Parents Visit and Sibling Visit, Getting Sick Under Stress, and Writers and Artists Dumped by the NEA

Three siblings and Glenn – My brothers Chuck and Mike and me and Glenn

Parents Visit, Sibling Visit, and Getting Sick Under Stress

A few days into my visit with my parents, which I posted about last week, and after a somewhat stressful few weeks (heat, emergency dental work, a cancer scare, and family stuff)—I started to feel terrible, and sure enough, my immune system was down, and I’d caught another virus. Still, we got in one last visit to a farm—this time, Bob’s Corn and Pumpkin Farm in Snohomish—which was fun even if it was too early for pumpkins and even apples. Then the rest of the time the folks and I rested.

Then, the day the parents flew out, we had a surprise (but welcome) visit from my older brother, also from Cincinnati, who’s helping my little brother fix up his house for sale. Having three of us Hall siblings in the same place at the same time is practically like a meteor sighting it’s so rare, so I enjoyed the hang-out time, even if I was a bit under the weather the first few days of the visit. That’s the pic at the top of the post. I know I am lucky to have good relationships with my brothers, and I felt very lucky to be able to spend some time with them.

The NEA Has Decided to Terminate NEA Grants to Artist and Writers

Another piece of bad news (which has to be read through the filter of even worse news, of course) came through—people who applied for the NEA got the notice that their applications would not be read and NEA grants to writers and artists were cancelled. America just keeps getting greater, right?

I have never won an NEA grant—but it seems like another chip at the arts and academia and anyone that might not tow the party line from the Republicans. Writers and artists are notoriously not easy to control, and that’s not okay in Trump’s fascist government, as it hasn’t been with many dictators—Chairman Mao, Lenin, Hitler, Pol Pot. I had a friend post on Facebook that her lecture at an Air Force academy was cancelled after someone looked up her work online—although the people who invited her were apologetic, they were not in control. So, this government really is afraid of artists’ speech. Standing up to power has always been our job, but now there are more consequences. I posted on Facebook that Trump’s government is going to make all the talent with the means and energy to move leave the country, and someone commented that that was the point. Trump doesn’t want anyone here who dares to criticize.

Even though I’ve been fighting my health problems, I also feel like I’m fighting the anti-art forces as well, like a video game where you fight one boss, and six more appear. You know, writers and artists are already struggling to earn a living in a society that wants its art for free (or created by AI). Every little bit that’s taken away is a little bit of a chance for an artist to breathe easy, financially, for a little bit. I am struggling with how to earn a living as a writer and survive in a society that doesn’t value the sickly, or the disabled, and I am both. I mean, almost all of our writing heroes were sickly—not all, but a lot. I hope to keep writing, keep publishing, keep teaching and reading and mentoring. Maybe my body and my country throw up obstacles that sometimes feel insurmountable. As we head into a new season (though it’s still in the nineties here for some reason), I am looking for hope.

Parental Visits, End of Summer Flower Farm Visits, August Birds

Glenn, me, my mom and dad, McMurtrey’s Flower Field

Parental Visits and End of Summer Flower Farm Visits

My mom and dad came out from Ohio to visit me and my little brother this week, so we decided to take them to some of our favorite local hangouts, including a couple of our favorite flower farms—McMurtrey Farm and JB Family Growers Lavender Farm. After a day of heavy (strange) August rain, during which we watched a Hitchcock marathon, we were able to get out and enjoy the flowers, sunshine, and fresh air (rain is good for that). It was very good to spend time with family in my favorite places. I know my parents are getting older, so I wanted to celebrate the limited time we get together.

Goldfinch talking

End of Summer Birds

At all these fields of flowers, the finches have been twittering around us in the air. The hummingbirds are dwindling in number but still busy at the flowers as well. I’ll miss their bright colors and songs when the winter comes back. Some small parts of late summer are my favorite parts. (Wasps, not so much, but the birds, absolutely, and the blueberries in my garden this year—especially sweet.)

Immature hummingbird taking a drink

This is a busy month—my older brother is coming out to visit the week after my folks leave—I am trying to look at my schedule for the fall, with readings and classes. After the health and dental dramas of the past weeks, I am ready to relax a bit, hopefully. I’m also hoping my next book gets picked up soon so I can start focusing on my next writing project, which might be quite a different creature than my previous works.

In the meantime, my friends, this seems like a rough and tumble world, but there are tiny moments of joy, beauty, kindness to be found. Sending you all hopes for tiny, good August joys.

Full Moons, Insomnia, Ends of Summer Gardens in Bloom, and Writing Questions at Midlife

Mt Rainier with Sunflowers

Full Moons, Insomnia, End of Summer Gardens in Bloom

The lovely full Sturgeon moon of the last two nights has been my companion during a stretch of insomnia. Doctors blame either the heat/MS or my hormones, or anxiety, but heck, it could be all three!

After a week that included a painful crown and TMJ, a doctor appointment that arrived with bad news for me (and another damn cancer scare), money woes, and of course the relentless terrible news cycle, I mean, if I could sleep like a baby, maybe that would be the abnormal thing.

On the plus side, the late gardens are blooming—two of these pics are from the local Lavender Farm, JB Family Growers, but the other photos are from McMurtrey Farm, which has opened for flower gathering until they become a pumpkin farm (although I’ve seen evidence of many pumpkins already!)

By the time I write my next blog post, my parents will already have been visiting for a few days. Hopefully we’ll have cooler weather and no wildfire smoke for that week.

Writing Questions in Middle Age

I’ve also been questioning things like—should I even still be writing poetry, or is it time I give up on it and try something else? Should I spend my time doing paying work instead? It feels sort of futile to write poetry in today’s political environment—rampantly anti-academic, anti-art, anti-peace-tolerance-environmental-safety and pro guns, business and everything evil and destructive. It feels like no one is listening, even with much bigger platforms than mine. Maybe, I wonder, I should take up filmmaking. Maybe I should leave America for the adventure of exploring another country, another country, which might be more friendly to the arts (which seems like almost any country at this point). I could take up working at the local pumpkin farm (though heavy lifting would be out). I could sell makeup again. This may be a normal part of getting older. I can’t tell as I’ve never been this old before! Maybe things will make more sense when I can get more than an hour or so of sleep a night. I’ll check in with you next week.

To August: Broken Molars, Garden Parties, Cats, and Cutting Flowers

Zinnias from McMurtrey’s

Here’s to August, everyone: Wildfire smoke blowing in, Molars blowing up, and Garden Parties

It’s been an eventful week—I broke a back molar (that I think had a filling from my elementary school days) and had a very painful crown (and a threat of root canal). Glenn bought tickets to a garden party at Willows Lodge with a French theme and visited the newly opened McMurtrey’s farm to bring home cut flowers (it will be a pumpkin farm soon, but is opened for limited hours for cutting, and has a gorgeous dahlia garden that I myself could only dream of). Also, wildfire smoke from the Olympic Park fire has started blowing in, not too bad yet but a gray screen on the horizon.

I’ve also finished up the essay class I was taking and wanted you to see where the cats are right after the Zoom class ends. The baby goldfinches and other birds have been fluttering about, and so too the Anna’s hummingbirds. My folks are coming into town in a week or so, and we’re cleaning out the spare room in the basement, donating items that have been taking up space (goodbye, old television set!) and I’ll be going to the endocrinologist and the endodontist this week (hooray) to check my thyroid and my back tooth. These crowns are so expensive and not covered by my insurance, so every time it’s like an expensive piece of jewelry or a nice fridge. (Boo…hiss….) I hope a future America with universal health insurance also covers dental health…which might be wishful thinking, as this horrid government continues to tear down everything good (this week, PBS and NPR). In the meantime, I’m still thinking about how to earn an independent living as a disabled writer in this economy where everyone is facing layoffs and inflation. I’m not doing the Sealey Challenge this year because of my family visiting, and I’m also judging the SFPA poetry contest, so I’ll have plenty on my plate. But I do love seeing other people’s reads!

A Change in the Air, Lavender Festivals, and Melancholy

Sunflower among wildflowers

A Change in the Air

I know it’s only late July, but I can feel a change in the air already, as days get slowly shorter, and the garden, still in bloom, somehow seems to be nearing its end. We still have another whole month of summer, but the sunflowers coming up remind me not to wait or postpone, because change is already here. I spent most of the week sick, but am getting better, and it allowed me to get some reading done, and some thinking about the upcoming season: Fall.

Lavender field with summer wildflowers

My parents are coming out for a visit in two weeks, and after that, I’m going to a short residency to work on my manuscript, and maybe on some more essays. I’m trying to be more deliberate with the time that I spend and still put time aside for joy, relaxation, and all that stuff we type-A folks are bad at. If I don’t put time aside for rest, I won’t do it. I’ve been writing essays for five weeks, and enjoying it, and even sending some out. I’m waiting to hear back from publishers on my latest poetry manuscript, but I’m wondering if putting together a book of essays might be a smarter way to spend my time. It seems urgent to get voices out about disability, and while both books deal with that subject matter, the essays might be a better choice for a wider audience. We’ll see.

Goldfinch

Lavender Festivals and Melancholy

This weekend was the lavender festival at our local lavender garden (JB Family Growers Lavender Farm), and we went both days and had fun, and the weather blessedly cooperated (no rain, but also not crazy hot). I also noted that a lot of my friends and family members are experiencing a melancholy that isn’t specific to one bad thing, but rather a pervasive mood. Maybe that makes sense, politics and plagues and wars are bound to make a dent in our souls, and if they don’t, maybe something’s wrong with us. Walking at sunset in a field of lavender does something good to our nervous systems, or spending time picking blueberries or watching birds and going to the forest. We need to remind ourselves of the good things still in the world, of the possibilities. We need to give ourselves something to fight for.

Ha! If all you saw were my smiling photos, you wouldn’t think I had a thing to worry about, right? But you and I know better. We know the happy times are fleeting, and the hard times long, worries and sadness and even disabilities sometimes invisible. (I learned a lot this week researching an essay about Elizabeth Taylor’s myriad health problems related to the same genetic mutation that gave her double eyelashes, and how they related to her death and multiple hospitalizations.) We have to appreciate the good days and cope with the bad and stay open to what life is still teaching us. Anyway, if you are struggling right now, you are not alone, and the bad times don’t last forever (though they can feel that way). Another day when the sun rises, or the moon rises, and you feel alive and yourself again, inspired—I wish this for all of us.