When I was visiting the National Museum of African American History and Culture, there was a line to an exhibit and I decided to get in the line. I had no idea what the line led to, but I followed the people since I had no idea when I would go back to this museum and wherever the line led, I assumed that it would be meaningful.
It turned out that this line led to the casket of Emmett Till which was on display in the museum. I didn’t understand the depth of Emmett Till’a death and it’s place in history until I watched the mini-documentary associated with the exhibit along with the additional artifacts to put this moment into more perspective. I’ll be teaching John Lewis’ graphic novel series, March, in one of my classes this semester and I can only hope to take what I learned from the museum and provide a context of depth across the entire series as we read, write, and discuss the Civil Rights Movement. Before I went to sleep last night, I was reading from Nikky Finney's Head Off & Split. I saw Nikky read in San Francisco all the way back in 2013 at the Unitarian Church. I wish I could remember more from the reading, but I do remember leaving the poetry reading moved and in awe of her presence and the delicate power she brought to life while reading her poems.
This was one of those other books I started to actually read this past summer while I was in Washington, D.C. I forgot what compelled me to bring this book with me on the trip, but it made it into the bag. The day I visited the National Museum of African American History and Culture, I started reading from this book. I was so awe struck by each poem and realized why she won the National Book Award. Later that afternoon, I went to the museum and saw her book on display on the top floor. I was reading something that was considered a national treasure. Now, several months later, I'm back into the book. When I turned to the title page I read what Nikky wrote in her dedication to me: Truth. I'm not quite sure what she meant of that at the time, but I think I can figure that out now. I'm still reflecting on this one word and perhaps I can write about my reflection after finishing the book. Here are some stanzas and lines that popped out of the page while I was reading: She is fifteen again, all smiles, and relocated to the peaks of the Rocky Mountains, where she and the Steinway are the only Black people in the room (35) Excerpt from "Concerto no. 7: Condoleeza {working out} at the Watergate" ...in the vase by the front door, she is / reminded of what falling in love, without permission, smells like (51) Excerpt from "Cattails" On Monday, I received my donor package from Bridge + Delta Publishing's fundraiser for their first Journey for Justice book on the life of Larry Itliong. The "Mabuhay Pinoy" tote is so legit and I never want to use since it looks like a cultural artifact to me. I look forward to reading the Journey for Justice: The Life of Larry Itliong book and the Voices book sharing Filipino American oral histories. Add these to the list!
I'm still profoundly sad about the passing of Manang Dawn. I've been trying to write a poem about her passing, but alas, the writing mind has not taken me there yet. I have it all mapped out, but nada. The page calls for something else in that moment. The poem will happen when the mind's words are ready to be words on a page. Things in the package:
I have a confession: there are books I’ve started that I haven’t finished reading. My first response for why I haven’t finished these books is because of time, but with a little more introspection, I realize the reason for not finishing these books is focus. I hope to right this wrong and finish these books before summer begins. In grad school, I started The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao and it took me a year to finish that book, so this isn’t some new phenomenon, however I’d like to break this cycle.
Here is my list of unfinished books:
Looking at my bookshelf, there’s more books I could add to this list. I’ll keep this one at five because that seems manageable in my ideal world of not being exhausted at the end of the work day. Since I've been on break, I've been able to watch the following movies and television shows:
Movies
Television
That's a pretty good list for me, considering that I have a difficult time keeping up during the work months. Of all the movies I watched, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse was my favorite. Such good visuals, storytelling, and surprises that made the movie amazing and is definitely up there as one of my top comic book movies. Here what's I look forward to this month: Movies
Television
I'm trying to catch up with at least the latter part of the Marvel Comic Universe before the new Avengers is released this spring. I've only watched episode 1 from Game of Thrones and I wasn't too into it. I've been told to get through season one, so I'll try and give it a chance. That's what I'll stick to for now, since work is starting soon and I'm historically bad at keeping up with any movies or television when the priorities shift toward the teaching and the working. This winter break, I finished reading Alexander Chee's, How to Write an Autobiographical Novel. I purchased the book from Elliott Bay Book Company when I was visiting Seattle this past summer as one of my writer homies, Janice Lobo Sapigao, recommended the book to me when I saw her in SF at the Ruby Ibarra Apple Store Concert in July.
I finally got the time to read the last half of the book and this is one of those books that arrived at the right time. Do you ever feel like that for the things you read? That you've pondered things for so long and a book contains some connections and answers that unexpectedly speak to you when you most need it? In the last chapter, "Becoming an American Writer," Chee offers insights and advice for writing. I re-read this chapter and copied down some of my favorite pieces of advice. Here is one of the quotes from the chapter I intend to use as a guide to help me become: "Speak to your dead. Write for your dead. Tell them a story. What are you doing with this life? Let them hold you accountable. Let them make you bolder or more modest or louder or more loving, whatever it is, but ask them in, listen, and then write" (277). In an intentional effort for renewal, adventure, and transitioning into 2019, I went to the Shinzen Friendship Garden in Woodward Park to cast my spell that I wrote while listening to the Healing Justice podcast "New Years Practice: Cast a Spell with adrienne maree brown."
I've lived in Fresno for most of my life and I had never gone to this part of the park. Everything was so beautifully landscaped, scenic, and tranquil in the garden. I plan to go back. Above is a picture from one part of the garden called "Shama's Corner" and below are some other flicks from the afternoon, mostly from the Ume Grove where I cast my spell. Every Friday at noon, one of my colleagues hosts something called Brown Bag for faculty and staff to come together to discuss topics relating to the past, present, and future of teaching and education. I wasn't sure I was going to make it for this Friday's session, but this is my response to the week's discussion prompt:
This week at Brown Bag let’s honor our favorite teachers. Let’s discuss how these instructors changed our views of our discipline, how they changed our views of teachers, and how they changed our perceptions of ourselves as students. What made these instructors effective teachers, how do we use what they taught us in our own classrooms, what was it that set these teachers apart from the rest? I was thinking of this question last night but in a somewhat different context. I like to think of our first teachers being the people in our home or our community. One of my neighbors, Jim, who passed away over two years ago was a teacher to us kids in the neighborhood. There's plenty to say about him, however I'll say this: he was an individual that wanted to become a history teacher but he never followed through with his dream because he started pouring concrete and because he made good money at the time, he stayed in this job for the rest of his life as life things such as getting married and having kids followed. Despite his occupation, he was a teacher for us kids in the neighborhood. He would gather people together to hang out on weekdays and weekends (think of the opening credits to King of the Hill with their beers...that was Jim and his crew), he lead the petition signing to block off our cul-de-sac for 4th of July block parties, and found ways to impart his life stories in his conversations with us as we got older. In Jim's case as a teacher, his energetic generosity, joy, and willingness to engage with everyone in our cul-de-sac set him apart from the other fathers and men on the block. He showed an interest in us, opened his home to everybody, and always made each person feel welcome at every gathering. I think those are the types of teachers that have made a significant impact on my life, the ones that taught me unexpected lessons I realize as an adult now. |
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April 2020
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