Historically, in the words of a former acquaintance, I am “very political”. This tends to just mean I read a lot, engage in a fair amount of activism, and fling my opinions around dinner parties and the internet like strands of drool from a Newfoundland’s mouth. Over the years I’ve come to do all of…
the blog.
They Weren’t Out of Brisket at the Midway Cub
When George Floyd was murdered, Midway burned.I know it’s close to my home because I shop there, but I know it’s NOT close to my home, because the flames never reached me. I met Iris Logan right after we moved here, walking down her street after shopping at Goodwill. She was close to the flames,…
People Who Died
Yesterday, my friend Margaret threw a party. It was mostly because she wanted to have people over to eat chocolate and play cards, but it was nominally to celebrate the 25th anniversary of my sobriety. It was really nice. She baked a cake. My friend Julia had given me flowers for Thanksgiving, maybe because she…
On Laurie Anderson, Diane di Prima, Caretaking, Womanhood, and Loss
I really do love Facebook memories, because they are the scrapbook I wander through daily in my tattered Miss Havisham dress, visiting my past lives. Today my digital memory recalled that it’s the 10th anniversary of Lou Reed’s death. I loved Lou, but this milestone is interesting to me because for the past week I…
Billie Jean
When I say that I have been a feminist my whole life, what I mean is that I have been a feminist for as long as I can remember. And that memory begins 50 years ago today, when Billie Jean King beat Bobby Riggs at tennis. I was 3 years old, so obviously I don’t…
“You should write a book!”
I hurl so much unsolicited writing into the world, and in return have often heard: “you should write a book!” I usually take this to mean “wow, you write…a LOT. Shouldn’t you put it somewhere?” So for years I’ve chosen to receive that comment as kindness but didn’t think much else of it. I had…
A Day In Many Lives
First: my child. My precious child. My precious child is in Los Angeles, thrilled to be clear of the whirring helicopter blades of his hovering mother. The mother is thrilled that a healthy teenage balance has been restored, after a few years of developmentally staccato clinging codependent enmeshment, about which we had no choice because…move…
Feliz Cumpleaños, America
I feel very American this year. Not because the midwest more closely resembles the right’s “great” fantasy of a lost paradise for white people, but because before I got here, after 21 years in Los Angeles, I was ignorant enough to believe that diversity was a coastal phenomenon. I was remembering the Buffalo I grew…
Remembering Lorna
3 years gone, and I feel sure she is resting in power indeed. I wrote this on the day she died. * I am deeply, deeply unqualified to speak about Lorna Hill. So much was great about her. So much was great about Ujima. And when I say great, I don’t mean “the superlative version…
Book Bits
As I have mentioned to friends and colleagues, I’m working on a book. When asked what it’s about I’ve been saying “private education, in Buffalo specifically – the promises it makes and the mechanisms it employs to encourage class mobility or stasis. So far it’s part memoir, part creative non-fiction, part journalism.” I often share…