Hey there. This week has been a lot. Inhale for three seconds. Hold for five. Exhale for seven. Repeat as many times as necessary.
I’m going to begin with some recommendations:
My book club is currently reading Cathy Park Hong’s memoir, Minor Feelings, in advance of our April meeting. It was my choice, which means I’ll be leading the discussion. If you’ve read it and have anything useful to contribute, send your thoughts my way by replying to this email or writing to me at allison@wrightallison.com. Here is an interview with Hong on “Why This Wave of Anti-Asian Racism Feels Different” (with thanks to my friend Natasha for sharing).
The second half of the Athena Film Festival is running now through the end of March. An all-access pass is $50; individual tickets are $12. The festival is a joint project of Barnard College’s Athena Center for Leadership and the industry-adjacent org Women & Hollywood. The event highlights stories of “women’s leadership from underexplored perspectives; women leading in all places and spaces who are resisting and refuting preconceived notions of all they can be and do.” I am particularly looking forward to watching Underplayed (a look at current gender, ethnic, and sexuality equality issues in dance music seen through the lens of female pioneers and next-gen artists), Ahead of the Curve (about Franco Stevens, queer community, and the founding of Curve magazine, with a score composed by Meshell Ndegeocello), and End of the Line: The Women of Standing Rock.
Tonight (Friday, March 19) at 7pm Eastern I am going to livestream my friends Ralph Eubanks and Wright Thompson talking about their new books. The Denver bookstore Tattered Cover is hosting. You can register (free!) here. Ralph’s new book is A Place Like Mississippi: A Journey Through a Real and Imagined Literary Landscape. Wright’s newest is Pappyland: A Story of Family, Fine Bourbon, and the Things That Last. I hope you will join me for their conversation.
I thought about Ralph and Wright and their books as I drove through Mississippi last week, for the third time this year. For the third time in a month, actually—approximately five thousand miles total. The first time, February 14, I had rented a car in Charlotte, North Carolina, after having multiple flights to multiple Texas cities canceled. I was trying to get to San Antonio for my father’s funeral. But my travel plans coincided with the winter storm that ravaged the country in mid-February.
I made it to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, before the highway was shut down, around 2 AM, due to the impending ice storm. The cup o’ noodles and Modelo I picked up at the gas station next to the hotel and had in the room that night was the tastiest meal I would have for days, but I didn't see that coming any more than I did the failure of Texas’s power grid.
I won’t go into details here, but I missed my father’s visitation on Monday night, the power went out at my mother’s house before the funeral on Tuesday, and the national cemetery where my father was to be buried canceled all military honors for the week, so his burial was postponed. We decamped to a hotel, but when the water went out there and food and gas shortages became apparent, we convinced my mother that the only option was to flee. Immediately.
Less than a week after leaving Virginia by plane, I made it back home by way of my mother’s car, with her and her dog in tow. I did not sleep in the same place two nights in a row (and one night not at all—we drove straight through from San Antonio to my cousin’s house in Birmingham, arriving around sunrise). I think there was one hot meal the entire time, in Alabama. It was mostly whatever we could find at whichever gas stations were open. I know you’re thinking you could survive on candy bars and trail mix, but I’m allergic to chocolate and that severely limits my options in such instances. I have had enough energy drinks to last me until the next pandemic—oh yeah, don’t forget, it’s still a pandemic! (I mean, it’s definitely not a pandemic if you ask anybody in South Carolina, Tennessee, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, or Louisiana, because there were zero masks to be found on any of the three trips I took through those states. But I digress.)
So my mother and her dog came to stay for a few weeks, and then we drove back to Texas. My father had the military funeral he deserved, finally. It was well attended, even for Covid. And I am back in Virginia, once again.
Thank you all for your thoughtful notes and kind responses. So many of you replied to my newsletters about Cecil and Penny, and some of you sent actual cards in the mail(!) and flowers and care packages and books. I have such a long list of thank-yous to write and I will get to them, I promise. But in the meantime, please know how much it means to me to read your words and feel your strength and solidarity from afar.
Grief is such a tricky beast. This isn’t my first go-round and I know it hits you when you least expect it. It took me until late last Saturday night to acknowledge that I have been in triage mode for months, since my father went into the hospital really, just managing one thing after another, and I haven’t taken any time for myself. I wish I could go stare at the ocean for a very long time. Why isn’t there a fellowship for that? Like an artists’ colony but for grieving instead of creating. Send me away.
Until the next time, keep wearing your mask, wash your hands, get the vaccine. Summer is coming.
What a trip you and your mom had. I'm sorry you had to go through that. I'm glad Cecil eventually got the funeral he deserved, and the one that would help his family grieve. Love to you, Allison. Love and understanding.