Back To Syracuse In Celebration of My Aunt Joni, And Catching A Pink Sky Where The Trees Used to Be

I tried something new for the 5-hour trip from Connecticut, to ease the dog's nerves (especially because she was like, "Didn't we just come back from there?"). I gave her a mild sedative that my vet gave to me to offer before visits to her practice (Glamis gets outrageous).

It worked. She was mighty calm on the trip, but also calm in the afternoon and all night. We went for a long walk and she was fine then, but the rest of the time she wanted to be curled up close to my side or to sit under my feet. It definitely made her loopy.

I was wishing I could take one, too, after eating a Friday fish fry. My stomach isn't used to the fried food life and I can't digest it like I used to. It simply hurts. Tastes great, but doesn't work well in the tummy.

We will be heading to East Genessee Street in Syracuse this morning to pay respects to Aunt Joni, and to absorb family time with relatives I've not seen in a long while and others I've yet to meet. It is sad that family reunites during somber occasions, but not during happier ones.

Enjoyed the drive north, however, especially the company of Ebony-Grace, the narrator and storyteller in Ibi Zoboi's new middle-grade novel, My Life As an Ice-Cream Sandwich. It is brilliantly crafted and I'm looking forward to the final two hours I have left on the audiobook. I have to save that for Sunday, and the drive back to CT.

For now, however, a day for applauding a life.

Met With a Leadership Team for Saugatuck StoryFest Yesterday and Am Beyond Excited (But Will Take a Necessary Weekend Away)

This is the 2nd year for the Saugatuck StoryFest, sponsored by the Westport Public Library in collaboration with local schools, sponsors, Universities, and writing groups. There are 60 writers coming this year and the line up is amazing. The Keynote (drumroll, please) ...R.L. Stine...Goosebumps fame.

I've been thrilled to sponsor the educator panels and to offer transportation for so many young people reading the work of these authors at many of the schools I work with. I also can't wait to bring my 'ride and die,' Dr. Kelly Chandler-Olcott to the event, to be on a special panel on inclusivity and teaching writing to diverse populations. It is a culmination of her brilliance, expertise, mentorship, and influence. There are so many coming to souther Connecticut.

Check everyone out here: https://www.ssfteenboard.com/author-gallery

This morning, however, I'm driving to Syracuse in order to make it for dinner and a weekend to celebrate the life of Joni Banks, my mother's cousin and a woman I knew as my Aunt. I loved her, learned from her, and absorbed all the magic she provided me throughout my life.

I will be heading northwest, listening to two of the writers who will be coming to the Saugatuck event: Tiffany Jackson and Ibi Zoboi. I can't wait to hear their latest work.

I finished packing up my temporary office in Donnarumma Ding Dong, stuffing materials into the already packed CWP closet and my renovated, but not ready, office in Canisius.

This will be a solemn, but rejuvenating weekend. I am looking forward to the reunion of family, many who I have not met and others that I cherish, but haven't seen in decades.

I hold my Ripley name at the core of who I am. This is a Ripley weekend and I hope to soak every second of it in.

When I return, it will be full Saugatuck StoryFest ahead.

Ending a Day with Cheeseburgers and a Photo Of The Neighbor's Sunflower Hovering Over My Fence

I woke up, showered, and attempted to shave with my toothbrush. I guess that means that the grind is back. I went to work to return to the original office and the first thing I unpacked, a tape-dispenser, lost its bottom panel and poured sand all over the new rug. I just cleaned all the counters, the desk and shelves, too. Beach party everywhere.

Last night, I tossed a new squeaky ball to Glamis and it bounced off her nose and simply disappeared. Usually, wherever it goes, she stands and whines. Nothing. No clue where it went and I searched everything on my hands and knees.

Then the rain came. I was determined, however, to cook burgers before I returned to editing. I succeeded, and also noticed that the neighbor's sunflower hanging over my fence bloomed. It's all good, except I turned the t.v. on at 9 only to remember that Big Brother is on at 8 on Wednesdays. I missed it. That was the goal for the day - to watch mindless television.

It's all good. I have cheeseburgers for the next couple of days.

Fairfield University welcomed its new faculty and the picnic in their honor, a total washout, was held cautiously inside Bellarmine Hall. It's always great to meet newbies, even though it feels like I just arrived.

This will be my 8th year. It doesn't seem possible.

I'm heading back to editing mode this morning, followed by office mode (if I can) and a Saugatuck StoryFest meeting in the afternoon. I will forever wonder how it is that time seems to move faster and faster. I'm already plugging dates for Fall 2020 and Spring 2021. That's crazy. I even had a discussion today for Spring 2022. My brain doesn't work that way. I prefer living in the moment.

Like having to wipe toothpaste from my cheek or digging out of my office with a beach pail shovel.

Editing POW! Power of Words, 6th ed. and Thrilled To Be Celebrating Connecticut Youth and Teachers Once Again

I'm on day two of editing the wonderful work of student and teacher writers from this summer's Young Adult Literacy Labs and the teacher institute. I set a goal this summer that I would work on POW! Power of Words '19 much earlier than I've been able to with the other publications. Why? I want it in the hands of the writers a lot sooner, and I also need this year to get on top of other writing projects of my own.

What does this look like? 14-hour days of pulling documents from Google and trying to find the names of so many kids who don't put it on their documents.

I am very thankful to our summer teachers, however, who do a marvelous job in pushing young people to get so much text in one or two weeks. The quality of their writing gets better and better as we collaborate to tune the instruction (and themes) so they're inspirational to the kids we work with. I am always amazed by the variety of voice, genre and purpose each writer takes (and the choices they make).

I'm more than halfway done, but there's many pages to go, especially the high school writers who sometimes submit entire books to be published (um, we told you to select your best 500 words!).

I don't sit at a desk, but use my Crandall chair to do the work. Now, more than ever before, I also need my reading glasses. The first thing I have to do is to change fonts....what is it with elementary- and middle-aged kids using Comics and Marker Felt?

It's funny, too, because I'm extremely proud that CWP publishes the writing each year, but I'm more intrigued by the scholarship we are working with to offer the writing opportunities that we do.

180+ young writers and 20 teachers. It's sort of magical, especially because we offer our programs so that everyone can learn with and from each other.

I need to head to campus, however, to begin getting the office in gear. We have been summoned back with news that Canisius can be inhabited once again. This means a move from Donnarumma Ding Dong and the relocation of all the summer supplies. Right now, I am loving the vacant office I use throughout the year. It's just empty and I wonder if I can keep it this way (although my house is saying, "Bring back your books. Bring the books back to the University").

The garage, too, is crying, "Get these crates out of here."

It took me several weeks to move items from room 115, so I imagine it will take me just as long to get them back in. Editing, however, has been a way to procrastinate this move.

Everything evolves at exactly the right time...I'm riding the journey where it will take me.

Happy First Day of School, Connecticut. We Did Our Best @CWPFairfield To Keep Literacy Efforts Going

It's hard to believe that CWP-Fairfield summer work ended and I working tirelessly at getting the student writing for the 6th edition of POW! Power of Words. This summer, 20 teachers and 180+ young people from local schools arrived to Fairfield University to explore creativity, innovation, imagination, sports, novels, politics, Shakespeare and language acquisition. We are still picking up from the labor but know that today, of all days, a Tuesday, everyone is heading back to the scholastic schools to begin their grind.

We hope that everyone will return, however, with more pep in their step, more ingenuity and more possibility for what can be composed, crafted and created.

Here's to the 2019-2020 school year (and I know, I know. I'm still partying like it's 1999). Phew! That went fast.

Thus begins another 180 rendition (give or take a few with those inevitable snow days).

I am forever grateful to Mindy, Jessica, Stafania, William, Abu, Justin, Colin, Michael, Emily, Shaun, Dave, Kim, Gina, Kevin, Denise, Julie, Kara and Shannon for leading this summer's charges and providing an awesome summer experience. We have such spectacular curriculum and outcome from all the hard work and I can't wait to jump into it in celebration of everyone's achievement.

The cicadas returned early this year and last night, the evening of anxiousness, excitement, and despair, the coastal air hinted that we are upon soccer and football seasons, cheerleaders, marching bands, and new locker combinations.

I'm cheering all of you on from the University and sending the best wishes imaginable that this will be the best year yet.

You got this.

Glamis Has Conditioned Me On Daily Walks, But Now Grocery Stores Need To Train Me On Remembering My Bags

Beginning August 1st, Connecticut moved to supporting the use of less plastic bags in the state. It is long overdue, although I do love the bags for picking up dog doody on walks with Glamis the Wonderdog. The plastic is a pain and a waste and for years I've hated it. I'd rather have paper bags, because they are easy to burn in the fire pit.

Regardless, I have a good 20 grocery bags purchased so that I no longer have to collect the excessive plastic bags. It only makes sense and is logical. It's just that I am not trained yet to remember to grab the bags from my trunk. Every time I enter the store I immediately think "@#$%@%, I forget the bags," and run back to get them. I'm getting better at it, but still forget.

I was thinking about this as I walked Glamis yesterday and used an ol' school plastic bag to clean up her mess. Glamis loves to sniff grass and check her messages from other dogs, and I love to walk fast and get moving. We have this on-going battle of keeping the pace and stopping to sniff around. She's learned that she can literally stop on a lawn and pretend she really, really has to go, simply to sniff the spots on our walk that brings her ecstasy and joy. She will squat after she gets me to stop walking, but she rarely pees. She will sniff for a minute then squat and pretend to pee. She never does, but I'm onto her game.

I am conditioned.

Now I need to do the same for myself with the grocery bags.

Bryan, Bring The Bags With You!

Harmonizing with Mother Nature, the Backyard, my Adirondack Chairs and a Couple of Good Books,

Harmonizing with Mother Nature, the backyard, my Adirondack chairs and a couple of good books, I simply allowed myself to vegetate in the backyard with the cardinal birds, bumble bees and butterflies playing in the last blooms of summer and enjoying the non-humid, 80 degree sun like I did.

It wasn't all relaxing, as I also did laundry, cleaned and rearranged the downstairs, and meandered, perhaps, a little too much on the Internet catching up on the chaotic world and hoping/wishing/ dreaming of a better world. One that is more human and less full of hate. We are pretty pathetic creatures and for a few decades, I forgot about this.

At night, I also was sucked into the last episodes of season 3 of Stranger Things. I'm late to the series, haven't watched the first 2 seasons, but was instantly hooked by the Goonies meets Twilight Zone storyline. Odd how that happens.

I'm in desperate need of a few desk days, thumbing through books, writing, taking notes and planning. I think because we're still out of Canisius Hall that I'm able to procrastinate on all that more than I usually do. Even so, the work is piling up and I'm going to regret not being full force with some time off doing stuff that is time-wise for the pace that is around the corner,

I scratch my head, however, and say that it's good to let the brain rest some...to recoup, if you will.

This year's garden was extra colorful and the insects are loving it. I know next year, the 6th year on Mt. Pleasant, I will have to dig up and spread the perennials some more as everything is a wee bit overcrowded. I will need, however, Chitunga to move some of the rocks as I'm afraid of creating Herbert, Henry's hernia brother, if I try to do it all on my own.

Happy day of rest, world. It's Sunday and another spectacular day. We have arrived at the season of sleeping with the windows open which is a beautiful thing. I promise to take advantage of it.

With a Love for Ripleys, a Love for Love, and a Love for my Aunt Joni. You Radiated Love.

Last night, a Friday night, I called friends and said, "Let's say an end to the week, an end to summer, and do a screening of End Game." I have been late to the Avengers finale, but it seemed like a perfect way to spend the finishing weeks of August. I hadn't seen the film yet, and I was in need of mind-candy in the form of a movie.

Towards the climax, I needed to pee so ran to the bathroom and said, "I'll be right back." I checked my phone and there was a text from my my mom to call her. That is never good news, so I did. I was told that my Aunt Joni passed.

I inhaled, and returned to the  film without saying a thing. I didn't want to exhale. I didn't want to think about it. I just wanted to let the Friday night to wind down as it was supposed to.

But the memories came flooding in. The love.

My Aunt Joni was nothing but love to me and at any Ripley gathering I couldn't wait to see her. She was full of jokes, of laughter, of memories, of strength, of Hamilton, of perseverance, of America, of family and of happiness. She was always that way.

My sisters and I have many memories of good times in Hamilton, New York, and of sadder ones. Aunt Joni, however, was always there to bring back the smiles, the purpose, the hugs, and the focus. My Grannie Annie and Grandpa Spence loved her and she was always wonderful to them and my mother. She was a connector and did her best to keep family together. To me, she radiated Ripley-ness, and Bank'ed it at every event.

She loved Marian, she loved us, she loved her daughters, and she loved everyone who was family. As a kid, I remember dancing with her at weddings and driving around with her at funerals. She introduced me to the Indigo girls and, now, in retrospect, I'm quickly realizing how she made me a much better teacher and human being. There are so many students I taught that I was able to counsel because she was who she was and I was able to applaud them for who they were. She was the opposite of intolerance and hatred. She was an ideal. Because of her, I was able to encourage them to be their ideal, too.

The last photos I have of her are from 2015, during my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. It was incredible to see her there, to introduce her to Abu and Lossine, and to see her bond with Dylan (who has a lot of Ripley in him although he carries the Isgar name). My one regret is that she never got a chance to meet Chitunga.

In the last few months, my mother told me that she was sick, but it didn't register how sick she was...probably because I always see her as the angelic, young spirit who brought laughter to us all those years. She radiated youthfulness. As I age, I wanted to keep her that way and not know that she was fighting. How could such strength be sick?

We now have an incredible angel in the sky joining the party of many, including her sister Maryanne, who went way too young. I'm guessing the Ripley boys are ready for a jokester to be amongst them and it was time. Aunt Joni (my mother's first cousin) was a renegade, a diva, a sage and a warrior. Beyond all else, she was a caring soul who genuinely cared about everyone who surrounded her.

Rest in peace, beautiful human being.

I can only imagine the countless memories you are leaving behind to all of those who knew you longer and more intimately. I imagine their hearts are heavy this morning, too. I am thinking of so many funerals of yesteryear where you were the one that brought sanity, safety, calm and peace to the rest of us (especially the younger generation). I wish we could have one more gathering for you to pour your wisdom unto me. You will forever be another star in the sky that I trust and believe in.  I hope you are closer too fine. Phew.

This is always so hard and this morning, I'm thinking of my mother, my Uncle Steve, my Aunt Jackie, my Aunt Barbara, and Kim, Kerry, Holly, and Jeff. It doesn't seem possible that this is real.

This is not the End Game I anticipated. Elephant Shoe, Joanie. Help to heal this wounded world.

Well, Wednesday Night Was Like a Back-To-Teaching High School Kind Of Night. The Brain Wouldn't Shut Off.

I went to bed by 10 o'clock Wednesday night because I knew I had to get up early and that the day was going to be extremely long. As soon as I hit the pillow, however, my brain went into overdrive. At first it was wondering why Chitunga didn't respond to a goodnight text, but when that came in around 11:30, it turned into worrying about where I am in life, if its the right location, how to coexist with the hypocrisy of everything, did I remember to register all teachers for the conferences, who is going to take care of the grants and finances that come CWP's way, when will I fall asleep, and will the pace ever stop.

I didn't plan this...it just happened. This, of course, triggered memories from teaching high school in Kentucky in my late 20s when these sort of nights were the norm (something about male development in the brain and being rational for the first time - the moral compass takes off). At that time, I could sometimes go two to three nights without sleep and it was awful. I would drag and feel like I was going to vomit.

Of course, when I tried to clear my brain what song would jump into my mind? Flight of the Bumblee. Why wouldn't I have a fast-pace song like that stirring around while lying in bed.

I went from 11 to 12. 12 to 1. 1 to 2. 2 to 3. 3 to 4. At about 4, I think I dozed off until 5:30. The brain would not stop throwing thoughts around in every direction and nothing I tried would calm it down. I haven't had a bad sleep like this in a long time, and I spent most of Thursday wondering what I ate or drank that would trigger this. I didn't have caffeine and it seemed odd that I was trying to sleep, ready to sleep, but the head had something else in store.

On second thought, the one thing I did different before going to sleep is playing several lightening rounds of team Words with Friends games - perhaps that is what caused it. The fast word play triggered second after second after second. The brain was simply on synapse euphoria.

Needless to say, by the time Thursday night came around I was ready to crash: headache, bags under my eyes, aches and worry that another night might occur.

I'm going to chalk this up to back-to-school paranoia, but the truth is, the year never seems to end for me...it's just a giant blur. Ah, sleep. It is so important and life-changing.

I think if one could see a video of all that races in my mind at these times, they'd laugh hysterically. It simply goes fast forward through all aspects of my life for hours and hours. I hate it. And I always try to be sure it won't happen again.

That's what stress does for ya.

Getting Excited For September's @StoryFestCT @WestportLibrary - August Motivation To Move Beyond the Rain

This morning, I'm heading into a professional development workshop (one I'm not leading for a change) and, with that, I'm officially kicking off the Fall semester. Summer was a blast and 20 educators spent 110 hours in the Connecticut Writing Project's Invitational Leadership Institute and another 200 youth participated in an additional 180 hours of youth programming through our Young Adult Literacy Labs.

That's what 6 weeks looks like from June to August. I had a few days as a breather to visit the folks and to check out more of Chitunga's world, but I came back early this week to get things going, including a day of educators participating in the 2019 Saugatuck StoryFest at the Westport Public Library. I'm especially looking forward to The Inclusive Storyteller - Beating the Odds with Hope, One Narrative at a Time, as all the writers were used this summer at the teacher institute, which naturally trickled into the programs we hosted for youth. This is the result of the John H. & Ethel G. Noble Charitable Trust (Deutsche Bank Trust Co, NA as trustee) investment in our National Writing Project work in Connecticut...a summer of exploring writing and inclusivity with ALL students. Our learning and presentations will come down the road, but for now...on the 28th of September...an educator panel will kick-off at 10 a.m. with Kelly Chandler-Olcott, Ronnie Sidney, Sonya Huber and Rose Brock.

The theme, Connecting Communities through Story, shares much reciprocity with the Ubuntu philosophy adopted in all CWP programming. We are, because they are.

Meanwhile, my day began yesterday when I opened the back door to let Glamis out and a bug flew in my mouth (I crunched down on it, thankfully, before it stung). It was a wasp. Yuck. Then, later in the evening after the storms went through, I took Glamis for a walk, only to have a lone gray cloud, surrounded by sunshine and blue sky, follow us and rained down. We both came home drenched.

Ah, but I also had a great conversation with my friend, and grant partner, Nicole Brown of Hill Central. We touched base because one of our graduates was hired as an 8th grade ELA teacher at her school. We touched base to discuss this news and ways CWP might help out this fall. She said in the phone, "Oh, my God, Crandall. I swear that as soon as I picked up the phone, a rainbow appeared outside my house."

I'll take that, with the rain, with the wasp, and especially with the incredible work ahead this September. Happy Back To School, Everyone!

In Love With The Socks A Student Gave Me After His Semester In London (A Gift From the Past)

I now have Big Ben socks, brought and bought to me from London from a student I had in Philosophy of Education - an English Education/Philosophy major who studied abroad in my ol' stomping grounds. I've said for years that there's not enough funky socks for scholars like me, but now I have some.

Throwback. 1992. I was 19 years old and I studied in London for the first time in a program called Literature of Exile and the Black British Experience with Chaucer Scholar, Bernard Levy, and post-colonialist Dr. Carol Boyce Davies. To say that the time abroad changed my life is an understatement. The people I met while away, the literature I read, the theater I attended and the locations I traveled were life-changing and beautiful.

I didn't return to the Isle until a decade or so later, when I was 27, and it was my last hoorah as a young person - Cambridge University and a Humana Scholar to study Shakespeare. I never got cool socks like these.

Yesterday was a back-to-the office day, where Dr. Kelly Chandler-Olcott was interviewed by Tanya Baker of the National Writing Project and where I could share the slight insight I had as a graduate student who participated in the first year of the study. Kelly did her doctoral work in Tanya's classroom. The circles were all connected on the show and I look forward to seeing how it comes out after an hour of recording.

The evening ended in a pool and with a series of Nailed It Netflix shows. Today is designed for new student interviews, a haircut and a dinner. It's hot, and also sad that I'm seeing the freedom of summer hours slowly disappearing (and I'm watching them go by on my Big Ben socks).

Very appreciative, however, of the new leg wear...they bring back memories, indeed.

I Wanted a Mommy Post, So I'm Writing One...And As She's Reading It To My Father, I'm Sure He's Like, "What? What?"

My Monday started out grande and I accomplished a lot - too much, so when an unexpected storm came in the afternoon, I got monkey brained and couldn't concentrate on what to do next. I wanted to get groceries, but the timing of the rain kept me inside, making me resent the reading, writing, thinking routine, which impacted my evening plans for what I wanted to write about. That will come. I just need my brain to be more academic and not so...

...so...

...well, summer-like. I really enjoyed my short time in Syracuse laughing with my mom, sharing with her Frankie and Grace (while she shared the Colbert interview by Anderson Cooper and a documentary on the resurrection of Queen - yes, there's a documentary on the resurrection of Queen and I had no idea that an American Idol winner was leading it. It was really good, and although I was resistant at first because I was on my computer, eventually I found myself listening to the story rather than creating my own online. I always loved their music, but watching the interviews made me really, really respect the integrity of the band and the mission. That Lambert guy can sing, too. I see why they saw a natural fit to keep the Mercury passion alive).

It's great to see that my sideburns and chin are matching the top of her head now (she left the Suzy Ohrman blonde for total gray a few years ago. It's nice).

And she didn't make me watch Days of Our Lives. I was thankful. And when I made her a bowl of cherry ice cream with chocolate sauce instead of peanut butter and chocolate (how was I supposed to know it was downstairs in the freezer) she was appreciative and thankful.

While running at home, I started to remember her story of the time I tried to slide into second base (fat butterball kid that I was), but did so way too soon. Like halfway between first and second. So I got stuck nowhere near the base. I was stealing bases and the catcher through the ball. The 2nd basement caught it and was stunned that I slid so soon and was crawling on my hands and knees trying to get the base. He was so stunned that he didn't tag me. He watched like, "What is this chunky kid doing?" At the time, she didn't laugh at the event, but later on, over the years, it was a story that would play in her head that made her giggle. We all get the nose wiggle from her.

There was another time when she and I took the school bus to see Cynde perform in Albany at a Midyork Colorguard competition when the two of us got separated. She reported me missing and the announcer called me and called me to come to the table. They expected to see little boy, a toddler, when I approached the table, but I was a teenager at the junior high school. I was so embarrassed. They did a lost kid alert.

It's not Mother's Day or a birthday or any holiday. It's August 20th and I love my mom: her humor, her patience, her dedication, her love of reading, her encouragement of my schooling, her acceptance of a beautiful world, her love for my father, and her occasional drunk episodes (like the one time she had one at the Clam Bar for my father's retirement party...she was higher than a kit on cold medication and White Russians - it was hysterical).

This morning, I head back to the office for meetings, a radio show, some writing time and semester planning. I can accomplish all that I do, because she helped me to get there. I am appreciative and grateful.

Roughed It a Couple of Days in the Adirondack. Of Course, It Could Have Been Rougher. It Was Beautiful.

For the last year, Chitunga has had access to a river home in the Adirondack, Croghan, NY. He's been spending most weekends in this retreat and has been trying to get me to visit for some time. I finally found it while visiting my parents.

Throwback. Flashback.

Lebanon. St. Lawrence. Kentucky. I have lived a camp-love life, and I enjoyed every second of being on Beaver River. There was no Internet and the electricity was spotty (when the generator didn't didn't kick in), but that was okay. There was the outdoors.

We were on a dirt road 30 minutes from civilization. I loved it for the weekend and the view was magnificent. It was also fantastic to have bonding time with the kid. We canoed, went to dinner, chatted (but man I wish we had fishing poles).

I can say, though, that my days for nature aren't what they used to be. I used to live for being outdoors and in the green. This time, I was a little perturbed by horse flies and also wondered where all the wild life (or wildlings, as Chitunga calls them) were. There were plenty of butterfly, but I wanted deer, fox, moose and bear. We didn't even see a fish jump in the water and the highlight was Canadian Geese and and one Kingfisher. My allergies are also ridiculous and I have to admit - technology is a part of my being...breaking away was more difficult than I imagined.
'

The other intrigue that presented itself to me is that Chitunga is LOVING the serenity of this life and spending a lot o this weekends here and on his own. I told him, "Dude, don't break a bone. I don't think there's a hospital for 30 miles." Actually, there weren't even restaurants (although the one we found in Stillwater with the galaxy of hummingbirds (it's claim to fame) was absolutely stunning. The food was great, too.

The dirt roads? Hmmm. The on again, off again of electricity. Okay. The inability to access the Internet 24/7 (insert biting nails emojis here). It's official. I have been transformed into a modern man and my long-haired hippy days are a thing of the past.

It was good for 2 days, but I don't think I could last much longer. I admired (was stunned, in awe of, and appreciated) Chitunga for his connection to the place. I felt it. I get it. I desire it and I miss it. But phew...has my life gone far from what it once was.

This time, leaving family and CNY, added the extra bonus of leaving the beauty of upstate in New York. It was a great trip home.

Next time, I will have a fishing pole and license, however. I like to sit still, but I also like to be doing!

Day Two of Being Naked and Afraid in Upstate New York. It's All Good. I Will Fill You In on the Story Later

This nature living is tons of fun. Happy Sunday, People...day two without the internet and a pre-programmed post for this day.

We're returning, so I'm not too worried about not being connected.

Day One Without Internet (Post Initiated the Day Before We Left). Headed Out of Civilization with Chitunga

Their pill boxes are clean and they were fed with Wegman's subs. Pops wore his Superman t-shirt and they promised to watch the dog all weekend (I took her for a long walk just in case).

Chitunga and I are heading to a summer camp in Croghan, New York where I hope to not be eaten by a bear and where, I hear, there is no service to civilization. I'm anticipating a weekend of much reading, incredible nature and umbrellas (it's supposed to rain while we're there).

This is Old Forge land, where my mother flipped from a snowmobile and once broker her shoulder (imagine that, just a few miles from where she walked into the wall at the St. Lawrence's River).

I feel like I'm revisiting my days in Rochester, Vermont, where I was out of human contact for days.

Here we go.

And Then There Was the Time Crandall Circled the Entire City of Syracuse, Without Getting Out in Syracuse

Dad and I started early looking for patio umbrellas or canopies to replace the one that blew over yesterday. Guess what commercial society? Halloween and Christmas stuff is going up. Forget about summer.

Later in the afternoon after the run and finishing the pool, I headed out to Liverpool looking at the stores there. Nope. Then, I headed to Manlius to see Casey, Dave and the boys.- a quick trip, indeed - before heading to Marcellus to pick up Chitunga, then driving to Memphis to have dinner with my prom date, Kirsten, who moved into a new house with her puppy pugs Stella and Beatrice (who took to China and anything that moves).

This was a great evening, although staying at Kirsten's was short-lived because I needed to return to Marcellus and then back out to Clay to watch (cough cough) Big Brother. Whoops. Mom didn't record it and didn't know what happened. It was all good because we ate dad's cherry ice cream with a little chocolate syrup.

Hard to believe that next spring will be the 30th anniversary from taking this girl to the senior ball. This is what 29 years of adult life look like, although Kirsten doesn't have gray hair on her chin like this geezer.

So appreciative of the dinner, the company, the smiles, the puppies and the opportunity to slightly catch up (now if I can only get her to Connecticut to visit).

Okay, Friday. Looks like I'm attempting a 48 off-the-grid experience in the Adirondacks. 

Started Cooking in Summer Head, but By the Time We Finished Eating, It Felt Like Fall Was Coming (Shhhh)

With a short-lived time in Syracuse, and the only weather day of the week with full sun, Wednesday needed to be a barbecue and pool day (although the pool day was short lived because of doctor's appointments). Still, there was time to grill scallops, mushrooms stuffed with lobster, steak, asparagus, potatoes and assorted vegetables. All of it was delicious and wonderful...

...except a strange wind came up and blew my father's giant umbrella inside out (the one that protects the back patio from the sun) and that was that. The metal bars were broke and the item destroyed. I was at the grill and missed the entire thing...snap of fingers fast.

Today, the goal is to vacuum the second half of the pool, to help my father with the broken umbrella and to do whatever other chore needs to be done around the house.

Mom and dad are exhausted. The day without naps did them in and they conked out rather early last night.

There's still more vegetables and meat to grill and perhaps I'll be able to do that tomorrow for them so they have that after I leave.

Also, so wonderful to have another dinner with Rhiannon and to be able to see her at least once this summer - we were slightly able to keep the tradition alive, albeit too short without a Connecticut trip this year.

I guess I'm beginning to taste a new school year creeping upon us - the inevitable can't be avoided, although I just got to turn the chapter of the last year as a result of summer programs. Well, it's time to rethink them all over again and to inhale for another academic year.

Phew. It goes way too fast.

And Just Like That I've Returned To the Syracuse Homefront (Which Makes Glamis and Butchie Happy)

Seems like I've posted this photo once before, except for the fact that I took it when I go to my parents' house yesterday afternoon. Dad is in my spot, and Glamis is on top of Dad (he needed to relax in the afternoon to get ready for his Chubby's Corn Hole Tournament).

Chubby's. Yup. Dinner, too. But good company and catching up, before I started Mimi Sue on Frankie and Grace - pretty excited that the Apple TV works on my mother's system.

In the meantime, I finished a book on the way hear (audio) and started another (audio) and both have been incredible. I need to drive some more to finish.

Today, hump day, is the one sunny day predicted for the week and my primary goal is to run, to read, and to vacuum the pool. Actually, my goal is to be at the wish and command of the parental units in the short time I'm here.

The pool felt great yesterday when I jumped in after a run.

Splash. Sweat. Papi Butch & Steak. Those are the goals for the day.

Decided to Jump Right Past the Mid-Life Crisis and Settle Into Senior Citizen Early Week Specials (Dressed the Part, Too)

Yesterday was Lois's birthday and it is hard to believe it's been six years. We chose to celebrate by going to a fancy restaurant that has Monday specials. We knew she'd want steak, but I had a roast beef sandwich for lunch, so opted for fish. I was wearing jeans and it was too hot, so I threw on a bathing suit I left at Pam's. It didn't quite match, but when we saw the crowd of people taking advantage of the Monday night special, $17 meals is a perfect set-up for retirees, in which most of the men were dressed exactly as I was...mixed patterns that didn't quite go together.

It was a good meal and we tipped glasses to Lois, then took Glamis and Jake for a walk in the heat (today's storms are supposed to chase that away).

I bought Pam pomegranate juice for Martinis, because that's what she always drinks. I asked her to make me one, but refused any olive. I've never had a Martini, and was a little alarmed at the foo-foo glass. The flavor was great, but the sugar and sweetness was a bit much.

Pam looked at my outfit and the martini and said, "Yup, we definitely lives a retiree Monday."

I came home to meet Bucky, my neighbor's Tibetan Terrier that is 9 weeks old. Munson, her past dog, passed earlier this year and it was sad. I'm glad to see her with a new love nugget in her life and it really is a precious creature. The markings are absolutely wonderful.

I'll be spending today, however, listening to books on tape downloaded from Audible as I venture to the original Homefront and spend a few days helping out wherever I'm needed.

The calendar is filling up fast and the load gets heavy starting next week. I don't think Glamis will be thrilled about another trip but I'm loving the forecast for Wednesday, which looks like the most promising day ahead.

Looking forward to seeing the family and being sure that Chitunga is settled into his last year (a Masters) at LeMoyne. With so many years under his belt up there, I'm more an annoyance than a help. He's independent and got this on his own, but still, I like to keep my eye on things.

I used to say that my favorite days of the year were coming and going from Kentucky. Now I am doing the same in Connecticut (which is a must faster drive). Driving is meditative and reflexive. I'm looking forward to the music, books and thinking of the day.

I Needed This Day To Rearrange for Fall. Cleaning Done. House Rearranged. Adjustments Made.

I did this before the chaos of summer began...rearranged the dining room into a living room, cleaned the kids' rooms and prepared for the summer crazy of young adult literacy labs and a teacher institute.

Knowing that I plan to head to Syracuse this week, I did another round of cleaning so I can return to the Fall semester with everything in order.

Phew. I wish I was better at the domestic side of things. When there's a crew in the house, I don't feel as bad about a messy household because I have others to blame. When it is just me and Glamis, I know it is just the two of us. It is all my fault.

I have one major meeting in the afternoon, and then tomorrow morning I'm free to do a Syracuse run. The laundry is folded, the dishes are put away and the books are back on all their shelves. My lawn is mowed and recycling is in gear to bring back to Big Y. Staying on top of the house order is no easy task.

I just wish the tomatoes were ready for picking. They're getting there, but far from ripe...Still budding and beginning their bulbous selves.

I have too many books. You can't see it here, but it is true. I only wish that my bookshelves could clean themselves. Alas, it is what it is and I did the best that I could.

This is a random post...not much eventful happened except the purge.

Finding The Happy Place, Summer Rituals and Locations To Find Oneself At Ease

From my earliest memories, until my college years, a piece of heaven was always Loch Lebanon, Lebanon Reservoir, where my grandparents spend their summer days outside of Hamilton, New York. They would close up their village home and move to their two-bedroom cabin where my grandmother could sing, "I see the dam cars and the dam cars sing me." We'd fish, swim, boat, walk to the candy store, play softball and pitch until we were exhausted.

It was nirvana. Grandma could grill up her sausage and grandpa could drink his Milwaukee's Best, hoping that Grandpa Ken and Grandma Vera would pay us a visit from Sheruburne, NY. It was a retreat from the everyday, just like my Aunt Rena and Uncle Russel's house on the St. Lawrence River. A fisherman's paradise for seeing ships coming in from the Atlantic and an aquatic life of serenity and calm.

I often channel such locations in my adult life and go their to help myself to sleep: days without an Internet, cable t.v. or 24/7 news cycles. All I needed was my fishing pole and a worm and I was content.

Chitunga has found such serenity in the Adirondacks, where he goes every weekend, and I can't blame him for loving his retreat. There are SkeeDoos and pontoons, pitch black nights, and lots of critters to listen to as one falls asleep.

I am thinking, too, of Casey and Dave's retreat on the St. Lawrence River and how quiet and calm the nights were there, even as my mother bumped into a wall in the pitch black night putting me into hysterics. Of course she walked into a wall when it was too dark to see. It cracked me up.

I'm an Aquarian and I need my water to feel centered and alive. I looked out at the Long Island Sound yesterday reconfiguring my soul and longing for a time that once was. Water is at the center of it all and so is peace, a natural order, and the ecosystems of frogs, fish, fireflies, dragonflies and birds.

My grandmother loved night most of all and would sing with the frogs, "I'm in the mood. I'm in the mood. Not tonight, Butch. Not tonight. Shut up, kids. Shut up, kids." and in the morning, when the sun glistened on the lake she would say, "The stars have returned to Loch Lebanon to wash their nightly worries. Let them bathe and shine for us to love."

I love that Chitunga has found such a location and I look forward to having him share it with me next weekend. I'm afraid, though, that I might get a little Papi Butch. I might fill up with tears and simply cry and the beauty of it all.

Going Into The Weekend Absorbing the Sunshine, Watching the Butterfly Bushes, and Soaking In a Taste of Summer

As I went out back to stretch before a run, I noticed that my plants were enduring a feeding frenzy with big and small butterflies going crazy for the butterfly bush. When I returned from my run, they were still there (or maybe a new cohort), but they were filling themselves up with nectar and joy. It was like they were sharks and I through them bait.

I decided to do the same for myself. I called it a half day Friday and spent the rest of the day at a pool in Milford soaking in the sun and sipping a Pink Pamther (which is a pamarita with cranberry juice) and eating steak. I almost felt like I was out back at my mom and dad's having a pool day. Nothing like playing in a pool until the skin is pruned and raisin-esque. It's hard to stay indoors when the weather is so beautiful outside and the humidity is as low as it is. You have to enjoy such days.

We're expected to have another one today and on Sunday.

I know I need a lawn day (and outdoors day) in the morning, plus I need to start listing what still needs to be accomplished. I am looking to the butterflies, however, to realize I need to take advantage of the weather while we have it.

I'm thinking back to the my naturalist days and working at Jefferson Memorial Forest when the boss ranger told me I had a crew of 20 coming for a butterfly garden demonstration. I said, "I know nothing about butterfly plants," and he said, "Oh, you will. You have 24 hours before you lead the workshop."

Needless to say I read books from the office and went to the library to brush up quick. It's always nice to see a garden in bloom with so much insect activity. It makes me feel like I'm doing my part. I know, too, that this is year 3 and much has leaped, so there will need to be an expansion and deliberate relocation of my butterfly and hummingbird plants next year. I have memories of a friend's garden in London and have always wanted to recreate such a relaxing garden at my own home. I'm getting there, one year at a time.

Two Views of a Thursday: 50% Domestic Stuff (Read Glamis Drama) and 50% on Work Stuff (Read Crandall Drama)

Don't tell anyone, but I am washing my hands with work for the day. I am telling myself that knowing that I have to complete two major projects today, but knowing I have very little left to give.

Yesterday morning started with a Glamis visit to the vet and I have to say that the mild sedative was helpful. At Companion Hospital she was loving, extra loving, and she wouldn't leave my lap because I was her licking post. She was calm, sure, but also extra affectionate. When Stephanie came in, too, she was loving and was simply, "Check my teeth and glands, beautiful. We got this."

I said, "We figured it out. A pill to calm her down."

Then they took her back to get her nails clipped. SILENCE OF THE LAMBS. HOWELS. TERROR. My dog is absolutely hysterical in a terrible way when anyone comes after her feet. All the other patrons of their vet practice were horrified by the sounds she was making. I simply said, "That's my dog. I'm used to it."

After, both Ken and Steph came out wiping sweat from their brow and saying, "She was so much better this time." Really? My dog is a whack-a-doodle when it comes to having anyone clip her nails.

Meanwhile, she was in chill zone when we returned and slept the rest of the day when I went to the office to work. I got a run in and it was hot. I knew storms were coming and by evening they arrived (although we missed the brunt of it).

The clouds were cool the way they came in, but I'm guessing we were at the southern parts of the massive cold front that pushed through Connecticut. I kept waiting for the lightening, thunder, hail and winds, but they stayed away. It looks, too, that there will be another day of high heat before it calms down and gets colder for the weekend (still beach weather).

I am going to try my best to 'chill out' this weekend and restructure my mindset around calm. I say this every summer, but I'm in a major need of a mental break. I rarely am at risk for burn out, but I'm definitely on the edge and I need to rethink my universe and what is next for me.

I will go to my grave thinking that actions speak louder than words, so I'm looking to think about the next act - one that is purposeful, mission-driven, sustainable and healthy, rather than exploitive, hypocritical and sad. I haven't figured out that solution yet, but it is stirring in my brain like the storm clouds. 

Six Weeks of @CWPFairfield Work and I'm Still a Champion for Hope: Love, Integrity, Kindness, and Good

We are now three days beyond the summer work - the 8 hour days, the buses, the teachers, the planning, the books, the writing, the supplies, the lunches, and the financing to make it all possible.  Yes, it is 6 weeks, but the rest of the year makes the 30 days possible: recruiting, grant-writing, presenting, advertising and hiring.

This morning, I came across a piece a few of the kids in Ubuntu Academy wrote for CWP - an acrostic to say thank you for their participation in the summer program. This is the literacy lab for English language learners, immigrant and refugee-background youth looking for every possibility they can to build their language skills and opportunities in the United States.

Having the belief that there will always be light at the end of the tunnel for our diverse community,

Opening our minds to the possibility that we can overcome daily challenges, 

Persevering through the pain and learning from our pasts so we can make a better future...

Everyone has a story and their own beliefs. How we choose to make our dreams turn into reality is what fully allows us to embody HOPE. 

I'm a strong believer that actions speak louder than words. My dissertation, my publications, my grant-writing and my programming, I hope, are testimony to my core belief systems. I'm not a pious man, but I've read the religious texts at the core of most world religions and continue to come back to the shared beliefs between them all. That is, and will always be, a respect for fellow human beings, no matter the boundaries, lines, and limitations that some build to stand in the way.

I stand for children and their hopes. I believe in their vision for their futures and how they want to work hard to make their families and their communities proud.

I stand for the teachers who read voraciously, work tirelessly, and view inevitably the destructive voices of so many who detest all they do.

It's a Thursday and I have a day of meetings, but this morning I'm fueled by the beauty of these kids and all they accomplished this summer....youth from over 15 nations who have overcome tremendous obstacles that most of us will never know. They are my hope. They are what I believe in.

We Need The Rain. Why? Because How Else Are We Going To Have Any Flowers?

The good thing about watered plants is that they pay you back with blooms and this year, fingers crossed, the monarchs, swallowtails and buckeyes seems to be in nirvana with the nectar of pinks, purple, white and yellow flowers. This isn't my garden, but mine is just as robust. This is Lasse's which we spent dining out at last night in Milford. Nothing like $12 chicken dinner Tuesdays (and it comes with French Onion Soup).

Predictions call for much more rain today which is good for the lawn and for pre-semester planners such as myself. Might as well take advantage of the wetness to get on top of putting bows on summer programs and thinking ahead to the semester and conference season ahead. I'm also looking forward to Saugatuck StoryFest II and am excited to bring Ronnie Sidney, Dr. Kelly Chandler Olcott and Jarred Amato to Fairfield County.

The lawn needs mowing but it can wait a day.

I am good with having an indoor day to get on top of things that need organizing, planning, and precision so they are carried forward for tomorrow.

Chitunga made it safe to Syracuse and Glamis got the consolation prize of a long, long walk to reflect on the summer (that was more for me than for her)(I also got Chicken Marsala at Lasse's).

It's Hump Day and I'm ready to transition to all still to come.

Might this mean a day of cleaning? My house hopes so!

I Hate This Day. It Happens More and More and It's Never Fun. Transitions Used To Be Easy When I Did the Leaving

I went into the office today and spent 7 hours picking up and organizing from the summer work. Chitunga and I returned from a mini-break and he left for Stamford to turn in his keys. After, he was going to play golf and then meet with a friend for dinner. When I left work, I came home to vacuum my car, run, then head to Big Y to get staple items for Chitunga for when he leaves - tomorrow. He's already heading back to Syracuse to start his 5th year Masters.

With groceries purchased, I took Glamis for a walk, then came home to see Tunga returned, so I vacuumed out his car and, at sunset, went to work on the lawn which was neglected during the hub-bub of the last week. While watering the tomato and blueberry plants, I saw the two areas where Abu and I spent much of our summer playing Corn Hole. It needs seeding and watering - the dry spots are obvious. Chitunga started laundry and I came in to investigate the kitchen and pack bags for Chitunga. The last pot of brown rice made by Abu is still in the rice pot, and the refrigerator is home to the last containers of Crandall special, Abu's last cucumber, Chitunga's leftovers and too many liquids to name.

Zip. Zap. Zoom. The transitions come fast.

Abu already left and Chitunga follows suit today. First things first, I will take down the bedroom that has been the living room for the summer and figure out a way to make the furniture work. I will go through the laundry baskets to mail whatever was left behind. I will then begin to purge anything that is no longer necessary when it is just Glamis and me.

One second it is this way. Erase. Then it becomes this way. Flash.

I don't know, but I'm feeling extra sad and emotional that the nest will be empty again. I like the busy life and the frantic nature of trying to keep control of the chaos. Now, I get to return to my worry across state borders and hopes that everything is working out for the best.

Sadder is Glamis. She knows and she sulks. She loves the full house with people constantly ready to take her for walks, play games, feed her and snuggle with. Just like that it is gone and Mt. Pleasant becomes her giant dog house. She will return to the bay window tonight looking out for everyone, hoping they will return soon.

Meanwhile, I'm still trying to wrap my head around an incredible summer (210 hours of instruction in 6 weeks with 20 teachers, 188 kids, and 20 hires for the work). It' time to look through the data and publish POW! But today, I shall mourn the departure. I hate this and I hate it more this year than ever before. 

And Our 48-Hour of Bonding/Summer Celebration Is Over As Fast As It First Began. We Are Home Safely

The good news is we had a fantastic time, great meals, time with wonderful people, and gorgeous scenery wherever we looked. The bad news is Chitunga's internship ends tomorrow and he has to put in his final day, so we booked the 9:45 ferry. That meant we also had to leave the Hoops4Hope Benefit at half-time, just as the sun was setting and the air was cooling off.

Getting to Orient Point can take anywhere from 80 - 120 minutes and if we missed the last ferry, it would mean we would have to backtrack 4 hours to go through NYC around to Stratford.  We made good timing, and also got on a ferry a 1/2 hour early (which we celebrated all the way until we go to the other side of New Haven), and they tried to push 4 lanes of traffic into one. It was a parking lot (and so frustrating being so close to home).

In the meantime, we packed a lot in during our 48 hours there and the Hoops4Hope Benefit was a tremendous success. I was excited that people already bid on my Literacy4Life basket before I left, but also have to give Mike Lupica credit, who donated 4 autographed books to add to those of Matt de la Peńa, Rose Brock, Kwame Alexander, Jason Reynolds, Jacqueline Woodson and Jerry Craft. In fact, the bid was double what we put down for a minimum when we left, which is great support for my cousin's program and also makes me feel wonderful - I donated copies of the books we used all summer.

My Uncle Milford and Aunt Sue were also in attendance and I wish I could have spent more time with them. We had the privilege, however, of having dinner with them the night before - a delicious evening of pasta, salad, margaritas and their company.

Mark, the Super Cos, however, deserves the most round of applause. The setting for the benefit was extra special this year and the crowd seemed to double in size. There was awesome art work, music, food and much to gaze at in the short time we were able to stay.

I think the greatest part of the two days was having time to spend with Chitunga: talking, planning, looking ahead and reflecting. He wouldn't jump in the ocean with me, but we had a great time eating out together, meeting with people, and taking in the beauty of the region.

The hosts for the party? Well, I thought their house was beautiful before I learned that all their windows, front and back (that is, to the outside world) could roll into the framework of the house, so that that the insides were totally open to the outside for parties such as this. It was an architectural pleasure which was exactly the point of the party - to showcase a new design.

We got home around midnight, and today will be another day. The laundry was started and Glamis crashed quickly on the couch. I'm just thankful to have a quick break away from the grind. I'm so happy and proud for my cousin, too. It truly is amazing what he's accomplishing on a global scale. 

Short-lived, But Much Need Respite with Relatives in Long Island. It Was a Spectacular Saturday.

 We don't have a lot of time this weekend, so we are taking advantage of the short-lives opportunity on the clock. I got up early on Saturday and when for a long run, and when I returned, Tunga was read to sight see, but also to find a great restaurant in Montauck which was phenomenal for sushi rolls (tuna and avocado) as well as scallops and blackened Mahi-Mahi. Tunga laid in a a hammock to reach while I worked on auction items for the benefit and made arrangements with the organizers.

In the evening, we had dinner at my Uncle Milford and Aunt Sue's house. Um, yum. Delicious. They made pasta, tomato, olives, mozzarella, basil and vegetables. which was perfect for the margaritas (my uncle has mastered them) and salad that my Aunt Sue made.

As we were leaving, Chitunga found a USAir hat (all corduroy) that my dad gave Milford and he put it on as we departed the door. He said, "Send this to Papi Butch before we leave,"

It always wonderful to be in a new location, and to see that everything is jiving just as it should. Tonight, we will have the benefit for Hoops4Hope, and then Tunga and I have to fight the Gods to be sure we catch our Ferry in time so we can be home by 1 a.m..

Meanwhile, my cousin Mark is exhausted. I get it...work all week, arrange people all year, and host a Sunday evening international affair. It's a lot.

I'm just glad that we get to be part of it. Looking forward to the crowd, the public relations, and the the opportunity.

And With That, He Is Taking a Breather. Crossed The Pond To Amagansett with Chitunga for a Quick Get-Away

If I was a little feisty at the end of the 6th week, as families were celebrating the writing of their kids and teachers were hugging goodbye, it was because there was only one ferry with a spot on it and I wanted that for the Hulk, Glamis, Chitunga and I. We are on our way to the Hoops4Hope Summer Benefit in Amagansett.

It was hard for me to rush out, because Ubuntu Academy and Project Citizen were simply amazing this year, and I could have spent well into the evening talking to parents about what they heard the students read and what they witnessed with passion, diversity, heart-felt dedication and a location for kids to write what is on their minds. Meanwhile, Chitunga was on his way back from Disney World with Ernst & Young, and our goal was to meet at 4:30 and hit the road so we could talk that one last spot on the ferry,

We got it, but he had to go inside to the cabin so he couldn't finish a paper for an online class this summer, and I was on the outer deck with Glamis who works the boat as if everyone is her friend. I was lucky, though, because my view was spectacular. This was the sky.

We made it to Amagansett around 10:15, and I was glad to hear Abu made it safely to Syracuse around 8 p.m. (great timing). It was an interesting shuffle on Mt. Pleasant in the afternoon as Abu was packing to leave, Chitunga was unpacking from Florida and repacking for Long Island, and I was basically unpacking from the last 6 weeks (read 2018-2019 school year).

The summer programs are officially done so I'm with my cousin to help him out for 48 hours before we head back to the Nutmeg.

I am so so so grateful to the CWP teachers and writers who made this summer one of the most successful to date. I will spend the next three months listening and reading their work in absolute awe as we go forth to edit POW! Power of Words, the 6th edition.

I'm most excited about the theme, The Superpower of Hope, as it resonated with many and was a catalyst for phenomenal thinking, communicating, artwork and collaborations.

Good Morning, Saturday. I'm going for a run, then heading to the beach. Counting my blessings.

The Summer Tradition That Brings a Close To the Work - Thankful to Knapp's Landing (Year 5 - He Skipped A Year)

He flew solo this summer on Mt. Pleasant, but he was here as my right hand man once again: teaching, team building, networking with teachers, organizing, assisting, kicking my ass in corn hole, eating my food, saving my a## when my car went in for two weeks, helping me to laugh, calming me down when I'm stressed, walking the dog, and making sure Family Feud, Big Bang Theory, The Shooter or Big Brother was on so I could listen from the other room while I was working, planning, and keeping CWP-Fairfield activities apart.

Last night, Bev, Leo, Pam and I took him out for dinner at Knapp's Landing to send him off after another round of summer work (well, they just enjoy his company...I get him 24/7 cuz of the work we do). He got his lobster roll, Bev got scallops and the rest of us got fish. It was a beautiful evening and delicious.

We came home and he welcomed Glamis to sit with him on the couch one last time. On Monday, he returns to work with Syracuse Public Schools and regains a life away from dog hair, my stress, mood swings, Big Y Peanut Butter cookies, coconut water and Crandall special.

He also has to deflate his ego some, because there won't be as much corn hole. It's sick how accurate he throws (and frustrating).

Today, however, ends the 6 weeks of CWP-summer programs, the 210+ hour programs, the 100s of students and the excellence of teachers. I love the work we've been able to build at Fairfield University through grants, a smart plan, dedication and writing excellence. We are all exhausted and need to think strategically about what comes next in southern Connecticut, but each year we have a bigger idea.

Wishing for a great day and Abu's safe travels. Now, it's time to wrap a bow on summer '19.

Absolutely Unedited and in Need of Revision, but the 2019 Summer Invitational Good-bye Acrostic Poem

Each summer, we ask the teachers to reflect on their summer experience with a National Writing Project program and we open it up to be as each teacher feels fit.

I've carried forward my Brown School tradition and, to meet a challenge of an educator who said that acrostics are horrible poems, I set out to demonstrate a way where they can be original and different.

I will have to come back and edit, because this is a very rough first draft, but I present the 2019 cohort of CWP in a poetic fashion. We had the largest crew to date and the most diverse, interesting, passionate and driven cohort yet. Our writing friends, Matt de la Peńa, Dr. Kelly Chandler Olcott, and Rose Brock were great companions for our goals, conversations, vision and good work.

Today is a day of reflection and we are exhausted. Happy to have a draft, at least, in the works.

Of Hope and Superpowers, Summer ’19

preface

T his is where it begins.

h ere. In a classroom with teachers

e volving with teachers,

S illy engaged creatures

u biquitously asking questions in

p ursuit of answers, until they

e ventually find solutions

r ight where they’ve always been.

p eople need people. Ubuntu.

o h, I can be me, but only through you and

w e, us, all of us together…

e very minute spend angry,

r eally, is 60 seconds we lose happiness (thanks Emerson)

O h, this is where it always begins. A

f irst stanza. Followed by another. Then another.

H ow quickly a summer goes.

o ne week. then two weeks, then three. The 

p oint is, now each of us is free to

e volve independently and as community.

i.

D is/ability. A physical or mental condition that limits

e ach of us…our movements, our senses, our activities, our

n eed to feel human amongst others. I am capable.

i am hindered. I have dreams. I am trapped by chains. I 

s eek a better world. I am locked in a cage. 

e ventually, every body and mind must rage.

H umbled togetherness, I prefer that page,

o f each one of us helping gifted souls across the stage,

w here opportunities are constructed for each child, a sage, 

e ncouragement the mantra, their achievements front-page.

ii

M iraculous things happen, histories, 

i ntellectual mysteries where Jane Doe

c ascades into a universe (It should be re-

h earsed), and it’s all spontaneity from there —

a ll the beautiful, horrible, astonishing, hilarious truth

e volving into the tragedy of past, present and future - where

l aying a head on the marble lets you know she’s somewhere.

B efore you even know her kiss, or similar bliss, that’s the way we

e xist within the political cartoons of our mind,

l earning that to answer critical questions is how to find the

a nswers that baffle us the most: hatred, depression,

n arcissim (an honest confession) and love that 

g rows out of the strangest corners of a text. everything evolves at

e xactly the right time…and for a stanza, at least, there’s always this

r hyme and a communal paradigm to promote with others.

iii.

T he art of flipping is a game of twisting, casting 

a nd spinning exactly at the right time.

m e, Ms. This is who I am? Look at me. Look at me. Look

a t me! Ms, why are you looking at me? At us?

r eally, Ms. You don’t know me. It’s not that serious. Seriously. 

a wkwardly . Mysteriously. Shaw: Youth is wasted on the young..

A nd I can’t help but think of Alice Walker, 

b oy, The Color Purple, man, The Color Purple. I 

r emember finding this book the summer before I left for college.

a wesome is as awesome writes (and I quote)

h atred. Threre’s not graceful way to carry hatred. Want 

a nother? Ready for it?  The 

m ost common way people give up their power is thinking they don’t have any.

iv.

A nd this is where a teacher struggles. 

s ee, I could go with humor and the lackadaisical 

h ound mug that sometimes needs to be fixed, but that is

l ow, and I’m all about helping the individual grow.

e ventually, I like to my students to know the power of their

y esterdays with how they may know their tomorrow.

W omen have it hard. The daggers go deep at times.

o h, we men think we’re warriors, but I’m Maxine Hong Kingston

o n this. The world is better with a few Mulans, 

d ivas, warriors of words, wisdom and kind deeds.

w e are the result of our mothers (not matter how they rest their face).

o h, I could list such women who have made me the man I am.

r eally, I owe much more to them. The patience. The shoulder.

t he ability to see me for who I am.

h eck. I’m more impressed with the mind and muscle of a Queen.

v.

B ring it. Sing it. Fling it. Wing it.

r ing it. Sling it. Swing it.

i repeat. Bring it. Sing it. Fling it. Wing it. Ring it. Sling it. Swing it. 

and let them know we real cool  cuz we are educated..we teach school.

P lease. As if you can handle all the love I’m 

a bout to squeeze in this stanza, cuz she’s the bee’s knees, golden

r ubies, a field of poppies working with all these rookies. Listen

k iddies. It’s the lyrical melodies and the natural pretties that

m arries her stories into interesting theories, language tourneys…her

a ncestries, the tragedies, histories, & comedies that helpsjourneys with

n iceties and simplicities that make her students such legacies.

M an. What is this poem s’posed to be about?

c reativity? complexities? to gain some rhythmic 

C lout? Cuz she ain’t having this apathy, your doubt…

u need to understand here she’s all about your breaking out,

l aying out, even blowing out of your comfort zones.

l ights out (and put away your cellphones, you 21st century clones. She

o wns you, will zone you, will groan you, windblown you

u lysses (that’s an allusion), Ms. McCullough will baritone you, 

g irl. boy. Please. You’re in her universe now.

h armonies. electric ministries. qualities. & spiritual ideologies.

vi.

C ommunity. Communication. Commitment.

h ow wonderful it is, noted Anne Frank, that nobody need,

r eally, wait a single moment before starting to 

i mprove the world. Subject - purpose - outcome - rules -

s caffolded tools, divisions of labor, & community.

B e brave. Know a neighbor. Let them know you.

u nravel individuality within the 

c ollective. Center the child at the epicenter of their own

k aleidoscope. See the amazing artistry that results.

vii

C herry Heights. Childhood. Ghost in the Graveyard…

h ide-n-seek. Wiffleball. Football. Frisbee. A little like Monroe,

r iding bikes on Amalfi, Fortuna, Evesborough and Caughdnoy,

i ce cream trucks, swimming pools, Marco Polo, WWF,

s prinklers, Truth or Dare, Risk, skateboards & scabs.

B oys will be boys. Homerun Derby. Future. Sneaking out to hang

u nder the moon with girls. Peterboy’s bloody toe - the

z illion stars in the sky, all of us wishing we had a superpower to fly.

i nnocent kids with water guns emulating a world we rarely knew.

 viii.

S ing, strangers, not afraid of the dark

h ide away, they say….

a nd I’m marching onto the beat I drum…

r un away, they say…

o h-oh-oh-oh

n o, they’ll love me as I am.

B ring on the music, cuz I’m marching to the song,

u nbelievable how strong we have come together,

n ever looking back, birds of a feather…

y ou know the beat, and the percussion is loud and clear

a nother round of opportunities are hitting our skin.

n ever again, writing for sorrow, cuz now we write to win!

ix.

J üst story-board. Hand out the squares and sketch,

e tch what you’re trying to say (a visual display), a

n arrative hooray, a cinematic story

n everending glory of their personalized achievement.

i came to the digital late, but I saw how great it was 

f or language learners to block out what they couldn’t wait to

e ntertain me with…a relative state where they

r membered a time that mattered to them most.

M iniature movie makers. Tomorrow’s earth shakers composing

o veratures from memory and symphonies from history.

r eally, who doesn’t love a celebration day, where kids can 

r eally be kids, and teachers can work with them, and not at them.

i want more boxes in my life. Photographs. 

s napshots of what once was. Yesterday. Childhood. 

s ome of the moments i almost forgot…the montage of

e verything that has made me who i am, including 

y ou, and this summer’s cohort.

x.

W hat happens to Superman after he

e ats a tic-tack? Well, he has super fresh breath, of course.

s o, what do you call Clark Kent after a bowl of Clam Chowder?

l aughter is subjective. Why? Soup-er man, of course.

e eks. Why does the caped wonder only tell these jokes as he runs?

y ou know…cuz he’s an action comic.

D a dum dum. Ch.

a h, yee dads of the world. Who are we without our puns?

u m, what do you call it when Batman skips church? Christian Bale.

n o what’s the different between Batman and a robber?

i believe it’s because Batman can go shopping without Robin.

s ee. Huor is a superpower (in parenting and teaching 5th grade)

xi.

J uly is my favorite month. La escritura es

u n buen escape para 

l a creativad - teachers,

y outh, workshops….6 weeks to work-up the creative sweat. Solo

C ierra los ojos y visualiza dónde quiere estar, y ¡listo!

a ll eyes close, an inhalation of memories / exhalation of possibilities,

r hythm, el ritmo, La gente bailaba al ritmo de los tambores. We dance in

v erse and rehearse with words, our own linguistic songs,

a cústico, solo, la armonia - a cacophony of us.

j une brings introductions…

a gosto, adios. But July.

l e esperanza, and I love / to believe / in hope.

xii.

N eophytes. Fledglings. Apprentice. Colt. Greenhorn.

i am old now, but begin every day as a newcomer,

c alculating what does this mean? why? Ignorance is my 

k ryptonite. I believe others are the same.

P ersonalize the classroom. Listen. 

e veryone can use another relationship, a mentor,

l earning is about the comprehensive input, the guidance, the

z ygote replicating infinitely until its being comes into the world.

e ach of us are vulnerable, omnipotent, weak & strong.

r eally, its only with one another, good teachers, we belong.

xiii.

E ventually such things matter (at least to this mad hatter):

d ialect, dialogue, diversity, decisions.

w hen a textbook categorizes populations 

a nd names a group as least desirables, then i

r eally need to question what exists behind any state

d apartment’s construction of being.

C an’t imagine seeing Puerto Rico being listed

o n some page, a textbook, a hegemonic tyranny of hatred and 

l avish ignorance, as anything but what it is:

l anguage, love, laughter, 

a fuego. A culture on fire with story - the

z enith of struggle, perseverance, handwork and goals.

o h, Publishers suck. They need to know what a Puerto Rican knows.

xiv.

R ex ipsa loquitur. Everything speaks for itself.

y ou write of cellphones, text messages. honesty and love,

a nd (if you’re inclined) goodness shines from above

n ext to Milky Ways, galaxies, the heavens, the stars, our souls

D ancing in freedom, open to where the heart strolls,

o h, the complexity is simply the simpleness complex.

n one of us escape it, the heightened vertex,

o f our existence, our meaning, the pursuit of who we are, 

v ariance in existence, our personal repertoire,

a nd we bite lips, we smile, The Great Whatever has our back. We

n eed to college our stories, to be carried proudly in our knapsack.

xv.

M ummies munch much mush; Monsters munch much mush;

a nd many mummies and monsters must munch must mush.

r eally? you think you can write a Prelutsky poem like an

i ris wristwatch was swapped by Rhys and Ross for a 

s wiss wristwatch?  Seriously?  As if I didn’t already know

s usan shines shoes and socks, socks and shoes shines Susan.

a wkward. She stopped shining shoes and socks 

F or shoes and socks shock Susan.

a lmond, ham, meringue, salami

s sassafras souvlaki hash

o range olive bagel beat

l obster litchi lima bean

i love this language play, you know what I mean?

xvi.

N orth Syracuse Central School District.

a dorky boy 1st - 12th grade

d eciding whether school was a trap or springboard.

i ‘ve always had a love/hate relationship with school.

y outh is wasted on the young (thanks, Shaw). 

a nd I graduated. Moved on. Never looked back.

h ow interesting to return as a sub.

H ow interesting to be below where one once started

a rriving home to where it rebirth occurred once again.

f amily. friends. finding meaning of the past. the future.

i am a historical op-ed yet to be illustrated or written.

z any, whacky CNY boy went out into the galaxy to destroy.

o h, the way we write senior year memories only to

v oyage back and see so little change, yet everything is brand new.

a ll of this is to say, I see what substitute’s do!

xvii.

M aking meaning means starting anew…

y ou need markers, a blank page, imagination…that’s what you do.

k nowledge + reflection + doodles + words,

a xolotl, tarantula, monarchs, & birds

l aughter, washi tape, information, a walking fish 

a rmadillos (pink fairies), all to reestablish

H ow minds work & kids learn & people think & humans grow,

e veryone needs crayons, sketches, to stretch and to grow.

i ncorporating arts, music, theatrics and play,

d ancing, prancing, & improv’ing to improve…

e tching, coloring, tracing - hooray!

n otebooks alive, we just got to move!

xviii.

C aelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt. 

a h, words. Vocabulary. Knowing where it all begins, and 

r eaching to the origins to translate

o nly those who hurry across the sea can change the sky, but

l ack a way to change their souls and states of mind.

y ou lose that in translation; well, I do. Swimming 

n ear the sunrise only to see it set seconds later.

S aliens gui prospicit, it’s wise to look ahead.

t o prep kids with words, wisdom, and a way to 

r eflect. Sapientia et eloquencia. Wisdom and Truth.

e ach of us more smooth with just the right things to say.

e pluribus unum. Out of many, one…and

t his learning thing is much more fun when

s laying the language dragon together.

xix.

T he art of vision is seeing again, 

r evision, a calculation of fusing just the right touch.

a little lime, some ice & always a splash of tequila,

c ranberry juice, the Mango, perhaps a lil orange.

e diting is this way. A mixologist always knows.

y ou experiment, take risks, and allow the flavors to grow.

A nd, entertainingly, the stories begin to flow.

c ause there was this one time, in college, when the

q ueen of England visited my dorm room (hiccup)(hiccup)

u nbelievalbe. The #$!% Queen of England, in my room

a sking me, yes, me, what I think of Meghan Markle.

r eally (hiccup hiccup). She asked me what I thought.

u nbelievable, right? Can you make me another one of these?

l ight alterations. Vodka, Vermouth. 

o ne of those olives. It’s revision and a hope for better tips.

xx

A nd it will be okay. The beach. The bathing suit, and that

m adman professor’s need to bring you Big

y peanut butter cup, peanut-butter cookies.

C randall means well. Perhaps the real Superpower is love,

o r maybe it’s collaboration, working with a kid who has a

l earning dis/ability and guiding them to 

l ean forward, activity,, in pursuit of their own accomplishments.

i am capable. I am proud. I can do this. I got this. I may 

n eed support, but being human as a human being

s ays, “We all deserve the cookies every once in a while.”

xxi.

J üst because I needed a Stratford poem & 

e ventually it was destined to run into a colleague in

n eed of wine on a Sunday at 5:55 p.m. when I was in

n eed of some bourbon (shhh. It’s summer…

i am, you are, we are on vacation). Weekends are about having

f un and sometimes, well, the kids take all the 

e ntertainment out of it. Look at the two of us being

r eal (my student knows I buy the cheap stuff and not Basil Hayden).

C razy Donuts? Thanks, Wes. Who knew about Crazy Donuts.

u m, I’m not sure what I’m going to do with maple bacon crusts, but

m y mom is going to love me if I ever package her a shipment, & 

m an oh woman oh man, it’s right next to the liquor store.

i mean, Stratford, what’s a teacher to do? A burger at Sitting Duck?

n ow I need to run even further than I usually do down Huntington

g oing in my middle-age, fat-boy pace

s imply hoping to see a new friend, a neighbor, and be able to wave hi!

xxii.

J uly brought them early this year (not Carajel, the month that is).

u nder the star-lit summer skies. I heard them 

l icking their back legs in orchestrated cacophony -

i am amazed by such music, but know that their chorus will

e ventually call us back to work…to raking leaves, snowblowers…mud.

R eality sneaks in. There’s still time for one more morning kick-off

o r an afternoon high-five. Yes, it’s August. It was just June.

n o one ever said that life slows down as we get older. Nope,

e ach of us (Adulting sucks) must grow bolder,

s uck it up, tap a shoulder, simply to say, “We’re doing it for them.”

o nly a teacher understands such rituals…

n ext year it will be the same…the cicadas habituals, a reminder.

Epilogue

L et’s face it. Some of us are exactly like our students and

i left my reflection to the night before it was due…

v icious reality, sometimes composing can be cruel…

e ach of us exhausted and ready to be through.

A nother way to hope, I believe, is 

s imply to look around us, to see what we do, and

W e did this together, the 2019 CWP crew. We

r allied, we wrote, we reflected and we grew -

i am amazed to get to know each and everyone of you.

t omorrow is Friday, and it may be a bummer, but

e ventually, you deserved this, a small taste of summer. 

r eally, I meant it, from this Louisville project guy,

s igh, it’s sad, but now it’s your time to fly. (You got this!)

Well, HELLO, August!