17 July 2023

Happy Birthday, Uncle George!

Today would have been my great uncle George Bergman's 91st birthday. He contracted HIV and developed AIDS in the 80s and died in 1985. I never met him. Recently, I realized that since he didn't have any descendants, if I didn't ask my grandma about him soon, his story might be lost.

A black and white photo shows a tan white man sitting at a wooden, upright piano outside in front of a brick building with tall, skinny windows while smiling at the camera. He's wearing a striped, short-sleeved, collared shirt, a wristwatch, and dark slacks. His short, dark hair is slicked back and he has a dimpled chin. A white woman with a ruffly black dress and her light hair pulled up on top of her head leans against the piano while looking at the man.

My grandma lovingly told me about George. Her brother loved music and played one of Chopin's polonaises before he ever had a piano lesson! He enjoyed singing (he was a tenor), playing the violin and piano (he and I learned on the same piano!), and going to the opera.

George as a child in the 1930s. A black and white photo shows a young boy in a collared white shirt and dark overalls looking at the camera. He has short, dark hair slicked back and to the side, dark eyes, prominent ears, and a dimple in his chin. The background is black.

Their mother especially adored her golden boy, which I'm sure was hard for my grandma at times. There were quite a few pictures of him (as a child, he looked like one of my cousins!), and a few papers—letters from schools, news articles about him, and his funeral program.

George and his mother. On the left is a white woman with reddish, ear-length hair, red lipstick, drawn-in brown eyebrows, and a black and white collared top. She has one arm around a dark-haired white man on the right, with her hand on his shoulder, her other hand on his bicep, and her head touching his. On the right, the man is seated in a macramé-like chair and leans his elbow on the arm of the chair, with his hand up to his dimpled chin. He has short, dark hair and is wearing a floral and geometric collared top. Both are looking at the camera with a pleased look.

When George died, my grandma was by his side in Philadelphia. One of the last things he said was, "There are so many astral people around."

Carroll and George at the piano. A white man and white woman are backlit as they play a duet at a dark, upright piano. He has short, dark hair and is wearing a suit and tie. She has light hair and is wearing a white collared top with a flower on one side.

I've enjoyed using library resources to research more about him—I found him in news articles and phone books, and was delighted to learn that he and my grandparents always lived within ten blocks of my favorite and longest-yet apartment in San Francisco!

George possibly in San Francosc. A thin white man with short, light hair, a cleft chin, and a prominent Adam's apple looks toward the camera with his chin up. He is wearing a dark polo shirt, a dark wristwatch, grayish-brown flare pants, and a thick dark belt with a silver buckle. Behind him are cars, maybe from the 70s—one brown and one off-white. Behind the cars are buildings possibly in San Francisco — one with a flat, white front and reddish garage, door, and window frames, and a beige one with a bay window.

I wish I could find people who knew him in the 50s and 60s in SF and NYC. My grandma said he was a music critic for an SF newspaper, but I've only been able to confirm that he worked on the San Francisco Examiner's classifieds and wrote one opera opinion piece. Every music critic has since died.

George Bergman Italy Trip in San Francisco Examiner April 25th, 1960. A black and white image of a news clipping shows a young white man with dark hair, dark eyes, an open-lipped smile, a cleft chin, and a plaid collared shirt. The top says, 'MAJORS IN ITALIAN. A major in Italian language and literature who expects to become a teacher, he will spend about 10 weeks in a.' A B&W news clipping 'Bergman Envoy to Italy' shows a young white man with dark hair and eyes, an open-lipped smile, a cleft chin, and a plaid collared shirt. The caption says, 'GEORGE BERGMAN . . . college ambassador.' The article says: George Bergman, sophomore at San Francisco State College, will travel to Italy this summer as the school's 'college ambassador' in the experiment in International Living Program it was announced yesterday. Bergman, 27, was chosen from 18 Applicants for the trip, which is financed by the organization's Bay area Council. MAJORS IN ITALIAN A major in Italian language and literature who expects to become a teacher, he will spend about 10 weeks in a small Italian community as yet unnamed as the house guest of a family. Bergman, who finances his college study by working part time in the classified advertising department of The Examiner, entered college at the age of 25 after spending the years since high school studying music in New York City.

George Bergman on Ozawa Departure San Francisco Examiner 1975-07-30. San Francisco Examiner Ozawa departure The resignation of Maestro Seiji Ozawa as music director of San Francisco Symphony brings to mind, if one may be permitted, a blatant analogy — the lesson learned by Pope Julius II in his dealings with Michelangelo: genius must be accommodated. The custodians of the orchestra have long found it difficult to understand the undemocratic truth that in all art the genius must rule as the autocrat. The moment of Vienna’s greatest musical glory was 10 years under the domination of Gustav Mahler. After his dismissal it sank into mediocrity from which it did not recover until decades later when Von Karajon assumed a role similar to Mahler’s. Since the departure of Pierre Monteux our orchestra had indeed known evil days. It began to recover its stature under the late Josef Krips and then had the truly unheard of good fortune to secure the artistic services of Maestro Ozawa who, despite great odds and much opposition, improved enormously the quality and prestige of the orchestra. The great tact with which he is attempting to attenuate the shock of his leaving did not alter the fact that elsewhere his genius is better appreciated . . . And as to his successor, could San Francisco support one of the great egotistical giants of music who could forge the orchestra into the instrument it could and should be? GEORGE BERGMAN San Francisco

I wish I could find out the name(s) of George's partner(s) in New York City, San Francisco, Paris, and Philadelphia. Would he believe that gay marriage was legalized within his sister's lifetime? Did he face violence or arrests because he was gay? Did he join any early pride parades?

I'd heard different things about George's cause of death, so I requested a death certificate, but only immediate family members and direct descendants are allowed to receive a copy, which begs the question—what about decedents without descendants or living immediate family?

B&W George in front of body of water in 50s. A black and white photo shows a white man sitting in front of a body of water. He is looking to the side with a serious expression and has short, dark hair and a cleft chin. He is wearing a short-sleeved, collared, plaid top, a dark wristwatch, and dark slacks.

When I tried to request his transcript from SFSU to identify his major and graduation year, I was told I have to prove I was related. I'm trying to figure out how one does that—apparently a family tree isn't enough.

Thankfully, the SFSU university archivist was very responsive and easily found George's commencement program with his major (Italian) and graduation year (1962) that included a photo.

George Bergman Photo in SFSC 1962 Commencement Program. A black and white photo shows a white man with dark eyes, a cleft chin, and his short, dark hair combed back. He is looking to the side with a pleasant expression and is wearing a dark suit with a white collared shirt and tie with diagonal stripes. A dark spot is on the photo near his nose.

But one thing I keep thinking about was that big parts of his life are likely missing because the family didn't talk openly about George being gay, and he lived far away from family members still alive today.

Bergman, George '76 at GFS. A black and white photo focused on a dark-haired white man with hair to his ears wearing a striped, collared sweater. He is looking down and one hand is visible holding something casually in front of his chest. There are blurry other people around him—one in the foreground with chin-length blond hair, and one right behind him with dark curly hair.

So I started looking up some of George's former students who were named in an article about George's foreign language and performing arts video collection being donated to Germantown Friends School and found two who had talked about George in a Facebook post!

I ended up connecting with former students, a coworker, and the school's archivist, all of whom shared wonderful things! George was fashionable and always wrote with a purple flair pen. He had an “incredibly resonant voice with stylish cadences” (I'm trying to find a recording).

George leaning against car in the 50s. A black and white photo with bushes in the background shows a long white car, probably from the 50s, in the foreground. A tan white man with short, dark hair leans back with his elbow on the car while looking at the camera. He has a cleft chin and wears large, dark sunglasses, a dark, short-sleeved, collared, striped top, and light slacks.

Despite the understood "don't ask, don't tell" attitude at the time, George made a welcoming space for closeted kids and faculty members. He earned respect by having no doubts about himself.

George in sunglasses. A black and white photo shows a white man with short, dark hair combed back. He is standing in front of a large, flowered bush with his hands in his pockets. He is wearing large, dark sunglasses, a short-sleeved, collared, striped, light top with the sleeves rolled up, and light pants with a thin dark belt.

George recognized the school's opera queens and opera-interested and accompanied them, with his mother, to a New York opera and brunch at the World Trade Center restaurant Windows on the World, where he declared that everyone *must* see the amazing bathroom. (Anyone have a pic?)

Marjory and George in the 70s or 80s. A white woman with reddish hair and a thin white man with chin-length brown hair stand in front of a large plant and ruffly lamp, looking at the camera with pleased expressions. The woman, on the left, has red hair, red beads, a red dress, and a red bracelet. One of her arms is behind the man and one hand is held at her hip. The man, on the right, has a dimpled chin and prominent Adam's apple, a dark collared top with shapes on it, and dark slacks. One hand is on the woman's shoulder and the other hands down by his thigh.

Somehow, George was good friends with Coe Glade, a woman who held the world record for performing as Carmen in the opera the most times. He found out a coworker's mom loved opera as well and escorted her a few times, dressed very elegantly.

George in suit, pointing with pen. A black and white photo shows a white man with a strong cleft chin and his short, dark hair combed back. He is wearing a dark suit and tie and sitting with one hand on his knee and his other hand holding a pen to point at something in a book that someone cropped out of the picture is holding.

George played classical musical at "an ear-splitting volume." He showed up to support student songwriters and attended rock concerts with students. He surprised a coworker by telling her all about Pink Floyd.

George in houndstooth in the 70s or 80s. A tan white man with light, ear-length hair, dark eyes, and a cleft chin smiles open-lipped at the camera against a pink background. He is wearing a brown and white houndstooth sport coat over a dark top.

Among George’s favorite movies were It’s a Wonderful Life, Sunset Boulevard, Casablanca, All About Eve, Ninotchka, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, The Philadelphia Story, The Lion in Winter, Notorious, A Star is Born, Rebecca, The Little Foxes, Wuthering Heights, and Becket.

George organized a celebration of 100 years of recorded sound and played the best recordings—Enrico Caruso, Leopold Stokowski conducting . . . and a song written by student Joshua Newberg, after which he announced, “That of course was Rudolf Schmidt and the Vienna Quintet.”

His extracurricular activities were: “Photography, Piano, Swimming, Theatre, Tape Recording, Concerts, Cinema, the Nations of the World.” He put on Romeo and Juliet with his French students and Frenchified everyone's names in the program. Thank you, GFS archivist!

Roméo et Juliette '77. A handwritten program that says, Roméo et Juliette '77 en Français Lette Tragédie Sera Présentée par Les Éleves de French IV. Unique Représentation Jeudi, 26 Mai 1977 à 20: Hres. Salle Yarnall Germantown Friends School 31 West Coulter Street Philadelphia, PA 19144

He put himself in positions where he could support people who needed support and had an instinct for what people needed to hear. He accepted a very out-of-character role in a play for a shy kid directing it and told a visiting graduate, “You have evolved” (in French).

George Bergman in The Brig at GFS in 1977. A black and white photo shows people on a stage with a brick background. Towards the back, five men are lined up in front of cots as if at attention. They are wearing white shirts with dark, loose-fitting jackets and dark pants. A thin white man with light, ear-length hair stands in the middle wearing a light collared top and light slacks. His elbows are at his sides and his hands touch over his ribs while he faces the people who are lined up. Another man in the foreground holds his hands up as if explaining something. His hair is brown and curly and he's wearing flared jeans and a light sweater.

When George died, people at the school said he'd died of cancer without mentioning George having AIDS, and they said it was to protect his mother. I think that with how close George and his mother were, she probably knew he was gay and that he had AIDS.

Student David Dunn Bauer said, "George was glamorous, and we as a Quaker school were not, but George treated us as if we were. If we’d been in NYC, he'd have worn a full-length mink and it would have been fabulous. I graduated in 1977, and every one of these memories of George is vivid. George does not fade."

George at Grand Canyon. A thin white man looking at the camera with a serious expression sits on a rock wall at what appears to be the Grand Canyon. He has short, dark hair, a striped boat neck top, a dark belt with a silver buckle, a black wristwatch, form-fitting jeans, and he is wearing large, translucent sunglasses.

George's friends at GFS made a quilt square for the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt in honor of George. It didn't take me long to find it, and I was surprised to recognize it as soon as I saw it. That cleft chin is unmistakable.

AIDS Memorial Quilt Square for George. A purple rectangle with 'George' in pink cursive on the right, angled up to the top right corner. On the left is a white block print bust of a man with short hair and a shadow on his chin that indicates a cleft chin. He is looking to the right side of the rectangle with a closed-lipped smile.

Happy Birthday George Cake. A tan white man with short hair, a dimpled chin, a navy top, and a wristwatch looks at the camera while holding a round white cake that says, 'Happy Birthday George.' In the background is a window with tan curtains, something hanging from the ceiling in macramé, a plant, and an unidentifiable object.

What a gift to learn all these things about George so I have a clearer picture of him on his birthday! I'm also writing about my Grandma's life and love and learning more about her when we chat once per week.

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26 February 2023

The last year has been beautiful

The last year has been beautiful.

I figured out how to better split domestic responsibilities with Michael and adopted the life-changing weekly spousal one-on-one meeting. I relished no longer having dinner be my problem. I went on daily walks with Maggie and Michael and marveled at the beauty of our home in the San Francisco Bay Area. I biked around San Francisco and enjoyed excellent food with Michael and Maggie, our very good girl. I took a multitude of pictures of Maggie and cut and threw endless pieces of carrots and green beans and radishes for her. I expanded the "foods dogs can eat" list on the fridge. I picked up trash and Maggie's and other dogs' poop at the park. I discovered a great new hike we can enjoy with Maggie. I comforted and distracted Maggie during thunderstorms and fireworks. I had Wellness Wednesdays workouts, dinner, and learning with Michael, Claire, and Maggie.

I took drastic measures to eliminate invasive weeds, built new garden beds, and coaxed the garden to be more like my vision, with strawberries, raspberries, passion fruit, olallieberries, lavender, snapdragons, carnations, blueberries, corn, onions, tomatoes, garlic, green beans, radishes, carrots, potatoes, lemons, limes, pomegranates, plums, apples, avocadoes, peppers, tree dahlias, lettuce, bok choy, nasturtium, cala lilies, camellias, hydrangeas, and more. I sorted a ridiculous amount of objects, mostly trash, dug up in the yard.

I created a baking calendar to make and enjoy my favorite goodies over the course of each year. After Reading How Not to Die, I adopted a vegetarian diet and developed a really healthy and delicious smoothie recipe. I had a delightful conversation with the person in the painting I inherited from my artist grandfather. I meditated and savored my bed. I mourned the decline of Twitter. I set app limits and loved it. I became overwhelmed with all the things I wanted to do. I drew boundaries. I finally processed an email that had been in my inbox for years. I paid someone else to take the headache of taxes for the first time this year and was ecstatic when we filed a few days ago.

I grew as an empathetic manager and cheered on many people at Techtonica. I was censured for advocating for inclusion. I received a raise. I lost a job. I learned about negotiating severance and shared what I learned. Layoffs caused hiring partners to back out of their agreements, so I negotiated contract terminations and found solutions for unplaced grads and launched a new Techtonica program to support past grads looking for jobs. I said goodbye to Techtonica's Partnerships Manager of three years and interviewed and negotiated with job candidates before hiring someone amazing who starts next week. I became the resident feedback expert. I learned about and advised and played Gartic Phone with Techtonica participants. I gathered feedback, implemented changes at Techtonica, and had the satisfaction of seeing participants and staff members thrive. I learned to stop working in the evenings.

I picked up antique woodwork and furniture restoration. I figured out how to safely and effectively strip lead paint through a lot of trial and error while devouring audio books at 2.5x. I acquired a foosball table, Eastlake furniture, and a barrister bookcase. I dusted off my piano skills and the perfect 1895 piano built in San Francisco and learned a song I've liked since I heard a friend play it in Leipzig. I visited lovely historic houses and joined an old house community. I saw a tiny Buddhist temple and learned about the history of Chinese people in Mendocino County. I installed rope caulk, bronze weatherstripping, and portières to make the winter less miserable for us.

After years of mostly business writing, I started writing for me again. I researched my great uncle who died the year I was born and found out some fascinating things about him from past students and schools he worked at, then wrote about him and my grandma. I received a letter in shorthand from my grandma to treasure forever.

I continued to learn about and try to be a better advocate of anti-racism. I managed not to suffer too much from allergies with a dog in the house, but was sick and had a mysterious skin bump and weird allergic reactions to stuff outside. I started having my prescriptions mailed, and was relieved that my doctor could prescribe the restricted daily allergy medicine, Allegra D, that I'd been buying every two weeks for years. I discovered the best non-fogging, sanitizable, breathable mask, Airgami. I lost my keys. I bought two of the most comfortable Duluth coveralls for projects but then couldn't stand to make them dirty.

I appreciated over 100 books, especially A Little Life, Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine, and Ejaculate Responsibly. I was in charge of the monthly family book club, mostly so I could talk to my family each month. I donated to organizations planting trees every month in hopes of curbing climate change. I grumbled about cars and smoke and noisy motorcycles and junk mail and sexism and people painting woodwork and more.

I enjoyed visits and email and text and cute and funny video exchanges with friends and family.

I'm pleased with the life I've built and who I've become and I hope to grow and experience like this over the next year, too.

Tl;dr: Life has been very full in the last year and I'm looking forward to more.

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31 December 2021

Adding Maggie to the family

 We adopted a dog! Maggie is a 4-year-old chow mix and she is so sweet. 



We marvel at how lucky we are to have found such a calm, well-behaved dog and I’m really, really glad we got an adult dog that didn't need potty training. She doesn’t chew on things, she rarely barks, she’s never had an accident inside, she doesn't eat human food, she doesn’t care about toys, she rarely whines, she doesn’t seem interested in houseplants, she only goes on grass or wood chips, she's good about not getting on furniture, she doesn't slobber, she doesn't let her tongue hang out, she doesn't often lick faces or jump on people, and she loves attention but can settle down on her own when we’re busy. Plus, she's just so cute and entertaining!

I worried about how a dog would fit into our life, but Maggie showed up and continually brings out the best in us. Having Maggie as part of the family has helped us have more balance—I think we surpassed our last year's number of walks in the first few weeks. We've learned a lot about dog care and she entertains us and sweetens our life every day. Adopting Maggie was a good choice and the top highlight of 2021.

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12 July 2020

My Aunt, Diane Ellingson Smith

One year ago today, I was running a hackathon event at Twilio when I received a text message from my cousin saying that my Aunt Diane had died. I remembered all the lovely visits to her and my Uncle Scott's house—barbecues, sleepovers, lunch and woodworking—and enjoying her wit and friendliness at family get-togethers.

She was an accomplished gymnast years before I was born and despite dealing with a huge, life-changing injury because of the sport, she remained a lifelong gymnastics fan. I loved re-reading her book, Don't You Dare Give Up, utilizing old research skills from back when I worked at two libraries, and re-watching a video made about her to review all that she achieved and stood for during her life. You can read her bio here.

Here's a video that shows some of her gymnastics, her sharing lessons learned, and a glimpse into her time as a teacher:



I miss her and hope she's doing flips and cartwheels now.






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31 August 2019

The Last Five Years' Best Books

To celebrate five years back in San Francisco, I'm sharing some books that have really stuck out:


But seriously, there's one masterpiece that every high schooler should read:




Read my reviews on Goodreads.

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30 September 2018

This September I'll Remember

The womp of the waves against Shelter Cove
The porcelain of rocks worn into roundness over time

Breathing in sunsets and storing away the calm for later
Playing Scrabble and the scrabble of a crane fly on the ceiling

The roar of rocks rolling away
The glaring glitter of the sea

Taking on a path with cliffs on both sides
Gallivanting like goats

The Michelle Gs at TechCrunch
The piling up and ups and downs of pain

Volunteer nights and nights volunteering a listening ear and computer tips
Mini olallieberry pies to make space in the freezer and joy in my heart

Fear of having taken on too much
Hanging in there so far

Snickerdoodle the cutest Corgi
Seeing Salesforce Park for the first time

Burmese and ice cream with visitors from our 2014 life
Jumpsuits and the visit of a sister

Missing perfumed hours spent next to my lost music mentor
Reading about Peggy's first penicillin shot

Replacing Michael's favorite shoes
A tired anniversary

A grand plus of dentistry
Weezer's cover of "Africa"

Setting a record on dinner and asking about rolls before dessert
Rolling fog, fresh air, a view from the other side, and whorls of grass

The hardest shin whack maybe ever experienced
The lotion rub that was supposed to be a massage

Ice cream before Indian
The betrayal of communal mothers

Revisited vistas and a seal, king of the rock
A traffic jam made okay by togetherness and The Tsar of Love and Techno

Pondering the eucalyptus life
An empty apartment

Saying goodbye to two offices, hello to two more, and working towards yet another
Trying to keep orchids alive and watching the flowers fall

Last-minute community wrangling
Rejoicing in graduates at Grace Hopper

Worrying about not enough yeses
Avoiding news to save myself

Salty spam
Giggling at Gritty

Weekend naps
Chocolate just for me



Shelter Cove photo 2018-09-01 19.44.15_zpsw8lblk16.jpg



Shelter Cove photo 2018-09-02 19.30.24_zpsbxn4ru0g.jpg



Shelter Cove photo 2018-09-02 13.21.39_zpsfpq6u9i2.jpg



Precarious path photo 2018-09-03 12.24.39_zps2b54q4ir.jpg



Techtonica at TechCrunch photo 2018-09-07 15.45.41_zpstyzjt9no.jpg



Mini olallieberry pies photo 2018-09-09 22.18.50-2_zpss0ihoxis.jpg



Visitors from Shanghai photo 2018-09-12 09.14.31_zps8k0va7li.jpg



photo 2018-09-13 19.27.18_zpsfsuemsbd.jpg



Tired anniversary photo 2018-09-20 20.27.00_zpspqhdrkg0.jpg



The Bay from Cavallo Point at Night photo IMG_20180921_220049_zps6af8oej9.jpg



Whorls of grass at Cavallo Point photo 2018-09-22 10.42.15_zpsoh1npp75.jpg




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04 September 2018

Scrabbled

To my utter joy, Michael has recently learned to enjoy playing Scrabble with me. Unfortunately, the nearly-70-year-old Scrabble game I inherited from my great uncle was missing 15 tiles.

I was disappointed to find you can't really order just the tiles you need from the game maker, but I'm ecstatic that it only took $8.50 to get all the missing letters from someone on Etsy! Get your own here (and get 10% off with 10OFF code).

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30 June 2018

My Breathing Thing

For the last year and a half, I've dealt with what I call a "breathing thing." It started around the time I did the Techtonica crowdfunding campaign, and it's never gone totally away or been explained by the doctors I've seen. Basically, sometimes I can't get a satisfying breath. I try to breathe in deeply, but I can only get a good breath every several breaths or so because of a tightness in my lungs. It's worse when I'm more stressed or tired than usual. As a result, I end up feeling fluttery and sighing a lot.

The lack of a consistently-good breath makes me anxious, which just makes my breathing even worse. Interestingly, almost everything I've looked up about how to calm one's self starts with focusing on breathing slowly and deeply. As you can imagine, that method backfires in this case.

Michael thought it might have to do with my very-messed-up nose, which is lopsided and lumpy and doesn't let in a lot of air after several sinus surgeries that were supposed to help with that and all the sinus infections. He once discovered that pulling up and sideways on the skin next to my nose results in me feeling cool air hitting membranes that don't usually get it (it's a very strange feeling). I talked to an ENT about the problem, and I found out that there's a name for Michael's "method"—it's called "Cottle's Maneuver."

The ENT sent me to some surgeons for consultations, but they all said that unfortunately there wasn't enough bone to work with in my nose and they'd need to use one of my ribs to support reconstruction. I did not like that idea one bit and asked about a cadaveric rib, but I was told it could dissolve! Knowing the weird medical issues I've dealt with, that would probably happen to me. Also, both surgeons told me they weren't sure they could get insurance to justify surgery. Soooooo that's a no-go.

But I don't think the breathing thing is from my messed-up nose, because that would mean that breathing through my mouth would fix the problem, and it doesn't. The doctor checked my air intake with a spirometer and the oxygen levels in my blood, and both were fine, so I just deal with it and try to get some rest before it gets so bad that I can't sleep. Of course, all the stress from running a nonprofit by myself and the reflux I also deal with makes it hard to stay asleep. I often feel like things have to get better at some point, but then when I examine that thought, I realize I'm trying to look at things as fair, and really, it's more likely that more and more physical things will go wrong as I get older.

Anyway, it's so hard to get enough rest, and I'm not really sure why I'm sharing this, so off I go.

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31 March 2018

Passion Fruit Yogurt

On my birthday, I invited friends to meet me at Straw, a restaurant that was donating 10% of dine-in sales to Techtonica. Although I was perfectly happy to have people be there or donate to the Facebook fundraiser I'd started, one friend I am always so impressed by brought me a gift. In addition to a Target gift card that she insisted I spend on myself, she gave me a whole pack of passion fruit yogurt.

Now, it's one thing for someone to happen to give me a flavor of yogurt that I really love, but I knew as soon as I saw the yogurt that she remembered this poem I'd written six months earlier (August 28th):

This is just me crying on a Post-it note

 You have taken
my passion fruit yogurts
that were in
the company fridge

 and which
I was looking forward to 
all
day
long

 Replace them
they cost more
than I've earned in a year
and I would have savored
every
last 
bite

The yogurt showed that she saw me and appreciated me, even in a moment when I felt petty about feeling upset by missing yogurt. I'm still feeling in awe of her thoughtfulness. 

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31 December 2017

Fumbling for Words

Have you ever simultaneously had the breath knocked out of you and the pain of the world knocked into you? That somewhat explains what happened to me last November. Despite the leaps of progress for women after centuries of denial of opportunities, and after getting to a breaking point with many tragic humanitarian issues in the country, a huge portion of the U.S. decided they didn't care about other people. One person really hurt me by saying, "It's not like someone died," but to me, it felt like an expansive death sentence or at the very least a huge, selfish, "We utterly don't care about you" directed at millions of people that would result in harmful policy and ongoing discrimination and tragedy. I didn't just feel my own pain; I felt the weight of widespread devastation. And what can one say when they can't breathe and they've been told their voice doesn't matter?

I'm amazed that despite the heavy burden of constant terrible news over the last year, many people have been able to process quickly and get enough breath to raise strong voices in opposition. I'm just now starting to feel like I can feel around in the dark for my voice, but only because I've been guiltily using my privilege to mute a lot of the constant influx of bad news. All I've been able to do for the last year is focus my energy on building a program that empowers people who have even fewer privileges under the current administration. It's so, so hard, but I care so, so much about this important cause.

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