Over the holiday weekend it was colder, and I was in a small town in the Poconos with most of my east-coast family. Fourteen of us in a rental cabin eating and gabbing. I was oddly at peace, rare for a family vacation. The leaves were starting to turn, and it hit me for the first time just how much of my family was within reach of an embrace, of a kiss hello. I was primed to think about the culmination of slight shifts; autumn is uniquely gradual like that. Other seasons are far more abrupt: Flowers bloom quickly, snow falls all at once. But leaves go yellow, orange, and sienna almost imperceptibly. It’s not until they start to drift off the branches, leaving the trees shy and half-naked, that you start to realize what was going on around you as you answered your emails and shampooed your hair. So I realized in one small, short moment how big and wide my world had become in the 27 years since it was just my parents, my brother, and me in our one-story house in Idaho.
These sorts of trips are sweetened by my 12-year-old cousin, my favorite cousin (sorry to the 40+ rest of you, but I hope you understand), who was born on the last day of my freshman year of high school. I skipped class, opting instead to uselessly accompany my aunt to the hospital in her Toyota Corolla. I feel, both jokingly and earnestly, that this little cousin is my best friend. There are some obvious reasons for why I love him so much: We are both supposedly “Gen-Z” — though on opposite sides of the cutoffs. I was the youngest for most of my life, so I feel authority and importance in his context. He lives in our neighborhood, went to the same elementary school I did, asked the music teacher if he remembered me from 15 years prior. He is this enigmatic force of energy in my life. I try so hard to figure out what’s going on in his little brain, the synapses firing in unimaginable patterns, but I can never quite get it. He never responds to my texts, leaves me on read, though I don’t mind. When I see him I tell him I love him, he says “okay,” and it means everything.
I have this memory of being exactly 12, in seventh grade, in the lobby of my middle school, in a thick queue of other tweens, shuffling along the spotted tile on the way to our lockers. I remember walking by the front office, maybe mad about being misunderstood, telling myself (though not in these exact words) that I need to remember what it’s like to be 12, that I have real thoughts and feelings and ideas. I need to remember this for when I grow up, for when I have my own kids, that 12 year olds should be taken seriously.
I trust the version of me who had that thought — she had a kind of clear-eyed lucidity that I lack as an adult, now seeing through the lens of too much perspective. I take her words to heart, but I struggle with them. My cousin is opinionated, headstrong. I can’t help but think I know better than him. He should wear a helmet on his e-bike, he shouldn’t spend so much time playing Geometry Dash. He shouldn’t bother the geese, they are just minding their business. How would he like it if someone just came over to him and started chasing him?
His latest crusade has been against schools. Schools don’t teach you anything, it’s just teachers trying to make your life miserable. He repeats the same missives fed to him from a YouTube video of a guy doing a spoken-word poem about how school isn’t for everyone. Why does he need to go to school if AI can do most everything for him? If it’s for socialization, then he can just hang out with the kids in his neighborhood. And the smartest, most successful people in history? They were, according to him, mostly uneducated. And besides the last bit, he’s mostly right. School is largely important because we have made it important, so we struggle to convince him. Our counterarguments are as abrupt as popcorn: That it’s not just about learning facts, it’s about learning to communicate and debate and to get credentials so you can have socioeconomic mobility. And so on and so on. But he doesn’t believe anything I say on the matter anyway; as someone who loved school, who is still doing school as a fully blown adult, I am a biased source. And so I have no response. I give up. I tell him it’s okay not to try super hard in school, just do the bare minimum. But you just need to do it. It’s one of those things you just need to do. I try to remember he is now 12, and should be taken seriously.
After our debate he goes into the kitchen and burns a hole through the top of a plastic water bottle. He’s always doing shit like this, I swear to god. While we’re gossiping he’ll be making some disgusting, evil neon-green milkshake, or lighting various small-scale fires. But he brings it back to us and presents it as a two-in-one water bottle X portable bidet. My uncle says he should pitch it like on Shark Tank, and my cousin obliges, putting on a show. My dad, breaking character as Kevin O’Leary, laughs so hard that he cries real tears. My cousin and I are stifling laughter, but we’re confused. I can’t remember the last time I saw my dad cry; maybe I never have. But now, here we all are: My cousin, holding a makeshift bidet above head, and my dad. My dad, all grown up in his 60s, keeled over, hands on his face, wiping away tears.
some things:
One of the best things I read in recent weeks was Steve Salaita’s “Your Crisis of Faith is not My Concern (There’s a Genocide Going on)”
i read this short essay on watching chimney swifts roosting a few weeks after serendipitously watching them roost in my building’s chimney one afternoon. what a marvel! what a blessing!
it’s been a while since the last letter so I made a list of things I wanted to mention here but I don’t even know if they’re worth discussing anymore. Regardless, according to my notes app, they are:
All Fours by Miranda July. I actually have so little to say about this it’s appalling. I thought it was compelling but tbh sometimes I read about millennial white people and I’m like rolling my eyes soooo far back into my head. it’s no fault of the art itself i’m just being extremely judgemental. it’s my problem. but im just being honest guys
Ta-Nehisi Coates on Fresh Air, good as always
a podcast on self-checkout that isn’t even worth mentioning here
i lost my first game in our fantasy football league today. i was riding so high i can’t lie. but we will bounce back stronger than ever. jcole went platinum with no features except it’s me going #1 in all-girls fantasy football with no boyfriend. (that said I am actually asking so many other people for help). Ms. emmie (fearless league organizer) and i were talking about how it makes the weeks feel shorter, something to look forward to. i’ll realize, oh! it’s already thursday. gotta make sure my ducks (players) are in a row
I made this delicious soup yesterday if you gaf…………….
i’m obviously reading intermezzo — i’m not a savage……………….
speaking of, really loved this Sally Rooney interview where she incessantly resists the idea that we should care about her personal life and experience at all when it comes to her novels. not sure if I believe her or agree with her but it’s nice to see someone be quite fierce in this belief
Enough elipses. I’m pissing myself off
good night xx
PM
"He never responds to my texts, leaves me on read, though I don’t mind. When I see him I tell him I love him, he says “okay,” and it means everything." Tears. Loved this. ♥