Letter to My Children: Paddidles, Grilled Cheese, and Reading in the Bath
/
“Padiddle!”
“Where?”
“The blue truck behind us.”
“Bean, you have padiddle glasses on.”
And she does.
Read More
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.
Read MoreLetter 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.
Read MoreLetter 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.
Read MoreLetter 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.
Read MoreLetter 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.
Read MoreLetter 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.
Read MoreLetter to My Children: Whitey On the Moon
/
Dearest Beloveds,
I almost guarantee this poem is not one you might encounter in your academic career. If not, I salute your teacher. If so, well, you chose to come down and join this family with me as your Momma, so you’re welcome - you get to read it twice. (I can feel the future adolescent eye rolls.)
Courtesy of The Emerald’s June 23 2020 podcast entitled Space Hex: The Curse of Restlessness in Worldviews of Perpetual Escape, I have been exposed to Gil Scott-Heron's "Whitey on the Moon" released in 1970. Here is the full text (and you can hear Scott-Heron performing it below*:
A rat done bit my sister Nell.
With whitey on the moon
Her face and arms began to swell
And whitey's on the moon
I can't pay no doctor bills
But whitey's on the moon
Ten years from now I'll be paying still
While whitey's on the moon
Letter to my Children: Apple Pie, Fart Jokes, and Personalized Stationary
/
Dearest Beloveds,
We are right around the 40 day mark for your new school. The beautiful 40 day mark where new habits form, transformation occurs, and possibilities beckon. I am pleased to note that the 40 day mark on your ends has been demarcated by two key things in life: apple pie and a really good fart joke.
Read MoreA Letter to My Children: Need vs Want
/
Dearest Beloveds,
Courtesy of my obsessive listening to The Emerald Podcast while you two were at camp I have been exposed to this 2013 quote from James Gustav Speth (Gus), co-founder of the National Resources Defense Council, twice in the past few weeks.
I used to think that top environmental problems were biodiversity loss, ecosystem collapse and climate change. I thought that thirty years of good science could address these problems. I was wrong. The top environmental problems are selfishness, greed and apathy, and to deal with these we need a cultural and spiritual transformation. And we scientists don’t know how to do that.
Speth leads me directly into why I can’t sleep the nights after our new car arrives.
Read MoreLetter to my Children: On Saying I am Sorry and I Love you Rituals
/
Dearest Beloveds,
In the spirit of non-martyrdom I want to introduce this missive by sharing a quote from Swami Kripalu that I heard recently. “Every time you judge yourself you break your own heart.” Cheers to avoiding self-inflicted heartbreak!
Your Momma vividly remembers walking with my friend E when I was about 9/10 years old. We were both complaining about how unreasonable and difficult our mothers were. E turned to me and said, “I have found it helps if you apologize first.”
I remember trying it and being shocked by how effective it was - reducing both the intensity and the duration of whatever kerfuffle the two of us were tussling over.
Read MoreLetter to my Children: Letters from my Children
/
Dearest Beloveds,
I wish I could imagine where you two are writing your letters home. Sitting up in bed and balancing your paper on your knees as you listen to rain hitting the sides of the tent? Laying on your bellies on your inspection ready sheets and writing on your pillows? Crouched on the floor writing hunched over on the floor of your cabin?
Momma and Dadda* are writing on one corner of the dining table. Our materials are strewn about because we don’t need to clear that end for meals.
Read More
