Gosh it's confusing times.
The courage of my fellow citizens in the face of state violence is humbling and inspiring. At a recent protest I joined other marchers, chanting and holding signs, and felt a frisson of fear when the black SUVs began circling, smoked-out windows rolling down to reveal a camera filming. And we were on a relatively calm street in a small city. We're not being tear-gassed or pepper-sprayed or kettled, herded into vehicles and snatched away from our homes and friends.
The way people are taking care of each other. Buying groceries. Watching school bus stops. Filming. At great risk to their own safety. This is the America I want to live in. Because the one I foolishly thought I lived in didn't ever really exist I don't think, except for the privileged few.
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When I traveled more, in Asia and east Africa, the conversation with teachers and waiters and the taxi driver mad I'm going shopping on Sunday morning instead of to church--talk invariably turned to religion. I believe in people, I always said. It's still true.
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There is other news.
My poem "Dadless" was nominated for a Pushcart. Thank you thank you Metaworker, for believing in me.
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And I served as a parade escort for the glorious nerd-loving chaos that is Chewbacchus. An unbelievably rainy afternoon gave way to a foggy evening, perfect for the contraptions and krewes to celebrate rebellion and carnival.
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