Author: stevekuusisto

How smug I used to be, back in the early days of blogging: I used to snicker at those bloggers who would declare that it was difficult to keep up.

But I’ve gotten my comeuppance. I have been traveling over the past two and a half weeks and I can’t seem to figure out how to connect when I’m on the road. I know that other people manage this, but I just get one nasty Microsoft screen after another that tells me that my wireless gizmo is not encrypted with the proper Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs. I’m the only jerk in the coffee shop who is not getting anything done even though I’m hunched at the laptop. Or is it the case that all those other seemingly efficient people at Starbucks or the Java House or Cuppa Joe are also screwing around with incompatible wireless cards?

I am awaiting the day when the Mac people over at Apple finally make a functioning Mac for blind people. I’ve been holding my breath for twenty years. Grrrr.

In the meantime, in case anyone’s wondering what I’ve been up to, here’s a fortnight’s snapshot:

1. I ate lunch in the National Republican Women’s Club in New York City. I was accompanied by my wife Connie and several terrific people associated with the University of Iowa’s Carver Center for the Study of Macular Degeneration. I must say that even when you’re blind; it’s a bit weird to eat a salad while sitting under an enormous painting of Nancy Reagan. And in case you think I’m making a partisan joke, I will add that it’s weird to eat a salad under a portrait of any First Lady. Try eating a crouton underneath the visage of Eleanor Roosevelt. Just try it. Or just say no.

2. I spoke at Hobart and William Smith Colleges in the company of two nonfiction writers who I much admire: Wayne Koestenbaum and John D’Agata. We talked about the advent of "the lyric essay" and the important role of the late writer Deborah Tall who encouraged a generation of young writers to experiment with poetic prose. Deborah edited the literary journal Seneca Review, and the latest issue of the magazine is dedicated to her memory. This issue is well worth reading.

3. I attended a memorial service for Deborah Tall in Ithaca, New York. Her family unveiled Deborah’s tombstone which has lines from her poetry carved into the granite. In keeping with tradition the mourners each placed a pebble or small stone on top of her stone. It was snowing in Ithaca.

4. I lost my only dress shoes in a hotel in Geneva, New York and accordingly I attended Deborah’s memorial wearing sneakers. That wouldn’t be so bad except that I was also wearing a trench coat. I looked like a flasher who had somehow gotten lost in the cemetery.

5. I took my guide dog Vidal to New York and turned him over to the staff at Guiding Eyes for the Blind, the nation’s premier guide dog school as far as I’m concerned. Vidal went back to the GEB veterinary clinic for an evaluation because a local vet in Iowa City said he had a torn ligament in one of his legs. The really good news is that Vidal is perfectly okay, and the good folks at Guiding Eyes cleaned Mr. V’s teeth while he was there. I now have Vidal back at my side and he will be working for one more month before his scheduled retirement in January.

6. Did I mention that I also spoke recently at Loyola University in Baltimore? I was invited there by the writer Lia Purpura who teaches poetry and creative nonfiction there. If you don’t know Lia’s wonderful poetry and prose you are in for a real treat. While I was visiting, Lia’s new puppy," Ruby" ate the head off a rubber duck and had to be rushed to the vet for an emetic. The vet gave Ruby some eye drops that made her vomit. Who knew there was such a product? Visine for the Vomitorium. I of course wonder who invented this product. Did they plan to do it or was this the result of some weird experiment? Ruby is fine. That’s the good news.

It is good to be back in Iowa City and I’m racing now to teach a class. We’re reading Jonathan Lethem’s wonderful novel Motherless Brooklyn which is narrated by a character who has Tourette’s Syndrome and who is the kind of character who becomes your personal friend as you read.

It’s good to be back!

S.K.

I am typing this post from an internet cafe in Ithaca, New York where I’m visiting my dear friend, the poet David Weiss. Yesterday I spoke at my undergraduate alma mater, Hobart and William Smith Colleges,in Geneva, New York. This is the area of New York known as the Finger Lakes, and the first snow of the year has been falling during my visit here. Frost is now on the apple trees and patches of new snow are collecting in the dark grass. I can’t say for sure why this should be so, but I get wildly happy with the new snow. I want to dance in the fresh cold and then cook a massive and earnest winter stew and call all my friends into the house. The poet Charles Simic said poetry is like a bowl of hot soup on a cold winter’s day. Here’s to Charles Simic, our current poet laureate. Here’s to the soup of first snow and to a little Bach on the radio. Steam at the windows. Friends coming over because we still can.

S.K.