My Mom Once Had One of These Growing Out of Her Forehead, But Today's Fern Belonged to My Father's Urologist (and Lucky For All, He's Also Clean)

There are numerous things you grow up imagining for your future: driving home with your first car, booking your first flight for a vacation you paid for, and hosting the holidays for the first time. Then there's visits to the urologist, jelly cream, and sonograms with your father's testicles. That's something not even the older sister can prepare you for. I was warned, but I think she was spared on her visit. I got the full experience. 

All is well, though. Healthy. Good to go. Clean. And that is wonderful news to hear for all. 

All the needles have been taken out of our feet, hands, and cheeks. Cleaning day with Brenda. Always reason for adventure...it's as if Wednesday Addams lives here...and she found them all.  We have bandaids.

The office fern was fresh, alive, and clean. It was a septic office for septic procedures. Many a ball needs to be juggled on Amalfi Drive.

"Yes, Dad. You're having twins. No, Dad, we're not throwing you a party with balloons." 

Pure comedy. 

And new phones installed throughout the house. Thankful they still sell them and, better yet, BJs had exactly what my mother wanted. 

Tuesday, though. Time to make the donuts and hit the courses over the next couple of days. Hoping the Internet holds up for the classes and I get something going make the time fly.

This Never Gets Old...Karal Doing T.V. Time with Papa Butch. She Has a Permanent Lap to Cuddle With at All Hours of the Day

And at this point, the temperatures begin to drop. It's been balmy in Syracuse with the 40 degree temperatures but the February frigid is on its way. Reading is done for the week, Dad and I fixed his dryer vent (although I'm skeptical of how well we did), and Casey was able to come this way with Dixie. Also got my first Chubby's run...hard to believe he resisted 24 hours. 

"Can I have some of them fried olives?" he asked the bar tender. "Butch. You mean mushrooms, like you always get."

Yes, it was those.

Also, the Philly game was bleh, but the Bengals/ Kansas City game was exciting to watch. 

Karal had a rather productive day: two walks, lots of backyard running with cousin dogs and neighbors, inside wrestling. No wonder she zonked out early in the evening. 

As did I. My childhood bedroom is freezing, exactly the way I like it. I've slept like a baby the first two nights. 

Made It to Syracuse and Did My Best to Serve Only Yellow Foods, as If I Was a Manager at Olive Garden. But It Was Much Better

Truth is, the trip to Syracuse was the fastest yet. I've been waiting for the chance to listen to Tiffany Jackson's White Smoke and, as usual, she nails a story like no other. She easily is one of the best writers for young adults today. I always get hooked and love the ride she'll take me on. 

And thanks to Rona, Mimi and Papi had chicken pot-pie for dinner, and I also brought some spinach-feta pirogies. I'm sure dad had a little chicken flavor underneath all the salt and pepper he added....layers and layers of salt and pepper.

I decided I'd work from CNY this week, because it is a rare 7 days where I'm not booked in K-12 classrooms and there are no meetings scheduled at the University. I figured, if I put my courses online, I'd have time to catch up a little for the Christmas time I missed. 

Karal's in doggie-heaven, too, as she always has someone on a couch to cuddle up with. She also loves being able to run with the dogs on either side of the parental units.

Today, I need to grade, read, and get ready for the week ahead...and hope to have a lil' down time while I can get it.

Delivered to Another School of Writers - This Time to Girls in the Cultivated Women's Collective and Ubuntu Academy. The Smiles Say It All

Mr. William King sent me a round of photos yesterday as he handed out the 2022 Anthology of POW! Power of Words, and it's too easy to make my head leap out of my chest, especially since the Ubuntu writers of July/August were an extra-special group and we had a miraculous two weeks of growing together. The Mr. King, Ms. Baldizon and Ms. Hernandez were a force to be reckon with. Their investment in these kids is simply remarkable. 

The Ubuntu crew here, 9 of the 36, attend Central High School and were the most sponge-like crew we've had to date, fascinated by podcasting, narrative, and poetry. They were a community of writers even before they arrived and had absolute joy working with their summer teachers and instructors. It makes me so happy to see books delivered to their hands. 

Friday ended with a couple of fantastic meanings, a wonderful dinner hosted by Dr. Rona Preli, and a little quality time getting to hold, feed, and entertain Patrick and Stephanie's love-nugget, Ethan. That kid is a total ball of happiness, curiosity, and joy. It made for a great end to a pretty hectic two weeks. I don't know how Rona found time to cook an amazing dinner, including French onion soup, but I am appreciative. 

Now for Saturday. The dead mice smell is still present, but not as strong, and I think Karal (she's in my lap right now wanting attention) looks forward to longer walks and more games. 

Edem told me that the mice also at three pairs of shoes in his room and a duffle bag. Um...Okay? That's just weird. 

The More Academy I Get with Higher Education, the More I Cherish Every Worthwhile Second in a School Listening to Young People Learning to Read

It was the last of the 14-hour days, and I took a break while candidates met with administrators to run to a a school, so I could get my fix of young people, their readers, and the joy they have of sharing their skills with a perfect stranger. I was dropping off a box of POW! Power of Words, for the youngest girl writers who participated in the Cultivated Women's Collective...after school readers and writers who crafted amazing stories, poems, and narratives. The teacher cried. "I got emotional when CWP publish my poem, and I can only imagine the feelings the girls will have."

I am amazed by how proud young kids are when they are practicing their reading, demonstrating what their reading specialists have taught them, and acting as an audience to their efforts, struggles, and triumphs. It really is bliss, and I cannot recommend getting into schools to be literacy guides to the adults of tomorrow.

"Hey, Mr. Listen to this sentence. I'm going to kill my pronunciation."

And they do. 

The smell of the death colony of my mice suddenly gets more tolerable. Candles. Incense. They work. But so does all I cherish from having time with kids. Public schools at their best, who put forth the greatest efforts to be literate, all provided by strong teachers who've made it a career to invest in their success. 

This is what it is all about. 

"I Personally Like Teachers Who Have Hands, Crandall." "Um, I Like Teachers Who Know How To Draw Better Than You." Well, Okay, Then

This is the second time I was asked to teach the introduction to education course for individuals curious about a career in education. We doubled enrollment in one year and needed to add a 2nd section, and I'm glad they think I can be an attraction for what a career might look like (best decision I ever made, but it remains insane). We read Matt de la Peña's Last Stop on Market Street, and I prompted kids to write about beautiful learning experiences, and not so beautiful ones. I wanted them to help me understand what they think makes a good teacher and what they do not care to have leading them.

It's always enlightening.

I am always amazed how rare it is that students have an educator who has reached out to them, assisted them, and changed their ways of understanding the world. More often not, I hear stories of what not to do and what is abysmal (ironically coming to a point where many share particular insidious experiences). 

The introduction course is tough, because you never know what direction to go - there are so many, and students don't realize the complexities of every school and learning environment, especially those coming from private schools with rigorous standards and economic privilege. We want to prepare them for a variety of schools and possibilities, but also to start putting on a teacher hat....that of an adult.

That takes time...and care...and patience....especially when you're 19 and 20.

I learned today that my students preferred educators who can draw hands and had better artistry skills. Hey, I do what I can do.

I suppose this leads me to say how important it is to get kids into schools as soon as possible so they can see the real-world in action as quickly as possible, especially since the worlds they may know are likely to be different from the every day working of K-12 education. All the joys, that is.

And with that, I'm off for another long day on campus. 

Oh, Dog. How I Envy Thee. Thy Royalty, Who Needs Me To Pee. Here You Lie in Total Serenity. Wish I Could Trade Some of My Complexity

The life of the academy. Up at 7 and grading, planning, editing, revising, resubmitting, and meeting. Take a break at 11 and walk the dog. Note: she gets me up at 7, eats, pees, then falls asleep on the couch until I walk her. 

11 to 12, I get fresh air and she walks, usually does #2, too. 

I return for lunch, and put together class which is from 4:55 to 6:55, only to sit in I-95 traffic both ways. 11 miles can take 120 minutes. Today, I took back roads and decided to drop another batch of books off at a school. 

Evening class was great, although graduate students are good at finding errors on syllabi...like the fact that I missed weeks, and then repeated dates (because, well, something has to go...why not the calendar?)(easy to fix). 

Today, I have a faculty search all day, and a turbo class in the middle of it all. I must get home at some point to check on the dog and let her out. It will be a long, long day. Another 14-hour one (which is never as easy as those spent at home). 

Meanwhile, I come home last night to fix errors I made and to plan for the turbo class tomorrow, all while arranging the schedule around the faculty visit. 

Then, I look over at the dog, sleeping soundly on the couch. The dead mice in the walls, the odor, and the fact that her human seems to ignore her, must be baffling.  But she sure can rest and put my mind at ease. All this mortgage paid so she can full run of the house while I'm working for a paycheck. All so she can sleep.

This is all to say, "I'm thankful for her." Nothing makes me happier than when I can sit next to her, or walk beaches with her, or drive to new places with her at the helm (always at the helm). 

And her toys are everywhere. It's a daily ritual to pick them up so she can spread them around the house while I'm gone. I guess that must be fun.

10 p.m. she looks at me as if, "You going to bed yet?" She loves this, because although she starts at my feet, by morning, I will be hanging on the edge for dear life. 

This is her world, and I know it. 

It Smells Like Sauerkraut in My House & the Candles / Incense Only Works Temporarily. But They Took the Bait. Now I Must Wait.

It was soon after the holiday break that Edem came downstairs to yell at Karal for getting into his food storage in his bedroom. "She chewed the caps off my containers," he reported. I knew it wasn't Karal - I never go into his room because, well, it's his room. I said you'd better investigate for mouse droppings. Sure enough. They were all over his room (how do you not know this?).

I had him plant green cheese (the bad kind for mice) in his room. Not only did they get that cheese, but they grabbed the entire bag he put on a counter and shredded that to pieces, too. I have no idea how they are getting into his room on the 2nd floor and we can't find any space where they would. But because he leaves food on his floor, they did. And they ran away with the cheese.

It's been a week, and it appears to have worked. Now the entire house smells like death with sauerkraut wafting from the walls, floorboards, and vents. I'm not sure how many have perished, but it's pungent and even though I've moved furniture looking for carcasses and crawled in every crevice of the basement, I haven't found a single one. My guess is they travel in the heating ducts, because that's where the smell is strongest....that, and when I was sick this Christmas, Karal always barked at the one by the couch at 10 p.m.. It freaked me out that she did this, but I'm guessing that's when thew were marching to Edem's room. 

It's gross. I've done my research and it can take two weeks for them to decay, so the recommendation was to burn candles, which I am. so now it smells like ocean breeze, vanilla incense, and death. It's a joyful smell, really. Thrilling and freaky. (Wow...I wrote that as if I'm Wednesday Adams).

I'd much rather the creatures head to the woods and eat fallen tree nuts, but when they get a source of food indoors...say, on a bedroom floor...they spread the word to mice manors everywhere. I love sharing the world with animals, but I don't need mouse shit all over the house. No, Mickey. I just don't. 

Now I see why people have cats, both indoors and outdoors. They are a great deterrence. Dogs just sniff around and bark. Then they become friends, because mice will take them to additional food sources and share with them.

I wish I could bottle up this scent to share in offline spaces, but that isn't how it works. Sauerkraut is my  analogy...perhaps spoiled sauerkraut rubbed over the body of a pubescent boy who hasn't learned about deodorant yet. 

That's the smell. 

Use your imagination. 

Met Chitunga and Leo for Dinner & Guess My Mother Would Love This Plate of Pierogis We Shared. Not Bad, Dockside. Quite Nice, Actually.

Chitunga, Leo, and I went to Dockside for dinner to talk life, adulthood, and next steps. Chitunga has been offered a job in Des Moines, Iowa, and if he takes it, he'll be moving in April. The cost of living is much cheaper than Connecticut and he's young, adventurous, and looking to his financial future knowing the salary he'd be making would go extremely far in the midwest. I knew of the 2nd interview this week, but the partners at the firm offered him the position, with a once-a-month return to NYC to work on accounts he has here. 

I've always been the one who ventures off. It feels a bit different when the adventure moves while I am standing still. It's all good. He has a life ahead of him and it will be wonderful. Now to begin thinking about the transitions. I await his commands. 

We ordered a plate of pierogis and they were delicious. It was a great to begin the conversation over beer and to share paternal, life-changing dialogue with the kid. Also was wonderful when one of his mentors, Paul Herman, showed up at our table and asked, "Chitunga?" They haven't seen each other since high school (which is almost a decade ago...so hard to believe). 

Many changes arrive really quick and I guess midlife is meant to sit back and process them all. Blink of an eye is really all we have. Zip. Zap. Zoom. The Great Whatever moves fast, and not much of it is predictable. We need to buckle up and inhale.

When I head to Louisville, people were, "huh?" - It wasn't until I did that I began to appreciate Syracuse more. Now, I have heart/soul in Louisville, Syracuse, and Connecticut. It is as it is.  We simply learn and grow as we live. I'm super proud that Ernst & Young choose Chitunga over and over again....makes me feel wonderful for all still to come for him. 

It's Too Cold for Nutty Buddies, but I Took Part in a Winter Ice Cream Festival Anyways - Just Because the Opportunity Provided Itself

Saturday was mildly productive. With an eye on the prize I got to work on materials that needed my intention, walked Karal twice, and even had time to make an Indian chicken marsala dish that was spicy and great with Naan bread and rice. I like being able to set my own pace, move across time according to my own agenda, and to feel like the sweat was worth it.

Perhaps this is why I didn't mind indulging in a Nutty Buddy, which was rather gross until the last bite. What's up with that chocolate-greatness that hardens on the bottom of a waffle cone? Upon finishing, you simply want another one.

Perfection. 

I'm aiming to have an equally productive day today. Truth be told, the weekend after the first class is a relief. It's a weekend when first assignments aren't arriving yet and you have space to work on other things (which I did). I should point out, though, that I had nine hours of good sleep. I almost don't know who I am this morning...I slept until 9 a.m.!!!

I'm also loving that it hasn't snowed, it's not too bitter to be outside for long walks, and the rain subsided. Bonus. That means more movement of muscle and mind.

Finally, with mom's advice, I've kicked into That 90's Show, although it seems so cheesy compared to the 70's version, which was simply hilarious and brilliant. Not sure if I like it, but the parents remain great characters. They make the show.

Alas, it also puts aging into perspective, as well as adolescence. How quickly it all flies by, he says, cherishing the ice cream treat I had. What I can say? Life is short. I mean just look at the evolution of entertainment from antennae to Apple TV streaming. Blink of an eye (when we only have 100 years to live)
 

And After a 14-Hour Friday (Phew), I'm Shouting Out to Dr. Nicole O'Brien, My Marathon-Running, Pure Joy Colleague Who I Simply Adore

I was out of my house by 7:30 a.m. yesterday and came home mid-day to take care of Karal, only to return to a mission of a 9 p.m. return. This is the work and this is the grind. It is all made easier, of course, when I think about the great colleagues that have helped me to be a better man, including Dr. Nicole O'Brien.

I'm celebrating her decision to leave the University in pursuit of Equity, Diversity, Inclusivity, and Justice. She's following her brilliance, her knowledge, and her heart to give back to the world in the best way she knows how: listening and guiding others. She's a gem and she'll be greatly missed after this year. 

With that noted, I still have several months still left to tip bourbon glasses and to think of better ways to better embrace humanity. 

It was a whirlwind of a day, full of another round of educational opportunities, collegiality, possibility, and integrity. Seeing her in the same spaces made me realize how much I cherish the individual she is.

Now it is Saturday and I really need a restful weekend, one with low-brain power, fresh air, happiness, and reflection. It's never fun realizing that the greatness around you is choosing different pathways for their brilliance. It makes 100% sense, but it is still difficult to process, especially when a year from now the way she rekindles hope in the world won't come from monthly meetings, office chats, phone calls, 5Ks, and processing. I will have to find another way to utilize such excellence. 

And I will. She's always been a hero to me, and like the other heroes that are departing, I respect their finesse, grace, and individual philosophies. I am, because we are. I love this one and applaud her ability to find next steps for herself. 

Cheers! It's the Work We Do. We May Not Know If It's Friday or Sunday, If We're Coming or Going, But We Do It Out of the Love for the Profession

Game knows game, so when I'm invited to a great evening of research, sharing of teaching, and vision of doing better for the world, I do it. It's even better when it is on someone else's dime. And that is why last night was such a delight, especially after a day of responding to emails which simply went like this: On June 21, 2022, I sent the following to you....I've never heard back. Can you check the status of this? Because you have not responded it's caused issues with xxxx and xxxx? The issue is beyond my role at th university, but one of leadership. Please let me know where this ended up last June.

Life moves on. New students come. New interests perk up. The assumption is when you do your job, they do their job. Of course, June is a summer month and although many are working on campus and the flow continues, there are those who interpret summer months as absolute vacation, even when they are on year-round contacts. Fascinating actually. But what can you do? We can only wait.

This is why an invitation to dinner - three course meal and a bottle of wine - was so appealing. Why not eat well after a day of chaos? It was an educative dinner and I was informed about interesting scholarship, possibilities, and what it's like to have leaders who respond to email. 

And with that, it's Friday. I need to be out of the house by 7 a.m. for round two. A breakfast. And I don't do mornings. 

Saturday never looked so good. I just want to stare at my ceiling and watch basketball on the t.v.

Shouting Out to Harding High School's Lady Presidents Basketball Team and Wishing Them the Best Year with Ubuntu On Their Side

When I got home at 4 yesterday I collapsed. I went to rest my eyes and woke up two hours later. That never happens. My brain and body were done...That Winter-session, followed by two days of classes did me in. So when guilt kicked in I decided it was time to ready the CWP website I manage to get it ready for 2023 summer programs. Of course, I hit the wrong button at the wrong time (it's coding and I have to be careful) and suddenly I lost the structure of what the entire website has been there for years. Long story short, I spent the evening geeking out in code-guesses restoring what I ruined. For the most part, I figured it out.

Then I checked social media platforms before I called it quits for the day. That's when I saw English Teacher, Ms. Morelli/ COACH Morelli, posted a few photos of her first year leading the women's basketball team at Harding High School. Go! Presidents! Quickly she responded, "Did you see our theme this year?" and I didn't. It was on the yellow t-shirt of the young woman in the right hand corner. 

UBUNTU.

My heart stopped. 

For years, Meagan and her teammates worked with Ubuntu Academy in the summers and, as the only English major (with one elementary major also on the team), they brought the work of Ubuntu back to winning seasons at Fairfield University. For years, Coach Sydney Johnson and the men's team did the same. I'm feeling old knowing that Meagan is already teaching and coaching for Bridgeport Public Schools, and it makes me feel great to see she's carrying her coursework and summer volunteerism with her at one of my favorite schools in Connecticut. 

Go Harding! Go Harding! Go Harding!

Last Spring, I asked Meagan to introduce teachers and Ibi Zoboi at the Writing Our Lives & Finding Our Stars conference, a culminating event for the Cultivated Women's Collective. 125 girls came to campus to share their writing with after school writing clubs and to learn from multiple sessions hosted by professional women. Her leadership has always been there, but that photo of her coaching (up top)...now that is absolute joy. She's chosen a mission and life to work with youth, and I love seeing her invest so much strength with her team. The leadership potential was always with her; not it's allowed to bloom.

The Ubuntu t-shirts, well, that brings butterflies to my stomach, I suppose.

Momentarily, her posts helped me to forget about the exhaustion and frustration of the work we all have to do. Because of her, I'm energized me for another day. 

2 Rad for This World...Finished a Graduate Course Last Night; Now, Bring on the Undergrads! Beam Me, Up! Cosmos!

For today's class, I went with an Alien theme. I don't know why. I've always wanted to be abducted since reading Whitley Strieber's account in the 80s. I was big into aliens, and always thought I was planted here by some other life force and one day they'd come get me. That, and this lady who used to work at Estée Lauder at the same Department store as me, always shared how she was a scientist here to study our life form (this is way before 3rd Rock from the Sun). She had me convinced that there were others like her, and that I wasn't to trust anyone.

How cool is that?

Anyway...aliens have nothing to do for the course I'm teaching which is the first exploration of education where we go into the community and work with schools. I have future kindergarten through high school possibilities here. These are undergraduates who may think about a career in education. Today, I definitely will appeal to the elementary types, and I'm sure the intellectual kids will be, What the #$@# is this class? Actually, we're going to have fun. A little nonsense now and then, relished by the wisest men. I will bring Jacqueline Woodson and Kobi Yamada with me.

Last night, I was kicked out of my first room, double booked, got it switched to another room - the technology would not work, and ended up squatting in a 3rd room that was empty (and actually is the best teaching room in our building). Go figure. I just wanted to teach, but it took a while to settle in a space. Funny how we hire people to arrange everything in technological spaces and suddenly room mishaps happen on the regular. It's frustrating, but I'm used to the nonsense and its become par for the course.

Note to self: You need to make calls about this today, however.

And as many of you know, I just finished a winter-session turbo, finished grading yesterday morning, and now am teaching classes that are at capacity. I was actually pressured to take all the kids on the waitlists, but I'm tired, cranky, and sick of the fact that I have full classes at capacity, while some teach classes of two or three students. Yes, it's the same preparation, but the grading and correspondence is not the same. 

They can wait. That's why they are on a wait list. 

But, at 3 p.m. this afternoon, I will have the first window of brain emancipation since last semester when I thought I was heading to Syracuse, but ended up on the couch for two weeks. The new year began with a turbo course and it fried me. 

Perhaps this is why I'm coming at this year with humor and joy only. I need to carve spaces for it wherever I can. And maybe this is the semester they'll come and take me home.

Nanu. Nanu. 

I'm starring in Dork & Mindy.

Vroom! Vroom! And Another Semester Kicks Off Today. Found This Toy While Walking Karal and, Well, You Know Me and Toys

There will be no reference to presidents, affairs, or getaway cars in this post. Not today, anyway.

Instead, I will focus on two things: the joys of play and childhood, and the happiness that comes with creativity. I'm not sure if this comes from a McDonald's Happy Meal or a more elaborate Super Mario apparatus, but it was clean, funny, and I figured I could repurpose it to make somebody else smile. Toys are good things, as long as a child doesn't choke on them. Adults love them, too. They junk, of course, but humorous and imaginative. A great distraction for all to come (predictions are bleak).

Am I ready for the chaos of another semester? Sort of. 

Have I prepped and put together all I can? Almost.

Do I still love teaching passionately? Yes.

Have the times changed and are students different? Indeed.

Yet, I have a decade of teaching at the Brown School and my intellectual journey taken before and after. I remain a lucky son of a Butch, and know that my experiences are unique and my opportunities have been plentiful. I've worked with the best: from Binghamton to LWP to the mentorship from students and teachers while teaching. I also now have the National Writing Project family. Too many have invested in me, so it is much easier to invest in others.

So, I'm good. Lucky. I happened up fortune many times. I count my blessings and keep an open mind on all still to come. 

The are numerous chapters to read and even more to live and write. They may be catastrophic, dooms-day oriented, and hard to believe, but such is the wackiness of the world.

So, Vroom! Vroom! Here we go again. And I'm off. 

Okay, Magical Monday. Spent Yesterday in Bookstores with Friends. We'll See What the Future Holds. I'm Just Riding the Waves

We stopped by Possible Futures  in New Haven to pick up copies of Kwame Alexander's The Door of No Return. I can't wait to get this book in the hands of teachers and readers in 2023, especially participants in Ubuntu Academy who are attending Central High School this year. Mr. King and I have great ideas.

Support local book stores and cherish the texts they sell. Community engagement is everything.

I'm also thankful for Dave and Kris who had me for a curry rice dinner of lamb, collards, potatoes, and  sauces. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday evening, although I'm not used to eating lamb (albeit delicious). We got into the Brough Brothers Bourbon, too. It was a way to thank them. 

Today, however, I will be spending time prepping for the semester ahead (Dave and Kris are heading to college visits with Val and Isaiah in New Orleans). I have several meetings with numerous colleagues on work ahead. 

Hard to believe we are entering another semester, 2023, with all the life that it has to offer. Also hard to believe I've been doing such work since 1995 (still partying with Prince like it's 1999).

I love that Possible Futures chooses to display local artists to accompany the great work of the community, all while celebrating authors that are relevant to the readers in most schools and neighborhoods. 

Here's to Martin Luther King, Jr....what he stands for...and the fight for democracy and possibility. I have my eyesight on tomorrow, as does this bookstore in New Haven. Human togetherness. That's what matters most.

I just hope I have the energy to keep up (but that's been the story since I first chose education as a career). 

These Aren't Giganting Cheerios Floating in Urine, They Were Last Nights Dinner at 11:30 p.m. When I Finally Said, "I'm Done."

I had one goal and I thought I could get it completed by noon. I wanted to finish 19 research proposals so (1) I might go to dinner with friends and (2) I could be ready for Sunday, where I really need to concentrate on courses this spring (all of them full to capacity). 

I failed. I finished at 11:30 when I finally got to my dinner. Even if I did stock up on good foods to cook, all of them took time, so I ended up heating soup and adding some Italian round things that were given to me when I was sick. I figured they might be more filling for my stomach that soup water and tiny strips of pasta string. It worked.

This is how educators work. We don't want to, but sometimes we have to give more when we have nothing else to give. I know that I have these same 19 in the summer for Capstone, and I also know the vast majority of them (all but one) will be teaching full time this spring. The way I see it, I am investing in all still to come, not only for them, but for their students and colleagues.

I also realize I'm living the book of Job at the University right now, or J.B. by Archibald MacLeish if you prefer. I don't know where I got this trait from, but I could have 45 darts thrown at my face, bowling balls chucked at my crotch, and hot coals put under my feet, and I still find away to say, "Hey, there's a Butterly. Have you read this poem?"

As things unravel and unfold, and I'm starting to share more and more about the world I've been living, people have been saying, "I don't know how you kept all of this in for all these years." Well, I'm a fan of friends and people around me and I was hoping for the best. I know I do good with with CWP-Fairfield and it speaks for itself. I can't, however, make sense or acknowledge the anarchy and insanity around me. I need to charge through that to do good for kids and teachers. 

I suppose as more and more is learned, I will still be running forward with puppy dogs in my arm, fresh-baked Cookies on the horizon, and the need to help one more kid to improve. I can't control the chaos - the circus - the shit show around me. I only have control of me: my attitude, my choices, my intents, and my integrity. 

They're Still as Crazy as They Were in 1980 (When I Was Ten), but Four Decades Later...Maybe Wiser...I'm Wondering, "Have They Become Crazier or is That Just Me?"

I'm not even sure how I want to approach this post. There are a lot of cross-sections, intersections, crossroads, timelines, and culture swirling in my head, but it's what is on my brain.

Add to this, family history.

 In 1980, the movie The Gods Must Be Crazy came out, directed by Jamie Lys, and set in South Africa. I was ten years old, Trevor Noah, perhaps, was not even born (don't think so...he's a young stud), but it has always been a classic and been in the back of my mind...first as a middle school student, then throughout college, and always as a phrase in adult life. The Gods are Crazy...but craziness is culturally and historically established, too.

Granted, I first saw the movie in the late 80s (when I was still feathering my hair) right after eating green spaghetti for the first time at my aunt and uncles on Long Island (note: this was horrifying to our side of the family. It was just pasta and pesto with tomatoes ... but for our upstate NY posse, spaghetti was spaghetti...the kind with hot sausage, RED SAUCE and meatballs). My cousin who lived his senior year in Zimbabwe, had a VHS tape of the movie, and as a two-Crandall family crew, we hunkered around a t.v. in their living room. Summary. We were fed pesto pasta, followed by a screening of The Gods Must Be Crazy.

Both were out beyond normalcy for  our branch of Crandalls. We knew kielbasa, Mac-n-cheese, normal spaghetti, episodes of Days of Our Lives, and Mash. In Long Island, however, they ate pasta the color of grass and viewed movies with African humor that, at the time, we had no context for. "Why is that guy wearing a dishtowel around his junk," I believe my father asked.

Truth is, I actually like pesto-pasta now and was the only one in my family who stayed awake to watch The Gods Must Be Crazy until its end. My Aunt and Uncle saw it before and zonked out rather quickly, and my parents & sisters were plotting a way to leave the house so they could get McDonald's (which are hard to find in eastern Long Island where cheeseburgers cost $45 for the rich and ridiculous. 

I admit. at the time, I had no idea what the movie was about and I definitely had never eaten noodles with Gumby-green (I think my mom snuck my sisters and I PB& Js when no one was looking).In my adult life I grew to see how The Gods Must Be Crazy was a brilliant film, especially for its time, and I think about it often. I also keep pesto in my fridge, sometimes make it fresh from summer gardens, and love it on pasta.

But that's not the point of this post. 

The point is, I was up at 4 a.m yesterday morning because I couldn't sleep. Too much was on my mind. I was also on campus from 6:30 a.m. until 9 p.m. yesterday simply trying to patch things up and get on top of the crazy game. I did go home for a while and walked Karal and fed her..but also had a day of grading graduate work, mailing 248 copies of Power of Words (I actually choked up when four employees in the mail room rolled up their sleeves and helped me seal envelopes and get them postal-ready - are you okay, Crandall? Yes. I'm just thankful to receive help. I'm a little overwhelmed that you are helping me.that..that I have support...

But all of this brought me back. The Gods are Frickn' Crazy. They always will be. My Coca Cola bottle, right now, is higher education as a system in itself. I just don't know what to make of it, and I'm in my 16th year of being a cog in its system. I'm trying to figure out this thing that I've made my career, and how drastically different it is from the world where I grew up and the world I inhabit every day beyond campus (in K-12 schools, with everyday people, with teachers, with students). 

University = the Coca Cola bottle. I'm trying to make make sense of it, and I'm learning that it's not supposed to make sense. And that's the point. It's a cultural artifact with cultural context that is 100% foreign from the way I was raised and came to understand the world. It's something from another world, and I am supposed to make sense of...because I entered it with hope take part in it.

It is what it is

...just like green spaghetti (which is actually quite nice)...

This is all to say, the movie makes sense and d I'm likely to have green pasta this weekend at some point.

But, lord. It is so insane. Looney. Nuts. A total shit show. A circus. Way beyond the cuckoo's nest. Yet, it has so much power. 

Yes, The Gods Must Be Crazy. What else could explain why this is as it is?

Lares Compitales - Household God of the Crossroads...Composing at the Crossroads. I Think I Have a Summer Theme

I started Compital Crandall with the idea of branching veins in a leaf that transports water, and learned of Lares Compitales, Roman household God of those moments in life where decisions must come - the intersections for choice and what I always argue, possibility.

Trying to tap my inner-optimist, where two roads diverse in the woods and I choose the one that is more hopeful. I like this as a theme for summer programs, although I will need to think more about where I'm going with this, as we are in year 10 of our National Writing Project's site summer redesign, and I'm at the crossroads of where she the work go next. 

Kids are always at crossroads, and so are their teachers. 

So, I say, let's explore this some in writing, reading, conversation, and discussion. That is the summer way of life.

Last night, I finished the last class of the winter-session and, to be honest, it wiped me out in a good way. It's funny that a few of the students are looking at motivation, as that is something I've needed for myself and to coach many of the students. It was not an easy sell, but I think we achieved what we set out for.

I'm always thinking about the moments where we are and what path we may take: one of cynicism and despair, and the other with inquiry and open-mindedness. It seems such bifurcation might be extended to one heck of a summer of writing.

And with that...I welcome you, Friday. 

And This is Where I Am in the Universe, As it Mixes with Higher Education, Morality, Purpose, Integrity, and all Else. I Just Don't Know.

If I had a few seconds to make sense of it all, I would try to make sense of it. Yet, I don't think attempting to make sense of any thing will do any good, because there's no sense in any of it. And this is where I am on a Thursday.

I was up until midnight grading, but didn't finish. I needed to get rest so I can be strong for the last night of classes. I've been up grading since 6 a.m. Meanwhile, I have meetings that are pointless, especially when people come to me to figure out what is happening when they made all the decisions that have caused all the chaos, and now they're wondering why all this is happening? Um, I told you this would likely happen and advised against it. Well, okay. I have no answers, because you are the answer you're looking for...you did this. 

I give up. 

No, I don't. 

I invest in kids and teachers. Period. I believe in the National Writing Project and what research in literacy has shown me again and again. I believe in hard work, driven purpose, joy, and expertise. I believe in listening, doing for others, and the power of community.

Institutions of Higher Education. Well? You are at the crossroads of whether or not you stand for integrity, knowledge, values, and purpose, or simply profit with a facade of truth. I can't fix that if the power that be believe in one thing when the rest of us believe in the other. What can we do but wait?

I have papers to grade. I have courses to plan. I have school districts and young people to support. I don't have time for the incompetency that comes from hubris, greed, and short-sighted, ill-informed decision making. 

Cause and effect. You learn this in almost every class as a student. 

You caused this. Rest in its effect. 

Systems, 101.

I have work to do. I have to teach. I have schools to visit. I have tomorrow's leaders to build. I have joy to restore.

When He's Not Quite Surrendering, But He's Admitting, "My Lord, I Need to Sleep. I Should Wake Up More Refreshed in the Morning" - Didn't Meet My Goals but Came Close

I have no problem being honest. Since the new year began, I've been up at six planning, reading, grading, teaching, assigning, assisting, conferencing, and reflecting. 6 a.m. I begin. 11 p.m. I end. Weekends I catch up and get a little ahead. It all ends this weekend. 

Last night, a whole new round of student work came in and I said, "Crandall, get this done before you go to bed," but then a litany of students recommendation reminders came through, due tomorrow, so I had to reevaluate and reprioritize. After three hours of doing those I thought, "Crap, my students are waiting for my feedback on tonight's work."

Well, it's already tomorrow morning and I'm up at 6 a.m. back at it. Whatever it takes. Let them get angry with me if they want. Winter-sessions are quite impossible, even if they do remind me why I love teaching and doing what I do. The irony is, as I send back yesterday's work, they're now sending tonight's work. The email is dinging at a steady beat, indeed.

TV hasn't been on. Books (besides course texts) haven't been read. And I've only eaten crackers...not even cheese. I'm on a full, 24/7 marathon in support of my graduate students, as there's no other choice: the new semester begins next week and we have to finish this course, so they get to their new ones.

I am proud of what my graduate students have accomplished. I'm prouder that I've been able to find energy to keep encouraging them, and I'm grateful this short stint is about to end.

I did surrender the work last night, but after a good sleep, I'm right back at it. Perhaps, I can tuck that white flag away.

Okay Second Tuesday of January, I Feel You. In Addition to Being All Three Jugglers at Once, You're Also on Roller Skates and Spinning Plates

"I imagine you have plates spinning in a number of directions, Crandall," I remember Kelly Chandler-Olcott saying to me one summer while teaching a course at LeMoyne, collecting data with her on a summer literacy project, and taking one of my last doctoral classes. "In this profession, we all have moments like this."

I'm used to freaking out, and I suppose much of what we do in this profession is at the crossroads of fight or flight. I typically choose to fight, but flapping my wings to another universe has entered my mind a lot more often than usual these last two weeks. Why? In addition to not having a break (sick), not seeing family (still distraught) and getting ready for another semester (ugh), I've been teaching a 15-week course in two weeks. 

And I'm getting it done. And the students are going crazy. And I'm wondering about the good, the bad, and the ugly of it all. And I know that when they finish (which they will), the will say, "How the heck did we get so much accomplished in just eight classes?"

Um, backwards design. Strategic teaching. Management. And insanity on all of our parts. I think what is most troublesome is that students pay for this work and some love to tease me on how much they pay so that I can torcher them. I assure them that the economical model isn't benefiting me on an adjunct's salary they pay for the course. I'm a cog for profit in this higher education game. 

But I love teaching. Each and every second of this time when I've wanted to throw in the towel, I sort of smirk knowing how much satisfaction I feel when the work comes in and I am seeing they are doing miraculously given the obstacles we're all facing.

Granted, there's bound to be breakdowns this week and I imagine a few incompletes and extensions will need to be granted (it's true of 15-week courses, too). 

But they got this. We got this. We have no other choice.

Meanwhile, I'm sure dancing elephants, cycling monkeys, and a few chainsaws will be added to my circus this week. And all I can do is juggle in all the spaces at once.

I Caught Up with Grading Early, so Ended Up at Lowe's Then Eli's by 2 pm. Helped Oona Put Blinds Up on Her Windows & Walked to the Beach

Oh, Sunday. How you tease us, and how much every day of the week should be as chill as you are? What's that? It's Monday? #@$@#. Here we go again.

I got up early on Sunday and began finishing the last of the grading. I felt bad for the remaining 5 students because they are waiting on my feedback so they can move forward with the work ahead this week. Many of my students are in schools teaching, so having time to do substantial work during the week is nearly impossible. As one of my teachers said, "I gave them a film to watch so I had the day to work at my desk." We expect so much from teachers, especially as they are advancing their degrees. 

Oona, Pam, and I stopped at Lowe's so Oona could get blinds, Pam could get floorboard paint, and I could get insulation tape. On the way back, we also got groceries, and had lunch at Eli's. I don't think I appreciate day-driving much, especially wine. But we had Brussel sprouts, potatoes, Philly-steak egg rolls, and garlic chicken. The restaurant has Happy Hour Sundays for Football games, so we watched Buffalo and the Patriots and killed a bottle of wine (which was also 50% off...or in restaurant translation...the price the bottle in the store). 

I also had time to take Karal and Jake to the beach. For those of you have dogs, you know how they are on leashes, especially during poop-time. Having to pick it up in baggies with two strong dogs on leashes is quite the feat. 

I then went to Oona's and played rent-a-husband, putting up her bedroom blinds which got easier as I figured out the routine of the particular brand she bought. There are some angles, however, that are just a @#$@. 

I came home in the evening to grade the stragglers...the inevitable bunch of students who always turn things in late with really developed excuses. In a two-week course, I'm more lenient. I understand the pace and feel it in my gut how much I'm asking them to do in such a short time. Then again, I'm matching them by putting in just as much time and helping them because it's a lot of work in a very, very short time.

But this morning, it's Monday. Two meetings, a day in the office, two more meetings, and then planning for the last three days of class this week.

My reward? There's a whole new lot of classes beginning next Tuesday.

Sunday Seems Like a Good Day to Blog About POW! POWER OF WORDS, the 9th edition...All Possible Because of Great Teachers, Incredible Youth, and Inspiring Minds

On Friday, the 9th edition of POW! POWER OF WORDS arrived to my office at Fairfield University. We began publishing student writers in a redesign of our programs and this year, through funding from the Cornelia T. Bailey New Era Writers program, received support to host 8 after-school programs for girls to build the writing lives of Connecticut youth. It was a tremendous success, and now they have a publication to show friends and family. We included them with the summer writers because, well, "You gotta write, A'ight!"

This year's edition was dedicated to Matt Tullis, a man who taught for us and volunteered time to help young people with digital podcasting and storytelling possibilities. He will be missed and we owe much of our success to his contributions over the years. May he Rest In Peace.

We're awaiting final word for a significant grant for the 2023-2024 programs, but I'll shy away from announcing that until it is actually confirmed. 

In the next few weeks, I need to add this year's work to the table of several years so I can give an accurate number of the #s of kids and teachers we've published - all with excitement that this year will be the 10th edition, (fingers-crossed).

Happy Sunday, world. Fola Sumpter fell in love with Gholdy Muhammad's Cultivating Genius, and when Ibi Zoboi published Star Child: A Biographical Constellation of Octavia Estelle Butler, I knew we had a mission. She and several teachers discussed what it would be like to united writing programs for girls at their school and we were lucky to get support. We made it happen and I'm proud of all the teachers and writers involved....the Cultivated Women's Collective and the literacy lab writers. It's a grade emblem for what 2022 was all about. 

Friday Nights Have Branched Out to New Responsibilities and Joy...Merma and Oliwia for Bottle Changes, Diaper Changes, and Sitting Still

It's been a minute since I've seen baby Oliwia, as I was sick, missed the holidays, then Kaitlyn was sick. Ah, but Dominik & their family are out and about again and the one thing that makes me sit still sat in my arms and slept for a while before she woke up hungry and La-La-Merma Pam performed the proceedings.

It's also been a while for Karal to be out the house as Jake was also ready to have company now that his leg is healing (post surgery). She was as spastic as always and I'm learning more that the terrier genes are just wound-up and enthusiastic around people. She saves the calm, restful dog-mode for Mount Pleasant.

Also thrilled to report that 278 pounds of POW! Power of Words,  the 9th edition of the literacy labs arrived to my office ready to be distributed to the Cultivated Women's Collective and young writers who participated in our summer programs. When I brought a copy to Marie-Laurie Kugal, the grant officer who helped me to secure anCornelia T. Bailey donation, I had to give her a high five. In six months, I found 8 teachers from 8 schools and over 100 middle and secondary girl writers, ran after-school clubs, hosted a Writing Our Lives conference, and now have been able to publish their hard work. I'm sure I will be writing about this more.

Today, I need to nerd out and grade, as my 19 graduate students are getting anxious for the heavy lift this week and need feedback on their annotations, thinking, and initial drafts of first steps. I committed myself to this work, and I'm loving every second, even if it is a lot in a very short time. 

But last night, cheeseburger pizza from Paradise, and the calm of a baby foreshadowed that weekends are likely to be different from now on, which I welcome.

Here's to the weekend!

The Robin Hood Work That We Do (And Yes, I Need To Explore this Metaphor More)...But for Now It's What I'm Thinking

I'm two weeks into a winter-session research course and I'm expecting my graduate students to accomplish much in a short time. In particular, they need to offer a research proposal: classes are quick, to the point, and necessary. They can do great things, but the instruction is of utmost importance, which brings me to the channeling of Robin Hood (at least what my memory of the character is - Have I ever seen the cartoons or movies?). 

Seriously, though, how do you take from those who have and offer it to those that do not.

I've always claimed intellectual Robin Hood for the work I do, as I benefited from degrees of higher education. At the epicenter of anything I do, though, is for the teachers and young people in K-12 schools who are not always as privy to the intellectual arenas that are quite privileged. So, I play the game of doing bridgework (COMPITAL) and branching arms between the arenas, bringing funds for teachers, young people, writing opportunities and books...oh, so many books.

I need to play more with the Robin Hood metaphor, but I do know I've never been interested in giving the haves more haves. Rather, I want to see those who are in the trenches to have language for data sets to move their classrooms to a better universe for the young people they work with. And I will load them with all the tools I have so they have access to a better life....that is, robbing from the University castle to bring to workers who are getting the work done.

There's the analogy of saying so many are born on 3rd base thinking they hit a triple, and I much prefer working with the people who don't even know there's a ball game being played. 

In addition to the Seahorse, a male creature that births the young, I am also a Robin Hood of sorts, trying to steal from the rich and give to the poor.

Intellectual Robin Hood. 

And with that, I'm starting my day.

Karal is Branching Out at the Crossroads of American Milkbone Biscuits and the Cheeseburger-Flavored Cookies from South Korea

I went to campus to teach last night's online graduate course (typed curse accidentally...it can be viewed this way, but I love it. While there, the baron territory that it is, I was visited by a new faculty member in Philosophy, who brought me a Christmas present...

... "well, it's for Karal, and not you,"

which was burger and cheese flavored from S. Korea....actually, I lie. They're from S. Korea, and the treats were from Trader Joe's, but I can embellish, can't I?

The dog was more than thrilled, although one of them created stinky farts rather quickly. Cheeseburgers in any form cause smelly gas...

...but she was thankful. She loved them, and I have to say, a random, unexpected gift was truly delightful, especially because the campus was totally empty. I truly appreciated the gesture.

"I just stopped by to check out my classrooms for the spring," I was told.

I love the vibe of anyone checking out space before they set out to teach. I shall be learning more S. Korean philosophy in the very near future, as this is new faculty I can totally groove with. They begin this month and I've heard nothing but great things from the brilliant minds of Philosophy and how much they love this hire. Win/Win.

I mean, cookies? for Karal? This is beautiful. Good to expand the love of Karal beyond the gifting of Dr. Beth Boquet.

One more night this week, and then three more classes. As I've been telling my graduate students, "We got this." 

We do, because we have no other choice. This fast-paced winter-session is total proof that the one thing I love above all else is teaching and creating relationships with student. I would love to talk about the work with peers, but I realize most are at home dreading the return to University life. For me, however, I still fin absolute joy via instruction. I have 19 students and I love the work they're proposing to do this Spring.

Why Yes, It is a Bottle Opener Keychain with Nail Clipping Opportunities...a Germanic Apparatus to Meet Every Human Need

I will never understand why nails must grow as quickly as they do, but I'm accustomed to it, as I am the lengthy nose-hairs that come with middle age. After an inquiry from my sister, I learned that my nephew's Christmas gift is multifaceted and I'm now in possession of a perfect gift: a traveling beer opener and nail clipper in one apparatus. Ch'ching. Bonus.

I discovered this on a day of butt-widening work where I prepped, graded, and presented the 2nd class of Action Research during a winter session...lord help this man covering 15 weeks of material in two-weeks with already exhausted graduate students prepping for 2nd semester. Why, yes. I am exhausted, too, but the work needs to get done and I'll do all I can to achieve their goals. And I can cut my nails, too, although I'm bypassing bottle opening until I survive this rigor.

I have 19 students to coach towards a successful research proposal before they conduct a semester-long, action research project that will result in Capstone...their final class. I'm sweating, too. 

I didn't anticipate yesterday would be a 14-hour day, but it was. I did get to store to buy spinach, though. I figured I needed the nutrient for omelets this and next week. Also got yogurt and fruit, knowing that sitting still is, indeed, sprawling the butt that sits all day. When it rains like it did yesterday, I also know that outdoor movement is not happening. It didn't. Karal's stink-eye is evidence of that. 

Today is day two, before tomorrow's day three, and we'll get there. I am thinking about hosting an asynchronous session for this evening, so I have time to talk with students in small groups to coach them as best as I can. I'm trying to put myself in their position, and choosing optimism, humor, and support to get them through this.

The Gods must be crazy. I know I am.

On the 3rd Day of January, My Family Gave to Me...All the Gifts I Missed While at Home, Suffering in Flu-Misery. I Am Thankful.

I missed Christmas this year. I slept. I hacked. I coughed. I sneezed. And I lived on the toilet. It was a beautiful week. As much as I thought I'd eventually make it to Syracuse for festivities, it didn't happen. Instead, I sent Chitunga with a carload of gifts. He gave me a power washer and home video monitoring station, and then last night, after traveling through New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Kentucky, and West Virginia, the CNY/Louisville gifts came my way. To be honest, seeing him and talking for a while is always the greatest gift. The material goods are secondary. He's home safe now in his apartment. He has a busy week and is back to an 80-hour schedule....tax season and auditing upon his field.

I was grading (winter session course) when the packages arrived. I am super happy to finally have a matching cookery set...this is, after living in four states and making do with whatever Salvation Army finds I had....actually, I think some of it came from Erin when I lived with her. I now have matching pots and pans. Nikki added to my Grogu collection, and apparently people think I love my bourbon (this from a guy who was thinking 2023 would be without bourbon...I stand corrected). Cynde sent a t-shirt and bathroom towel about how everyone shits at Christmas, and Dylan brought me a keychain from Germany which I love beyond words for many, many reasons. I am now officially Yeti-ready for margaritas on the beach, as I can join all the others who have Yeti mugs to carry tequila while lying in the sand (yes, we're supposed to say its coffee). Thanks. I will fit in at Walnut Beach better than ever.

As I type this (last night for this morning), Karal is lying on my leg. It's her new thing to fall asleep on my lap at 10 p.m. as I work long past the day hours. I'm amazed she finds the right location and can snore as she does...it's comforting. 

I am feeling the love. I am appreciating the kindness. Yes, I wish I was in Syracuse for family time, but I got all the updates from Chitunga and see exactly why Pam says, "a Chitunga smile or laugh erases all the negativity in the universe. It's that special." 

I know that these gifts traveled to central New York and Kentucky, too. I'm thankful he represented while I slept and recovered. I'm hopeful for Christmas 2023. Actually, I'm hoping the entire year is better.

And if you want to sip bourbon or play with Grogu, you know where to go. Mt. Pleasant has what you need.

It's Day One of 2023, and I Hit Up Clearance at Burlington...Think I'm Ready for December Next Year, Already. Karal's Not Sure of New Throw Pillows

Pam called and said she was going to do clearance at Burlington if I wanted to go, and I'm always up for being a cheapskate. I loaded up with numerous items for the holidays next year, picked up stuff for Casey, but am definitely keeping the glass gnome tree for myself...it will look too good with the nativity set and snowman I keep by the window....when you can do a Grannie Annie, you always do a Grannie Annie.

I've also been thinking I needed new pillows for my couch and chair, as the ones that came with the furniture thinned out really quickly, especially with Karal leap-frogging from bed to couch to bay window to my lap. I thought I needed meatier cushions and more robust colors, and I lucked out by finding the perfect ones for much cheaper than I was finding online. There's not as much room for her craziness and she's already curling up by my feet, which is a good thing.

Don't tell her, but I got several dog toys on clearance too. They're all stored away for next year...here's hoping I will be able to partake in festivities, unlike this year.

I also finished the first season of Wednesday. I believe I'm a bit OCD with my binge-watching. Once I start a show, I can't stop and have to watch it in its entirely

Chitunga spent last night in Pittsburgh, and I'm hoping I'll get to see him to tomorrow night...maybe even take him out to dinner. Gifts from my family have traveled through four states before they've come to me. It makes them that much more special, especially since there's really no greater gift than him and his Bryan-esque way of seeing all angles of the family in a year. That used to be my role.

Today's preparatory day for classes and the POW mailings to come. The books should be in this week and there are 200 kids awaiting their much-later-than-anticipated publications. 

Happy Monday, World. May this year be much, much better than the last few. 

Welcome to Compital...the 2023 Crandall Space for Branching Out and Veining My Way Through the Foliage of Life...Year 16 of Daily Blogging

A few weeks ago, I came across the word compital, which is the word for the ways that veins branch along leaves. In Ancient Rome, Compitalia was an annual festival for the household deities of crossroads....two roads diverge in the woods...once again, I choose the ones less traveled.

Hoping they will make all the difference. 

I was actually seeing a word for bridging and connecting, when compital simply appeared. It made sense, and since it seems I'm always on the fork in the road between this or that, here or there, one way or the other, regret and promise, and self-doubt and confidence, I said, "Why not be Compital Crandall for a year?" I mean, I've been thinking a lot about how the human body is just a mechanical transport for water. The older I get, the more I realize it's also the way to move ideas and knowledge around the world.

So, this will be the space for 2023...the location for nightly thinking that gets posted the following morning (I cannot fall asleep unless I do a mental dump of what's on my mind). And what's on my mind this morning is reflections from 2022 - the annual montage. I will leave you with this on the 1st of January, 2023, and hope it becomes a year of serenity for us all.