To my Auntie Joan, who showed me how to “treasure.”

Joan

If there’s anything that my Auntie Joan taught me, it’s that collections can be become treasures. Treasures can become household-defining. And, when passed on to the right person, the whole shebang becomes elevated beyond a group of tchotchkes to a mantel (or room) worth of heirlooms that make your heart sing. How else to explain my fierce adoration of the whimsical pewter animals- some with startled expressions- gracing my desk? Or the teacups, so many teacups, from her travels across {Read More}

What I know/what I have to believe/what I have to do

I almost posted this yesterday. I almost deleted it five times. I almost started it with a phrase like, “Okie doke, America, you wanted a non-politician? Congrats- you got one. Good luck landing that jet.” But I didn’t. Because a) it would seem like sour grapes and b) mixing metaphors is borderline inexcusable. (Although the bar for “borderline inexcusable” has been set real, real low. Hey-o!) No, but seriously, what the actual fuck. No, I didn’t mean to write that. Okay, {Read More}

Yes #blacklivesmatter. No more #thoughtsandprayers.

Just FYI: I had planned on posting a picture of Nora’s new turquoise hair because= summer and fun and life, you know? (And I still might, because it’s downright incredible.) And while her hair and her face and the life I enjoy with these tiny people buoys me up even in the darkest of feelings, my heart hurts today for the horrific, unfathomable killing of Black folks at the hands of police. It’s not new, although some are way-too recent, but it {Read More}

Sitting vigil on the internet.

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I had a whole post ready to go for today. About senseless violence and targeted minorities and lax gun measures and horrific election reactions and about one sweet baby boy and his immeasurably grieving parents. And I couldn’t finish it. More often than not it feels like I’m sitting vigil with my ever-refreshing news feeds; click, scroll, cry, panic, rinse, repeat. Plus, let’s be honest. Absolutely no one in the world needs my feelings (in 800 word diatribe form) about senseless {Read More}

Birthdays and time travel.

dad keely singing

So, this past Monday was my birthday. (And yes, we’re still talking about it, thankyouverymuch.) It was…perfect. It really was. Quiet. Fun. And wonderful, in the way that spending time with the people who appreciate you (even if they don’t mention it while you’re cutting their pb&js into geometrically exact triangles) is wonderful. Oof, 36 year-old Keely would be basically unrecognizable to 26 year-old Keely. (“So…you didn’t dance on any bars? Like, not even a smallish one?”) I was glad {Read More}

To my Dad, one year gone.

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Hi, Dad. So, I miss you. You know this. I know you know this because I’m always telling you this. And you respond in the ways that folks who are desperate for signs are sure to notice; the warmth of a hand on a shoulder, a puffy, heart-shaped cloud on a completely clear day, a third playing of Boz Scagg’s “Lido Shuffle” on major airwaves in 24 hours… This first year without you has been gigantic. And endless. And lightning {Read More}

Rest well, Jef.

Jef and kids

I’m not entirely certain what the saints and angels are up to these days, but they seriously need to lay off with the taking of the best and brightest souls. Jeffrey Smith died yesterday morning, after a multi-decades long battle with cancer (cancers, really), and a lightning-fast stint with hospice care. The hospice seemed so, so short- maybe in comparison with his unfairly long battle, but in actuality probably because there would never be a good time to say goodbye to this {Read More}

A tribute.

sandy bolton

You know those people in your life, the ones who radiate energy and celebration simply by showing up? My Auntie Sandy was that person for me. For my family. For a crazy extended “family” whose very definition defied distance, thanks to the equivocal magic of the internet. We lost my Auntie Sandy last weekend. It was unexpected, incredibly cruel, and remains incomprehensible. When I heard the news, my first thought was- “What? No. I’m sitting here, making Valentines for my {Read More}