ALICE MUNRO

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For years, most of my life, I claimed I’d never been sexually assaulted, and I even believed that was true. I’m angry about it now. And even so, I get it.

“We say of some things that they can’t be forgiven, or that we will never forgive ourselves. But we do—we do it all the time.”

—the last line from Munro’s last book, Dear Life (2013)

I suspect that Alice Munro had been abused herself, most women of her generation and before were [and mostly still are], and she accepted the inevitability of just getting on with life. I’m not making excuses for bad parenting here, but I keep reading younger people and men condemning Munro as if she’d been the abuser herself. She officially found out about the abuse when her daughter was 25. Her ex-husband found out when their daughter was 9 and told no one.

All sympathy with their youngest daughter.

Jenny Munro, daughter of the 2013 Nobel Prize Laureate in Literature Alice Munroe of Canada, receives the Nobel Prize in her place from Sweden’s King Carl XVI Gustaf, during the Nobel Prize award ceremony at the Stockholm Concert Hall in Stockholm, Tuesday, Dec. 10, 2013. The Nobel awards are always awarded on Dec. 10, the anniversary of Alfred Nobel’s death in 1896. The prizes for laureates in medicine, chemistry, physics, economics and literature are awarded in the Swedish capital Stockholm, whilst the Nobel Peace Prize is awarded on the same day in Oslo, Norway.—FRANK AUGSTEIN
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WHY WE HATE THE 4th

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Okay, “hate” is too strong. We have mixed feelings for a holiday we both loved as kids. Now we are aware of dangers to our health, sleep, and wildlife. We have legitimate concerns about injuries and the risk to property. We won’t even pretend that the people making all this noise care what they are doing or know how to do it safely.

Gary set up a decoy fort on the sand out front (we don’t go out on the 4th anymore) in order to, hopefully, discourage tourists from building a fire against a new huge drift log. (It’s illegal to burn drift logs, illegal to burn a fire bigger than a beach chair, and illegal to leave a fire unattended, but that doesn’t stop it happening.) This morning the robins sang, the seagulls returned, and we hope our local bats are okay.

That cloud of smoke? Toxic. Fireworks contain poisonous chemicals. Recent and not-so recent research reveals they “emit lead, copper, and other toxins” and “pyrotechnic display particles can produce adverse effects in mammalian cells and lungs” and. Search “toxins in fireworks.”
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I’M DANCING AS FAST AS I CAN

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The first time I ran the Hood to Coast relay, I was not expecting 96° on my first leg. Six miles in the heat of day was entirely new to me. I ran in the mornings in temperatures below the 60s. But I was in the middle of my life and managed to maintain about 9-minute miles even in heat. I did see people drop on the course, and one poor runner had collapsed from heat exhaustion. Someone tried to hold her up without getting wet himself while someone else trained a fire hose on her.

After the residency I feel a little bit like I’ve had a firehose on me for a week. Yes, that tired. But good too.

I know most people prefer the sun, but I was grateful to find beach weather when we got home! It’s restful weather.

More about writing, goals, and recovery…

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The first time I ran the Hood to Coast relay, I was not expecting 96° on my first leg. Six miles in the heat of day was entirely new to me. I ran in the mornings in temperatures below the 60s. But I was in the middle of my life and managed to maintain about 9-minute miles even in heat. I did see people drop on the course, and one poor runner had collapsed from heat exhaustion. Someone tried to hold her up without getting wet himself while someone else trained a fire hose on her.

After the residency I feel a little bit like I’ve had a firehose on me for a week. Yes, that tired. But good too.

I know most people prefer the sun, but I was grateful to find beach weather when we got home! It’s restful weather.

More about writing, goals, and recovery…

Continue reading →

The first time I ran the Hood to Coast relay, I was not expecting 96° on my first leg. Six miles in the heat of day was entirely new to me. I ran in the mornings in temperatures below the 60s. But I was in the middle of my life and managed to maintain about 9-minute miles even in heat. I did see people drop on the course, and one poor runner had collapsed from heat exhaustion. Someone tried to hold her up without getting wet himself while someone else trained a fire hose on her.

After the residency I feel a little bit like I’ve had a firehose on me for a week. Yes, that tired. But good too.

I know most people prefer the sun, but I was grateful to find beach weather when we got home! It’s restful weather.

More about writing, goals, and recovery…

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RESIDENCY, the last day

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In case you are unfamiliar, this is what in 1850 the British called a “monkey-puzzle tree” and some Native peoples called pewen (scientists call it Araucaria araucana), which is native to central and southern Chile and western Argentina. Because it resembles prehistoric species, it is also sometimes called an “animate fossil.” It has long been a seed-grown garden tree in west coast US gardens, including Seattle, where I spent most of my childhood and knew this tree as a child. It is usually dioecious, with the male and female cones on separate trees. Midway up and nearer the top in the photo are the cones that, on female trees, produce seeds similar to over-sized pine nuts. These seeds have been gathered and consumed by indigenous peoples through the millennia, and the trees themselves are sacred to some indigenous Mapuche. The Chilean pine has been protected in Chile since 1972. All logging was banned in 1990 and its conservation status was listed as Endangered by the IUCN in 2013. [The species is protected under Appendix I of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES) meaning international trade (including in parts and derivatives) is regulated by the CITES permitting system and commercial trade in wild sourced specimens is prohibited.]

Several of my students went on to Pacific University, but that is not the reason I am fond, of course. Today is the last day of events scheduled for the MFA residency.

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RESIDENCY, day 7

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I used the forecast of rain to skip my run, but it’s not raining, and now I feel guilty for still sitting up in bed, draining my second cup of too-strong coffee (the only coffee I like), and listening to Jack Driscoll in a video from January of last year. I was there. In “First, Do No Harm” from January 2023 in Seaside, Oregon, Jack reminds us: find your character on your page, care deeply, even for the flawed characters, especially for their flaws, because that’s what we all are. That story he read got me again. [I hope the link opens.] I have not heard the other two talks that are linked on the residency Bulletin. I’ll need more time to go there.

Marsh Hall at the end of the walk, my favorite entrance to campus.

For Jack, Gary went over to campus and sat on a bench and played “Parting Glass” by the High Kings, the live version where the pipes come in [at 2:32], turned up all the way on his phone, and cried because it was for Jack and because of the pipes and because… We think Jack would like that. We’ve listened to it a few times now.

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RESIDENCY, day 6

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Today is Wednesday, which is noted at the top of today’s residency schedule, but which I find myself in need of reminding. Wednesday, and the last day, the day of graduation, will be Saturday. Count the days. [3.] I will introduce one more faculty reading, celebrate this 20th anniversary of my MFA program, and then leave after graduation on Saturday. There will be bagpipes!

In the center of this photo is a mature Douglas fir tree. “Mature’ but not first growth, 30+” wide and looming, but not as big as a Douglas fir can become left to itself for another century. Many trees on the Pacific University campus are enormous [watch for the redwood I’ll post tomorrow), but all of these trees are second or third growth or planted trees. Farmed forests in the Pacific NW are logged off every thirty or so years. East of our coastal home, there used to be the stumps of old growth, trees several feet across, a sixteen foot or larger circumference. There is little of that left. Molly Gloss’s novel Wild Life is set in the period when the great old-growth forests were vanishing.
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RESIDENCY, day 5

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A little short of sleep, but went out for a short run at 6am and felt better. At the beach, I run to landmarks, in Portland I count city blocks, but here I run purely for time—measuring my slow ten-minute miles. Gary is coming to see me this morning, and I am ridiculously excited about that. I don’t think I have slept without him since I left this program in 2007. I have managed to make my own coffee, but miss the conversation. I miss him.

The weather forecast was for 63° and “partly sunny” at 8am, but it was already 68° and not a cloud by at that time, so I’m thinking a hot day.

The darkish/blackish blot in the center is a bumblebee—so many all over campus! There are several species of bumblebees native to Oregon, two of them are indistinguishable except under a microscope. I know this from my friend and neighbor Mary Jo, who has such a microscope and reports to bee people at OSU. [The honeybees we sometimes see are all imports gone wild; bees are not what you might call fully domesticated.]
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RESIDENCY, day 4

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I am trying something different, something obvious. Instead of writing my report of the day all at once the following morning, I begin this day with my own beginning: I have four miles today, two running, which is usual for a Monday. When I was a student here in 2005-2007, I ran further and away to the west. Five miles, six. Faster. I cannot do easy nine-minute miles anymore. This morning, I ran close to, through, and around campus. I circled dear Marsh Hall and Old School Hall each several times, ran all the way north to highway 8, and walked a cool-down mile. I slept better last night—seven hours. I will nap this afternoon.

Here are the three linden trees in a row, north to south. I stand under them, close my eyes, and breathe the scent between naps and presentations. As I was walking back to Gilbert Hall this afternoon, there was a loud crack! and I watched a limb come down, but not from the lindens.
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RESIDENCY, day 3

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It feels very much like bragging to say I’ve so far had lunch with Claire Davis, dinner with Molly Gloss, and lunch with Omar El Akkad. But there, I’ve done it. Saturday, Claire and I talked about what book covers can do to reveal a book or damage its sales. Molly and I talked about the program and our writing. Sunday at lunch, Omar and one of his students and I talked about Portland, fire and how wealth insulates some people even from disaster while leaving others homeless, and that the best Indian food he ever had was while appearing at an event in Iceland. We talked about food. He asked about my novel, would I tell about it? Well. You know the answer.

Lavender.
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