A look back at 2017…
One year ago today, I sat down to put together a census of sorts, a calling out of things that happened over the course of the year 2016, an assessment of what had come to pass and what might still be. The second paragraph of that post reads:
2016 seems to have been especially hard on so many. The obvious reasons include the divisive and contentious election and seemingly relentless celebrity deaths, but there were abundant natural disasters, acts of terrorism, and domestic riots. It was a year in which, regardless of where one lands on the spectrum, we wondered who on earth those people on the opposite side actually were.
Last year’s New Year’s Eve felt like a momentary pause on a long and exhausting journey, one to which we weren’t exactly thrilled to be party. This year doesn’t feel much different. I could swap out the year in the paragraph above and copy/paste my way into 2018. And I bet I could probably do the same thing in another year. That’s worth noting. Continue reading “But Seas Between Us Broad Have Roared”
A few notes, and things I wanted to mark down:
Went down to Davidson last night for the annual Conarroe lecture, whose guest speaker this year was the author Lorrie Moore. It was nice to see Joel again–looking well and dapper as always–and to hear his infamous introductions. Plus, got to see good Davidson friends. As is my custom, I picked up a couple of books for autographs–this time for Annie, whose entries on the celebrated autograph bookshelf are only getting started. Moore wrote a funny inscription to her, but Don DeLillo’s is still in the lead for funniest, I think.
Mary’s brother, Jerry, passed away following a brief illness. Losing her younger sibling has been difficult.
Dad has upgraded the exhaust system for his ‘Vette, and I was able to get behind the wheel for the first time last weekend. It certainly boogies.
Continue reading “Quick Takes, early February”
I’m making my world a little smaller on purpose.
My new job is going well and keeping me busy–the entire week last week was essentially booked wall to wall with meetings and appointments, all good–so my workday is more or less a blur between the hours of morning and evening. Because of the typical workday hours at Mitchell, and because of preschool hours, I am often the last person in the office and the last person out at the end of the day. Wohali, one of the college’s security team, stops by to lock up the house, and I have to ask him to come back later.
Once home, I try to keep the office out of the couple of hours I’ll get to see the kiddos before bed. The 3.6 mile commute between my driveway and my office is a big deal in that regard–I can work right up until dinner time, squeezing in a few extra things before supper.
The funny thing is that my commute isn’t entirely a new route–it’s just a trip up Broad Street, basically, and I’ve been making the same trip anyway to drop the kids off at preschool for years. (Also incredible: preschool is now across the street from work.) Even so, these days I’m seeing things differently. Continue reading “On the Exhaustion of Rage, and Rhythm”