I so wanted to write a blithe post about how grateful I am for my “framily.”
I usually call them my Family of Friends. Today, I’m totally stealing my boss’s word for the pod her family travels in to avoid the coronavirus. Northwesterners are very happy picturing ourselves as a pod of orca whales: we feel we are swimming in uncharted waters together.
Gathering together to celebrate 40 Ways
From all four North American time zones, my framily helped me celebrate the publication of 40 Ways of Looking at Manhattan. Many who couldn’t make the gathering on Zoom for reasons of time and other obligations (hello, Perth and Athens!) nevertheless emailed me or chatted online in their own timezone. I was so happy to talk with friends whose moves and email provider changes meant they had not yet learned of Tim’s passing. Hard conversations, yes, but in the end happy because no ill will was intended and we shared good news with the good will.
Not everyone got from the launch party whatever they hoped for or expected. (Can you put together a PowerPoint about the book I can share? No, but I will make a book trailer and post it here when it’s live on ArtforArtsSakeFilms.) Some guests were unhappy about passing remarks they deemed too political, too aggressive, too off-topic from the book itself. (For which I can only apologize, and say that people are as hard to herd as cats once they start talking.) Some hoped to talk about their own interests, but our numbers were too few to allow them the opportunity. (I’ll use the Zoom party platform again in December. If I gather enough attendees, I’ll open the rooms called ‘kitchen,’ ‘sofa,’ and ‘the bar.’)
I was so happy to hear that several framily members ordered copies of the book or a nifty object from the Ancillary Merchandise Department. (Note to buyers of puzzles from ArtForArtsSakePressZ: Be sure your recipient is ready for a 1,000-piece black-and-white puzzle of endlessly repeated fire escapes.)
Yet deeper matters call away our attention
But I cannot write a purely rainbow-colored post, today of all days. Because today saw the formal funeral service for our nation’s great civil rights activist and legislator, John Lewis.
Timothy was a passionate fighter for equal rights. A woman’s right to control her own body; the right of disabled people to housing and jobs; enforcement of the Voting Rights Act in states prone to abuses of those rights. He was a great believer in the benefits of calling out truth to power. As I have already noted, his recognition of the whiff of tear-gas was among his proudest memories.
And where Tim stood, I stand, too.
During his eulogy for John Lewis, former President Obama spoke out clearly about the threats our democracy faces in 2020. He called out the subtle or brazen — but either way, unfounded — accusations that our county and state officials are unable to deliver a mail-ballot election day. He touched on the problems facing young and old, under-served voters, and how to help them get to the [hopefully virtual] polls. And he called a spade “a bloody shovel” when he acknowledged out loud the barriers politicians holding the levers of power can place in the path of voters. (You can — and should — watch the full eulogy to understand what the elder generation can give to the younger when they pass the torch of passion for justice.)
Traditional publishing houses are having their own internal reckonings with systemic racism or abuses of power. Indeed, so are media companies of every stripe. (Though I’d like to see a little more reckoning in outfits like Facebook, which seems to have signed a pact with the devil in the guise of Cambridge Analytica. But I digress.) The Press has no employees to discuss policy with, so my own beliefs stand for those of Art for Art’s Sake Press.
To honor John Lewis, today I made a donation to the Brennan Center for Justice. Read about the Center’s work here. The gift may be modest today, but I’ll never forget it in the future.