HEWN, No. 350
A little Dog that wags his tail / And knows no other joy / Of such a little Dog am I / Reminded by a Boy — Emily Dickinson
It’s been almost two months since I’ve written a newsletter. It’s been almost three since my son died. A lot has happened that I haven’t chronicled or commented on here. And yet it feels as though nothing’s really changed at all — we’re all just barely treading water but there’s still no sign of a rescue, economically, politically, epidemiologically. Time moves so strangely during this pandemic, even more strangely under the fog of grief.
I’ve been trying to work, but it’s very hard. It’s hard to think, and when I look around at all the pain and suffering around us, I don’t know what to say — particularly when it comes to teachers, students, families, staff eyeing “back-to-school,” on or offline, with such dread and uncertainty. I mean, I have forced myself to say something; I’ve given several presentations in the past few weeks: “The Ed-Tech Imaginary.” “Building Anti-Surveillance Ed-Tech.” “‘Luddite Sensibilities’ and the Future of Education.” “Pigeon Pedagogy.” Oh, and the copy-edits of my book are due in five days time. It’s all a bit overwhelming.
This week’s pigeon is the Columba livia domestica, the common city pigeon. That’s our new dog, Poppy, in the photo too, ready to pounce. She’s a 9 month Rottie mix (thank you, Copper’s Dream Rescue). She’s been with us a week, and she’s been a marvelous distraction from the doomscrolling. Once she’s housebroken — soon — I will try to be back with more ferocity.
Yours in struggle,