Professor J's Place

When I was an undergraduate, I read an essay by Adrienne Rich about Emily Dickinson. "Vesuvius at Home," the title taken from an ED poem, shattered the image of the shy, strange little woman sitting in her bedroom and hiding away from the world. And I began to read Dickinson. Then I began to study Dickinson. Her syntax, her precise and startling use of words, her understanding of the human mind, of my mind, were sustenance to me. And still, I think that there is no one who touches my heart as much as Dickinson. On this day, the day after the congress released its report on torture, a day when racism and violence and lawlessness seem ever present, a day when I think that perhaps my country has lost its soul, I remember that Dickinson wrote the bulk of her poetry during the years of the civil war; another time when America was paying the price for its original sin.  It seems appropriate to share the best poem about grief I've ever read: After great pain, a forma...

my dear departed Alice and Dinah--the old guard Tomorrow will be a week since Alice died. It sometimes surprises me how deeply I feel the loss. It's probably because she was my last old girl--the last dog who knew my mother. But whatever the reason, it is a loss I sometimes experience as a pain in the chest. I first experienced that after Mom died. My therapist at the time said, "Why do you think they call it a broken heart?" And so I will grieve. As long as it takes. But I know this. There is no death. There is no end to the energy and the love that was my mother, or Dinah, or Alice. A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is, any more than he.    I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.    Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer, designedly dropt,   95 Bearing the owner’s...

juggling  is hard I know I've recently alluded to health issues on this blog, and I've definitely whined about them on Facebook; now I will whine more specifically. I'm working on becoming healthy. And it's not working as well as I want it to.  Recently, I discovered that the medicine I was taking for diabetes was making me sick. So we tried something new. Then added something else. Then increased the something else.  I've also been walking every day that it is not raining (so I missed two days) and eating much better. And? It's not working. So I imagine, though I do not know this for sure, that the next step is insulin. I will see the doctor Thursday.  I am not thrilled about this. In some ways it feels like a failure. But a friend of mine who has two Type I children assures me that I will actually feel much better after my blood sugar stabilizes. And what the heck.  The good part of all of this is the daily walk with my dog(s). That's b...

Padre Island Sunrise 2009 I have been depressed lately. Time change, health challenges, an election I was certain was going to end in heartache (and it did). But this morning on the commute to work, my comadre, Lindsay,  told me that she was inspired to work harder, to teach her students about global warming and the environment, to fight another day. It helped. I don't feel that I have a lot of psychic energy left for the fight right now, but I will rally. I offer this photo of the ocean at 6:00 on a summer morning as a reminder that light returns. That beauty exists. Oh, and here's a baby turtle! So here's to the love we all share, to the beautiful planet that is our home, to the good people who are willing to fight. Here's to music, and dance, and art. We will survive. 

So, I am beginning the quantitative literacy project (called "Q" by those of us in the know) in my Comp I classes. I'm a little terrified and a little excited. I've recently become a convert to the importance of quantitative literacy in my own life and in the lives of my students, but numbers have not always been my friends. Hence, fear. So, I made this for my class website: and none of my students got it. I thought it would help to lighten the mood. Oh well. 

I was looking at the blog after I posted yesterday, and I realized I post once a year. That's just sad. I also realized, as I looked back at some old stuff, that I miss the women I used to read about and talk to in this format. Some of us are on Facebook together, but not all. I'm bucking the trend, I know. Just last week Mrs. G said she was done with the Manor (sad sigh). But what the heck? So I think I'm going to start writing and reading blog posts again. Who are you reading these days? Who should I add to that list over on the right hand side of the blog? Would you consider posting more, too, dear readers? Facebook is wonderful for the daily (all right several times a day) peeks into the lives and thoughts of my friends, but it is not enough. It is not a format for a real discussion of life and all its "hills and valleys" as Cheri said today. I want to know about the hills and valleys. I know I'm always making promises to myself that I don't ke...

my friend Heidi years ago (with two dear, lost companions) Those of you who are my friends on Facebook know that I have begun a daily walking regimen. I started because I wasn't able to control my blood sugar, and I thought I'd give this diet and exercise thing a try. So every morning before school, I lace up my kicks, put a reflective vest on my dog Judy, and hit the streets. Walking has had a somewhat surprising effect on my life: increased nostalgia. Have you known me long enough to have heard of my dog St. Ursula? Here's a picture of her grinning at my mom.  I adopted Ursula in 1989. For the first several years of her life, we lived in apartments, so Ursula and I walked. A Lot. And we walked in the dark early morning a lot. I had a Buick Skylark with bench seats at the time. When I drove with Ursie, she'd sit right next to me, and I'd put my arm around her shoulders. She was my constant companion and best friend for the first three years of h...