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it’s in the quiet times…

this is something I understand. As a single parent in the military I had to rely on my village (family) to help me raise my daughter. It was one of the hardest things I have done but in the end my little girl grew into a woman who was confident in who she is and that she is loved wholeheartedly.

tea&bannock

I did something extreme this summer – something that has caused me a lot of grief, guilt and shame.

I know… what an intro.

My parents are taking care of my kid for the summer.

There, I said it.

I feel wrong just saying it.

There is so much to unpack here.

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It started in the middle of June. I went to Vancouver for two weeks for two academic conferences and my Mom was watching my baby at my place in Saskatoon. And we chatted about it – and she agreed to watch Aerie for the summer up North. I’m still studying for my PhD (one day I will write more about this) and I am working hard on passing a big test that will determine whether or not I continue in academia in two freaking weeks. So much pressure, and on top of all this – blogging, photography, and…

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thoroughly enjoyed this. thank you for sharing

hecatedemeter

Here’s our new Poet Laureate, reading two poems:  the first, a poem that changed things for her and, the second, a poem of her own.  She also discusses the role of politics in poetry.

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hecatedemeter

It happened again the other day.  It keeps happening.  It really needs to stop happening.

A very intelligent man I know said, “Gee, I’ll never understand why white women voted for Trump over Clinton.”  He was referring the fact that :

[N]early twice as many white women without college degrees voted for Trump than for Hillary, and of college-educated white women Hillary won by only a narrow margin — 51 percent supported Hillary, compared to 45 percent who supported Trump.  Overall, 53 percent of white women voted for Trump, alongside 58 percent of white men who did so as well.

Every time someone questions this I just want to stop and say, “REALLY?  You really don’t understand that?  Gee, Patriarchy, how DOES that shit work?”  But smart people keep asking the question so I’m going to answer it.

Herewith:

OK.  Apparently, this will come as a shock to some of…

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hecatedemeter

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Different Ways to Pray
~ Naomi Shihab Nye
There was the method of kneeling,
a fine method, if you lived in a country
where stones were smooth.
The women dreamed wistfully of bleached courtyards,
hidden corners where knee fit rock.
Their prayers were weathered rib bones,
small calcium words uttered in sequence,
as if this shedding of syllables could somehow
fuse them to the sky.
There were the men who had been shepherds so long
they walked like sheep.
Under the olive trees, they raised their arms—
Hear us! We have pain on earth!
We have so much pain there is no place to store it!
But the olives bobbed peacefully
in fragrant buckets of vinegar and thyme.
At night the men ate heartily, flat bread and white cheese,
and were happy in spite of the pain,
because there was also happiness.
Some prized the pilgrimage,
wrapping themselves in new…

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tea&bannock

Since moving to the big city, much like Amanda in her last post, I’ve been experiencing some challenging transitions. Having this be my 4th move in one year and as a newcomer to the city, I definitely have my moments of longing to be back in a small community with all its laughter. Luckily, I have my amazing partner who continues to remind me that those things take time to build. One warming sense of community I feel like I always have, however, is our blog. ❤

When one of the Tea&Bannock members first posted that they were coming to Portland to be extras on Portlandia, I became super thrilled. I thought, not only was I going to meet another Tea&Bannock artist, but I was going to have some super rad Indigenous woman to roam the city with!

Already knowing that Joi was part of our blog made it super…

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I was never taught to think beyond what was necessary when preparing a meal. Never knew that you could keep peelings, bones, etc., to make soups, broths and other things that could make your meals taste better and be healthier. Sadly alot of information has been pushed to the side for convenience and we need to start paying attention.

hecatedemeter

I’ve been reading a Harriet Vane mystery set during WWII, when everyone in England was on short rations.  Their ability to use even vegetable peels (to flavor broth) inspires me.

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I hope for a better world for the generations to come and peace for the ones living through life now.

tea&bannock

I remember it vividly. Social class, 2007. Our teacher, Mr. P., was always great at starting class conversations and he was teaching us about World War II, and The Holocaust. I remember thinking about how ridiculous it was that the Nazi’s were able to “get so far” with their hate and that so many people died. It was unfathomable. It still is. I remember thinking to myself that people should have “done something sooner”. “Why didn’t people speak out against it?“. “I would.” Of course, people were. Good people. I also remember the message that we learned at an even younger age, “why do we have to learn about history?” “So we can learn from it.

I was young, naive, and foolish. I found it inconceivable that something like that could touch us here in this day and age in Canada. I knew there…

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It is a sad day when a little piece of your world dies because reality decided you needed to know something you really didn’t want to know. Long live Jim Croce, Elvis, John Denver and all the rest who were taken when we still needed them to keep our world soft and warm.

layce gardner

Yesterday, Saxon and I were listening to a Jim Croce album. Yep, you heard that right. An album. A vinyl album.

Anyway, Saxon looked at me and said, “Why did rock stars and musicians stop dying in airplane crashes?”

“What d’ya mean?” I asked.

“You know, musicians used to die in plane crashes a lot. Lynyrd Skynyrd, Buddy Holly, Otis Redding, Patsy Cline, Jim Croce, Ricky Nelson—

“Wait! Back up. What? Jim Croce?”

“Yeah, he died in a plane crash. He was maybe 30,” Saxon said.

I buried my face in my hands. I began to weep. Openly weep.

“You okay?” Saxon asked.

I shook my head and sobbed. “No, I am not okay. I didn’t know Jim Croce was dead.”

Saxon said, “He died like forty years ago. You’re crying now?”

“I didn’t know he was dead!” I blubbered. “To me, it’s like it just happened!”

I continued to…

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hecatedemeter

Rosie

As we go into this last weekend of summer, it’s a great time to gather friends and family for parties and cookouts – and this weekend I’ll be doing some of both – but it’s ALSO a great time to remember what we’re celebrating with our Labor Day holiday: honoring labor and trade organizations, and having a party for workers and their families.

Not consumers, workers.

We are more than consumers – we’re citizens and workers. This day is for us!

The next time you enjoy things like:

  • An 8-hour workday
  • Paid overtime
  • A weekend

Or think about the fact that your seven year old is not expected (or allowed) to get a job, that we do have a minimum wage (although it desperately needs to be raised), or that if you get injured on the job, you’re owed compensation, remember: that’s all thanks to labor unions.

And did…

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hecatedemeter

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I’m a child of the American South.  I’m the Witch of this Southern place, this place , this one here in Virginia, close-by the shores of Spout Run and the Potomac River.  I’m a woman whose spiritual life consists mainly of being in relationship with my Southern landbase.  And there’s a lot about the South that makes me proud.

I’m proud of our cooking, a melange, as Michael Twitty notes, of African, European, Island, and Native traditions.  Chef Twitty has called our cuisine a family affair and sometimes one full of family fights.  Give me ham biscuits, a mint julep, Old Bay, crawfish étouffée, fried catfish, my Aunt May’s hushpuppies, guava jelly, and a chess pie.

I’m proud of Southern writing, a genre not afraid to explore the shadows and the weird and to claim them, to claim them fully.

I’m proud of Southern gardens, Southern architecture, and Southern music…

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