to reach for the sun

A few weeks ago, my six-year-old and I planted seeds in paper cups.

We stuck the paper cups outside and committed to watering them. Daily, ish.

With such a vague “commitment,” we watered them every few days. In the intense heat of August in SoCal, the seeds failed not only to thrive, but to show even the merest hints of growth.

Last weekend, my six-year-old and I planted new seeds in paper cups.

We planted green bean, watermelon, and tomato seeds. We committed to watering these each and every evening. Continue reading “to reach for the sun”

to become learned

One of the formative experiences of my life—testifying, as a child, feet away from a home-wrecking pedophile—taught me a great many things. The most important thing it taught me was:

You’ll only be believed if you behave, and speak, exactly right.

Four years ago, I realized I could state what I believed, but that I’d never be believed without cold, hard facts.

Maybe, I contemplated, I’d be believable with them?

I started reading. I read more than a hundred books annually to learn not only the cold, hard facts, but also to learn their contexts: the very specific histories in which they were birthed.

Continue reading “to become learned”

to hero

While reviewing my old Black Lives Matter posts over the weekend
to write “died with his hands in the air” part 2,
I also found a couple of (apparently) unrelated posts
I’d once written after being inspired by
wry and wonderful Neil Postman;

I emailed them to myself without then reading them,
so that I was astonished, today, to read one and
find a #BlackLivesMatter-related answer
(for me) within it.

Today, my husband–a Black man who’s walked with me
as I’ve worked to better understand American racism and Racism–
and I are acknowledging #BlackOutTuesday by buying nothing.

Today, many people we love are posting black squares
on social media and otherwise … listening.

While the black square is not for me,
I appreciate how hard it is to
find words right now, and
see a great deal of beauty in
anyone actively acknowledging, however
they can today–with words,
with actions, with listening-plus-black squares–
that too many people have suffered
for too damn long.

Continue reading “to hero”

My sister’s drawings

In my last post, I mentioned that I was coloring my sister’s drawings. I included a copy of one drawing I hadn’t yet colored.

Here’s what it looks like as I (eventually) colored it:

Here is where you can discover what’s inspiring her to draw these,

as well as hints of why I feel drawn to coloring them.

Us, ever so much littler