The Last Post of Customary Crandall 2021 & a Welcome to the Karalvan of 2022...the 15th Year of Blogging Begins Today. New Site. New Hopes. New Possibilities

Karalvan 2022

Well, that was 2021, and it went out, of course, with the loss of our Rose of St. Olaf. God Bless You, Betty White. If only all of us could live with such purpose, joy, humor, humility, and respect.

It's somewhat unbelievable that students in the class of 2008 recommended I pick-up blogging so they could keep up with me after my departure from the Brown School in 2007, and this is my 15th year - one where I always think, "Do I want to keep this tradition going? Do I want to invest the time?" The truth is, I've always written daily, reflected, and needed an outlet. Blogging allows my daily thoughts to be more public and I am thankful to friends, colleagues, and family who choose to keep up with Crandall's crazy.

This was an incredulous year for everyone and writing has remained my therapy. I realized as I put together the 2021 Montage, that I've really had to grow apart from in-person gatherings and celebrations, and found it a little more difficult to capture the year-lived in photographs (that weren't of a screen, alone - I kept them to a minimum). This was a year of a hernia (part two), an eye jabbing, then an ankle mishap. I also lost Glamis the Wonder Dog unexpectedly and swore never to get a dog again (hair and responsibility, ugh). But then this little face from PetRescue New York kept summoning me back to a website. Yes, adopted and returned often (and still a total spazz) I fell in love with yet another reliable friend (who craves enormous attention and is smarter than other dogs I've worked with). She has brought me joy, and I imagine her silliness and hyper-activity will provide more in the upcoming year, hence the 2022 Karalvan theme.

Despite all the limitations of the year, there is much to celebrate: publications, networking, a Northeast National Writing Conference, working beautifully with Dr. Susan James, Dr. Jessica Early, and many others on upcoming projects, presentations, and resolving the carpenter bee/woodpecker damage on the trim of my house. Chitunga got his first apartment in Stamford, Abu and Lossine are now working at the Academy of Science in Syracuse, Kanye finished a Masters, Edem continues to be the hardworking man he is, and I to hang with Kwame Alexander for a short while when Acoustic Rooster was staged at the Kennedy Center. I'm forever grateful to Julie Roneson, Dave Wooley, Jessica Baldizon, William King, Rich Novack, Kristin Lessard, Rebecca Marsick, Kim Herzog, Stefania Vendrella, Kelly Chandler Olcott and Liz Lewis, as well. We keep the work going. And for Tonya Perry, Kelly Sassi, Susan James, Jessica Early, Jennifer Dail, Ellen Shelton, Shelbie Witte, Kelli Sassi, Steve Bickmore, and Sarah Donovan - you keep my academic YA/NWP spirit alive.

I'm not sure what 2022 will bring, but I hope there are more Karalvals to bring my people together: those in CT, in KY, and across the nation (I'm looking at you, Alice Hays. WGI meets YA meets NWP)

I had a goal last night to stay awake until 10 p.m. - I didn't make it. I'm a curmudgeon when it comes to the New Year's Celebrations, and have my own traditions to keep up with (including birthday videos to be made today...The Great Whatever knows that January 1 is full of birthdays, especially for immigrant and refugee youth)

Best part of 2021, however, continues to be The Write Time with Tanya Baker. We have been doing the show for well over a year now, so being in touch with writers regularly is something to celebrate. The writers we featured this year know who they are...there are too many to list now (even if I should)

Here's to family, weddings, recovery, and friendship. 

I'm also super proud that Abu, Lossine and I had a poem published, one that will forever bond us in friendship, mentorship, family, and all still to come. Education. Education. Education. Sue McV and Alice Stevenson continue to be the best educational mentors a human being can ask for, and I'm glad that Chitunga has discovered her gifts.

And with that, I will end this post. There's always more to write...more to say...more to do. That's what the Karalvan of 2022 will set out to capture. Thank you, always, D-fli, for lending your wings to the pond. This Frog will forever be grateful for everything you launched inside of me as a fledgling teacher. You and all the others that shared soul-work with me as I began my career. 

Okay, 2022. What are you gonna do?

The "In Memorials" 2021 Have Helped Me to Stay True to the 50/50/50/50 Pursuit. Drove to Trader Joe's & Stocked Up for Better Eating

I think it was the fact that so many actors from my childhood that were always on the televisions in my parents' house passed away this year (I mean, the captain of The Love Boat and Biz Marke? Sondheim?). I don't know. Was just another reminder to enter this mid-life gig with more intentionality than the past year has allowed: injuries, injuries, injuries. In my head, I can get back to those phases in my life where I was at the gym for an hour and then ran 5 or 6 miles. I was still a big guy then, genetics, but I loved the routine...the thinking...the me-time. I want to have the me-time, back (which I still get on the walks...it's just not the same). 

Amazing to think that this is the last day of the @#$#-up year, and that it really is 2020 "too," and this is feeling a little reminiscent of last year when we podded ourselves up with safe people, and only occasionally socialized. I told Chitunga, "I'm perfectly fine with that isolation, but I also know it's not good for the soul." We need people. Am curious how the University will handle the incredulous uptick. I know New York colleges and universities have already outlined their thinking. We'll likely learn a couple days before, and be applauded for our flexibility and willingness to adapt. Go us!

Chitunga and I grabbed sandwiches at a deli for lunch, then we headed to Laguardia, so I could turn around and get stuck in Connecticut traffic for two hours. Yes, the traffic returned a while ago, and I did enjoy the days where no one was on the highways like they are now. Connecticut is synonymous with traffic.

Also, I'm boostered. I also got my flu shot, too, so I'm not having too many expectations for myself today other than keep-on-keeping on. I know Tunga was taken down for two days 24-hours after he got the booster, but he also had the J&J. I had the Moderna, so shot #1 was the bad one (supposedly). 

Okay...time to get this day going. Heading to campus in 3...2...1.

Back at It, Day 4, but I Won't Be on Campus Today: Getting Boosted, Finishing Collaborative Pieces, Driving Chitunga, and Reading From Home

I need quiet when the work really needs to be done. Silencio! Silencio! So, I've been hunkering down in my Canisius Office. The work is slowly getting done (proud of Suzie-Q and me for hitting submit today), completed a number of monthly Work Day tasks, delved into the service work (until my eyes teared up with exhaustion), and talked myself into holding my breath for the month of January, as I always have to do. 

I've been noting two other faculty members who have been faithful to campus life and I'm wondering what they are working on. There's only been three cars in the lot this week. Knowing who they are, I imagine they are working on their 12th or 13th book. My admiration for their work ethic is there. Phew. 

Karal is getting used to my away-from-home work, too, making sure that she's extra spastic, extra obnoxious of squeaky toys, and extra enthusiastic about play time when I arrive home. I think I met her expectations this week, because she is collapsing on the couch by 9 p.m.

I've been learning of the abundance of positive Covid/Delta/Omicron cases in my region, and sort of alarmed by how everyone I correspond with is directly affected. Symptoms aren't severe, but I'm hearing people have been down since the semester ended: sneezing, freezing, fevers, headaches, exhaustion, etc. But that is par for the course with teachers and academics with or without a pandemic. We're worn down at the end of a semester, and this year, like last, more than ever. 

I, for one, can't take too much news or social media, as it adds to the overwhelming exhaustion I already am feeling. I am laughing, too, as I'm channeling all the Danish teachers who I was fortunate to work with for a decade who always grew exhausted when they visited American schools. "We work differently in our country. We work hard, but we also don't kill ourselves with the work." I think about this all the time knowing that I've never known the work without the killing self part. 

But I'm being good: moving, aware of self-care, and maneuvering through the work with a sense of humor (and purpose). And I get to hang with the kid today, so there's the joy.

Fifty Days Out Until Fifty, so Committing to 50-Minutes of Intentional Movement (Sweating) & 50% More Healthy Decision-Making. Feel Free to Join Me

It was right before my birthday last year that I ran my last 5K. I've walked some since, but I haven't run them. Why? The body as it ages is no joke: returned hernia, severe leg cramps, a stabbed eye, then a snapped ankle with a boot. It's very easy for me to say, "It's been a year, alright."

We're currently 50 days away until my 50th and I'm in the mindset to cease the holiday garbage feasting. It's not that I go insane in December, but I do know that there's more easy-to-grab treats on every table. In the end, it simply feels miserable to have so much food, booze, and munchies around every corner. I hate it, especially because it also weighs on the head, and mentally I feel lethargic, grumpy, foggy, and not myself.

I'm not saying I will get my running stamina back because I'm not pushing for more injuries. Rather, I'm committing to movement 50-minutes a day for the next 50 days (which isn't impossible, since I usually walk an hour every day with the dog). I do, however, want to sweat more, and I'm even thinking about joining a yoga studio. I need to feel stretched and flexible, much more so than the past year of injuries has allowed. 

Yesterday, on the phone with Susie-Q in Pensacola, I told her my plan: elliptical, rowing, walking, maybe running, just sweating is what I'm after. She said, "I'm in. 50 for 50."

So that is what I want for my birthday. I want everyone who finds this to be a viable option to simply dedicate the next 50 days to a healthier you: more stretching, more vegetables, better proportions, more movement, better decision-making, and fresher air. It is likely to be miserable the next two months (that's why I got cross-country skis last year), but I'm setting my plan into motion. Physical health equates to mental health.

50 days of 50-minute sweating intervals until I'm 50 (with 50% better decision making for my health...whatever I interpret that to mean). 

50/50/50/50 - Maybe I should have a 50/50 raffle, too. Everyone can send me $10, and of those, I will draw a name. 50% will go to the winer. The other 50% will go towards a birthday party. 

I still can't believe the big five-uh-oh is around the corner, but we'll do with it what we can.

Do You Remember? The 28th Day of December. Love Was Changing the Mind of Pretenders, While Chasing the Clouds Away. Ba Dee Ah. Dancing in December.

No, it isn't September, nor the 21st day, but I have a younger brother right to change lyrics to suit my needs. Today is Cynde-Loo, Cynderballz, Cynde Crandall Isgar's birthday, and sadly I didn't stick around to torment her in person. Rather than pick out something she would never wear and causing her to return it, I decided to dress her on my blog and send a Grub Hub card to her instead (although she's a good cook, and does alright with her own fixings). Even so, she deserves to tell Mike she's ordering (by the way, I tried to cuss on Grub Hub and they had an alert of "Watch your language." I had to use @#$$#, instead). Good for them. 

If she likes the blonde hair, she is more than welcome to drive to Amalfi Drive and borrow some of Mom's colored hair creams. And if she does actually like the swan dress, I'm sure she can alter the abominable snowman pajamas I got for Mike this Christmas, which he doesn't seem to like - he still hasn't sent me a picture of himself wearing them. Sigh.

Cynde should be getting an email, and I want her to note that I color coordinated the Grub Hub card with my blog so I'm capturing a kind-of theme. I'm sure she's at the same place I am in life simply wanting zero attention on these birthdays and would rather just be left alone.

My real goal is that anyone who types Cynde Ann Isgar or Cynde Crandall or Cynderballz...any variation into Google...will find this photo of her in a swan dress to match her knitted frog nose warmer and glitter lights photo. 

Yes, it's the 28th day of December, where love was changing the mind of pretenders, while chasing the clouds away. Ba Dee Ah, Dancing in December, Bah Dee Ah, lyrics I can't remember, but singing the song anyway.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CYNDERBALLZ!

I hope it is a great celebration!

Book for the Road Trip - WHY WE FLY by Gilly Segal and Kimberly Jones...You Know It's a Good One When You Don't Want to Exit the Highway

I was a fortunate soul to meet Gilly Segal and Kimberly Jones in Texas when they were road tripping with I'm Not Dying with You Tonight. I was at the North Texas Teen Book Festival with three of my favorite people: Susie-Q, Kim, and Rebecca, there to present for the incredible, wonderful, and super-inspirational Rose Brock. We were there for teacher day, and presented to a room full of 100s of teachers. This, of course, was in the spring of 2020, AND the last trip any of us would take since Covid interrupted the globe. Without a doubt, meeting Gilly and Kim was a tremendous highlight. This was right before craziness hit the nation, but I left Texas inspired.

Fast forward. I'm super excited that THE WRITE TIME will feature the authors, Gilly Segal and Kimberly Jones, later next year to discuss their book Why We Fly. Trust me, I'm still partying like it's 1999 and I'll likely go to my grave with that line (even though I know exactly where I was in 1999, and do not wish to return back there). 

So. Much. Has Changed.

With that noted, I knew when I listened to the audio book read by Suzy Jackson and Jasmin Walker that I'd begin this post with a little bit of a disclaimer: (1) I do not and have never understood  the cheerleading culture, (2) I know from my niece who was a Winterguard athlete that Cheer, too, is a sport, (3) There's no doubt in my mind about the dedication, devotion, hard work, or athleticism of these athletes, and (4) I'd be a better man to keep my mind open to everything.

This is why I'm here to say that Why We Fly by Kimberly Jones and Gilly Segal was exceptionally well-done. I loved every second of it, wanted to argue with the characters, and call the authors up several times with a um, can I ask you a question about... but I didn't. Instead, I listened to the stellar, nuanced way two writers put their minds together to create a narrative about two young women, budding and blossoming in their senior year, when they make a stance for the racial injustices that, at least to me, seem obvious right now. Youth know better and are stronger than the adults they follow. History, I believe, will deliver this fact LOUD and CLEAR.

I'm definitely in awe of the story...especially the different voices that narrate what goes down in the tale...and I'm ready to know more about Three. The trained feminist in me wants to see him interrogated more, especially with his celebrity status, but I truly do believe that all of us should sit back a little while and listen to how the authors, Kimberly Jones and Gilly Segal, established their own friendship, work together to tell stories teenagers need to read, and offer light to all of us during troubled times.

I loved it. I loved every second of it. Part of it, I believe, is how different the two narrators are, believable, but in their own ways. I can say that I was rubbed the wrong way a couple of times by each, but the authorial craft won me over. I know the girls are fiction. What I really want to know is the back story of how they came after this particular story.

And I will learn this, soon. 

For today, however, I'm simply excited to have this story in my mind, heart, and soul right now. I know it will bring me the wisdom the authors will deliver to much greater clarity. It truly was a beautifully written story...grace, intelligence, insightfulness, and joy. I love that they are a writing team.

All the Joy in a Simple Photograph on Christmas Morning. Papi, Chitunga, & the Monster Pup In-Between.

I keep forgetting that we were not able to gather last year due to Covid and all our festivities were hosted online. Therefore I forgot that we opened our gifts at the Homefront during the morning. Mom got her pajamas, dad a new pair of sneakers (not the hand-me-downs he's been taking from me for years), and Chitunga got luggage, apartment toys, clothes, and gadgets. Karal was in between wanting to be center of it all, always seeking a bag for herself.

I think we can officially declare an ending to the food festivities, where every plateful is a bit too much, even though each bite is absolutely delicious and you don't want it to end.

Christmas Day at the Crandall house is quiet. Everyone is in a coma of exhaustion, and the Barnwell breakfast affair puts the stomach over the edge. Delicious, but an extreme desire to go home, get under the blanket for the day, and simply fall asleep for a long, long time. 

I did well in the gift department this year: Grogu ornament, a robot vacuum, and several pieces of wall art made from photographs of the last year. I'm good to go, but I need to quickly reconfigure my mind to the University service that needs to be done before the semester kicks back off. 

But for now, I have Chevy Chase Christmas Vacation to keep me thankful. I forgot about how awesome squirrels are. 

Morning toast. A dusting of snow on the ground. Cups of coffee. We're all good. We're all thankful. We're all blessed. Who could ask for more?

Merry Christmas, Everyone, from Salem, I Mean, Clay, New York. I Am Thrilled To Say that Roman, I Mean, My Dad, Chased Satan Away

Greetings from Salem, I mean, Clay, New York.

Dear Santa,

I want to thank you for unraveling an uneventful Christmas Eve. It was normal, like usual...so it always is with the Days of Our Lives. Yes, Satan arrived with her blazing torches to burn down my sister's Christmas tree, but it was no match for Roman...I mean my father...who came in to rescue the tree. And lucky for me, the eye I poked doing electrical work is much better. I know longer have to cover it, so I didn't have to come this year as Patch.

My older sister, however, did shave her head to look like my cousin Mark. Actually, I think she also worked on my father's mustache, because it's all sorts of crooked. Oh, never mind. He did that on his own because he took a shower to get ready for events on Christmas Eve.

Yes, my father may not be Victor Kiriakis or Stefano Dimera (guaranteed I spelled that wrong, but I know that Stephanie Caroli will call my mom, and then my mom will call me and tell me the correct spelling), but he did have the magical necklace that caused that evil, satanic bitch to fly across the room and smash into the walls. Don't worry. Cynde will be okay, even if Marlena did knock a few fixtures off the wall.

But it was a good celebration, Santa Claus. Although none of us are quite up to my mother's second family in Salem, she's learned to tolerate us in Clay. What else can I say?

Oh, Nikki's hair looked really good, so she volunteered to get the Christmas ornaments so Mrs. Horton I mean Maggie, I mean my mom would be able to hang them on the tree with her lover for life, Roman, I mean Butch (son of a Butch, Crandall. son of a Butch). 

And yes, there's only one flake like Mike...one cracker for Dave. Indeed, ugly sweaters were handed out and I believe a few abominable snowmen and a moose showed up to the festivities (or it might have been Abe, Eugene, and Calliope...I always forget). 

It's all good, though, because the love was shared and as we learned in Salem, I mean Clay, New York, LOVE ALWAYS WINS. LOVE IS NO MATCH FOR SATAN. 

Take that, Marlena and Days of Our Lives fans. Take that.

I hope the hot cocoa and salt potatoes I left you were to your liking, Santa. I got the recipe from the Japanese salt lick in downtown Syracuse. Please, Santa, bring peace, love, and joy to everyone I've been praying for and yes, it's okay to give out coal to those who are hateful, vicious, and repulsive. They deserve it. 

Finally, any bourbon you want to bring my way, or Chitunga's, we are grateful. We learned this from our friend in Kentucky....another Sue. No, not the Susan Crandall that died and was listed in an obituary. That wasn't the Sue I'm talking about, either. McV. That Sue.

Here's to the reason for the season.

Bry

You Know You Are in Central New York When the Japanese Noodle Bar That Opens Up Serves Kimchi, Wasabi Salt Potatoes. Well, Okay, Then

It was a joy to eat at a salt lick today, as Syracuse is Salt City. Actually, the Japanese restaurant was very good, and the salt potatoes were really good...perfect flavoring and a wonderful appetizer. The flavors in my main meal were good, too, but phew...let's talk about salt. Let's discuss pouring in two cups of salt and saying, "Hmmm, this should make it salty." Holy Nursing Home, Batman.

It should be called Ka'salt....not Kasai.

Afterwards, we went for chocolate at a new chocolatier in Syracuse and Cynde spent a fortune on treats for mom. I got a cup of hot cocoa, which easily was six Hershey bars melted into a cup of hot milk. Between the salt and chocolate, my mouth was many sorts of "there must be a Jolly Rancher somewhere?"

Mom and dad got spaghetti at night, but my stomach was still swollen from the salt and chocolate, so I passed. I need to lay low today, because I know tonight is the best evening to eat of the year. Nikki's meal was the best. She got a noodle dish that came out as a soup, and she didn't seem to be licking her arm the entire time scraping salt off her teeth. 

I do know that my ankles are likely to be extra swollen tonight, as Nikki told me to avoid salt and keep my legs up since my 2021 ankle-mishap. Lord knows I consumed more salt in that one meal than I have in the last two years of my life combined. 

Still, it was tasty. I see the potential of what the excellence could be should the chef have his salt-arms tied behind his back. 

It's Christmas Eve. Looking forward to the day ahead!

I'm Blaming Torrey M. for Starting My Holiday Season with a Mild (yet Brilliant) Distraction. He Must Understand I'm the Type That Loves These Stories

I guess it came at the perfect time...a message from author/teacher Torrey Maldonado asking if I had watched Arcane on Netflix. "I rarely watch television," I said. "Should I check it out?" He recommended I do. Dang. He knows me. How does he know me? He understood my love of Mandalorian, but how did he know I'd geek out over Arcane? Did he know my love of Umbrella Academy? How did he know I was a geek, too. Probably because he's a geek.

Anyway, I can say that I've been absolutely obsessed with the Powder/Jinx storyline and I'm absolutely in love with Mel Arcane (he said, "Wait until you meet her mother"). I met the mother. I still love Mel. The mother is a bit...much, no? Phew. Haven't quite see her in the movies now have we? We have now!

Now, as we start the chaos of food, gatherings, gifts, and squabbles, I am going to be thinking nonstop (obsessively) of how I can rewatch every episode of Arcane in slower motion. Yes, I've texted the geekiest of my geeky friends to say, "Stop everything and watch this now" (including, Chitunga). Now I await for them to say, "Yes, I started watching. Thanks." 

I imagine it will do to them what it did to me. 

But it's Thursday. Why am I thinking of what only a few know about? Because it's that brilliant. I now want to know everyone who has watched this and I want them to contact me immediately.

Yes, it finished just in time for the Kennedy Center Honors (we were there at Thanksgiving). And I'm thrilled to see both Joni Mitchell, Lorne Michaels, Justino Diaz, Berry Gordy, and Bette Midler honored. I know, too, my high school friends Tricia and Mike were live at the event. Amazing. 

But. back to Arcane. Wow. I am a new man because of this show. Applause. Arcane. Arcane. Arcane.