The Cooper stone masons, oblivious of my pecking at the laptop, helped me immeasurably. Their painstaking precision with several levels positioned just so, pieces of slate cut exactly to complement its stone neighbors, a piece here and there ever-so-slightly shifted after careful observation from all angles—a writing workshop just for me! As the simple, beautiful patio took shape, the writer peeking out the window found her groove as well.
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When Lucille Clifton asks, “won’t you celebrate with me,” we answer yes. What does this Black woman decide when she finds no model for how to create her life? “what did i see but to be myself?” she responds. The poet fastens her hands and makes her life of “starshine and clay.” What does a boy from the staunchly-segregated south long to do before he dies? Jimmy Carter casts his ballot for Kamala Harris. Won’t you celebrate the 39th president with me?