Professor J's Place

Yesterday I went to church and I saw this in the parking lot. I can think up several different stories for this, but I love it. Other things happened. I saw my friend Lenna sitting across the isle, and went to join her. We chatted for awhile, and then I saw that my former pastor Lib McGregor Simmons was sitting in front of me. That was a nice surprise. Here she is (on the right) with my current pastor Kelly Allen Then, sometime during the sermon, which was about letting go of control as a Sabbath practice, Kelly was talking about letting go of control of your children. Oh yeah, and there's more. Yesterday was the 12th anniversary of my Mother's death.  Talk about letting go of control--or having control wrestled from your clutching hands -- And I looked in front of me and there was Lib. Lib was my pastor at the time of Mama's death. In fact, she came to see us and pray with me in the hospital about a half an hour before Mama died. And she counseled...

I have a wisdom tooth inside my crowded face I have a friend who is a born-again Found his savior's grace I was born before my father And my children before me We are born and born again Like waves of the sea That's the way it's always been That's how I want it to be  Paul Simon I have always loved this song--it's one of my favorites. It combines my love of the romantic era and the concept of the wisdom of children that is lost with age, "I was born before my father and my children before me," with the truth of my own experience, "We are born and born again." This morning--this all souls day--I am hearing this song again.  This morning I clicked on one of those silly Facebook things. It looks at your profile pics over the last few years and picks the most representative profile pictures to show your change over the years. The picture for 2014 was one of my favorite baby pictures. I jokingly said to my friends, what...

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.