Summer Feelings
illness, politics, and looking forward
It’s mid-summer in Iowa City. I have to tie my hair into two small pigtails or it becomes a blanket of sweat. I sprinkle cinnamon on the kitchen windowsill to keep the ants out. The streets are full of moving trucks. I say goodbye to an acquaintence almost every day and wish them well in their new lives in New Haven, Berlin, Florida, Los Angeles, or San Jose.
My short summer teaching job ended two days ago. The kids all wrote in a card and presented it to me. I wrote them a cento (a poem constructed from a patchwork of other authors’ words) which I’ll post below. It was my first time ever teaching a creative writing workshop, and my first time ever teaching a class that was just about poetry. I enjoyed myself and also have thoughts about what I would change, how I might do better, next time.
Much of this summer has been marked by illness—I got sick in Paris and got sick again when I visited the bay area. In the fall, I think I’m going to start wearing a mask when I teach and maybe when I attend classes, too. This past year, I have had covid once and three other non-covid illnesses. Too much of my energy is being eaten up by waiting for my nose to unplug and my cough to cease.
My illnesses have been supplanting my feelings this summer. Often, I was content to be well when I wasn’t sick, and when I was sick I was too ill to feel much of anything. But, I’ve also felt moments of panic about America’s future, and mourning the ways my family members’ personalities have morphed these past few years. A few days ago, I was so tender-hearted, crying as I watched the news, crying about family and the fantasy of romantic love’s ability to save and being 30 and feeling like I am running out of time.
In May, I asked out a friend of a friend who never responded to my text message. Since then, I have been crushless. Iowa City is such a small pond. Yet, people are so bored here that one’s dating life is a frequent question. My current joke is to smile and say “I live a monastic life in Iowa City.” I am beginning to worry that I may live a monastic life anywhere that I go. Yet, I look back on all of the almost-relationships I’ve had and so few of them were worth my attention. I think Jenny Holzer was right, Romantic Love Was Invented to Manipulate Women. But without it, what support structures do we have? beyond the family?
I know I will live in Iowa City for exactly one more year. And I know that I do not want to stay longer than that. Abortion will be banned after 6 weeks of pregnancy beginning tomorrow. Trans healthcare is illegal for minors in this state. There are over 3400 books banned in K-12 schools including Homegoing and The Bluest Eye, which were both books I taught in California. Drivers are not legally liable for hitting street protesters with their vehicles. And, our Pro-Palestine encampment was dismantled by the Iowa City police 45 minutes after it was created and participants were pulled out of their finals to be arrested.
But, now. There are three weeks between now and the beginning of the semester. I have some union tasks to complete. I bought a one-month subscription to Peacock, so I can watch the Olympics. I am going to Chicago in about a week to visit some friends, swim in Lake Michigan, and finally see the Nicole Eisenmann exhibit at the MCA (there was absolutely not enough time to go during the Labor Notes conference).
I’m still grateful for the peace of my one-bedroom apartment, for the time this program has given me, and the education I’ve received too. But, I feel far-removed from my starry-eyed hopes of a year ago. I’d love for this next school year to surprise me, but I’ve also learned enough to doubt hope.