Dear Mr. President

Dear Mr. President,

A short letter from me tonight, as I got a chance to spend the day playing a game with my beloved.  It's called 7th Continent, and we're only on our second curse, but we managed to survive it this evening after a few days spent downstairs at the kitchen table on non-successive evenings.  There is something to be said for being able to finish a project, and while 7th Continent is a game, John and I still needed to work together to make sure we both made it to the end.

I love that about cooperative games, and I have decided that these are generally my favorite ones to play.  Not only do they keep us both honest, but we also have to work together to garner success in a thing.  It's easier in some ways than competitive game play, but when you have to ensure that everyone succeeds at a task, it can be a real challenge.  I expect, running a country, you have some idea of what I'm talking about.

This past week seemed like it wasn't easy for you--bombing Syrian targets (which I can't say I'm a fan of,) dealing with world leaders, trying to ensure your nominees have the support they need so that you can get your Cabinet up and running (while the Republicans have decided to give up on the idea of unity altogether,) and that's not counting the various reports that you're having to take in and decide appropriate responses to, as well.  I feel like this has probably been your most challenging week thus far--not so much on the pandemic front (though legislation delays are frustrating,) but rather on every other front that's out there.

You've done a lot to reverse the policies of your predecessor, but now comes the part where you have to rebuild trust with our allies and re-establish America's credibility--not only to the world, but to the people here at home, as well.  And I feel like you've had middling success at that.  The three major points I took away from this week (apart from the COVID conferences your teams have had,) are the bombing of targets in Syria (which I will confess I don't understand all that well;) the report regarding Khashoggi's murder, and your latest hike for carbon taxes--which, again, I can't say I really understand.  Are they mostly for businesses?  Polluters?  Everyone?

Needless to say, I haven't been keeping up on much of anything this week--at least not in any truly meaningful way.  I know a lot is going on, but life has been hitting me pretty hard the past week.  I'm working on trying to return to college for a degree while struggling to maintain my exercise regimen.  This week in that last regard has been really difficult.  I've also been preparing for the beginning of a new month tomorrow and planning out what I'd like to highlight next here on my blog.

And all the while, I've been really learning a lot during this Black History Month.  I feel like my own views have expanded with regard to the plight of black people, and also that my views have been made more clear just by studying their poets and poetry.  I read about a lot of things that aren't covered in history books and examined a great deal of my past.  And I'm starting to really get a feel for the things that really matter to me.  And that's kept me pretty busy.

All that to say that I can't imagine how much busier and how much more demanding this month has been on you and your team there in Washington D. C.  I'm glad you took some time to honor black voices  this past week, and I hope that you'll continue to do so, even as Black History Month ends.  Showing how diverse and how culturally expansive we are as a country--showing how we can come together for a common good, is worth seeing and celebrating.  After all,

"This land was made for you and me!"

I didn't get a chance to see your wife this past week; so, I'll see if I can find a recording and watch it sometime this week.  I figure it wasn't anything too exciting since I haven't seen any of the right-wing media covering it.  But if it was good, they might not have wanted to cover it.  And since I haven't heard anything,...well, now I'm left to wonder.

Good luck with the next few weeks, Mr. President.  Hopefully that next wave of stimulus will go through, and with the case load numbers dropping, hopefully we'll come out on the other side of March with the fewest COVID-19 deaths since the March shutdown of 2020 began.  We can certainly hope.

I'm glad to see that there are conversations happening with regard to getting kids back to school, but having official guidance there will help out a lot--as well as federal funding for schools to apply for to be able to make those accommodations.  I read an article on Medium at One-Zero, as well, where a young teenager was discussing how much he preferred being able to take online classes.  These are things I think we really should explore, and having those kinds of options available to parents, kids, and teachers will be really helpful moving forward.

I don't want to keep harping on infrastructure, but we need a New Deal for a Greener America, Sir.  These projects need to be happening, and we need to start investing in recycling and desalinization.  Diversifying our power resources and working to build a stronger communications and electric grid are crucial.  And we need to start thinking about logistics--getting supplies and materials where they're needed in a timely manner when failures do occur.  But I said I wasn't going to go on and on about it; so, I'll leave it there for tonight.

My grandma's birthday was today.  She turned...90-something.  I wish I knew the exact number, but I don't.  I hope you have some time to celebrate the people in your life who are important to you, though, Sir.  We just celebrated John's aunt's birthday on Friday, too.  Found out today that my step-brother's daughter's birthday was yesterday.  She turned 7.

Anyway, it's late, and I'm tired.  And if I don't get this posted, it'll be late, and we certainly can't have that.  So, I guess just hang in there, Mr. President.  March is going to tell us how we're doing, and we'll figure out the way forward from there.

Until next time, keep doing the best you can, and I'll keep doing the same.

~~Jenni

The Hill We Climb by Amanda Gorman

The Hill We Climb

by: Amanda Gorman

When day comes we ask ourselves,

where can we find light in this never-ending shade?

The loss we carry,

a sea we must wade.

We've braved the belly of the beast,

We've learned that quiet isn't always peace,

and the norms and notions

of what just is

isn't always just-ice.

And yet the dawn is ours

before we knew it.

Somehow we do it.

Somehow we've weathered and witnessed

a nation that isn't broken,

but simply unfinished.

We the successors of a country and a time

where a skinny Black girl

descended from slaves and raised by a single mother

can dream of becoming president

only to find herself reciting for one.

And yes we are far from polished.

Far from pristine.

But that doesn't mean we are

striving to form a union that is perfect.

We are striving to forge a union with purpose,

to compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and

conditions of man.

And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us,

but what stands before us.

We close the divide because we know, to put our future first,

we must first put our differences aside.

We lay down our arms

so we can reach out our arms

to one another.

We seek harm to none and harmony for all.

Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true,

that even as we grieved, we grew,

that even as we hurt, we hoped,

that even as we tired, we tried,

that we'll forever be tied together, victorious.

Not because we will never again know defeat,

but because we will never again sow division.

Scripture tells us to envision

that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree

and no one shall make them afraid.

If we're to live up to our own time,

then victory won't lie in the blade.

But in all the bridges we've made,

that is the promise to glade,

the hill we climb.

If only we dare.

It's because being American is more than a pride we inherit,

it's the past we step into

and how we repair it.

We've seen a force that would shatter our nation

rather than share it.

Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.

And this effort very nearly succeeded.

But while democracy can be periodically delayed,

it can never be permanently defeated.

In this truth,

in this faith we trust.

For while we have our eyes on the future,

history has its eyes on us.

This is the era of just redemption

we feared at its inception.

We did not feel prepared to be the heirs

of such a terrifying hour

but within it we found the power

to author a new chapter.

To offer hope and laughter to ourselves.

So while once we asked,

how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?

Now we assert,

How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?

We will not march back to what was,

but move to what shall be.

A country that is bruised but whole,

benevolent but bold,

fierce and free.

We will not be turned around

or interrupted by intimidation,

because we know our inaction and inertia

will be the inheritance of the next generation.

Our blunders become their burdens.

But one thing is certain,

If we merge mercy with might,

and might with right,

then love becomes our legacy,

and change our children's birthright.

So let us leave behind a country

better than the one we were left with.

Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest,

we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.

We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west.

We will rise from the windswept northeast,

where our forefathers first realized revolution.

We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states.

We will rise from the sunbaked south.

We will rebuild, reconcile and recover.

And every known nook of our nation and

every corner called our country,

our people diverse and beautiful will emerge,

battered and beautiful.

When day comes we step out of the shade,

aflame and unafraid,

the new dawn blooms as we free it.

For there is always light,

if only we're brave enough to see it.

If only we're brave enough to be it.

what the dead know by heart by Donte Collins

what the dead know by heart
by: Donte Collins

lately, when asked how are you, i

respond with a name no longer living

Rekia, Jamar, Sandra

i am alive by luck at this point. i wonder

often: if the gun that will unmake me

is yet made, what white birth

will bury me, how many bullets, like a

flock of blue jays, will come carry my black

to its final bed, which photo will be used

to water down my blood. today i did

not die and there is no god or law to

thank. the bullet missed my head

and landed in another. today, i passed

a mirror and did not see a body, instead

a suggestion, a debate, a blank

post-it note there looking back. i

haven't enough room to both rage and

weep. i go to cry and each tear turns

to steam. I say I matter and a ghost

white hand appears over my mouth

Dinosaurs in the Hood by Danez Smith (Explicit Language)

Dinosaurs in the Hood

by: Danez Smith

Let’s make a movie called Dinosaurs in the Hood.

Jurassic Park meets Friday meets The Pursuit of Happyness.

There should be a scene where a little black boy is playing

with a toy dinosaur on the bus, then looks out the window

& sees the T. Rex, because there has to be a T. Rex.

Don’t let Tarantino direct this. In his version, the boy plays

with a gun, the metaphor: black boys toy with their own lives,

the foreshadow to his end, the spitting image of his father.

Fuck that, the kid has a plastic Brontosaurus or Triceratops

& this is his proof of magic or God or Santa. I want a scene

where a cop car gets pooped on by a pterodactyl, a scene

where the corner store turns into a battle ground. Don’t let

the Wayans brothers in this movie. I don’t want any racist shit

about Asian people or overused Latino stereotypes.

This movie is about a neighborhood of royal folks —

children of slaves & immigrants & addicts & exiles — saving their town

from real-ass dinosaurs. I don’t want some cheesy yet progressive

Hmong sexy hot dude hero with a funny yet strong commanding

black girl buddy-cop film. This is not a vehicle for Will Smith

& Sofia Vergara. I want grandmas on the front porch taking out raptors

with guns they hid in walls & under mattresses. I want those little spitty,

screamy dinosaurs. I want Cicely Tyson to make a speech, maybe two.

I want Viola Davis to save the city in the last scene with a black fist afro pick

through the last dinosaur’s long, cold-blood neck. But this can’t be

a black movie. This can’t be a black movie. This movie can’t be dismissed

because of its cast or its audience. This movie can’t be a metaphor

for black people & extinction. This movie can’t be about race.

This movie can’t be about black pain or cause black people pain.

This movie can’t be about a long history of having a long history with hurt.

This movie can’t be about race. Nobody can say nigga in this movie

who can’t say it to my face in public. No chicken jokes in this movie.

No bullets in the heroes. & no one kills the black boy. & no one kills

the black boy. & no one kills the black boy. Besides, the only reason

I want to make this is for that first scene anyway: the little black boy

on the bus with a toy dinosaur, his eyes wide & endless

 

                                his dreams possible, pulsing, & right there.

One Art by Elizabeth Bishop

One Art
by: Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

BLK History Month by Nikki Giovanni

BLK History Month
by: Nikki Giovanni

If Black History Month is not
viable then wind does not
carry the seeds and drop them
on fertile ground
rain does not
dampen the land
and encourage the seeds
to root
sun does not
warm the earth
and kiss the seedlings
and tell them plain:
You’re As Good As Anybody Else
You’ve Got A Place Here, Too

i. Mood Indigo by Ntozake Shange

i. Mood Indigo

by: Ntozake Shange

it hasnt always been this way

ellington was not a street

robeson no mere memory

du bois walked up my father’s stairs

hummed some tune over me

sleeping in the company of men

who changed the world

 

it wasnt always like this

why ray barretto used to be a side-man

& dizzy’s hair was not always grey

i remember            i was there

i listened in the company of men

politics as necessary as collards

music even in our dreams

 

our house was filled with all kinda folks

our windows were not cement or steel

our doors opened like our daddy’s arms

held us safe & loved

children growing in the company of men

old southern men & young slick ones

sonny til was not a boy

the clovers no rag-tag orphans

our crooners/ we belonged to a whole world

nkrumah was no foreigner

virgil aikens was not the only fighter

 

it hasnt always been this way

ellington was not a street

Dear Mr. President

 Dear Mr. President:

I can't say I really wanted to write this tonight--not because I didn't want to write to you, but more because I didn't want to have to go mucking about to see what all you've been up to this week.  As per usual, you've been pretty busy--from foreign policy to national emergencies in Oklahoma and Texas, (and Portland as well, I hear;) and then there were the little things, like congratulating NASA and posting some videos of you and Jen answering some twitter questions.  I must admit, the latter was my favorite when it came to catching up this week.  These things humanize you.  They help us get to know you, and it is greatly appreciated.

I see we officially rejoined the Paris Climate Agreement, and I heard you were interested in working with Iran on the nuclear deal again.  I also saw you were flexing some military might down in the China Sea.  These are all good things, I think, but I do think we need to be looking into those SolarWinds hacks--figuring out just how bad they were and working to ensure that national security information and infrastructure is, if not impervious to hacking, at least strengthened to better ensure our safety.

There was also the national emergency situation with the cold weather in Oklahoma and Texas this past week, and just hearing from my parents about their own difficulties, I can assure you that any help the government can give is a good thing there.  But it brings to light some of the problems in our current infrastructure--things that we really need to address.  With the climate changing, this kind of weather isn't going to be as strange as it seems to us now.  Colder winters.  Hotter summers.  Wetter Springs, and drier autumns.  We need to look at our roads, our buildings, and our green technology and ensure that it is climate-proofed for the future.  For far too long we've taken shortcuts and looked only at the short-term gains rather than considering the long-term efficacy, reliability, and sustainability of the things we build.  That needs to change.

As an aside, my parents are on well water, and their well froze over.  Most of the small towns near the big cities (like where my parents live,) ended up being raided for water, and my parents were lucky my dad's a volunteer firefighter.  They were able to get some water from one of the stations where he works, but otherwise, they might well have had to do without it.  They managed some water from HEB (local grocery store) on Friday, and they're hopeful that their well will unfreeze soon, but...that's certainly not a given.

A lot of people who aren't your most ardent supporters have been talking about your immigration plans, and a lot of them are pretty upset about the fact that we've closed our borders due to COVID but see that we're still accepting people into the country seeking refuge and help.  It's frustrating to see their words and feel a twinge of understanding.  But I also know that there are problems at our borders, and maybe it's time that people saw that.  Maybe help them understand what's going on at our borders and then try to explain better our policies in that regard.  I didn't catch anything about it during your Town Hall; so, I'm mentioning it here, because as I said, I've been seeing a lot of that coming from your opposition.

So much has happened this past week that I don't know if I mentioned my disappointment with the whole impeachment last weekend.  I expect I might have said a thing or two, but I think a lot of us were disappointed at how glib, smug, or downright derisive some of our public officials acted.  A lot of people are still angry, sir--on both sides obviously.  But from where I'm standing, the House and the Senate look like giant piles of crap right now.  Not only were there no repercussions for elected officials for their conduct (while regular people are standing trial for their actions,) but COVID relief feels like it's stalled.  And sure, we get that things don't move fast in Washington D. C., but our lives don't just stop while we wait for laws to get made.  We've got bills to pay, and mouths to feed; and frankly, most of us just want to see some parity.  What are we paying taxes for if the people who are taking that money as payment for their service aren't actually doing anything to serve us?  It gets ..old, Mr. President--really old.

And I get that you've been working to salvage things as you can--especially with mortgages, foreclosures, and student debt.  You're doing what you can, but Congress needs to get their heads out of their behinds and start doing the work that's going to help the people.  Also, I wanted to congratulate you on getting more work done on vaccines and getting them to the states.  I know there's still more work to be done, but on this count, at least we are seeing that progress is coming--if not necessarily here yet.

I want to touch on something I read the other day though regarding student loans.  You mentioned during your town hall that you weren't willing to go beyond forgiving $10,000, and I really think that's a mistake.  Check with your Treasury Secretary; look at the figures.  The people hardest hit by debt are lower and middle income families, and they can't afford it.  And if that's holding together something in our economy, then there's something wrong with the way we're running our economy.  I'm not saying you have to do more than the 10K now, but don't discount doing more, please.  There are a lot of people struggling right now, and words like never and not possible aren't things we should be saying.  Not to mention that the more educated we are, the better prepared we'll be to deal with hardships and setbacks, Mr. President, and that's a worthy investment, but it's not worth a lifetime of debt.  It just shouldn't be.

I'm pretty sure I had a lot more to say to you than this, but I guess there'll be more in the weeks and months to come, hopefully.  One thing I did want to highlight was the call you made to NASA about the Perseverance Rover landing on Mars.  It sounded a little stilted on both ends, by the way--the video that was released of it.  But nonetheless, I am grateful that you did it.  The men and women of our space programs deserve a lot of respect, and the fact that their hard work merited your attention, respect, and congratulations was important to me.  So thank you for honoring their work and achievements as you did.

I'm actually a lot more excited to hear that you want to visit them and see the work they're doing.  If you do, you can rest assured I'll be following all the news about it.

I have to say, that's one thing I am really glad to see you doing--listening to scientists and inviting experts in their fields to offer you their thoughts and opinions.  I hope I get to see a lot more of it in the coming weeks.  I am also looking forward to hearing about your wife's media appearance on Thursday.  I hope she does a lot to lift up marginalized voices and highlight the work and accomplishments of not only great people, but also great people of color--and also women.  I know there are a lot of girls and women who were excited by your choice of Kamala Harris as your running mate, and I really hope that Jill Biden will continue to build on that rapport that your Presidency has built with the women of this country and abroad.  Your wife has a chance to advocate for us, and I really hope that she'll speak about the inequalities and injustices in this country (and also the world.)  If we can't talk about the problem, there will never be a way to solve it.  When you name a thing, when you point it out--when you see it for what it is--only then can you truly understand it.  So I will wish her luck and look forward to seeing what she has to say.

Also, congratulations to you and your staff on your first full month in office, Sir.

And with that, Mr. President, I believe it is time to go and feed the cat his treats.  He's been very patient since about the third paragraph of this letter to you, but I don't know how much longer he can be patient.  Also, I don't want to incur his wrath. He has claws.

I look forward to writing to you next week and seeing what you've got on the agenda.  Stay strong, don't forget your coffee, and keep the pineapple off Jen's pizza.  Until next time, Mr. President!

~~ Jenni

Le sporting-club de Monte Carlo (for Lena Horne) by James Baldwin

Le sporting-club de Monte Carlo (for Lena Horne)

by: James Baldwin

The lady is a tramp

        a camp

        a lamp

The lady is a sight

        a might

        a light

the lady devastated

an alley or two

reverberated through the valley

which leads to me, and you

the lady is the apple

of God's eye:

He's cool enough about it

but He tends to strut a little

when she passes by

the lady is a wonder

daughter of the thunder

smashing cages

legislating rages

with the voice of ages

singing us through.

James Baldwin at his home in Saint-Paul-de-Vence, southern France, on November 6, 1979. (Ralph Gatti / AFP/Getty Images)

A Haiku by Matsuo Basho

The old pond —

a frog jumps in,

sound of water.

Translated by Robert Hass

© Katherine Anteney

Don't Let Me Be Lonely: “At the airport-security checkpoint...” by Claudia Rankine

Don't Let Me Be Lonely: “At the airport-security checkpoint...” 
by: Claudia Rankine

At the airport-security checkpoint on my way to visit my grandmother, I am asked to drink from my water bottle.

                   This water bottle?

                   That's right. Open it and drink from it.

/

At the airport-security checkpoint on my way to visit my grandmother, I am asked to take off my shoes.

                   Take off my shoes?

                   Yes. Both Please.

/ 

At the airport-security checkpoint on my way to visit my grandmother, I am asked if I have a fever.

                   A fever? Really?

                   Yes. Really.

/ 

My grandmother is in a nursing home. It's not bad. It doesn't smell like pee. It doesn't smell like anything. When I go to see her, as I walk through the hall past the common room and the nurses' station, old person after old person puts out his or her hand to me. Steven, one says. Ann, another calls. It's like being in a third-world country, but instead of food or money you are what is wanted, your company. In third-world coun­tries I have felt overwhelmingly American, calcium-rich, privileged, and white. Here, I feel young, lucky, and sad. Sad is one of those words that has given up its life for our country, it's been a martyr for the American dream, it's been neutralized, co-opted by our culture to suggest a tinge of discomfort that lasts the time it takes for this and then for that to happen, the time it takes to change a channel. But sadness is real because once it meant something real. It meant dignified, grave; it meant trustworthy; it meant exceptionally bad, deplor­able, shameful; it meant massive, weighty, forming a compact body; it meant falling heavily; and it meant of a color: dark. It meant dark in color, to darken. It meant me. I felt sad. 

Naugatuck High School Poetry Out Loud Champion for 2021, Jaida Taveras

Wherever You Are Grieving by Alice Walker

Wherever You Are Grieving

©2015 by Alice Walker

It does not matter to me:

Wherever you are grieving

Whether Paris, Damascus, Jerusalem, Bamako,

Mexico or Beirut or New York City

My heart, too, is bruised

And dragging.

There used to be such a thing

As melodrama

When feelings could be

Made up,

But now there is bare pain

And sorrow,

A sense of endlessly missed

Opportunities

To smile and embrace

“The other”

Before the change.

We mourn the loss

Of goodness

That was so divinely

Ordinary:

Babyhood

Youth

The blessings of maturity

And of old age.

All sacrificed now

Almost predictably

To the same Greed

Our histories

-Every one of them-

Could have warned us against

If only we knew them.

Alice Walker
Photo taken by: Virginia DeBolt
October 2007

Frederick Douglass by Robert Hayden

Frederick Douglass
by: Robert Hayden

When it is finally ours, this freedom, this liberty, this beautiful
and terrible thing, needful to man as air,   
usable as earth; when it belongs at last to all,   
when it is truly instinct, brain matter, diastole, systole,   
reflex action; when it is finally won; when it is more   
than the gaudy mumbo jumbo of politicians:   
this man, this Douglass, this former slave, this Negro   
beaten to his knees, exiled, visioning a world   
where none is lonely, none hunted, alien,   
this man, superb in love and logic, this man   
shall be remembered. Oh, not with statues’ rhetoric,   
not with legends and poems and wreaths of bronze alone,
but with the lives grown out of his life, the lives   
fleshing his dream of the beautiful, needful thing.

[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in] by e. e. cummings

[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]
by: E. E. Cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
                                                      i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Dear Mr. President

 Dear Mr. President,

This weekend I spent celebrating Planetfest '21.  Planetfest is a yearly celebration and gala hosted by The Planetary Society, a group the strives to promote space in every aspect known to man.  They started in the 1980's and their first Planetfest was in 1981.  But this was my first Planetfest--40 years after that first one.

I can't put into words well just how much being a part of The Planetary Society and celebrating this event with them (albeit virtually due to the pandemic,) meant to me.  But I will try.

When I was a little girl, I found a book about constellations in one of those old paper handouts that teachers gave to students from booksellers.  It was meant to promote reading, I think.  But I got that book and read it, and the idea that the stars had stories to them!--that began my life-long love affair with space.

I am no scientist or even a really great thinker; I'm certainly not a whiz a math, but I do love a good story..  One of the greatest space storytellers of our time, I think, was Carl Sagan.  Bill Nye, who was once one of his students, still sits as the CEO of The Planetary Society (TPS,) and while I never did see his television show, his enthusiasm and cherished goofiness make him a great successor to Sagan--one of the founders of TPS.

I cannot wait until we can gather together again in person, Mr. President, as this will be one of the events that fills my soul with real joy.  I am thinking about becoming one of their ambassadors next year--people who head to Washington D. C. to address their lawmakers in Congress about the importance of space exploration and being a champion for space.

This Thursday the Perseverance Rover will (hopefully) land on the surface of Mars.  It's super exciting!  And as I'm sure you've heard, China and the UAE also had missions arrive at Mars this week.  That is something that I found myself struggling with somewhat, and then simply wanting to embrace--the idea that space efforts bring countries together.  They break down barriers and serve as a pathway for diplomacy and cooperation in a way that I don't think any other endeavor does.  And while I understand this can be difficult sometimes, I think it is a trend that should continue.

For as far back as I can remember, the scientific community has worked together around the world--probably far better than our own governments do.  Perhaps it is because they have a common desire to learn and study and understand things; maybe it is that common language that makes it so much easier.  I would like to hope that space can be our common language to engage the rest of the world, though, Sir.  Of all the great mysteries of our lives, it is a common thread and helps us to understand ourselves better the more we learn about it.  Space exploration is also a language of hope--a way to see ourselves from a different perspective, and I've heard that having different perspectives is a good thing.

Listening to the various panels, I learned a LOT about Mars, but also about space as an industry--as a cultivator for cooperation and growth.  It is, I think, one of the most unique fields in the economic sphere, as getting ourselves out into space isn't easy and therefor requires a lot of cooperation, even among competitors.  This is something that sparks the imagination--making me wonder, for instance, how much more advanced we'd be if companies sought to work together in some endeavors rather than seeking to have the most customers.  Would there be more room for innovation?  Research?  More money to invest in the architecture and services needed to ensure more successful endeavors?  It's definitely an interesting business, and I hope if you get a chance, that you'll meet with some space industry leaders and those who advocate for more education and exploration in space, like TPS.  Their hope and enthusiasm are something I would certainly like to see more of.  And their emphasis on science education in particular is a real boon to not only this country, but other countries as well.

Also, I hope you'll be there to see Perseverance's landing, and I hope you'll say something about it, too.  It's a great opportunity to showcase our partnerships both within the US and abroad.

You've caught some slack for not chatting with Israel's Prime Minister this week.  I can't say I know what that's all about, but I guess it's nice to know that people want to be recognized by us?  Too, it certainly doesn't hurt to hear what they have to say.

I read somewhere after the acquittal of your predecessor (yet again,) that our country is in a state of Constitutional rot--where partisanship means more than doing the right thing; where winning is more important than abiding by some commonly held good for the nation--almost as if right and wrong didn't exist, only the appearance of them.  It makes me sad to see that.  And I'm worried that your predecessor will seek re-election at some point.  And yes, I've heard the arguments about how the House rushed things--about how this was done in a manner that seemed more about show rather than an adherence to established law, but if we can't call a spade a spade at the end of the day, is there really any chance to set aside our differences about other things?  Once again, I find myself hating the need to court money for re-elections.  I find myself angry that there are people working in the House and Senate who make more than minimum wage--who still collect their paychecks even when they can't go to work, when so many other Americans don't even have that.  I'm angry that they care more about votes than about doing the right thing, and I fear what moral bankruptcy means for our country.  

That said, I am looking forward to your town hall on Tuesday.  Hopefully I'll be able to watch, though I know we have plans that evening to meet up virtually with some friends for a "metal crew" happy hour.  Last January before the pandemic set in, John (my fiance,) and I went on a cruise called "70,000 Tons of Metal."  There are so many different kinds of metal, Mr. President, and while I understand that it's not for everyone, there is something therapeutic about headbanging and screaming along with lyrics sometimes.  Sometimes ya just gotta get all that pent up tension out.

People still seem pretty focused on foreign policy, which is fine, I guess.  That's important, after all.  But we have an infrastructure problem here in our country.  Of note, I'm looking at some articles about foreign policy affairs (for the US,) but also a The New Yorker article about getting broadband into rural areas.  My parents, for example, live off a highway in Texas, and while you'd think they'd have good internet, there isn't much there besides satellite.  And since they live in a pretty tree-y area, that doesn't always work well for them.  They also can't really afford to get broadband out there, as the companies won't pay for it unless the whole neighborhood wants it.  Likewise, the pricing options make it difficult for them to be able to afford dedicated internet to the house; so, they only have limited amounts of data they can use.  Can you imagine trying to navigate the world these days with limited data and no broadband, Mr. President?  It seems pretty awful that these things aren't available for everyone.

Of course, that's not counting all the bridges, roads, dams, and other projects that need funding badly.  I guess you have to do it through government grants to companies so they can hire workers and the like, but maybe consider looking at hiring more engineers and such for the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers?  Or better yet, make a civilian division that can employ people who, while not fit to be in the army, can still do valuable and vital work for the country.  It frustrates me to see us putting money into a new $1bn missile refurbishment and upgrade program, but our roads, bridges, and dams (and environmental programs designed to move us toward being carbon neutral,) are getting so little attention.  I know you're not Congress; I know you don't make the laws, but you are the face of the nation, and you and your teams can get peoples' support if you try.

Still, ...I know you're working on COVID.  It's probably the only big project for your first year as President, but we need to be looking beyond that, too.

I talked to John's aunt just the other day, and all ready there are worries that once the rent moratoriums are gone, the housing market is going to collapse.  We can't afford another 2008 on our hands--not right after COVID.

So...I know everything seems to be piling up on your desk, Mr. President, and I know the problems we're facing are pretty big ones.  But I'm doing my best to remain positive.  Maybe that's the one thing America really is great at, and I hope you'll keep reminding us of that by being and setting a good example for us all.

One last note: I read the story about your staffer and the threat he made to a journalist, and I have to say that I'm glad he chose to resign.  I expect you might well have fired him, but allowing him that bit of dignity might well have saved his future career.  That said, that's the kind of attitude that I imagine most of us out here think people where you are (people in positions of power,) have toward us plebs.  It's hard for us to feel sympathy or empathy with you all, because we don't have that kind of power.  We're not out here threatening to end peoples' careers if they screw us over.  We mostly just get screwed over if we make mistakes--the kind that can destroy our lives for years, or even forever.  It's good to want to be mindful of the fates of those who work for you, but we want someone out here fighting for our fates, too, Sir.

There are a lot of unjust laws here in America--or maybe they're just unjustly meted out depending on how much money or power you have.  But that needs to end, and we need to work hard toward that end.

Anyway....this letter got a little long, and I hate ending it on a darker note like that.  But I think we're all longing for something better in our lives.  We want to be proud of the people who represent us--to feel like they're people like us, just trying to get by.  And we want to be able to look to the future with hope in our hearts--that things are going to be better than they were today and the next and so on.

So, keep at it, Mr. President.  We'll get through this, and when we do, let's sit down sometime and have a beer together so you can remember that you're only human like the rest of us, and the rest of us can share that story about that one time we got a chance to have a beer with that guy in the White House who works for us.

He's a pretty cool guy, I think.

Until next week, Mr. President, I remain a loyal citizen and dedicated space fan; (a space fan sounds pretty cool, actually.  I bet someone's already thought of that.....)

~~ Jenni

P. S.  Happy Valentine's Day!  I almost forgot.  And here my love is cooking me dinner downstairs while I write this to you.  >.<  <3

me, at home, on the last day of Planetfest '21

Lift Every Voice and Sing by James Weldon Johnson

Lift Every Voice and Sing
by: James Weldon Johnson

A group of young men in Jacksonville, Florida, arranged to celebrate Lincoln’s birthday in 1900. My brother, J. Rosamond Johnson, and I decided to write a song to be sung at the exercises. I wrote the words and he wrote the music. Our New York publisher, Edward B. Marks, made mimeographed copies for us, and the song was taught to and sung by a chorus of five hundred colored school children.

Shortly afterwards my brother and I moved away from Jacksonville to New York, and the song passed out of our minds. But the school children of Jacksonville kept singing it; they went off to other schools and sang it; they became teachers and taught it to other children. Within twenty years it was being sung over the South and in some other parts of the country. Today the song, popularly known as the Negro National Hymn, is quite generally used.

The lines of this song repay me in an elation, almost of exquisite anguish, whenever I hear them sung by Negro children.

Lift every voice and sing   
Till earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us.   
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on till victory is won.

Stony the road we trod,
Bitter the chastening rod,
Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;   
Yet with a steady beat,
Have not our weary feet
Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?
We have come over a way that with tears has been watered,
We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,
Out from the gloomy past,   
Till now we stand at last
Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.

God of our weary years,   
God of our silent tears,
Thou who hast brought us thus far on the way;
Thou who hast by Thy might   
Led us into the light,
Keep us forever in the path, we pray.
Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,
Lest, our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee;
Shadowed beneath Thy hand,   
May we forever stand.   
True to our God,
True to our native land.

July 4, 1974 by June Jordan

July 4, 1974
by: June Jordan

Washington, D.C.

At least it helps me to think about my son
a Leo/born to us
(Aries and Cancer) some
sixteen years ago
in St. John’s Hospital next to the Long Island
Railroad tracks
Atlantic Avenue/Brooklyn
New York

at dawn

which facts
do not really prepare you
(do they)

for him

angry
serious
and running through the darkness with his own

becoming light

The Golden Shovel by Terrance Hayes

The Golden Shovel
by: Terrance Hayes

after Gwendolyn Brooks

I. 1981

When I am so small Da’s sock covers my arm, we
cruise at twilight until we find the place the real 

men lean, bloodshot and translucent with cool.
His smile is a gold-plated incantation as we 

drift by women on bar stools, with nothing left
in them but approachlessness. This is a school 

I do not know yet. But the cue sticks mean we
are rubbed by light, smooth as wood, the lurk 

of smoke thinned to song. We won’t be out late.
Standing in the middle of the street last night we 

watched the moonlit lawns and a neighbor strike
his son in the face. A shadow knocked straight 

Da promised to leave me everything: the shovel we
used to bury the dog, the words he loved to sing 

his rusted pistol, his squeaky Bible, his sin.
The boy’s sneakers were light on the road. We 

watched him run to us looking wounded and thin.
He’d been caught lying or drinking his father’s gin. 

He’d been defending his ma, trying to be a man. We
stood in the road, and my father talked about jazz, 

how sometimes a tune is born of outrage. By June
the boy would be locked upstate. That night we 

got down on our knees in my room. If I should die
before I wake. Da said to me, it will be too soon. 

II. 1991

Into the tented city we go, we-
 akened by the fire’s ethereal 

afterglow. Born lost and cool-
 er than heartache. What we 

know is what we know. The left
hand severed and school- 

 ed by cleverness. A plate of we-
 ekdays cooking. The hour lurk- 

 ing in the afterglow. A late-
night chant. Into the city we

go. Close your eyes and strike
a blow. Light can be straight-

 ened by its shadow. What we
break is what we hold. A sing- 

ular blue note. An outcry sin-
 ged exiting the throat. We 

push until we thin, thin-
 king we won’t creep back again. 

While God licks his kin, we
sing until our blood is jazz, 

we swing from June to June.
We sweat to keep from we-

eping. Groomed on a die-
 t of hunger, we end too soon.

Sea Fever by John Masefield

Sea Fever
by: John Masefield

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking. 

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying. 

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

If We Must Die by Claude McKay

If We Must Die
by: Claude McKay

If we must die, let it not be like hogs
Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,
While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,
Making their mock at our accursèd lot.
If we must die, O let us nobly die,
So that our precious blood may not be shed
In vain; then even the monsters we defy
Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!
O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe!
Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,
And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!
What though before us lies the open grave?
Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,
Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!

"oh antic god" by Lucille Clifton

"oh antic God"
by: Lucille Clifton

oh antic God
return to me
my mother in her thirties   
leaned across the front porch   
the huge pillow of her breasts   
pressing against the rail
summoning me in for bed.

I am almost the dead woman’s age times two.

I can barely recall her song
the scent of her hands
though her wild hair scratches my dreams   
at night.   return to me, oh Lord of then   
and now, my mother’s calling,
her young voice humming my name.

Dear Mr. President

 Dear Mr. President,

I think tonight's letter to you will be somewhat short.  I have drunk a bit tonight while watching the Super Bowl, and I can't vouch for my ability to write anything cogent.  But, I will try.

I was hoping for the old man to win tonight, thinking about you, in turn.  I don't know if bad referee calls made the game for Tom Brady tonight, but I still like to think he and his team would have won regardless.  I hope that for you, too.

I was also thinking that the reason your predecessor had so much success was because he was able to explain things in a simple way--something that was easily understood by people.  I really think that's something you should remember and perhaps consider working to explain things bit by bit as you go.  Big plans seem really complicated, but when you break things down in bite size pieces, somehow it all seems a lot easier to digest.  I'm not saying you shouldn't have big plans and ideas, but try to remember that not everyone out here has gone to law school.  If you want your plans and ideas to succeed, make sure you can make the case for them simply, in a way that most people can understand.

Last, but not least, I read a great quote this week from Greta Thunberg, and I wanted to share it with you.  That idea of simplicity came to me because of this quote, but also because I was looking at the kind of poetry that really seems to resonate with me as I explore my favorite poems this month.  They tend to be simple things--things that people can hold onto.  And this quote of hers was something that seemed right to me--something that even in all its simplicity still rang true.

Science and democracy are strongly interlinked - as they are both built on freedom of speech, independence, facts and transparency.
If you don’t respect democracy then you probably won’t respect science. And if you don’t respect science then you probably won’t respect democracy.

— Greta Thunberg (@GretaThunberg) February 6, 2021

 So I'll leave that with you for now along with these final thoughts:

I know you spent a lot of this week trying to get things straightened out.  It's been two and a half weeks since you took office, and you've definitely been working hard.  I wonder if any of them realize that your term as president is going to be one where you get to express who you really are--that all the games of politics and the past are behind you, and that you are going to try to truly serve the people of this country.

There are a lot of people who are going to look at what you've done in the past and think they can manipulate you or hinder your hopes by bringing up that past, and while we cannot escape what we've done, we can become better for having lived through it.  I hope you will be that better version of yourself, and I hope you will inspire in others that better version of themselves, too.

You've got a hard road ahead of you, Mr. President, but I believe that we will come out stronger in the end.

Sometimes even the old guy can win the Super Bowl, after all.  And that's something to inspire hope in all of us.

I remain a loyal and hopeful citizen.

~~ Jenni

Chang W. Lee/The New York Times

Sympathy by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Sympathy

by: Paul Laurence Dunbar

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!

    When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;   

When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,   

And the river flows like a stream of glass;

    When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,   

And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—

I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing

    Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;   

For he must fly back to his perch and cling   

When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;

    And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars   

And they pulse again with a keener sting—

I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,

    When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—

When he beats his bars and he would be free;

It is not a carol of joy or glee,

    But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,   

But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—

I know why the caged bird sings!

Desiderata by Max Ehrmann

Desiderata
by: Max Ehrmann 1927

GO PLACIDLY amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

“For Russell and Rowena Jelliffe” by Langston Hughes

For Russell and Rowena Jelliffe
by Langston Hughes

And so the seed
Becomes a flower
And in its hour
Reproduces dreams
And flowers.

And so the root
Becomes a trunk
And then a tree
And seeds of trees
And springtime sap
And summer shade
And autumn leaves
And shape of poems
And dreams–
More than tree.

And so it is
With those who make
Of life a flower,
A tree, a dream
Reproducing (on into
Its own and mine
And your infinity)
Its beauty and its life
In you and me.

And so it was
And is with you:
The seed, the flower,
The root, the tree,
The dream, the you.

       This poem I make

       (From poems you made)

       For you.

We Real Cool by Gwendolyn Brooks

We Real Cool 
by: Gwendolyn Brooks

               The Pool Players.
        Seven at the Golden Shovel.

            We real cool. We   
            Left school. We

            Lurk late. We
            Strike straight. We

            Sing sin. We   
            Thin gin. We

            Jazz June. We   
            Die soon.

Caged Bird by Maya Angelou

Caged Bird
by: Maya Angelou

A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind   
and floats downstream   
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and   
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings   
with a fearful trill   
of things unknown   
but longed for still   
and his tune is heard   
on the distant hill   
for the caged bird   
sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams   
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream   
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied   
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings   
with a fearful trill   
of things unknown   
but longed for still   
and his tune is heard   
on the distant hill   
for the caged bird   
sings of freedom.

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

Choral Clarity · The Road Not Taken (SATB) - composed by Adam Paltrowitz

The Road Not Taken 

By Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.