Six Weeks in Review

The other part of my general overwhelmed-ness has been that the first six weeks of school also brought a whole bunch of events that I either had to coordinate or travel to participate in. There were the very fun but exhausting work trips that led to weekends in Minneapolis with Emily & Elizabeth,

Emily and Rhonda and Mill City farmer's market

and a fun weekend excursion with Adria and Rhonda to Madison.

on the docks at Monona Terrace

There have been several exciting campus events including a really well-attended poetry reading (yay!) that the Writer's Club and I coordinated. My wonderfully talented colleague, Abayo, read some of his work from his forthcoming book _The Giving of Pears_.

Another exciting happening was that UW-Marinette, the second smallest of all the Wisconsin system, hosted the statewide student LGBTQ summit. So, last weekend, 100+ queers and allies descended on Marinette for a summit. It was a lot of fun (Rhonda and I both took part in the conference, including attendance of the Queer Prom), and offered such an interesting moment of reckoning about our shifting perspective on the world. At one point, an earnest college student from Madison or Steven's Point (or one of those big schools) asked the coordinators if they were expecting protesters since "we're in a pretty remote, rural community here." I was both amused and annoyed by the concern, and realized, in that moment, how much I feel a part of this community (and, how surprised I would be to find protesters outside of the conference). Needless to say all went without a hitch.

The biggest surprise of the weekend was when we found ourselves at dinner with the keynote speaker, trans-activist S. Bear Bergman, only to find out that we have one fine friend in common: the famous Mr. Gabriel Foster. So, there I am, absurdly enough, bonding with a queer tranny named Bear over beer-cheese soup and fried cheese curds in Marinette Wisconsin. We laughed a lot about the small-world of queers, and as dinner progressed (and the Rail House home-brew took hold) I began to have the most delicious sense that all is right with the world.

Dispatches from the remote corners of my mind

Dear Abby/god/ or other knowing entity:

• Why do my students use such ridiculous email addresses (e.g. sexymamma69@...)? Do they not feel slightly embarrassed when sending serious inquiries from this address?
• Why does our "drought resistant" hanging plant require twice-daily watering? (Or else it droops and whithers.)
• Why are my dog's farts so damned stinky?
• Why are there so many bars in Wisconsin? And, simultaneously, why are there no helmet laws?
• When are "rat's tails" going to come back into fashion? When should I get one?
• Lawn. WHY? And, why is everyone so anti weeds? Half of our weeds have bloomed into lovely flowers!
  
• Why is rye bread always served with Fish Fry?
• Can cell phones really pop popcorn?
  
• Why were the breakfast sausages we bought at the IGA not in the freezer section when the box clearly read "keep frozen"? Will I know if our "all natural," nitrate free pork product is rancid?
• What should I do with my diploma? Are there options other than present pompously in office or store in box in closet?
• When is Rick Astley going on tour?
  

Whiteness

Rhonda enjoyed the "stuffwhitepeoplelike" link (below) so much that she took to reading it to me as we were finishing dinner last night. She looked at me with Rhonda-serious face and said, "You KNOW we are those white people, right?"

And we are.

The stuffwhitepeoplelike blog is really, I think, about what young, white, urban, liberals like. My parents, for instance, definitely don't know, let alone like, Mos Def, and I am pretty sure they don't really like being the only white people around. But for me, so much of this is true. The first entry I read when I first read the site proclaimed: white people love being the only white person around. especially in an "ethnic" restaurant. So true. It is a sign of authenticity. Conversely, seeing lots of white people in, say, a Chinese restaurant is a disappointment (especially in Seattle) meaning that it is americanized Chinese food. According to this logic, if a lot of white people like it, the food isn't good. Which brings me to a new contribution:

White people like thinking they are better than, more sophisticated than, other white people. (I am hugely guilty of this -- read the rest of this post for further proof.)

This week in my 102 classes I am showing a film by Saul Williams called Slam! It is a movie about a young black man in D.C. who struggles to find his way through poverty and violence while writing. He is a poet and a writer who uses these skills to survive.

I have used this film in teaching before. But, I have never showed it to a room of entirely white students. The only exception of whiteness in my classes these days are my international students from Asia. And when preparing to watch this film, one of my international students openly balked: Y, from Russia, said " Professor. I have hard time understanding Black people talking."

Y is not alone. Her American counterparts also had a hard time understanding the movie. And they are confused by and afraid of Black people. They don't know any. The community here is reported to be 98% white. Some of my students are a small part Native (as we are in what was the center of the Menominee nation). Nonetheless, these students still identify as white. The one student who seemed to really like the movie, came up to me after class and said: "I, like, totally got it... 'cause, my boyfriend is Black."

But, back to the point. The white liberal in me is definitely uncomfortable being surrounded by all white people, living in a mostly-white town, and being completely immersed in white culture. I feel lame, I feel like a sellout. I do feel REALLY white.

Guns for Education

I have been in an excessively good mood for the last several days. In part, I get really hyper and excited after teaching. And, since I teach twice a day, I have lots of high-energy occasions. I find myself surprised, charmed, and engaged by the students in my class. I have the most interesting range of learners: a retired armchair historian, a few single moms, and students with a wide range of differing abilities and life-challenges. And they show up to class every day. They seem really excited to be in college (if not always in my class) and they surprise me both with their insights and, at times, the lack.

And then there are always the turkeys. You learn to expect a certain element in your classes; in my experience at Washington it was often the Frat boys sitting in the back of the class with their baseball caps on, dressed in Abercrombie, snickering with disinterest while trying to recover from the weekend's parties. You are just a glitch in their day, and they are cocky as hell. The good news: these cocky, strutting beasts seem not to be in my classes (at least this semester). However, there are the loudest, strutting, look-at-me-I'm-cool creatures who like to traipse through our yard early in the morning. TURKEYS. Real, wild, loud, turkeys. Saturday morning (the day to sleep in, mind you) we were roused at 7am by no less than 20 wild turkeys parading under our bedroom window, across the driveway, and through the yard. Like wild kingdom, but real. And the best part about these enormous birds who live in our woods and eat our bugs is that they are just part of the status quo. No one pays them any mind. Of course, it is NORMAL to have large, 20+ pound birds grazing freely in the neighborhood. Yes, they probably live in your woods. And, yes, sometimes they like to cross the road very slowly. It is all part of the way of life in this neck of the woods.

We followed the already raucous morning of turkey-watching with an 8am session of "Colleagues with Chainsaws." You do not know this event? Well, it begins when two of your colleagues have plans to go to a gun show. They decide to meet up at your place and to drop off a cooler and a chainsaw. They then decide that we should just have at it and start trimming that tree that is so overgrown. Next thing you know, you have a music Prof, a biologist, and one domestic diva (Rhonda) attacking a 30 ft. Spruce from all angles. (Amy and Buddy watch, far out of harms way.) After an hour, the tree is much improved and the colleagues look at each other and say, "well, should we head to the gun show?" It is only then that I see that said music professor is wearing a t-shirt that includes the words "guns" and "education." Rhonda looks at him and says "In Marinette, even the liberals like guns!"

I can' resist tying this all together by mentioning that it is soon turkey season (and squirrel season!). I have a strange non -resistance to hunting turkeys. Whereas deer have these big, sweet eyes and always seem so scared, turkeys seem quite self-assured and unafraid. Shooting them seems not such a loss. There will be more. Lots more.

What has become of me?

the smoking man doesn't know my blog

Today was the first day of class. On Tuesday/Thursday I have an 8am section of English 101, and a 2:55 (yes, 2:55!?) section of English 201. I will write more on the schedule in a moment, but first I should say that the first day went quite well. I was surprised at the diversity (racial) in my 101 class; I had students of color and they were not all international students! I asked the class to write me some words of advice on surviving Wisconsin winters and responses included: don't forget to pay the heat bill, keep cat litter in your car, and "think warm."

One might wonder how to structure a day in which your classes are seven hours apart. In general, I have decided that I will come home between classes. Living half a mile from school makes this imminently possible. (I shared this strategy with my dad who asked "they pay you for THAT?") But, being that it was the first day, I had a lot of details to take care of, so I didn't head home until 1-ish. As I was walking down the lane that leads me (the back way) to our house, I hear this voice ask "You done with school already?" I turn to see this man I have never met sitting on his deck and having a smoke. I looked at him quizzically and he said "oh, I saw you heading to school this morning." Let me repeat that I DO NOT KNOW THIS MAN. And yet, he knew I was coming home from school. Either because he actually knows who I am (small town: word travels fast), or because one can only assume that a woman wearing pinstriped pants and a paisley shirt must be going to the University, that HE KNEW. And, the funnier part being, like my father he seemed incredulous that I could be done already.

I also had to decide what I wanted the students to call me. After much debate and discussion, I have settled on "Dr. Amy." I explained to my students that finishing my PhD was one of the most excruciating things I have ever done and, gosh darn it, I earned those letters. And yet, I do not want to go all the way with this power trip. Besides, Dr. Reddinger makes me sound like a Urologist.

I hope (ahem, Georgia) that I have sufficiently narrated the first day. I am sure that I will write more as the week progresses. I also want to give props to all those who commented on my comments. Rhonda had a good laugh when no one responded to that post for a day or two, but then she was equally excited when the responses came rolling in. I think that blogging is a strange beast, but I have really enjoyed the opportunity to write creatively on a pretty regular basis. I strongly recommend that if you want to try this blogging thing, you should start blogging about things that excite you. So, for instance, Tamiko should write about food and Celia and life with Denmark's most famous composer while Georgia might want to blog about cheese and my space (see comments from last post). Certain friends might want to blog about chickens...

Rhonda took these this morning as I headed off:

the big question

I have been thinking that it is time to take a minute to talk about the big picture: we are two women, in a relationship with each other, who have chosen to move from Seattle (often regarded as a haven of progressivism) to Northern Wisconsin (not often regarded as such).

People have expressed concern for our safety and well-being. Others have no doubt thought that we were nuts to move from a broadly supportive community into a great unknown. Still others have expressed their enthusiasm and support for taking this step.

So far, we have been met with a lot of warmth and kindness. We have been welcomed to the community in a variety of ways and with great sincerity. We have also confused some people. At one point I had to explain to a service person who wanted to leave a message for Rhonda: "No, really, you can talk to me. Rhonda's refrigerator is my refrigerator."

Today we found out that several people on campus were under the impression that I was moving to the area with my daughter, Rhonda. Thankfully, some of my colleagues took it upon themselves to clear things up. (My thought: I know that my dissertation defense sprouted some new gray hairs. But, do I really look that old?)

Today Rhonda met our neighbors to the south -- an elderly couple named Herbert and Betty. Herbert took a spill in the driveway and Rhonda went over to help. She and Betty ended up chatting for a while. Rhonda did not proclaim herself a homo to Betty's face. Betty might not get it. If she did get it, she might be bothered or scared. But, I imagine she understood that there was a kind person helping her husband when she could not. It is my naive and abiding faith in the power of community and connection that continues to make me believe this big adventure will work.

I have no doubt that we will face some tough experiences here. This is a reality for all people in this country who are not a part of the majority culture. I can't imagine how our experiences would be different if we were people of color, non-citizens, poor, etc.

I also find it tremendously reassuring to know that we have a community of people out there reading this little blog and wishing us well on our journey.

Critters in the night

Last night we crashed at around 9:30 after a full day of unloading, tearing down wallpaper, and unpacking. We were both out cold. That is, until 1:30 when Buddy started barking furiously at the ceiling. I thought that it was the dog being weird, but then I could faintly hear the scampering of little feet up above. The noise got louder. It definitely sounded like it was coming from the ceiling and not the roof (thought Rhonda still has hope that it was outside). We sat there blearily looking at each other realizing that this is one of those moments: "Oh shit. We own this place!"

So, we will be investing in some kind of trapping devices later today. Between setting mouse traps and scraping walls it is going to be a fun weekend!


PS. The cell phone is the only way to get a hold of us right now. We get some reception at home. Feel free give us a ring to dispense much-needed advice about a) wallpaper removal b) vermin removal or c) living amidst chaos.

PPS. Thanks for your concern about us driving through Minneapolis -- we got several calls & a text. Obviously, we are fine. However, it was really sad and jarring to hear about this event. I know it will be really hard event for people in the (MSP) community to deal with.

arrived!

Just a quick post -- we arrived last night at 5pm as planned. All is well at the new place except the water pressure in the shower sucks! However, the half hour walk through our woods this morning made it all better. We have already been given a bag full of veggies and a new birdfeeder by new friends. This morning at 8:15 the previous owner (who is probably 80 and still driving a bright red pickup) came to give us the rest of the keys. He hugged me three times and then said, "Okay. I'm done here." What a funny (and very sweet) old guy.

I'm on campus checking email. Today at noon campus folks will show up to help unpack the truck. Later we will *hopefully* be able to sit and eat a real meal.

more soon!