Perigee takes wing

Bloomington composer Abby Henkel has created a masterful choral work based on my poem "Perigee". Abby and I sing soprano together in the chamber choir Voces Novae. I had become aware of her work as a composer when we performed Venite Ad Me Omnes in 2021. Offhandedly, I mentioned I yearned to encounter a piece one day based on a poem by Mary Craig...

Abby took a look at my Birthday Elegy series and got to work. She selected "Perigee", the longest and most wide-ranging poem in the series. The work is for SATB (often subdivided). You can listen to it and purchase sheet music: abbyhenkel.com/listen. While you're on Abby's page, take a listen to her other works, like the choral settings of Ross Gay's "Thank You" and "Sorrow Is Not My Name".

Susan Swaney, Mary Craig, and Abby Henkel
introducing Perigee, November 2022

Abby's video of Voces Novae performing "Perigee" includes images from Simon's life. The music, lovingly learned and performed by the group and insightfully conducted by Sue Swaney, is lush, beautiful and expressive. The work deeply honors my poem and the memory of Simon.

What an experience! Especially to be among the performers. Thank you, Abby! Thank you, Voces Novae!

Summer Trip 2016, #2 - Conferenceland

On Thursday, August 4, after stocking up on snacks at a Whole Foods (there's nothing like it for product depth and temptation near us in Germany) and buying a GPS to use in the USA, we headed out of Las Vegas on I-15. If you head northeast on I-15, you reach Salt Lake City. I used to orient myself there: Vegas or Boise. When you head southwest, you reach L.A.

We drove along the Mojave National Preserve. It's all pretty rocky and dry. Markus and Miriam slept. Somehow I had the right jet lag window to stay at the wheel for 3+ hours. Destination: Anaheim Marriott, adjacent to the Convention Center, opposite the Hilton.

Here's what it looks like when you take your American daughter out for diner breakfast after way too long in Germany:

At IHOP. Yes, that's a side of pancakes.

On Friday we began our primary missions for the Anaheim portion of our trip: Markus went to the Academy of Management conference; Miriam took Mary shopping. Technically, since I drive and carry the credit card, I take her shopping. But Miriam had already selected a nearby outlet mall for the day.

Saturday, August 6, was a peculiar time to be hanging out in southern California. It was the 12th anniversary of our son Simon's death. Almost every year, this date falls within the Academy of Management annual meeting. Sometimes we join Markus for the trip (although he's super busy with conference activities), and sometimes Miriam and I have been on our own. I've written about the anniversary on this blog before:

http://chapterthis.blogspot.de/2015/08/its-august-6th-again-11th-anniversary.html

http://chapterthis.blogspot.de/2014/08/simons-life-in-picture-and-song.html

http://chapterthis.blogspot.de/2014/08/anniversary-approaching.html

http://chapterthis.blogspot.de/2013/08/for-solemn-date-of-august-6-part-1.html

http://chapterthis.blogspot.de/2013/08/august-6th-part-2-second-time.html

This year was the strangest variation yet. For the last couple of years I've offered a fall writing seminar for PhD students at GGS. Based on that, Markus invited me to submit a session with him as a Professional Development Workshop for the Academy of Management: Writing in English for German Native Speakers. We were passed over in 2015, but this year the session was accepted. We had a lively group of 34 participants. So, I spent Simon's anniversary doing something new this year, and here's what that looked like:

Academy of Management
Professional Development Workshop:
Writing in English for German Native Speakers

In the evening, Miriam and I pointed ourselves toward Newport Beach. We arrived to find parking gridlock and nudged forward in the car as the sun nudged downward. We finally got parked and went down to the water. I did one of my favorite Simon rituals: I scratched his name in the sand with my hand, near the tide line, inviting the water to wash my marks away.

Newport Beach at sunset, Aug. 6, 2016.
The "M" in SIMON is in the "dry" sand near the running boy.

Even without a guidebook, Miriam and I found The Crab Cooker, seriously grilled seafood served on paper plates with plastic forks. We had a nice evening out together.

The moon over Newport Beach,
just after sunset. SoCal.

Spring ritual

The yellow tulips in this bouquet come from Simon's "S" and Emma's "E".

Tulips from the garden

In my grief over the death of Emma Rose Coleman (1992-2011),* I planted bulbs in my winter-empty garden. I had a basket of mystery bulbs from my mother-in-law and no plan. Then I found myself making a trough for an "S" and an "E".

December 2, 2011 (lines drawn on photo)

I watched in early spring for the green leaves to pierce the earth: orange-gold crocuses came first, followed by red and yellow tulips.

April 13, 2012

Here's a shot of the garden today. The red tulips mark the top end of Simon's "S" and the bottom curl of Emma's "E". I sure miss the company of those two people in this world. The flowers are a living hint of their beauty.

April 22, 2016

*I mentioned Emma and her mom, Rebecca, during the "18 Years Ago" series in May 2015--in the Fashion Post (photos #4 and #5).

Dragonfly visitation 3

The next evening, as I sat having dinner with Miriam on the deck, I saw another dragonfly dive through the airspace over our backyard.

"Dragonfly!" I said.

She turned to see it swoop, same chartreuse helmet and striped tail as last night's visitor.

"The cats killed one yesterday," I told her, not naming the perpetrator.

She scolded both cats. "Hey, why'd you do that to your brother?"

I pointed at the perfect-looking carcass still lying at the edge of the deck.

Dragonfly

"They didn't even eat it!" she said. "Bad kitties!"

It does seem especially pointless that the cats hunt for sport. That they live out compulsions they can't control. That they swipe sharp claws at a flying creature before they even knew it happened.

I told Miriam about my conversation the night before with Markus.

"Of course it's Simon--why else would the dragonflies be showing up," she said.

I asked her to shoo the cats and scare the dragonfly off. The cats startled, and the striped body cut its way up and over the bushes toward the next yard.

Not much of a visit, if we send the creature away. But imagining it free is better than watching it get plucked from the sky.

Markus was late coming home. I tried not to imagine him somewhere on the bike path between the office and here, lying on his back with legs churning the air. I checked every bike approaching through the dusk on my walk.

Tuesday's sunset

At home I finally called his office. It was after 10pm. He answered. Another half hour, he said, the same thing he'd said two hours before. He'd gotten a new laptop; there was a lot for tech support to set up.

Markus biked safely home.

Previous dragonfly posts:

Dragonfly visitation, August 8, 2014

Dragonfly visitation 2, July 20, 2015

Dragonfly visitation 2

A little before dusk this evening, Simon-the-Cat is crouching alertly next to the backyard sculpture.

"What's he up to?" I ask Markus, who is reading on the deck.

"Dragonfly," Markus replies.

We watch the creature make neat lines across the backyard about two feet above ground. I've seen the cats take interest in bugs before. They always look so surprised when they eat their catch. We rarely see dragonflies around here. When we do, they usually fly off to safety as we cheer them on.

"Suicidal," I say, as the pale speck continues to fly low next to the bushes.

The cat pounces, his sleek black body diving into the brush, bell jingling. And that is that.

"If the spirit of our departed son was hitching a ride on that dragonfly..." I say to Markus. Why else would it come into our yard like that and fly so close to the cat who shares his name?

"...Then he goes into his next incarnation," Markus says, glancing back at his magazine.

The exchange is somehow good-humored. Our son Simon was enamored of nature and of dragonflies and damselflies in particular. As I've written before, it's always easy to picture him somehow inhabiting the sleek body and filigree wings.

Dropped from the cat's mouth, the dragonfly lies supine in the grass, churning its bent-wire legs. Both cats sit nonchalantly nearby. I hope there's a chance the creature will recover, and I grasp its camouflage-striped body-tail so I can place it right side up.

The body sticks strangely to the grass, but I am able to right the creature and place it on the edge of the deck. I watch as it revs what must be fang-pierced wings. Pity.

I leave it on the deck plank, hoping the cats will show some respect and refrain from a fatal bite. Perhaps the dragonfly will rally.

I will check in the morning. Wouldn't it be great if the spot is empty because the dragonfly has recovered and flown away?

But, twinge of hope aside, it feels like another lesson in nothing else I can do.


Currently reading: What Comes Next and How to Like It by Abigail Thomas, master of micro-story and the written (psychological) moment.

Previous post: Dragonfly visitation, August 8, 2014

Published!

Photo: Markus Vodosek

Today is the day: I am a published author!  Objects of My Attention has been published in the 83rd issue of Quarterly West.

My essay was selected earlier this year as winner of the 2014 Writers at Work Fellowship in literary nonfiction. I'm joined on the "page" of Quarterly West by fiction winner Mil Norman-Risch and poetry winner Molly Spencer. Other contributions of fiction, nonfiction, poetry, new media/visual art, and reviews appear in Issue 83, selected by the editorial staff through their submission process.

Quarterly West (associated with the University of Utah Department of English) has gone completely online. When you visit the QW site, you will find my piece in a hip digital layout. The piece itself is conventionally formatted, but the site around it is visually complex (especially in the version that appears on mobile devices). If that's a bit too much for you, especially in contrast to my subject, you might want to print it out to read (your browser should print without the background).

I am grateful to Robin Hemley for selecting my piece as this year's fellowship winner and to Writers at Work for the time-consuming task of running a competition each year. I'm grateful to Quarterly West for publishing the winning texts. So many people engaged with me as I developed this piece. Nicole Walker, Christopher Merrill, Melanie Rae Thon, Matt Kirkpatrick offered sage teacherly guidance. Many have read and commented: Writers in Stuttgart (especially Cindy, Amy, and Jadi), workshop-mates and classmates, the Craigs (David, Julie, Ann, and Norm), Jim Martin, Anne Adams, audiences at readings in Bad Wimpfen, Oberlin, Alta, and Salt Lake City, and Markus, who lived through these times with me. Steve Woodward (Graywolf) and Emma Komlos-Hrobsky (Tin House) offered spot-on editing advice to make the piece sharper and lither. Miriam, my daughter, expects more of my writing than anyone, and she will continue to drive me until there is a book you can hold in your hands. Simon, whose beauty and struggle have given life to my writing, will always have my loving attention.

Simon's Life in Picture and Song

Ten years ago today, Simon left this life. In the face of such a powerful illness, it was all he could do. And all we could do: let him go. Sometimes the inevitability of his death makes it impossible to imagine things any other way. Sometimes, though, I can free my thinking into a different mode. Simon's illness was a tough part of life for the last three years, but it was not the main part of life. Not ever. Simon was a happy child with a playful spirit and great energy for life and learning.

This video link is a slide show (posted below for a few days only) put together a couple of years after Simon died. Over the past weekend, Miriam and Markus helped me update the photos and create a new movie file to get the quality closer to today's standards. (Miriam is quite handy in iMovie.) It shows his life from birth to death, telling the story whole. The amount of happy is not exaggerated, neither is the pain, but the biggest part is love.

November 2004
Uintah Elementary School
Gemini concert

The song "You've Crossed Over" was written by Laszlo Slomovits, a dear friend and fantastic children's musician in Ann Arbor. He contacted me around the time of Simon's death and said he'd written a song, would that be all right? Laz's song was played via recording at Simon's memorial service in Salt Lake City. Then Laz came with his brother San for a Salt Lake City residency (they perform together as Gemini) sponsored by Simon's memorial fund. They performed "You've Crossed Over" at Uintah Elemenary with the entire class of 100 2nd graders joining in singing and doing sign language on this song.

When we held a memorial service in Ann Arbor in June 2005, Laz and his wife Helen provided the music, including this song. In the slide show, you hear the song once as voice and guitar and a second time with more instrumentation. (I think of the recordings as "living room" and "studio.")

Our Simon slide show

I'm posting this special family video in honor of the 10th anniversary of Simon's death. I'll leave it up only for a couple of days. Simon, you amazing and beautiful child, we remember you!



Remembering Simon from Mary Craig on Vimeo.

Anniversary approaching

 The tenth anniversary of the day my seven-year-old son Simon died is near: August 6th, 2004. I register its approach in several ways. It comes heavily, and I feel the weight in the heat and stillness of summer air. Even though the climate is more humid and less hot in southern Germany compared with the Salt Lake Valley, the "anniversary effect" of the season still happens. The angle of summer light, the daylight lasting into the evening, the crinkly tug of sun on skin. The late July/early August season takes me back to the last weeks of Simon's life. I don't seek this effect. I barely notice it sneaking up. Then a late afternoon rain shower throws a rainbow in the sky. Or summer sweat dries on my neck like rubber cement and my mind is sent back to the pathways I took around the Utah house: the kitchen, outside in the yard (to the pumpkin), from bedside to bathroom and quickly back. Simon died at home, in a process as fully integrated with our daily lives as it was extraordinary. The memories feel like that, too.

I've been doing exploratory writing about the summer of 2004, looking at the two months of time that passed when we knew Simon was dying. That writing has also stirred up memories and sent me into the archives of Simon's life. In anticipation of the anniversary, I want to present a review. Some of the readers of this blog followed Simon's Place as events unfolded. Even if you've read some of these postings before, I think you will be amazed, as I am, at the extensiveness and beauty of the record.

The summer of 2004

Looking back, I've always identified early-mid June as the time we knew for sure that Simon's disease would run its course and he would die. Yet there seems to be no point in June at which we wrote "Simon is dying." Early in July, there's a footnote that explains his transition into hospice care to help him "die as peacefully as possible." I don't believe we were trying to protect the information so much as we were in a process. Even after the June conversation with Simon's doctor in which he predicted "weeks, a month, maybe two," I think we moved forward day by day. Simon was living, and we were parenting and caring for him as we always had. I don't for a minute believe we were in denial of his approaching death. But we couldn't know what it would be it until it happened.

Since the Simon's Place entries are reverse chronological, you may want to scroll to the bottom and work your way up on each page. I've written (RC) for those links. If internal links on Simon's Place send you somewhere, navigate by date. (Some pages have since become archives.)

What's Happening June 2004 - (RC) the month we learned Simon's cancer was terminal

Photo Gallery June 2004 - Simon looked and felt pretty great in early June but grew sicker

Celebration of Life Party on July 1, 2004 - Simon's chance to invite all his friends (posted one year later)

Celebration of Life Photos - the short version, note Simon's striped chair (I think of him every time I sit in it)

Celebration of Life Photo Gallery - lots of people, lots of photos (web photo galleries have come a long way since then!)

What's Happening July 2004 - (RC) using good moments despite advancing disease

What's Happening August 2004 - (RC) Simon died on August 6th

Grann's Prayer over Simon's Body, August 6, 2004 - a moving and brave offering of thanks

Simon Says June-August 2004 - (RC) especially here, scroll to the bottom and read chronologically

Simon's Memorial Service - the invitation says a lot about what was important to us; remember Mapquest?! Note the links Mary's Remarks at Simon's Memorial Service and Lullaby: Der Mond ist aufgegangen.

Simon the Dragon by Erik Troberg - Erik's tribute, read during the service, is one of many moving tributes linked at the bottom of the Tributes page.

Message Board at Simon's Place - (RC) July and August 2004 carry the sadness of many people. (You can still send a comment there via the link at the top of the archive page. The current page is here.)

Greetings for Simon from All Over the Place!  - if you sent one, you may remember

Anniversaries

For the anniversaries I'm posting something for each year. A few things I've never written about elsewhere, so I'm adding a few photos as well.

First anniversary 2005

Two of a Kind concert at the Hogle Zoo - sponsored by the Simon Craig Vodosek Memorial Fund

Second anniversary 2006

What's Happening 2006 - (RC) a lot of this writing is anniversary-ish

Simon's Way at Brighton Ski Resort - a commemoration in April 2006 (amazingly, the media links are still live)

Third anniversary 2007

What's Happening later years - (RC) I can't recall yet where we spent this anniversary. The bottom-most entry, 2007, is the original Simon's Pumpkin post.

Fourth anniversary 2008

Simon's grave monument (slide show 4) - erected on August 1, 2008 exactly. It took us four years.

Fifth anniversary 2009

The Simon Craig Vodosek Memorial Fund sponsored this cute guy on the new carousel at the zoo.

Conservation Carousel at the Hogle Zoo
in Salt Lake City: River Otter

Photos from August 3, 2009 remind me we were with the Craig clan in Ohio that summer, and we toured the Mansfield, Ohio factory where the carousel had been made.

Beginnings of a horse.

Another otter...

Sixth anniversary 2010

We placed a gravestone to mark the burial spot of the urn next to the monument at Mt. Olivet. Just in time before moving to Germany that summer. Miriam and I visited the grave (and Carl's mom's) with Carl and Natalia on August 6th.

Natalia, Carl, & Miriam

There was a rainbow.

Seventh anniversary 2011

After another Craig clan gathering in the Outer Banks, North Carolina, we visited in Utah and took a wildflower hike to Catherine Pass with Utah friends.

Eighth anniversary 2012

Posted on Facebook, August 5, 2012:

We joined the people of the Arlington Street Church (UU) for worship this morning and took part in their Joys and Sorrows (great format, by the way, with a half-sheet to fill out before the end of the first hymn and then it's read aloud by a minister who invites you to stand as he reads, over Spirit of Life softly on the piano). We shared: 

We remember our son and brother, Simon, who left us eight years ago tomorrow. We love you and we miss you! 

And we were lifted up by the caring of strangers. After church, we took a ride on a swan boat.

Ninth anniversary 2013

For the solemn date of August 6, part 1
August 6th, part 2

Tenth anniversary 2014

Stay tuned.

Boyhood

"Boyhood film". Image via Wikipedia.

Richard Linklater's film Boyhood has made the media rounds quite impressively in the last weeks. The film finally caught my attention in mid-July. When I discovered it captures an actual boyhood, I knew I needed to see this film.

Here in Heilbronn, we can't pop into town for an English-language screening.* To find Boyhood, in English on a movie screen, Markus, Miriam, and I traveled about an hour to Heidelberg. Another benefit: Indian curry before the movie and gelato afterward on Heidelberg's busy Hauptstraße.

The nearly three-hour film came into being over twelve years. In 2002, Linklater picked a six-year-old actor named Ellar Coltrane to be the boy, Mason. Over the next twelve years, he molded a family story around Mason and his sister Samantha (played by Linklater's daugher Lorelei), and their divorced parents, played by Ethan Hawke and Patricia Arquette. Just the project of shooting new footage every year for twelve years while keeping a story going is astonishing. But the observation of the children as they grow is the breathtaking part. The story is as old as, "My, you've grown!" every time you see a child after a long break. We all fall for it. We are always amazed. In the film, brief scenes and longer scenes are put together, always chronologically. There are gaps in time. Mason rides off on his bicycle, six-year-old sized. Next, he's looking at the ground and all you see is brown hair. When he glances up, you see his face has changed. He's seven now, or eight. Perhaps you gasp. Again and again, through the everyday and occasionally dramatic moments, you see the characters age until Mason is off to college.

My attraction to the film before seeing it was intensely personal. The time period (2002-2013) of the filming nearly matches the time that's passed since my son died (2004). The actor playing Mason grew from the age of seven to nineteen while filming. Simon was seven when he died. He would be seventeen today. This film documents nearly the same time span, from the same age, as all the years we're missing in Simon's life. Would Boyhood be a gift? Could it give me something of Simon? Would it be a way to see him grow up after all?

I took my needy purpose with me to the film. How could I not? In the first scenes, especially with Mason on his bike, I had a pang: Yes, that's what Simon looked like on a bike! And maybe one or two jumps to an older child gave me a moment's wistfulness. But soon I was inside the lives of these characters, all the intricacy and triviality and motion or motionlessness. Soon I'd stopped wondering about Simon. This movie is about the coming of age of Mason and of Ellar Coltrane. Yes, it is universal. But it's not about me and my family. It didn't do the "job"--whatever that was--I'd hoped it would do. And that didn't matter. Like so many others, I am utterly won by this film.

Perhaps if I watched it many times, that Simon effect I was hoping for will reveal itself. Perhaps.

I can recommend some media about the film. Two I'd recommend waiting to hear until after you've seen the film.

The New Yorker Review by Anthony Lane
Balancing Acts

Fresh Air interview of Richard Linklater with Terry Gross
Filmed Over 12 Years, 'Boyhood' Follows A Kid's Coming Of Age

Movie Date podcast (The Takeaway)
"Life Itself," "Boyhood," "Dawn of the Planet of the Apes"

Save for after you've seen the film:

KQED radio interview with Richard Linklater
Richard Linklater Elevates the Ordinary in "Boyhood" 

Slate Spoiler Special "Boyhood"

*Unless we're very lucky on Monday evenings and the local cinema is playing a film we want to see--and we were lucky last Monday, to catch The Young and Prodigious T.S. Spivet (although not in the intended 3D) because the film is intriguing and has a sturdy subplot of child loss and I found Helena Bonham Carter's portrayal of the mother comforting).