each sparkling with hundreds of billions of stars, each orbited by numberless possible worlds — is already miracle enough. A bright gift of chance amid the cold dark sublime of pure spacetime. A triumphal something against the staggering cosmic odds of nothingness.

“Stationed here on this one and only home planet, we have opposed our thumbs to build microscopes and telescopes, pressing our curiosity against the eyepiece, bending our complex consciousness around what we see, longing to peer a little more deeply into the mystery of life with the mystery of us.” (Popova, 2022, para. 5-6)

Moments in time that I noticed today…

late may 2022 4a

An Indigo Bunting (eager to capture the moment through a window that needs cleaning 😊)

late may 2022 5a

A Goldfinch (through the same window at a slightly different angle)

late may 2022 6

Ferns and Tulips (and an unmanicured lawn)

Reflections – May 15, 2022

this sunny Sunday spring morning

it suddenly occurred to me

how grateful I am dear friend

that we can be together as “old ladies”

though more than a thousand miles apart

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May 11 2022

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there are moments when the loneliness

is almost more than I can bear

the challenges of dragging a tired body

sometimes back aching or struggling to breathe

I wonder what life is all about anyway

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there can’t be many women like us

mothers who crossed so many divides

with children of mixed heritage

heading off on our own to live on a commune

only to discover there’s no escaping

the problems of the world

even as the experience opened our spirits

to dimensions others cannot see

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commune 5-15

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but we’re survivors, you and I

of the challenges that come with being different

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not many would want to understand the cost

of the golden moments of deep connection we share

without a need to judge or compete – feeling heard,

understood, and loved for all we’ve become

as we reminisce on the phone with tears and laughter

 

for JK

The Art of Letting Go

May 7, 2022

Up before dawn to get ready for class. I planned on reading the final two student papers before class after I took a shower. But I knew that what I had prepared for the two classes today wouldn’t do. This has been an extraordinarily difficult semester for students. Yet the students kept trying to do their best. I wondered how I could honor their hard work and as I showered, words flowed through me – “the art of letting go.”

Even though we are scheduled to see each other again in the fall, one never knows what surprises life may bring. Each moment together could be our last.

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May 2 2022

A Courageous Red Poll – May 2, 2022

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May 2 2022 2

A Curious Squirrel – May 2, 2022

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The Art of Letting Go

We spend a lifetime learning the art of letting go

when we begin there’s so much we don’t know

about the highs and lows, the good times and bad

perhaps in the end grateful for all the chances we’ve had

to know both joy and sorrow, failure and success

to love and lose, to laugh and cry, to blame and bless

finally learning we have only this moment today

to create memories that will help us keep finding our way

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I know that words cannot express the gifts that come from students. Even though I have read the articles I’ve assigned many times, the papers students wrote during the past semester pointed out things I had never noticed or considered. Each point of view was unique, each focused on different issues, and each was written in a different voice. The lesson of research, really – to explore and consider as many vantage points as possible when trying to understand an issue.

the art of letting go

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But the most profound gift was their inspiration. No matter how overburdened their lives were, they showed up and tried – tenacious, resilient, and willing to consider uncomfortable truths. They wanted to learn all they could because they believe it’s possible to help make the world a healthier, kinder, more peaceful place for all. It’s not just wars that have been an enduring presence throughout history, though. There have also been never-ending acts of creativity, kindness, and heroism, many of which are not mentioned in history books, or these days, by mainstream media. We cover that in classes, too.

Each group of students inspires me to keep learning and trying new things. Who could ask for a better job even though it also means learning the art of letting go?

Remember Humility

remember

you are special

I’m not telling you this to boost your ego

too often you discount your own gifts

it’s a way to shirk the responsibility

you agreed to carry this lifetime

by convincing yourself you’re unworthy

remember

you will know when it’s your time to speak or remain silent

find strength in simplicity and moments of beauty and laughter

to help you stay the course in times of loneliness and doubt

remember

when you walk into the crowded room today to testify

before strangers, friends, and foes,

media, spectators, and decision-makers

I will be there to help you find the words

to touch hearts and open minds to wiser possibilities

remember

it’s not your job to make those changes

it’s just your job to help others realize

they have choices and abilities to lead

what they choose is not your burden

though it will weigh on your heart nonetheless

*

remember april 25 2022

Reflections about Writing and Teaching – April 12, 2022

Recently, it’s been difficult for me to post what I write or visit others’ blogs. And I’ve been reflecting about why that might be. I remember how I answered the question “Why do I write?” in a free course I took on WordPress years ago, Blogging 101. “I write because Mickey can’t.

Mickey was confined to a life in a nursing home. A work accident had left him paralyzed and struggling to frame his thoughts in words. One had to slow down and listen carefully to make sense of his new, unfamiliar language. Too few nursing home staff had the time, interest, and/or skill to do so. As a mother with a young daughter to care for, I worked the “graveyard shift.” I had time to learn Mickey’s language and decipher what he needed. Respect. Soft hands. Kindness. Presence. And laughter.

I still write because Mickey can’t. But now I realize I write and teach for the sake of others who can’t speak, either. The earth, the trees, the lakes, and the rivers who give us life but are not honored for doing so. The plants and animals that feed us. The birds, butterflies and bees that give us beauty. What I write is shared for free with anyone who happens to read or listen.

The small salary I make when teaching comes from students who often assume debts they may have to carry for decades, so I try to make what I share worth the cost. With the trend of declining enrollments, it’s uncertain if this signals the end of my teaching career. But writing and teaching have never been about money, power, or fame. Sharing is just celebrating life.

April 12 2022 reflections 1

Building and planting new gardens – June 24, 2013

These days, words and teaching are not enough for me. The things that I feel are important to say may be lost in a cacophony of voices competing for attention. I care about the world my daughter, grandchildren, students, and the generations yet to come will inherit. I find myself on steep learning curves to explore more direct ways to share. I’ve agreed to serve as a delegate for the political party that I find to be less toxic to select a candidate the party should support for the state senate. As a community and state, we’re facing uphill battles on environmental and social justice issues that need to be championed by the most capable, tenacious, ethical servants of the people.

There are no guarantees of success for those who are willing to courageously propose alternatives that reverse the corporate exploitation of people and the environment, but it’s crucial that those who want to wield power, or those who are forced to by default, honestly represent the best interests of people and the environment who are not able to speak for themselves. But politics are always a gamble. There’s no way to predict how people will react to wielding power or how effective they will be when dealing with others who have conflicting views.

That means the state of the world is also up to each of us, too. I believe we have responsibility to do what we can to learn and act in ethical, well-informed ways. That belief inspired me to volunteer for several community-based initiatives to help explore what’s happening from many different vantage points. I’ll explain these initiatives in a moment because others might find these various opportunities intriguing as well.

April 12 2022 reflections 2

Changing landscape after the willow was damaged in a winter storm – June 4, 2018

First, though, I feel it’s important to mention that I have been fascinated by the “natural” environment all of my life. As a little girl, I preferred the woods, stream, and pond near my house more than the company of children my own age. It was a place of wonder to explore and a sanctuary away from the noise and busyness of my home and neighborhood. As a teen, I preferred the company of elders and spending time on the Allegheny River that flowed in front of my family’s musty summer cottage. When I attended college, my goal was to study ecology, a subject that wasn’t offered yet. Instead, my world was expanded through the discovery of other cultures and literature I had not read before. Ultimately, I ended up working in jobs that applied ecological frameworks to human society and institutions.

Yet, I just passed the age marker that signals the importance of doing what I love the most while I still can – learning new things about the wonders of life and sharing them with anyone who will listen. When my mother was this age, 75, she was mid-stage in the painstakingly gradual loss of choices due to Alzheimer’s disease. As her legal guardian for fourteen years, I witnessed her heartrending transition from a gifted nurse to someone who could no longer speak a clear sentence, moving her from her lakefront home to congregate elder housing and then to round-the-clock assisted care.

So I decided to do something I love. Keep learning. There are so many things I don’t know. Recent patterns of drought and deluge have compacted the soil in my yard. I tested some soil last year because the blueberry bushes were struggling, and I found that the soil was extremely alkaline despite the surrounding pine trees. Last year’s extended drought meant frequent watering, so I’ll need to test the tap water, too, to see if the ph-balance of the water affected the reading. I plan to continue exploring how to achieve a healthy acid/alkaline balance and improve the overall health of the soil using natural, doable, affordable methods.

April 12 2022 reflections 3

Gardens recovering after some rain – July 29, 2021

I also want to gain knowledge and skills that will help with significant climate transitions that will become more likely given ongoing environmental destruction, over-consumption by wealthier people and nations, and changing weather patterns. I’ve taken a few first steps.

I joined the Community Collaborative Rain, Hail, and Snow Network, CoCoRaHS for short, and took the obligatory “skywarn” training from the National Weather Service. I have become a “trained weather spotter.” The required “WeatherYourWay” rain gauge for CoCoRaHS volunteers to use for measuring precipitation is finally out of its box, waiting to be set up. Perhaps my grandson can help me put in the recommended 4” X 4” post to mount it once the ground here thaws.

Here’s a little bit more about CoCoRaHS:

“… CoCoRaHS is a unique, non-profit, community-based network of volunteers of all ages and backgrounds working together to measure and map precipitation (rain, hail and snow).   By using low-cost measurement tools, stressing training and education, and utilizing an interactive Web-site, our aim is to provide the highest quality data for natural resource, education and research applications. We are now in all fifty states.”

I also joined “scistarter,” an organization for volunteers who want to learn more and participate in “citizen science.”  There are many intriguing topics to study. Here’s a link to explore possible projects: https://blog.scistarter.org/featured-projects/2022/03/five-spring-tacular-projects-to-get-you-outside-this-season/

The topic I chose to focus on as a beginning is “iseechange.org.” Following is the brief overview from the website:

GOAL                         Our climate is changing — so are we.

TASK                          Share your experiences and collect data to help our communities.

WHERE                      Global, anywhere on the planet.

DESCRIPTION

What you see in your backyard, neighborhood, and city is important to our understanding of how climate change and weather affect our communities. Your observations and block-by-block insights can help cities, engineers and local organizations advocate for and create solutions to climate challenges.

We welcome and host observations from people in 118 countries around the world and counting. We are also currently working with partners in select cities on specialized investigations.

If you or your community has a question or hypothesis about how climate is changing your area, you can also use your ISeeChange account to collect data and answer those questions.

The only thing certain about the future is that changes will continue. It seems to me that the only way to prepare for change is to learn what we can now and share what we learn with others. I am grateful for the chance to do so and for all I learn from you when I have time to visit your blogs. Sending my best wishes to all.

Note:

Here’s a list of the links embedded above in case you are interested in learning more:

https://www.cocorahs.org/

https://scistarter.org/

https://www.iseechange.org/about

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