Letter to My Children: Hunger, Homework, and a Story

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Letter to My Children: Hunger, Homework, and a Story

Dearest Beloveds,

There is a particular iteration of Cranky Monster who arrives at school pickup. Her pointy elbows scrape my side. Her jagged teeth feed on cutting remarks and snarky asides. Your mother, as you both know, has a long and intimate relationship with this monster. We are buddies in a way.

She shows up when I am overwhelmed, hungry, thirsty, and overstimulated. So, I placate this monster when I see her dancing with you two with juice, snacks, and quiet.

She is why I don’t pepper you with questions the moment you get into the car. I want to give you both a chance to land from your day. Reset into yourselves, pause, and regroup.

And breathe and settle.

Regroup for sports and settle into insect collection walks for Dragon.

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Letter to My Children: Reharmonizing and Fishing

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Letter to My Children: Reharmonizing and Fishing

Bean sang out from her chair. “Today is Monday. Today is Monday. Monday string beans. All you hungry children..”

Dragon joined in for the chorus, “come and eat it up.”

Burbling out in unison, the tune resonated off the walls and windows.

“Wednesday, zzzooop. Tuesday, spaghetti. Monday, string beans.”

Oh my beloveds, you are literally reharmonizing yourselves back into being home. Hooray!!*

I joined in for the final verse. “All you hungry children, come and eat it UP!”

Our summer time apart (camp) this year has gifted many unforeseen ripples as we reintegrate ourselves as a foursome.

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Letter to Dragon: Drum ... drum drum ... drum drum

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Letter to Dragon: Drum ... drum drum ... drum drum

Dearest Dragon,

What a shining day it was! Making a hand drum with Mark Ressl of The Giving Trees in Rosendale has to be possibly one of the most true experiences of my 49 years on this planet. True as in killing chickens, eating a porcupine, giving birth, my God immersion experience, and sitting with Baba’s body after he passed - that level of true.

Really, Mom, you are saying this about a drum making workshop?

Yup, my dearest, I am.

Life comes from death. Which, in turn, makes more life. It is one big circle. It is all the same thing - just different forms.

The life of a drum comes from the death of an animal. Our life comes from the death of vegetables and animals that feed us. One day, in turn, our lives will nourish worms and plants. This is truth.

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Letter to the Dragon: Cultural Mirror Training

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Letter to the Dragon: Cultural Mirror Training

“Why don’t you wear your sister’s pink rain jacket until we get you a new one.”

“Mom! Nooo! I will bring my other too small one to school.”

Sigh. Is this because it is pink? Or because your sister has cooties?

“Okay.”

No reason to delve. He has to figure out this himself. Just be grateful for all of those years you were dressing him in whatever gave you pleasure.

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Letter to my Children: School Night Pleasure Reading Mea Culpa

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Letter to my Children: School Night Pleasure Reading Mea Culpa

Dearest Beloveds,

This is a mea culpa for our current nighttime routine - where I tell you to stop reading pleasure books and Turn off the light! Tomorrow morning is an early day! I am serious! No, you cannot have 5 more minutes! etc etc

The reason your mother is apologizing is because I get it. I totally understand the draw/need/desire/ache to turn the page/to see what happens/to visit longer in the fog of an alternative world. I get it, children.

I get it - which is why I apologize. Mea culpa AND I am going to keep talking about whether it is good choice to stay up late reading pleasure books on a school night (nope, not a good choice). Classic Both/And.

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Letter to my Children: How to Introduce Yourself

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Letter to my Children: How to Introduce Yourself

My beloved children,

As you know, I grew up in Washington DC. Our nation’s capital, an epicenter of Global North power, and the accompanied jostling endemic to such power. There was a ubiquitous question in the cocktail party circuit. A refrain peeling out from many perfunctory conversations over square cheese bites.

“So, what do you do?”

You are really asking where I can be categorized in the ladder of capitalism. I see you.

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Letter to My Children: Come To The TABLE!

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Letter to My Children: Come To The TABLE!

Dearest Beloveds,

Spring springs, oncology visits abate, and your mother dives a new community. I have become a member of Coming To The TABLE (CTTT).* I have barely begun to scratch the surface of this amazing organization and am already fluttering with excitement and potentialities, not least of which is volunteering all of us to assist with the Freedom Walk 2026.

250 years after 1776, activists will walk the 750 mile trek of the Underground Railroad, “following 19th century routes to freedom.” They are starting in 19 days. Beginning in Maryland, they are tracing the routes traveled by Harriet Tubman and so many other frightened, courageous, inspiring souls - through New Jersey, New York, and into Canada.

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Letter to my Children: Get Ready Man and What the Heck?!

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Letter to my Children: Get Ready Man and What the Heck?!

During the last snowday, teetering on the roof of the wood shelter, Bean was stricken with indecision. “Should I jump?”

From the ground Dragon called up to Bean, , “Get ready! Get read-y!!”

“Dragon, stop!”

“The worllld is coming to an end!”

We all started laughing.

Thank you Thurber.

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Letter to my Children: Single Use Plastic ... Bespoke Clothing

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Letter to my Children: Single Use Plastic ... Bespoke Clothing

Recently, you two played very quiet indoor soccer. On the other end of the building your mother had this internal conversation.

Corinna, raise your hand. You will be mad at yourself if you ignore this nudge to speak.

I am going to ask this question in front of all of these fellow soccer parents - out myself as a crunchy hippy environmentalist - even though I know the answer is capitalism and no, there is no wiggle room.

Yup. Be the Lorax.

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