Buster

Buster

This morning, outside with my coffee, I looked for Buster.

Buster was a gold finch that Chris and I would see at our feeder regularly, usually as we sat at the kitchen table over toast and coffee.  After we bought a house in Champaign in the summer of 2006, we were happy to populate our new backyard with feeders, creating our own bird sanctuary.  I was so thankful to finally gain outdoor space.  There is a special kind of peace that comes from watching birds.

It was Chris’s notion to name the gold finch Buster. It was a strange choice – not particularly unique or clever – but it fit the pert little bird. Naturally, there were probably many Busters. Gold finches certainly aren’t rare in the Midwest in summer.  Many visited our kitchen window, but Chris was certain he knew which one was Buster. Even the next year, with the return of spring, Chris called out one day, “Buster’s back!”  And who knows?  Maybe Buster really did come back each year.

But we didn’t get many years at that house to find out.  Less than two years later, Chris died suddenly, with no warning, of cardiac arrest. My shock was paralyzing, my panic attacks were debilitating, my grief ever-present.  But still, the birds came, and family members would help me with the seemingly silly task of refilling feeders.  Living much of the next few months at my parents’ home in Kansas, I would spend much time just gazing out their dining room window at their own feeders – orioles, brown thrashers, mourning doves, sparrows, finches.  Again, there is a special kind of peace that comes from watching birds.

But there was no Buster.  And before the next summer, I had sold the house in Champaign.

Now, a dozen years after Chris’s death, my life has seen much change.  I have moved, met new people, married again, started and ended a career, started a business, and even returned to teaching.  I have moved into another new home, and I have set up my feeders again. I have not lived where I can easily have a bird sanctuary since Champaign, so my return to the peace of birds is long overdue.  Especially now, as our world plummets into the pandemic and finds us more and more isolated from each other, the birds offer us an easy grace and attention to the present. Much like Chris offered those of us who knew and loved him. Had he lived to see this time, he would have been calm and steady, perhaps even cracking several wry jokes about the situation. And he would have looked for Buster again this spring.

So, as I sat outside this morning, on the anniversary of Chris’s death, I looked for Buster.  And wouldn’t you know, not one but three gold finches flew right up and started sparring around the feeder.  Their insistent tee-yees sounded throughout the yard, making me smile.  So small and so mighty.  Who knows which one was Buster, but I’m sure Chris would have known him immediately.

   

Choosing the Better Days

Despite the current chaos, there has been much inspirational talk about how we will get through this pandemic. It’s the ever-too-chipper “We are all in this together”-speak. It’s aiming to be earnest and sometimes comforting and even fairly true.  We will “get through this,” just as everything is something that must be “gotten through,” one way or another.  Even with the loss of numerous lives, there will be another side of this crisis. It will be “gotten to,” but only by some, in some way, for some purpose, if perhaps only to disappear back into another surge of this virus.  

But let’s be truthful: There is no return to the life we knew before.  We won’t simply “get through this” and land back where everything left off.  We will have to press start to a whole new game. It will take some heroic action to prepare to learn the rules at that point, if there will even be any. That will take a hard choice and a lot of work.

My own sadness ebbs and flows. I envy those who are more positive and able to rest in the inspiration of each new day. They may be delusional, but they seem to have hope. I envy the faithful, the helpers, the heroes.  I envy the ways in which people can seek purpose and renewal while our world continues to cripple itself.  And it is crippling itself fast and furiously.  People stridently rebel against social distancing guidelines, parade to public spaces as though nothing has changed, and ignore good habits that respect the health of others.  On my darkest days, I want to give up and believe that we deserve ever horror that is heading for us. Despite my desire to be a hero, I can feel a villainy fueling my anger and despair. (What follows is a snapshot of that; consider yourself warned.)

To witness humans at their worst -- hoarding food and household goods, ignoring government warnings about safe practices, claiming that the virus is a hoax, wishing for the deaths of others, or even just whining about how hard it is to stay in their safe, warm homes – it’s all enough to make me wonder why we are worth saving at all.  Why strive to motivate humans to be good or decent people if it’s never going to be possible anyway? If we cannot make people follow rules that will save lives, then maybe all the guns should just keep coming freely.  Maybe we should just all be able to smoke, drink, and self-medicate with anything we want. If we don’t really care about life – and if we only like to pretend that we care -- then what garbage we really are. None of us then truly care for a greater good or a sense of duty to others.  It’s all a ruse. We are in it for ourselves and ourselves alone.  In this way, we have always been socially distancing, disconnecting ourselves from others so we can simply watch out for number one. 

But as I said, this is where my mind goes on the darkest days. And I know that the darkest days are also the most distorted ones.

Still, on these days, I have a true understanding of super villains.  I can see why we have such amazing “big bads” in pop culture and why we actually love them.  If I had my own origin story as a villain, then this glimpse into human nature during the pandemic would be its catalyst. It seems that most of our comic book villains emerge from severe disillusionment with or disconnection from humanity.  They may be bullied, abused, punished (with or without cause), or ensnared by human deception. They may be directly injured as a result of human greed or malice.  Whatever the case, the most intriguing villains reflect our own worst sins as a species.

It’s much harder to be a hero.  It is so much harder to look on all the crap that humans dish out and decide you are still going to care for them. To choose to be the hero, you must choose to love others, and that is never the easiest choice.  No matter what our culture makes us think, loving others and connecting to others is always the harder option. 

In the movie Wonder Woman, there’s a key scene where Diana is savagely tempted by Ares to destroy humans, given their evident corruption.  She considers it.  She should, right? Countless superheroes are consistently maligned by the very humans they seek to help – they are distrusted and protested. Why not kill them? Still, a real hero loves and helps.  Diana chooses love, despite all her grief and rage, and she chooses to help humankind. I ain’t Wonder Woman, obviously, but I’d like to hope that I could make that choice, that I can make that choice

On my better days, when I look around and focus, I do see the people who are here helping, for better or worse. They are trying to share resources with neighbors, make masks, and check on others. They are sharing humor and good cheer.   There are heroic humans who are making that choice to do the right thing, despite so many who are not.  We can’t save everyone, maybe not even ourselves, but we can choose love regardless.   

So, maybe I will and can choose love and choose humans yet.  I will at least, for now, choose my better days, and not become my darkest.  

Gracie

It is a cool morning, rare for June, and I get to walk my dog. Or she walks me. Take your pick.

I'm so thankful for Gracie, our new pit bull puppy who came to us through an unusual series of events.

Late last fall, new tenants moved into the lower apartment next door.  Their backyard was right next to ours, and we noticed that they had a brindle pit mix puppy.  She had a different name then.  As the weather improved, and windows remained open, we would hear lots of loud voices from this apartment -- yells directed at other people in the house and many yells directed at the puppy.  She was often left outside in her kennel, with no toys or comforts -- hardly did we even see food or water.   She never did anything right in the eyes of her humans, always being told to "go in her cage" and lie down.  When we greeted her across the fence, she tucked her tail between her legs and regarded us with sad eyes.  What could we do?

It is hard to contact authorities in these cases because the treatment of animals is, unfortunately, very subjective. Unless you have obvious or clear evidence of animal abuse, usually physical, it is hard to prove. We debated what to do.  One afternoon, Jesse heard one of the tenants yell at the puppy hours after she had chewed up a necklace left on the floor.  She cowered, shrinking from the onslaught of slapping and screaming. Jesse, brilliant and sensitive, approached the tenants, observed that the dog seemed to be causing them a lot of stress, and offered to take her.  They seemed to consider it, but didn't commit either way.

During this time, I had a dream about the puppy. She was in our house, and I was so delighted, but I was confused as to why she wasn't next door.  In the dream, I had a strong sense that she was seeking comfort and protection.

A month or two later, the tenants were moving out.  We were thankful that we would no longer be subjected to the constant screaming, but we worried about puppy.  What would happen to her?  Would we get up one day to find her dumped in the yard?  Would they grow so tired of her and take her to a shelter, where (as a pit) she would likely be euthanized in an instant?

All our experiences with the puppy suggested she was a smart, caring dog.  But she was a puppy!  Of course she was going to chew up things and be energetic when you were tired and need walks and love and exercise!  She was a bundle of energy in need of someone to care.  We missed seeing her sad brindle face.

The Saturday after they moved, June 3, Jesse and I had a rare free day ahead of us.  We were both taking off work -- he from dissertation writing, me from Urban Roost -- so we started our day at the Farmer's Market.  He had taken off ahead of me to check out an estate sale, so I walked to Tower Grove Park to meet him.  As usual in our neighborhood, so many people were out with their dogs.  I watched a couple in the park get tugged this way and that by their furbabies before they routed them back on track.  One of their dogs looked so much like our neighbor puppy, and I made eye contact with the dog briefly.   It was lovely to watch the dogs walk their humans.  Like a young child, I wished we had a dog of our own.  Some people might put off having kids, but we were putting off having a dog!   Oh, well, I thought. Maybe someday, when we have a bigger house, yard, fewer cats, etc etc.   The same old mantra of 'not now.'  These thoughts circled in my mind as I approached the Market.

I spotted Jesse soon, and just as I walked up to him, his phone rang.  It was one of our ex-neighbors.  Before I could make full sense of it, she was asking if we wanted puppy.  Yes! Yes! Yes! What timing! Forgetting our free day, we rushed to the truck and hightailed it back home to meet our girl.

We renamed her Gracie, a new start for her after a hard beginning.  She is about 8 months old with boundless energy and a generous heart.  She has much to learn, as do we, but we are thankful we intervened when we did.  We were able to help.  If only we could save them all......but for now, 1 puppy and 3 cats is about all we can do. :)

As for the cats, they are troopers.  Gracie brings her toys to them, and they sneer and swat at her.  She wants to play, they want to lounge.  She is learning, they are learning, we are learning.....

We are grateful for our family!

No More Standing By

When I was 17, still unable to vote, my mind was lit on fire by the Clinton-Gore campaign. In my senior-year government class, all our discussion revolved around the 1992 election. Growing up in Republican rural Kansas, I had never even considered another side to the issues. My classmates were solidly pro-Bush (the first). While I was already committed to being as socially conscious as possible at that time, in that place, I was suddenly opened up to a new way of political thinking with the help of this young, energetic ticket. 

It was Hillary who really formed my impressions.  I will never forget the morning I was getting ready for school, and all the Today show chatter was about her Tammy Wynette "not gonna just stand by my man" comment in a 60 Minutes interview. 

Standin’ by My Man Like Tammy Wynette - YouTube

Sure, it was news fluff in some ways, but for my young, idealistic, female, Sassy-reading self, it was an exciting revelation about how all women could be strong and independent as well as supportive and direct. With her hairbands and intensity, she was my new shero, and I followed the campaign closely. Naturally, America hated her for it.  How dare she?!?! it screeched. 

After yesterday's election, little to nothing has changed. My intense hope yesterday morning collapsed into despair on Tuesday night.  Rampant misogyny and gullibility combined to smear our map red, despite the popular vote indicating an HRC win. Our home began to feel like we were hosting a wake for our country.

Today, I've kept scheduled appointments, but I've spent the rest of the time in bed, sleeping or simply sad but calm after the grim results. I haven't even wanted to text friends -- I'd rather see their faces. I can't even find the hope and motivation my husband has right now to do more work in the community.  I am just not there yet.

My votes in the past have never been anti-Obama, anti-Bernie, or even simply anti-Trump.  They've always been pro-Hillary. I've believed in her for over 25 years of my life, and to see her denied this office, this role, this opportunity -- it is crushing beyond belief. I simply wasn't prepared for this outcome.  I was never fully confident, but I was .... well, I was ready for her to get her due. 

Obviously, that didn't happen. 

Today has been a fog. I mused that we were in the Upside Down, ala Stranger Things. I have taken some pills. I have slept for hours. It is like shock and grief, and I am not to full capacity yet. It might even take me a few days, a week, to regain my sense of where I am and how this happened. 

I blame myself for not working harder, volunteering more, calling more, committing to more outreach. I blame Trump supporters, I blame third/fourth-party voters, I blame so much. But none of these are truths. And none of that matters. We got what we got.

But here's the thing: I'm not stopping. If anything, I'm going to do more, fight more, read more, write more, and be more in my community.  I will keep as my central word hospitality. I will commit even more time to volunteer work and leadership. I have much to offer, and I've held back too much for too long.  I need to attend meetings, rallies..... all the things I seem to skip because I'm too tired or doing something else. I can't sit out. No longer. 

The country might need me even more now, so no more standing by, just watching the wreck.

And just like Hillary, I'm not some little woman who is gonna stand by this man.  

Let's go, world. 

Why I Left Academia (Getting Honest, pt. 1)

Because I no longer wanted to do research in my area.
Because I always felt like an imposter, even when things were going well.
Because I could no longer ascribe to the policies of my workplace in good conscience.
Because I didn't desire to find another job in academia.
Because other job listings didn't motivate me to improve or move.
Because I just wanted out.
Because my teaching methods and content were outdated.
Because I had no energy to overhaul them.
Because my workplace was problematic in ways I couldn't change.
Because I lost energy.
Because I'm not a 'good enough' Christian.
Because I'm not even a practicing Christian right now.
Because I couldn't talk about my job without getting stressed out or upset.
Because I grew bitterhearted and hopeless.
Because my friends and family worried about me.

Because we had a business plan we'd been working on since 2010.
Because I wanted new challenges.
Because I wanted to reconnect to myself.
Because the thoughts of Urban Roost inspired me like nothing else.
Because I could.

Not because I didn't love teaching or my students.
Not because I didn't love literature.
Not because I regretted my Ph.D.
Not because I think such work is unnecessary or unimportant.
Not because I didn't love my colleagues.

Just because.

Days Go By (Getting Honest, pt. 2)

"The days are long, but the years are short."

--Gretchen Rubin

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it."

--Ferris Bueller

"And days go by, / I can feel 'em flyin' /
Like a hand out the window in the wind."
--Keith Urban

Ever since I ended my career as an English professor last spring, some people have asked me if I miss those days. They ask me if I miss the academic calendar (not a chance), or they ask if I miss writing syllabi (of course not). They ask if I'm doing okay (umm, better than!), and they ask if I'm feeling sad not being in a classroom (with dysfunctional technology? leaking all my good energy? realizing my time evaporates without much to show for it? not. one. bit.)

It was time for a complete change, and my new life as the owner and manager of Urban Roost has reenergized me. Even when it wears me out completely.  Even after I fail many times. Even when I've been unmotivated on some days, manic on others.  Simply put, I'm just a much happier person than I ever was as a teacher and academic. (More on this in pt. 1)

The days have gone by so quickly since I broke up with higher Ed. Here's how I typically spend them now.... 

First things first:  I get to sleep later now. My commute is short, nearly non-existent. Sometimes I do yoga. Sometimes I manage to get in a morning meditation. I drink water. Lots of water. I have a vegan green monster smoothie.  Hair and makeup no longer matter -- I am all about braids, pinups, and ponies. I don a bit of sunscreen, blush, mascara, and lip gloss. That's it.  I drink coffee. Lots of coffee. Clothes are easy -- long tunics, sweaters, boots, yoga pants even -- I don't need to worry about heels or perfect outfits. I can just be comfortable and able to work on my feet. 

Morning (9:00 am): I jump online and manage the future reservations for Urban Roost on AirBnb.  This task involves answering questions, completing reviews, sending welcome letters, or updating anything that needs it. I usually do this throughout the day, even into the evening hours, but I try to catch up as much as possible in the morning. I also look at the day's check-ins to determine when they are arriving and if I have updated our Smart locks with their codes. Eventually, my goal will be to devote this time to the website, blog, and other social media.

Turnovers (11:00 am):  Urban Roost workers, Beth and Lucy, usually arrive around 10 or 11 to complete the day's turnovers.  I'm so thankful for them! They clean the apartments after guests check out to prepare Urban Roost for incoming guests. Turnovers involve not only cleaning but also staging the place so it always appears welcoming and stylish. I usually take this time to put out some new decor, restock items that have run low, make sure clean towels and sheets are plentiful, and complete general checks of the apartments.  We want the apartments to be homey, warm, aesthetically pleasing, and show no trace of previous guests.

Afternoon (2:00 pm): Beth and Lucy typically leave by this time, and I have time for lunch! I usually take a break around now and determine other errands or projects for the afternoon. This time usually involves a Home Depot-Target-Revive-bank-Aldi-bill paying run, if anything. (Pssst....after 2 is a good time to reach me on most days.)

Later...(4:00 pm): Guests usually arrive by now, or later. If I'm not able to do a live check in, I stay close to my phone in case anyone has problems accessing their apartment. 

Evening (6:00 pm): Dinner (Blue Apron has been a real game-changer!).  This time of day gets tricky for me because I'm usually more tired than normal.  It's so easy to melt into the couch with wine and TV.  I need to reintegrate a work out or a daily reflection time so that I can better prepare myself for the next day. #lifegoals, right?!

Night life?! (7:00 or later):  The perk of hosting a BnB is that you need to know the best places to go!  Guests have all sorts of preferences, so the more we try out the local scene, the more we can provide personal service to them.  And can you say "write-offs"? ;)   Ok, naturally, we don't go out every night, nor do we write off every outing -- we aren't always working! :)  However, as we learned at a BnB seminar several years ago, hosts must know their scene, and in order to do that, part of our work doesn't always seem like work. Isn't that the goal for everyone?

When we aren't out exploring our city for our guests or working on Urban Roost directly, our evenings might include Jesse's improv shows, seeing friends in the neighborhood, or just catching up on some Netflix with the cats. Do I miss grading? (what do you think?)

What I do miss is being in better touch with my friends.  It is hard for me to find time to return calls during the day because of being on the go, and at night, I'm making dinner, heading out somewhere, comparing days with Jesse, or maybe.... just maybe!.... I'm spending some time all to myself.   

But my days make me happy now.  They have energy and urgency.  I meet new people every day, and I can never predict what will come up. It is a new way to spend days -- whether long or fast -- and I'm grateful.  Very.