Tag: 10 things

feb 19/SHOVELWALKGETOUTICE

7.6 inches
30 degrees

When I went out for my run yesterday in the early afternoon to “beat the snow” I had no idea it would snow so much. What was completely bare yesterday morning, is now covered in white. Wow. It is very winter wonderland-y. If I didn’t need to take a day off from running, I’d be out there right now with my yaktrax. Instead of running, I settled for an early morning shovel. This winter, I’ve been shoveling my sidewalk and the sidewalk of my neighbors on both sides. The snow hasn’t been too hard to shovel and it feels good to help others, even in this small way. Today as I shoveled the sidewalk of my neighbor to the south, she opened her door and called out, Thank you Sara! Normally I listen to a podcast or a playlist when I shovel, but I didn’t today. I’m glad. I might not have heard her thank you if I had!

10 Things

  1. the snow was so bright that even though the sun wasn’t out, I wore sunglasses
  2. chirping birds
  3. a droning snow blower
  4. the sharp scrape of a shovel
  5. the snow moved easily under my crappy plastic shovel — it was both fluffy and wet
  6. without the snow, the sidewalk was slick
  7. the serviceberry tree/bush at the edge of our deck was loaded down with snow —
  8. once I accidentally brushed against it and snow fell under my jacket and down my back — brrr
  9. later I gently knocked the heavy branches with my shovel; a soft layer of snow fell on my head and covered my sunglasses
  10. my shovel unearthed clumps of dead leaves at the edge of the sidewalk

walk: 60 minutes
Winchell trail to Rachel Dow Memorial Bench
32 degrees

Every winter I try to do at least one winter wonderland walk, when it’s not too cold or too windy and everything is covered in white and winter feels like WINTER — as in the ideal form of winter. Today was the day for this year! Admittedly, the edges of the trail and the curbs were very wet, but I didn’t mind because I had on snow pants and boots.

As I walked to the river, I recited Wordsworth’s “Snow-flakes” — Out of the bosom of the air/Out of the cloudfolds of her garment shaken — and watched small clumps of snow dropping from the branches. I listened to the water falling over the concrete ledge, then the limestone ledge, then into the ravine. I felt the snow compacting through my boot and creak creak creaking with every step.

The view of the river through the tall, slender trees was amazing. The water was all open and a blueish-greenish-gray — at least to me. I took some pictures but none of them captured the beauty of this moment.

snow-painted trees, a fence, the open river

When I got to the Rachel Dow Memorial Bench, I brushed off the snow and sat for a few minutes. I heard the birds and the faint rumble of a pick-up truck across the river. Then I walked back on the trail closer to the road, and it finally happened — an SUV sped through the puddles on the edge of the road and splashed me. When I run, I often wonder/worry if this will happen, but this was the first time it actually did. I didn’t mind; it was warm, and I dressed for it. Did they do it on purpose? Possibly. No other car splashed up water. Do I care? Not at all.

Get Out Ice

Another sticker in the Arbeiter bathroom. Maybe I should make a sticker to put up in that bathroom? A poetry sticker?

Best Friends Forever / Epstein and Trump

feb 17/RUNGETOUTICE

4.3 miles
minnehaha park and back
47 degrees
wind: 13 mph / 32 mph gusts

Warm, but windy, which made it feel colder, but only sometimes. The rest of the time it felt warm. Warm enough for bare arms. My left knee was a bit stiff and sore. Maybe I should take a break from running tomorrow.

overheard as I ran near Minnehaha Academy: a whistle blowing, then an adult voice — Okay fourth graders! I guess recess is over.

10 Things

  1. at least 2 runners were wearing shorts
  2. all of the walkers were bundled up in coats and hats and long pants
  3. open water!? I think the ice has fully cracked on the surface of the river, but it could just be much thinner in parts. Looking down at it, there were blobs of white, with larger stretches of pale grayish, blueish, greenish
  4. the falls were gushing behind thick ice columns
  5. voices below — an adult with several kids — were they hiking behind the falls?
  6. a police vehicle parked sideways in the parking lot at 44th
  7. the cobblestones near the falls overlook were all ice-free, but not puddle-free! squish squish squish
  8. more of the walking path is clear and open — a few clumps of snow, wet and shiny pavement, grit
  9. an old pick-up truck was parked under the ford bridge, up on the sidewalk across the road from the trail — was it hiding — if so, why and from whom?
  10. the walking half of the double bridge was covered in slushy snow, the bike half was mostly clear with a deep puddle in the middle

I decided that I would listen to music for the second half of my run. Because it was windy, I put on my “It’s Windy” playlist. The first song: Sailing / Christopher Cross The last song was the sound of birds chirping. Huh? Oh — checked the title of the track: “Breeze (forest)”

Get Out Ice

When FWA got home from his errand this morning, he told me that all of the Stop signs in the neighborhood have a stenciled “ICE” under the “STOP” in a matching font. Of course I had to check and take a picture!

STOP ICE

I’m not sure how long these signs have been this way. I hadn’t noticed, but I don’t drive, so I rarely see the stop signs. I wondered how long it took someone/someones to do this? I hope the city leaves them alone.

added, 18 feb 2026: Three notes from Scott. First, as we drove to the library, Scott and I noticed more stop signs with “ICE” and some without. Scott guessed that this stop ice action was probably not that systematic. Second, he also pointed out that it is not a stencil, but a sticker. Would I be able to notice that if I got close enough? I’ll have to take a walk today and check. And third, Scott informed me that these stickers have been on stop signs for several weeks.

Love

I finished my love poems. I decided to call it, We Love, We Love, We Love, We Love. I posted it on instagram, facebook, and as the home page of my author site: sarapuotinen.com

feb 13/RUNGETOUTICE

3 miles
locks and dam #1 and back
46 degrees!
75% sloppy

Okay first false spring! So many less layers today: running tights, shorts, short-sleeved shirt, pull-over, cap. No gloves or long sleeved base layers or coats or buffs. And, by the end of the run, I took off my outer layer and was walking back with bare arms. Nice! I’ve told the kids for years, whenever they wonder how they can make it through the long winter, once you get through January, it always warms up for a few days around Valentine’s Day. And, like it usually does, it warmed up right around Valentine’s Day!

I felt good during my run. Happy, strong, able to run through moments of wanting to stop. I wasn’t able to avoid puddles though. Squish squish squish. Soaked socks.

10 Things

  1. patch-work surface below: white and pale blue — will the ice split before it gets cold again?
  2. birds! sounding excited for spring
  3. deep puddles everywhere — they were particularly bad on the double bridge, I had to grab onto the wooden railing and climb around them
  4. a car passed me twice blasting some music that sounded like enya
  5. encountered lots of runners — were any wearing shorts? I can’t remember
  6. drip drip drip
  7. the sun was reflecting off of the water on the path, everything was shiny and bright
  8. at least one or two fat tires
  9. a few walkers in bright yellow vests
  10. the grassy boulevard was a combination of mushy snow, very slick snow, and grass, and mud

When I reached the locks and dam #1, I ran halfway down the hill and stopped to record a thought, and some false spring sounds:

False spring / 23 feb 2026

restless / still

At my annual check-up a week ago, I told my cnp that my legs were restless and I was waking up several times a night (which has been the case for a decade now, I think). She ordered a blood test for my ferritin. Yep — very low: 16; she wants it to be at least 40. So, iron pills for a month, another test, then maybe iron transfusions. This description is for future Sara who likes to remember these things, and present Sara who imagines a future Sara that will. This description is also prompted by two references to stillness in my “on this day posts” from past years. In 2021 I posted a passage from an audiobook I was listening to, Wintering:

There are gaps in the mesh of the everyday world and sometimes they open up and you fall through into somewhere else. Somewhere else runs at a different pace to the here and now where everyone else carries on. Somewhere else is where ghosts live, concealed from view and only glimpsed by people in the real world. Somewhere else exists at a delay so that you can’t quite keep pace. Perhaps I was already resting on the brink of somewhere else anyway, but now I fell through as simply and discretely as dust shifting through the floorboards. I was surprised to find I felt at home there. Winter had begun. Everybody winters at one time or another. Some winter over and over again. Wintering is a season in the cold. It is a fallow period in life when you’re cut off from the world, feeling rejected, side-lined, blocked from progress or cast into the role of an outsider.

Wintering / Katherine May

Here stillness = a lack of movement, frozen in the cold, removed from the action. Reading this passage again, I’m not so sure that I think of stillness, but when I read it a few minutes ago, and then read a line from Elizabeth Bishop, I thought, still. Here’s the line from Elizabeth Bishop’s poem, “Five Flights Up”:

Still dark.

When I read this brief line, I thought about how much I like that still can mean more than one thing at a time. Still dark = it is still dark, the dark continues, it is too early for light, we continue to be in the time/place of not-yet-day. And, still dark = it is quiet, there is a lack of movement, everything is still and dark, nothing moves and nothing can be seen.

Maybe I should spend some time studying Bishop? I have read several of her poems, even studying one more closely — The End of March on 30 march 2023. And now I’m thinking of Jorie Graham and studying her, or finally writing a poem about being still and restless? And all of this makes me think, again, of a film still, a photograph, an image frozen — my “how I see” project!

Get Out Ice

Thinking again about today’s false spring weather. FWA asked how many false springs I thought we’d have before it was warm for good and I said, I wasn’t sure but that I knew it would get very cold again. The earliest spring has stayed is the end of March. I added, no one believes that this warm-up will stay, that we’ve made it through winter. What this warm up does it reminds us that a world beyond winter is possible, which is easy to forget when we’re in the deep of it. This feels like a metaphor for ICE’s leaving of Minnesota. It’s not over, they’re not really leaving. No one here believes that. But this withdrawal of troops does signal a victory and demonstrates that a world beyond ICE beyond Trump is possible.

Love

I’m working on the introduction to my love, minnesota-style chapbook. Since I’m a little stuck, I tried to think about it as I ran. A sentence popped into my head, and I recorded in the middle of the run: “Words don’t merely describe something, they do something.” And I added, and I’m particularly interested in what these words did/do to me, to others here in Minneapolis and St. Paul.

feb 11/RUNGETOUTICE

4.5 miles
minnehaha falls and back
35 degrees
15% sloppy

Sun! Above freezing! Melting and melted snow! And I think I remember hearing chirping birds somewhere. Plus, the falls were faintly falling! Today’s run felt much better than yesterday’s. I felt stronger and calmer and more capable of handling everything — running included.

10 Things

  1. two benches at the park were occupied, one near Sea Salt and one just across the road from the Longfellow House
  2. a low, dull whine coming from the indoor ice rink at Minneahaha Academy
  3. the gentle curve of the retaining wall wrapped around the ravine between 42nd and 44th, covered in white
  4. much of the snow near the bench above the edge of the world was melted — the bench was empty, the river was white
  5. a few cars in the parking lots at the falls
  6. two people standing on the path at the edge of the falls looking up at something — but what?
  7. 2 fat tires
  8. a man and a dog emerging from a snow-covered trail, climbing a snow bank and then crossing the road
  9. a long honk from a car across turkey hollow
  10. the soft sound and the slide-y feel of my feet striking the grit on the path

As I ran, I thought about my low ferritin and wondered what impact it has made on my running. Is it why I struggle to run more than 4 or 5 miles at a time? Then I imagined how much better my running might be after a few months of taking the iron pills my np (nurse practitioner) prescribed for me.

Here in Minnesota, we have a few months (if we’re lucky!) before it’s spring, but it sure feels like it today. In honor of that feeling, here’s a Mary Oliver poem I just discovered in my recently purchased Little Alleluias:

A Settlement / Mary Oliver

Look, it’s spring. And last year’s loose dust has turned
into this soft willingness. The wind-flowers have come
up trembling, slowly the brackens are up-lifting their
curvaceous and pale bodies. The thrushes have come
home, none less than filled with mystery, sorrow,
happiness, music, ambition.

And I am walking out into all of this with nowhere to
go and no task undertaken but to turn the pages of
this beautiful world over and over, in the world of my
mind.

***

Therefore, dark past,
I’m about to do it.
I’m about to forgive you

for everything.

I love this poem! To turn the pages of this beautiful world, to forgive the dark past, to declare, I’m about to do it in a poem. I want to borrow that line.

Get Out Ice

An IRL friend shared a post on Facebook with some wise words about care and love. The whole post is great, but here’s an excerpt that explicitly discusses care and another form of love: relational humility and the de-centering of needs/desires

So beloved white women kin, please let us watch each other. If you see this happening, please turn towards our kin and ask them to hold a contradiction with you: we need the efforts and care that are being brought forth, this strategy that uses our privileges to build things that are needed but, at the same time, and with the greatest of humility, we have to recognize that we carry within us deeply rooted survival needs that are about our own comfort and centering; our desire to feel and be seen as valuable and worthy. And because those needs are deeply rooted, we often don’t see them when they crop up, although others do. Which is why practicing relational humility rather than defensiveness is key to this moment.

Link arms with each other and say, hey, while we are doing this work, let’s check each other on what we are bringing to it. Who else are we in relationship with? How are we checking our actions against something other than the minds of other white women? Is there anyone else doing the same thing or something similar and can we help them rather than start something new? Is there a part of us doing this thing because we have an image of ourselves as brave and selfless, a kind of inner hero narrative? Come on, loves, tell the truth. Where are we holding on to control rather than care, feeling a sense of ownership to our work that we are attached to, expressing false humility when we actually want the attention, and believing that we know what is best for whatever moment we are in? Are we trying to build an empire or just a moment for the people nearest to us, people we want to create safe? Loves, beloveds, there are a number of white women engaging in empire building right now, even though it is called care.

Raffo Susan

there are a number of white woman engaging in empire building right now, even though it is called care.

love

I have written 14 love poems using words/lines/phrases from the social media statements of local businesses. For Valentine’s Day, I want to gather them in a small chapbook to be shared and spread. I’d like to include a brief introduction that would explain what, why, and how I put these together, and might offer a more straight-forward description of how love is being imagined and practiced here in Minnesota. This afternoon and tomorrow, I need to write this introduction.

feb 8/RUNGETOUTICE

2.6 miles
river road, south/north
28 degrees
25% ice-covered

A beautiful morning for a run! Sunny, warmer, clearer trails. There was some ice, but most of it had been sprinkled with dirt so it wasn’t slick and dangerous — there’s a metaphor there, right? I was glad to be out on the trail, albeit with some anxiety. Two days ago, at my annual check-up, my blood pressure was in the high zone. High enough to need to monitor it daily for a month to see if I need to go on medication. Some other test results were “abnormal,” too: high cholesterol, high thyroid, low ferritin. Bad test results make me anxious, or is my potentially out-of-whack thyroid? Or maybe it’s just living in a city occupied by ICE for more than 2 months and living under a federal administration that is careening towards full totalitarianism vile evil unhinged extremely dangerous falling apart and is desperate to hold onto power. I’m struggling to find the words to effectively describe this administration. So, yes, I was worried as I ran, wondering if my heart rate should sky-rocket the more I ran. Thankfully it didn’t. The run wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t the big escape I had hoped for, but it did bring me some delight and some beautiful moments to look to when I’m feeling overwhelmed. Can I find 10?

11 Moments of Beauty

  1. the sizzling sound of wind moving through the brittle leaves still remaining on a tree
  2. quiet, then the softest knocking cutting through — a woodpecker somewhere close by?
  3. yes! looking up at a tree, I could actually see the white underwing of a downy woodpecker, it’s tiny head hammering a branch
  4. wide stretches of clear, dry trail
  5. stopping at the Rachel Dow Memorial Bench, looking out at the frozen river, wondering what Rachel would do in this moment, then believing she would be part of this amazing love spreading across the city, the state, the country
  6. a good morning from a passing walker
  7. a feeling of movement below me, then spotting a walker on the Winchell Trail, the remembering running down there, nearer to the river on a warm day
  8. the rhythmic clicking of a passing runner’s snow spikes on the bare pavement — click click click
  9. running over the slick ice and not slipping or sliding because Minneapolis Parks had sprinkled dirt — and not salt — on it recently
  10. speaking — out loud, but softly — the words to Alice Oswald’s “The Story of Falling” that I re-memorized earlier this morning — It is the story of the falling rain/to turn into a leaf and fall again/It is the secret of a summer’s shower/to steal the light and hide it in a flower
  11. (added 9 feb) a woman below, on the winchell trail, calling out, her name is Freya!, and a man responding, you’re a good girl! — just yesterday, Scott, Delia, and I had encountered this friendly woman and her dog near 7 Oaks. She was so friendly and kind that we agreed encountering her had made walking out in the cold, on the icy paths, worth it

Just writing this list, and the words preceding it, have made me feel better, more relaxed!

Get Out Ice

Even if I’ve written this before, I’ll write it again: I am finding that focusing on the fierce love and care that Minneapolis is practicing and de-centering/quieting the endless examples of ICE awfulness is helping me to endure this time. Well, more than endure. The love I am witnessing, and attempting to practice in my own way, is inspiring and making me hopeful about possible futures. It is also restoring my belief in democracy.

Here are 2 examples I shared on Facebook today:

1 — Rebecca Solnit post

One of the nuts things about organizing in the Twin Cities right now is that even the most long term organizers who’ve been here for decades can’t keep keep track of all the resistance that is going on. There are so many self-organizing crews just doing work that in any conversation with someone from another neighborhood you might stumble over a whole collective of people resisting in ways you didn’t think of. There’s a crew of carpenters just going around fixing kicked-in doors. There are tow truck drivers taking cars of detained people away for free. People delivering food to families in hiding. So many local rapid response groups that the number is uncertain but somewhere between 80 and the low hundreds . . . .

Rebecca Solnit on Facebook

2 — @terileigh via Liz May

every restaurant, church, karate dojo, dance studio, school, barber shop, and other small business has created their own underground grassroots supportive network to protect their neighbors, get people to and from work, and raise funds to pay everyday bills.

@terileigh

feb 5/RUNGETOUTICE

4.45 miles
minnehaha falls
33 degrees
60% sloppy and wet

A run outside! Above freezing! Less layers! And I made it all the way to the falls! It was sloppy, but I’ve run through worse. No lakes covering the entire path, only small ponds. I felt stronger running up all the small hills; it must be the hill workouts I’ve started doing. Maybe I should run to the falls and do some loops around the park — I could do the hills there multiple times? It’s strange, but I like running up hills now.

10 Things

  1. birds singing and sounding more like spring
  2. the dull, quiet whine of a power tool off in the distance — a drill on a construction site?
  3. the falls are completely frozen, so is the creek
  4. voices rising up from somewhere down below at the base of the falls
  5. faint traces of brown dirt discoloring the snow, making it less winter wonderland, but also less slick
  6. kids yelling and laughing on a playground — a teacher’s whistle blowing (not a warning about ICE)
  7. empty benches everywhere
  8. a few cars in the park parking lot
  9. another runner behind me, beside me, then in front of me. I delighted in hearing the sibilant sounds of their feet striking the slushy snow
  10. a few seconds of honking above on the ford bridge — someone honking at ICE or another car’s driving or in solidarity with a bridge brigade?

Get Out Ice

Today’s Get Out Ice moment is in honor of my mom, who was a fiber artist until she died in 2009, and my daughter, who is a fiber artist now.

AS OF FEBRUARY 5TH.
WE HAVE REACHED A TOTAL OF
$650,000 IN DONATIONS
Funds last week were donated to STEP St. Louis Park emergency assistance for rent and other aid and the Immigrant Rapid Response Fund.
We are working on donations to other local organizations
– stayed tuned for more info.
We are speechless. We are overwhelmed with the generosity of the fiber community and beyond. This outpouring of love and support is felt around the state.
Because of you, we can help so many people who need it.
Thank you thank you thank you.
Keep knitting. Keep resisting. Keep showing up for your neighbors.
Melt. The. Ice.

Needle & Skein Instagram post

The $650,000 came from people purchasing a $5 pattern for the Melt the Ice Hat:

In the nine years that Gilah Mashaal has owned Needle & Skein, a yarn store in the suburbs of Minneapolis, she has tried to maintain a rule that “nobody talks politics” in the shop. But amid the weeks-long occupation of the Twin Cities by federal immigration paramilitaries, Mashaal and one of her employees decided to turn one of their weekly knit-alongs into a “protest stitch-along”.

They didn’t want to return to the “pussy hats” that symbolized women’s resistance to Donald Trump in 2016, so Paul, their employee, did some research and came back with a proposal: a red knit hat inspired by the topplue or nisselue (woolen caps), worn by Norwegians during the second world war to signify their resistance to the Nazi occupation.

‘Rage Knitting’ against the machine

Love #13, version 2

This morning, I was trying out all different ways to create a poem out of text from a few local businesses. Nothing was quite working; partly because I am fixated on erasures and blackouts and can’t see (literally and figuratively) how to execute this effectively. One way out: Mary Oliver. My whole poem centers on a phrase from a MO poem, “Lead”:

I tell you this
to break your heart,
by which I mean only
that it break open and never
close again
to the rest of the world.

Here’s my version of those lines, using words from Social media posts:

Here, now, 
on this day,
my heart
breaks, 
and tomorrow
it will stay open
to everything.

Or this variation:

My heart breaks
here, now,
and tomorrow,
it will stay open
to everything.

jan 30/RUNGETOUTICE

4 miles
river road, south / lena smith blvd, north
8 degrees

Ran south above the river and to the 44th street parking lot. Crossed over to Lena Smith Boulevard, then north to 33rd. Did 3 loops of up the small hill, which takes about 1 minute, then down it, then rest until the start of the next minute. This is a good hill to start on — not too steep, not too long, but enough to feel like I’m working a little harder. I felt strong on the hills; everything before it was sometimes okay and sometimes hard. Maybe it was because of the wind and the cold and the hard asphalt. Every surface that wasn’t covered in ice or snow was stained a dull white.

10 Things

  1. the voices of kids on the school playground, at recess
  2. a cerulean sky — empty of clouds, but not helicopters
  3. birds! chirping and twittering and chatting with each other
  4. empty benches
  5. the river’s surface: a pattern of white and gray and light brown
  6. the parkway was thick with cars, some going too fast, at least one too slow
  7. an empty parking lot
  8. running by Dowling Elementary, it seemed deserted — were they participating in the General Strike day?
  9. some of the path was bare asphalt, some was soft snow, some was slick snow, and some was slippery ice
  10. my shadow joined me today — hello friend!

Get Out Ice

Scrolling through Facebook, I found this example of non-violent resistance, love, and support of local businesses:

So proud of my community showing up for Central Ave this week. This is Lunch Club. We started with 15 people at Hodan three weeks ago (highly recommend the Jay Crack fries). Just a way to recognize the hurt that a part of our community is experiencing in Trump’s war of terror.

30 people joined us at Chulla Vida the next week (llapingachos!). And we brought more than 60 lunchers to Holy Land last week (Chicken Lovers Combo every time).

Tomorrow we’re supporting La Colonia. Gather at noon and stay as long as it takes! A different restaurant every Saturday.

Every business on Central Ave is hurting. Our customers and staff (legal residents) are afraid to leave the house. Many have been harassed by ICE. Several have been detained even with legal documentation. A few have even been shipped to Texas or who knows where. These are people of color.

Trump is waging a race war. This is retaliation for Minneapolis protection of vulnerable people in defiance of the MAGA cult. And it ends when this administration is gone. It ends when we engage with our neighbors and come to see each other as human beings. We need more community and less polarization.

Until then (and ever after) we will be here.

Join us. Join the nonviolent resistance. Be a part of something that makes a difference.

Recovery Bike Shop

My favorite bookstore, Moon Palace is in Lithub! Everything We do Matters: Minneapolis’ Moon Palace Books is a Hub for Anti-ICE Resistance

jan 21/RUNGETOUTICE

4.5 miles
minnehaha falls and back
22 degrees / light snow
100% snow-covered

Today I ran outside. I decided that even though it is true I can’t always effectively assess the situation because of my vision, it is also true that it is unlikely I will encounter any incidents beside the river. And it was true, and I was fine. That doesn’t mean ICE isn’t around. Just before I went out running, a black SUV drove down the cross street with 7 or 8 cars following and HONKING their horns.

I also went out because I’m finally, after a week of a low-grade cold, starting to feel better. Hooray! The river was so beautiful — open and covered in snow — and it felt so good to be moving outside. It’s much easier to be running outside by the river, than downstairs in a dark basement.

There were a few people on the trail, mostly walkers, a biker, at least one other runner.

10 Things Heard

  1. kids playing on the Dowling Elementary and Minnehaha Academy playgrounds — screaming, laughing, having fun
  2. the falls barely falling over the ledge because the creek was frozen
  3. sirens
  4. the train bells as the light rail train passed through the station
  5. hammering and pounding coming from the construction site at a house on Lena Smith Boulevard
  6. honking geese
  7. from my favorite viewing spot at the falls: voices below or across the gap
  8. more voices below, somewhere on the winchell trail — some adults and kids
  9. the soft sizzle of snow flakes hitting my jacket
  10. an electric singing as it slowly travelled past on the road

Not too long after I got back from my run, Scott and I went to Costco to stock up on stuff before Friday’s strike of no work / no shop / no school. It was surprisingly normal in the store. Later, on the freeway, driving home, we passed by the Whipple Building and thought about all the people suffering in there right now. From the outside, just a tall building with lots of windows, a place that I have never noticed before, only seeing it as another generic office building. And inside, it’s filled with terror and hate and injustice and a bunch of under-trained goons.

Get Out Ice

This morning, hours before my run, I gathered together statements from local businesses, announcing their intent to be closed on Friday in solidarity with the no work / no shop / no class strike. I pulled out some words and phrases which are starting to take shape. Then I went running and talked with RJP and had to go shopping. so I haven’t returned to them yet.

While I continue to work on this poem, here’s a bit from one of the restaurants, Nicos Tacos:

On this day we are choosing to stand with our community, to stand for dignity and for humanity. No one should live in fear for simply seeking a better life. Strong communities are built when immigrants feel safe, seen, and supported. Let Nico’s be a home to all, and a reminder that we all belong here.

Nicos Taco Bar

And, here’s a running list of the businesses participating. As of 5:00 pm today, there are 382 businesses on it!

jan 13/RUNGETOUTICE

4.2 miles
lena smith – river road, north / river road – lena smith, south
42 degrees / wind: 15 mph
75% puddles, sloppy ice

Yuck! Not as fun running today, dodging puddles and slick strips of snow/ice on the trail. Warmer, but windier too. Parts of the run were great — I felt strong and efficient and sturdy. Other parts of it were not as great — a few times the path was covered either in a deep puddle or uneven, slippery ice. I am glad I went, and grateful to get to see the river — which was completely open, not frozen at all — but all of it was covered in a thin fog of fear. I heard sirens a few times and wondered if someone was being taken. Just before I went out for my run, Scott told me that someone had been taken just around the corner from us sometime in the last week.

10 Things

  1. city workers trimming trees, blocking the street
  2. a thick sheet of dirty ice covering almost half of a street — from curb, to the middle
  3. black chickadees singing, cheese burger cheese burger
  4. one biker, mostly biking in the road but on the path for a brief stretch
  5. the sound of sirens across the road, lasting less than a minute
  6. the wind, howling in my ears
  7. a dog barking off in the distance
  8. the sound of water splashing up as cars drove through puddles
  9. a gray sky with no sun, then blue with sun, then gray again
  10. city workers gone, a big pile of freshly trimmed branches — narrow ones — near the curb, 3 slender orange cones near the sidewalk

Get Out ICE

There are too many terrible headlines today about what’s happening with ICE in Minnesota, and it’s one of those days when I feel too tired to talk about them. I’m tired because of the headlines, because of the gray, sloppy weather, and because I tried (unsuccessfully, for now) to use a big ice breaker to break up the slippery ice on our small driveway. I chipped away at it for 30 or 40 minutes and had some success with a small patch, but I didn’t want to injure myself (because: 51 year-old bones and joints), so I stopped. I’m sure there’s a better (as in, more effective, less hard on my body) way to deal with this ice. — there’s a metaphor in there, I think. Anyway, I can’t force myself to post details from Trump and his cronies’ terribleness today, so instead, here are two videos that I’d like to watch repeatedly of the mississippi where the ice has mostly broken up and is floating, along with foam, downstream: here, the ice is getting out.

foam and ice, getting out / 5 jan 2024
ice on the mississippi / 5 jan 2024

Fear less / Tracy K. Smith

Thank goodness for the poets! Last week, I checked out the e-book version of Tracy K. Smith’s memoir and reflection on the value of poetry, Fear less, and just now I read some of the first chapter. Hopefully tomorrow I will post some quotations and respond to her powerful words, but for now, I’ll just mention that I’m reading it.

jan 9/RUNGETOUTICE

3.1 miles
track
ywca

I would have liked to run outside. It was sunny, not too windy, and almost above freezing, but the sidewalks were way too icy. I tried to go out for a recon walk earlier today and only made it to the end of our sidewalk before realizing the surface conditions were terrible. I had to turn around and come home. Bummer. Fresh air might have relieved some of the anxiety I’m carrying in my body from what’s happening. At least I was able to go to the y and run on the track. Moving and working up a sweat helped some, I think.

Since I was looping around a track, I decided to listen to my “Wheeling Life” playlist.

10 Track Things

  1. an orange bucket was out on the track in its yearly spot, catching drips from a pipe
  2. a short man with white hair was walking backwards in the inner lane
  3. the gym below was empty
  4. not too many people on the track, all of them quiet
  5. in the quiet, I could hear my feet striking the track surface — I think my striking feet were the loudest thing on the track — thwack thwack thwack
  6. a woman walking fast, wearing a shirt that reminded me of scrubs — had she just gotten off a shift at a hospital?
  7. some people follow the written rules and walk in the innermost lane, some ignore them and walk in the middle (which is for runners) or in the far left lane (which is for passing)
  8. just remembered: just before entering the track, passed the woman in a scrubs shirt putting air pods in her ears
  9. very few runners — while I was running, only me and Scott — after, while walking, one other runner
  10. inside it was warm (good) and very dry (bad)

Working on a tiny (24 word) poem tentatively titled bio-regionalism, and I was thinking about something I recalled hearing from Stanley Tucci in his series on regions in Italy and their food: he said that a region/neighborhood was/is defined by anyone who was in earshot of that neighborhood’s church bells. I looked it up and found this helpful definition and video from Rick Steves. The term is campanilismo:

During Tuscany’s medieval and Renaissance prime, this region was a collection of feuding city-states dominated by rich families. To this day, Tuscans remain fiercely loyal to their home community, and are keenly aware of subtle differences between people from different cities, towns, and villages. (Italians have a wonderful word for this: campanilismo, meaning that a community consists of the people within earshot of its bell tower — campanile.)

source

I love this idea of defining a community, your home-place, by its bells. My bells are the bells of St. Thomas, just across the river.