August Book Report: The Nickel Boys

Since I finished reading it, I’ve been telling anyone who will listen to me that The Nickel Boys book might very well be the best book that I have ever read.  I’m a voracious reader so those of you who know me understand what  high praise this is.  This novel deserves it.

Set in Florida in the 1960s, Colson Whitehead’s writing pulls together the story of two teenage boys - Elwood and Turner - who find friendship with one another after they meet at The Nickel School, a juvenile detention center cum reform school of sorts set in Eleanor, Florida.  When the novel first opens, we meet Elwood, a Black teenager who has been raised by his grandmother and is nearly a Senior in high school.  Elwood is bright and hard-working and as he reads and listens to the words of Martin Luther King, Junior, we learn of his plans to attend college, to make a promising life for himself.   We clearly see that he can achieve this modest goal and he comes so close…..

But it’s not to be - something the reader can feel coming with a sickening dread - and Elwood finds himself at The Nickel School, accused of a crime he didn’t commit and descending into a world of fear and injustice that no one deserves.  The fictional Nickel School is based upon a real-life horror, the Dozier School of Florida, which operated for 111 years and is responsible for the kind of systemic injustice that Americans prefer not to think about it.  The Nickel Boys invites the reader to think about it; to think long and hard about the nation we are.

When the Pulitzer Committee awarded the 2020 novel of the year to The Nickel Boys, the committee declared it, "a spare and devastating exploration of abuse at a reform school in Jim Crow-era Florida that is ultimately a powerful tale of human perseverance, dignity and redemption."  The novel is spare but it is not sparing.  Reading it in the Summer of 2020, amidst the stories of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and so many, many more African Americans let down by the systems charged with protecting them, the novel’s truths rang with a persistent reminder that we must call out the injustices we witness.  

Some Wisdom in the Uncertainty

Tomorrow, our back to school 2020 meetings will begin.  We’ll be masked and socially distanced, sitting outside in tents, and sometimes meeting by Zoom from our individual classrooms and offices.  But the teachers, administrators, and staff will finally be back together on campus, finalizing the plans for the coming school year, plans that we began making last April.

It’s strange - and scary - to contemplate in these uncertain times.  I am a great fan of planning; a talent that is my certain sweet-spot when life gets difficult.  But a talent for planning is of limited use when uncertainty looms so large.  Though August 31 and then the September start of school have been on my calendar since before the pandemic came to New Jersey, the days still seem like hazy, like a familiar dream that I cannot quite make sense of.  

JT reminds me that there is “nothing to do but to do it” and so that is my plan for tomorrow; for every day, really, until the last page of this chapter of pandemic history has been written.

Working From Home and Wearing a Bra Anyway

In March, when the prospect of teaching from home was on the immediate horizon, I was on Spring Break.  It turned out to be a Spring without a break as I woke up each day and set to work making plans for myself and my teachers as we moved to remote school.  The logistics were overwhelming and, in an effort to still feel like I was on holiday, I started my day in pajamas.  Midday often found me in those same pajamas.  By early afternoon, I was distressed, feeling overwhelmed by everything at hand - remote teaching (not to mention remote learning),  JT at home and missing his school routines as he finished college classes remotely; the lines and shortages in our local grocery stores; the pandemic anxieties in New Jersey, where the caseload was daily increasing by the thousands…..

The list of anxieties seemed endless.  The list of solutions seemed both incomplete and painfully short. I seemed to start my day already playing catch up. It was not a winning combination.

By the second week, with the return to classes on the immediate horizon and the pandemic fears still blowing up, I realized that as much as I wanted to be one of those people who could casually work in her pajamas, I am not that person.  And so I started to get up and spend a few minutes each morning getting ready for school.  I took a shower, I put on clothes, I combed my hair.  And then I set to work.

I recognized anew that routines are my sweet spot and comfort-zone and perhaps are even my strength.  A routine helps me to find my purpose, persevere in the midst of fear and uncertainty, and manage a heavy workload.  So I leaned in to those routines.

I’m thinking of this as I prepare for the start of classes next month.  My school will be on campus at half capacity, with half of our students on campus each week, and the other half learning remotely, watching a broadcast of class.  It’s a heavy lift from a teaching point of view and as I prepare, I am looking to establish the routines that will serve me well.

Tiger

Tiger and Lucy, our litter mate kittens, turned 14 at the start of this month.  Tiger is showing signs of his age.  He has begun to be confused; on some days and he stands in the living room and meows until he recognizes one of us.  

Earlier this month, he had a seizure in the morning.  His presence in our world has been a steady source of comfort and love since that day in October 2006 when we first went to the shelter and invited he and Lucy to join our family.  

Tiger and Lucy came into our family in a very hard year and these tiny creatures helped me teach JT to love unconditionally and without fear. They made our house a home again.

As Tiger lapses into what is clearly the last chapter of his life, I remind him that we won’t let him suffer, that we will honor the love and affection he has shown us, with care and love of our own.  Daily, I ask the universe for the knowledge to know when it’s time to say our last goodbye.  It’s a hard thing to do, to selflessly love a creature with no conditions and no reservations, but that is what Tiger reminded us to do.  So we will return the favor when the time comes.

In Praise of Summer Tomatoes

Summer tomatoes, with a dash of salt and pepper and served on a BLT sandwich is the very definition of heaven.  

Get you some!

All In for Joe

Later tonight, Joe Biden will give a speech and accept the Democratic nomination for the presidency.  In that moment, it will feel like help is truly on the horizon for this nation.

Joe Biden wasn’t my first choice for the Democratic nomination but I am enthusiastic in my support of his candidacy.  Together with Kamala Harris, this ticket represents the power of hope and reasoned leadership in a nation that is badly in need of both.  This isn’t just about removing Donald Trump from power (though that is the most important thing we can do to save our democracy).  This is about leaders whose rhetoric reflects actual knowledge and compassion with a commitment to unite us; to move us in the direction of caring deeply for one another.   

The issues that need attention are legion: racial justice, equal rights for women and the LGBTQ community, climate justice. healthcare for all, support for families, a re-organization of our economic priorities, a national plan for dealing with this pandemic (and those that may follow)…..it’s a daunting list.

Justice. Science. Truth. Responsible and compassionate leadership.  It is no exaggeration for me to say that the future of the republic hinges on this election.  Let's go!

Blessings

Happily, I never weary of my yard.  Sassafras House has lots of windows and from them I can see the outdoors from every room. I never tire of this view of the outdoors, especially in the growing season, when the green makes my heart glad.  From the front yard…

…to the back deck…

…there is beauty everywhere I look.  In a world that is mostly shrunk to the homefront, I feel grateful for the sight through the windows.

That's happy!

Monday Garden Update: August 17

At this point in the Summer, the garden is in more shade than it should be.  Before next year, I'll need to trim the mulberry tree that sits in the southeast corner of my lawn to bring in more sunlight.  But I’m still collecting a zinnia and jalapeño or two every few days.  There are some tomatoes set on and I’m hoping to harvest them before the 2020 garden season closes out.  

Food Friday: Tomato & Arugula Salad

This salad is a warm weather staple at my home - arugula with pesto, tomatoes, burrata, and a smidge of olive oil and vinegar.

We have it often.  I usually serve it with pasta or grilled veggies and crusty bread, but in a big bowl on a hot day, it is a full meal on its own, the delicious taste of Summer.

Sunrise with JT

Last week, JT and I got up early to watch the Wednesday morning sunrise from Washington Rock, a historical site that is nearly a stone’s throw from our home.  The morning was a bit of a lark made lovelier by the company of the son I call my boy, a claim that is rather in defiance of the young man he clearly has become.He’s been home since March and though I know that we all long for a return to normal, I am grateful for the blessing of this time together.  Despite the anxiety, we’ve shared plenty of laughter and thoughtful talks.  I’ve had the chance to get to know (and like) the adult he is becoming.  The morning sunrise was a welcome reminder to appreciate to pause and appreciate the small blessings of this unexpected time together.

A Job Well Done

I love to cut the grass.  The satisfaction of a freshly mowed lawn is enough on its own.  That it is accompanied by the smell of freshly cut grass and the solitude of the job is frosting on the cupcake.

So much of my life features unfinished projects —— that’s the nature of working with children, of course, and it’s the assumption of every day spent with students.  To find tasks that can be completed is the way that I give myself space to manage the uncertainty of my work.  Mowing the lawn is foremost on this list.

The job is satisfying and tidy.  Time behind the mower is time to think and let my mind wander.  I never grow weary of the job, which is nice because in the warm and wet weather of Summer, the lawn never grows weary of growing.

Real Life Texts with T: Migratory edition

The backstory: Flip flops are my favorite thing in the world and I own an unnecessary assortment of them.  This morning, T noticed flip flop chaos by the side of the bed and texted me a picture.

The caption below the photo read:  “The great flip flop migration has begun……”

Indeed.

Thoughts on the Pandemic

I began a paper journal when the quarantine lock down started.  I have maintained it on a daily basis and my notes and musings are now well into a second book.  It’s filled with details about the COVID-19 and is also a record of the anxieties and fears that have accompanied this strange time.

Because I find it reassuring (or perhaps because I am a weirdo), I’ve also made a record of the case numbers in New Jersey.  I can see the high point in April quite clearly.  In the last month, as the state begin to report it on the daily COVID-19 dashboard it maintains,  I’ve also begin to record the rate of transmission.  For a while, we were below 1, meaning that each case resulted in less than 1 additional positive test.  In the past week, my state’s rate of transmission has tipped upward.  Case numbers are still well below the thousands of daily cases we recorded in April, but thanks to a transmission rate above 1, we remain squarely in a very scary danger zone   Because we have a good contact tracing program, we know the source of these transmissions: large house parties on the Jersey shore.  It’s clear that even in hard-hit New Jersey, a place where virtually all of us know someone affected by this virus, it’s been difficult to get all of us to take the necessary cautions.

In mid-July, it looked like the Northeastern states could re-open in person school of some variety.  With each day that passes, I grow more anxious that we will be unable to manage that successfully.  The prospect of remote school is so unsettling…..we know that children will suffer and lose from it……and yet here we are.  

My fear is only eclipsed by my anger, a place I do not like to occupy.  I count myself among those who felt that getting to 2020 was a victory.  As the year began, I started to count down the last months of Trump in the White House.  But as the days remaining stretch before me with a pandemic in their wake, and a pandemic in our future, I am starting to fear the nature of the recovery from the Trump disaster that we can expect.

The cost of Trump isn’t just the more than 150,000 people who have died from this disease.  It the cost of the racism and lies, the failure to take responsibility and to lead, losses that will linger long after the disease has been vanquished.  I’ve always believed that in a democracy we get the government that we deserve.  But no one deserves this, a misery made worse by the vain and ignorant man some of us (though not a majority!) selected to be at the helm of our government.  

Fading Hostas

The summer’s heat has begun to take a toll on my hosta plants, an August development that I am accustomed to.  But there is still beauty to be seen in the vivid colors of these leaves.

Even as they begin to fade, they make me happy.

Monday Garden Update: August 3

I’m fighting a bit of a battle with the backyard wildlife when it comes to harvesting my tomatoes, which the squirrels like to snack on nearly as much as we do.  I am able to harvest some of them and I am fond of the squirrels so I long ago made peace with the wildlife dining element of gardening in my yard.

There is a purple zinnia to admire (and more blooms are on the way).

There are some jalapeños coming along nicely.

More tomato blooms are set on.

My daily stroll out here reminds me of the value of patience, a reminder that I need always but especially in this year of all years.

Front Porch in August

All the variegated leaf plants have joined the flowering plants for the August front porch table.  There’s a red and white tablecloth to anchor the festivities.

The flip flop flag remains because flip flops always make me happy.  This picture faces East and in the humid haze the coming tropical storm can be seen.

The other plants are spread around the porch to soak up their share of the warmth and sunshine.

I drink my morning coffee in this spot and I never tire of the verdant refuge that is this front porch.

Frontyard Flowerbed in August

Things are a tad overgrown here in the frontward flowerbed, the outcome of a hot July, plenty of rain., and less time for gardening than I would like.

If I’m being honest, I have a fondness for the jewelweed’s yellow flowers and when I do clean out this flowerbed later this month, I’ll let them stay around.  Summer green in abundance is a daily gift in this world gone mad and I am grateful for that blessing.