on current events

world on fire
maybe it always has been
maybe it always will be
maybe it’s human nature
maybe it’s conditioning –
social,
media,
governmental,
religious
maybe it’s just the institutions
maybe it should go back to the people
(but how do you prevent corruption?
people in any sort of power have always been
and will always somehow be
corruptible)
listen
i don’t have the answers
i’m doing what i can right now
researching
reading
listening
(asking questions only for answers i can otherwise not find)
educating myself
which, in the usual scheme of things,
makes me know that i am ever ignorant –
we all are –
and if we pretend otherwise,
that’s the stupidest
and maybe most dangerous
of all.
so.
what to do?
educate.
learn.
love.
be kind.
get angry if you must
(unavoidable at times, i know)
but above all,
please,
love, kindness,and
hope.
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on current events, 5.30.20

#tucsonthingswemiss

Biking up Lemmon
And icy cold eegee’s
Looking for Gilas and green corn tamales
Browsing in Bookman’s; well that’s just sheer bliss
These are all the Tucson things that I miss

Eating cheese crisps at Casa Molina
Seeing roadrunners
Quail and javelina
Saguaro sunsets that no one can diss
These are all the Tucson things that I miss

Tours at Old Tucson and Mission del Bac
So much of the food; you know it all rocks
The Desert Museum and snakes that do hiss
These are all the Tucson things that I miss

In these hard times
Where life’s not “right”
And I’m feeling sad
I simply remember my Tucson delights
And then I don’t feel so bad
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#tucsonthingswemiss, 4.13.20

The VisitTucson Instagram page asked us to make a video of us talking about the Tucson things we miss, and, well, with many apologies to Rodgers and Hammerstein, I came up with this. No I’m not sharing the video. If you want to see it, I’m sure you can figure out how.

musings on the zombie apocalypse

rapidly spreading
dangerous
keep yourself isolated
keep positive
proper distance
breathe
(try to remember to do that)
(even though it’s hard)
(oh so very very hard)
keep hope in the forefront
and fear in the rear view
and maybe
just maybe
we’ll get through this.
and oh –
if you thought i was speaking of the virus –
you would be wrong.
i meant the
news.
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musings on the zombie apocalypse, 3.22.20

On Jambalaya and Memories

I probably haven’t mentioned him here, but my favorite professor in college was the late, great Jack Falla. I took two of his classes and he helped me get my first paid journalism job after school (a paid internship with USA Hockey Magazine). When I donated my tiny bit as I graduated, I did it in his honor. We emailed regularly between graduation and his passing, and I helped him with some research for his novel, Saved (in which I actually am in the acknowledgement section. I’m also very fortunate to still have a rough draft of the novel as well. One of those things I will save in a fire).

Anyway, if you took his class in college, you got a recipe of his.

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Some kids, after no longer having him as a professor, got to eat this jambalaya with Jack at his house in Natick after skating on his very famous backyard rink, the Bacon Street Omni. I regret that I was unable to ever make this happen.

I have held on to that recipe for 16 years and have never made it.

I’ve never been the most adventurous person when it comes to food, although I have gotten a lot better over the past decade or so. I am also NOT a person who loves spicy food, and this recipe has some spice in it.

However – and I don’t know what prompted it this year – I finally decided to give it a whirl.

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Wearing a BU sweatshirt, I followed the first instructions of “Start drinking (only if legal age and not driving). And put on a good cajun music CD (Beau Soleil works for me)” … except I threw on the BeauSoleil Pandora station.

I’ve never cooked to music, though I know many who do so regularly, and it made me think it’s something I need to do more often.

The recipe is fairly straightforward and was easy to follow. My husband was in love with the smells starting to emanate from our kitchen.

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It came together nicely and we were both very excited to dig in.

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B was regretful Jack wasn’t alive, because I’m sure he’d have made me send off an email, praising this jambalaya to the heavens. I misread a bit of the recipe on the amount of cayenne pepper to add, taking the spice from the hoped-for wussy quantities to somewhere around the realm of what would be (for me) total nuclear.

We had the leftovers next day with some good friends, tossing on Cajun music once more.

I shared that I had made it in an often dormant FB group, “In Memory of Jack Falla.” I think the last post in the group had been on the 10th anniversary of his passing. His son commented, wishing that I could send some on. I replied that if I could do so affordably, I happily would. His response? “I’m sure you would. Just knowing the recipe lives and friends are thinking about him are enough for me.”

The ones we love who have left us are never truly far away as long as we remember them and keep them alive in our memories and our hearts. Jack, I miss you more than I probably should, but I do. Thanks for sharing this gift with us.

february blues

the cold, chill, biting wind
snow falls,
day in, day out
sometimes a little
sometimes a lot
a break here and there
(much less than normal)
a sunny day spoiled
the very next with a deep descent into the
frigid
it wears on a person.
where is my sun?
waiting for the warmth
of a nice spring day
waiting for the moment,
feeling a breeze, when suddenly,
it’s gone
the bite disappears and you
know, you just
know
the long hard winter is
(at least mostly)
over
and sunshine and flowers and
new life can abound
once again.
until then …
brr.
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february blues, 2.25.20

mil frustration

you’re NOT a child i know this seriously YOU’RE A FUCKING SENIOR CITIZEN i don’t want to revert resort to a meme but sometimes ok boomer i don’t want to misdiagnose you and maybe it would be easier if you actually were bipolar but i’m not supposed to use the term if you’re not ACTUALLY but i don’t know how else to describe it you’re a teenager and if i think of it that way you’re marginally easier to deal with but i swear you’re also as frustrating as a teenager (not that i’d actually know since i don’t have them myself)(nor will i ever) but holy shit you’re also not useless i know you’re not useless you’ve been on this planet so much longer and i’m sure you’re fine on your own but put a man around you whether it be your husband or your son (and so much always your son which is my husband now he’s an adult he’s a fucking adult can you not see that he’s a goddamn FUCKING adult) and suddenly oh no i know nothing i need your help do this do that and it chafes my modern feminist heart (which isn’t my whole heart but it’s enough of a section maybe that’s me being a partial elder statesman millennial i don’t know but holy fuck either way goddamn it CHAFES) and i’m not strong enough to ignore it and to school my face and maybe if i were in regency england or when you yourself were a child then maybe but i’m NOT i’m NOT and i won’t be i know i can change but i will NOT change in this because it’s not ME that’s the problem everyone else in the family likes me but YOU and YOUR HUSBAND and it’s all because i took your son and took him away (far far away) and you resent me for it and you hate me for it and i know there is nothing i can do to make you happy (except to pop out a million grandbabies and to move next door and to completely change who i am and) so is it even worthwhile for me to make the effort and i swear it’s not so i’m not i’m not bothering fuck you i’m not going to be happy i’m not going to be fake i’m not going to do it i’m staying me i’m not playing a role i’m not that good of an actress i’m not i’m not i’m not i’m sorry husband i can’t do it i know it’s hard for you and i know you’re struggling but if she’s not going to make an effort if she’s going to change her personality and be useless (how much do i hate useless) i’m not i’m not i’m not i’m not i’m not i’m not i’m not
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mil frustration, 1.18.20

loneliness … or thanks, USCHO

usually fine
by myself
mostly alone
with a few friends seen sporadically
(definitely not often enough if I’m being honest)
until …
a blast from the past
a walk down memory lane
even if not all good
still a painful gut-check reminder
that you used to feel tighter in to a community
while you don’t want to return
(particularly to that one)
(oh please god no)
you admit that
(more than a small teeny tiny)
part of you misses it and that
upon further reflection
the replacement communities haven’t
(painfully hard to admit)
even
come
close.
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loneliness … or thanks, USCHO, 11.28.19