I had a conference with my kid’s pre-K teacher the other day. All is well except that we’re encouraged to remind him about what is appropriate to talk about at school and what is not. The example given was his line of questioning around death. What happens to our bodies when we die. Sometimes we cremate people but what happens to the bones? Do they burn, too? His teacher wants to engage with him on these questions and has to manage them in a way that doesn’t upset other kids. (“Are we going to burn my grandma?!” was the example given of what an upset or scared kid might say. What, of course, we’d want to avoid.)

I really like his teacher. I know how challenging it is for teachers/educators to hold space for all of their students, their cultural practices, varying developmental stages, and what the kids have or haven’t been exposed to. I don’t like the idea of raising kids in a sanitized bubble or teachers having the sole responsibility to answer these questions when they come up. (To be clear, our kid asks about death, ancient ancestors, and minerals all the time, not just at school and we have lengthy conversations where the same questions are repeated over and over as he contemplates our responses.) I do not believe in waiting for some version of “the talk” when it comes to death, sex, religion, Santa, the tooth fairy, or war.1

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In this paragraph, I should move from the anecdote mentioned above into the rest of this Substack but I don’t know what to say. I’m thinking about the brief conversation I had with one of my oldest friends yesterday, who just lost her mother. How our conversation was mostly breath because there were no words, yet. I’m thinking about Palestine, colossal grief. My belief in working toward building stronger communities where people talk to each other, where people become real to one another, and how war blows up and destroys so much. And, what can never be destroyed, what we cannot let be destroyed, which is the ability to take action, however we are able.

5 Calls | Jewish Voice for Peace | Palestinian Youth Movement | Medical Aid Palestine

One Small Step

We recently held a community listening event at the Alamo Theatre in Bucksport, where we shared some pieces my co-facilitator/producer Chris has produced from conversations we’ve recorded through StoryCorps’ One Small Step initiative with WERU, reflected on our experience as facilitators, and highlighted the experiences of a few participants. We’ve got one month left to record the last 10 of our 25 conversations, bringing strangers from different backgrounds/beliefs together through storytelling.

After this is all said and done, I will have some things to say (and do). For now, I’m wondering how one moves from doing this kind of deeply invested community work to whatever comes next. If you’re interested in doing this work in your community, let’s talk.

New Work in the World

“The River is Not a Borderline: a new play by Wabanaki REACH and Threadbare Theatre Workshop moves stories of the Maine Indian Land Claims from the head to the heart”

A few months ago, photographer Dan Rajter, whom I’ve worked with previously, asked if I wanted to collaborate on a story about Wabanaki REACH and Threadbare Theatre Workshop’s new play ”panawahpskek – where the river widens”. I already had tickets for the play (performed in a grassy area by the boat landing on Indian Island2) and was excited to attend—and, to write about it.

After attending the play, I reviewed my notes, reflected on conversations, and looked at photographs, attempting to identify the threads I’d pull together to form a story. I kept returning to what George Loring, one of the actors, shared with me during a pre-dress rehearsal interview in the riverside tent that functioned as a dressing room. George walked me through the play—a spare, lyrical performance that spans across time from creation to the present moment—using language that lodged itself in my brain. I asked my editor at the Maine Organic Farmer & Gardener (MOF&G), Holli Cederholm, if it would be okay to incorporate Loring’s account into the piece. She said yes.3

In this piece, you’ll find a brief introduction of “where the river widens” (by me) followed by words from George, who provided music direction for the play and also played the parts of Gluskabe, the land, the birds, the sun, a moose, and a Penobscot tribesperson (which he is also in real life alongside being a musician and his work helping people with physical and mental disabilities). The interview was condensed for length and clarity.4 The photos are Dan’s and they are beautiful IMHO, as was the play and the process that led to it. A number of resources for further learning are included at the end of the piece, too—check them out.5

“MapQuest: A Family Fulfills Its Goal of Hiking Every Footpath in Acadia”

Over the summer, Down East Magazine commissioned me to take a hike with the Blanchard family at Pemetic / Acadia National Park for a story that came out last month. I obliged. It was a foggy day after lots of rain. As we navigated the slippery rocks, David spoke to me about being diagnosed with early-onset Parkinson’s disease, the degenerative neurological disorder, at age 36, his family’s quest to hike every trail in the park, the fundraising they do for the Michael J. Fox Foundation’s Parkinson’s research, and how that research has thankfully helped David (and many others) to find a cocktail of medications that help to mitigate his symptoms.

Currents

Reading

”Heart Berries” by Terese Marie Mailhot and ”There There” by Tommy Orange6

Listening

Fever Ray in general. Specifically: ”When I Grow Up” and ”Even it Out”

Mali Obomsawin and Magdalena Abrego’s searing/soaring new single ”Bounty”

Longform Podcast #558: Mona Chalabi A fascinating, important, and uncomfortable conversation with writer, editor, and data illustrator, Mona Chalabi, who just won a Pulitzer, talking about journalistic censorship of Palestine.

I am very excited about the interstitium, which I first learned about from this Radiolab episode, and would like to talk to you about it.

Watching

A few Saturdays ago I took the kids to see ”Wish”. The last Disney movie I saw was “The Lion King” in 1994. I loved “The Lion King” but came to despise the whole Disney enterprise soon after that7 and refused to engage with it. Now, I have kids (I still have problems with Disney). Nevertheless, “Wish” gave me goosebumps and made me cry because of its nod to the power of collective action, the idea that the only way to overthrow a tyrant is to rise up together, and the refusal to dull our expectations for life on this planet under shitty, oppressive rulers.

Housekeeping

After a year of pitching stories about Wilhelm Reich to little/no avail, I’ve decided to publish a full-on reported, fact-checked essay8 here on Substack with original artwork by Orgonon’s first resident-intern, Sarah Chait. Stay tuned—with any luck it should be in your inbox in a few days.

(INSERT GENERAL MESSAGE ABOUT HOW AFTER DECEMBER 31 I DON’T HAVE A GUARANTEED INCOME AND ASK SUBSCRIBERS IF THEY KNOW ANYONE WHO IS LOOKING FOR SOMEONE WHO HAS THE UNIQUE SKILLSET I DO FOR PAID WORK/PROJECTS/OPPORTUNITIES.)

Thank you for reading, friends.