Bearably Sad: Bearing Witness to Closure

My son and I walking next to Brush Creek at UW-Richland, around 2011.

My son, my mother, my husband and I trekked to Center Cinema in Richland Center last night to watch Ken Brosky’s film Closure. On Facebook, one of my friends commented “I would think this film would be so unbearably sad.” But it’s not. It’s very much bearably sad, and there are some bright spots and funny moments, such as when a UW-Washington County student told a UW-LaCrosse professor who expressed ignorance of the Wisconsin Idea, “Why don’t you fucking Google it,” and when Ken played guitar while waiting for Board of Regents folks to return his calls (spoiler alert: they didn’t return his calls). I also found it therapeutic to boo Ray Cross and Scott Walker. I was wishing we’d set up some sort of interactions, a la Rocky Horror Picture Show, because I very much wanted to throw something when Jay Rothman appeared onscreen (was apparently out of boos by that point).

Obviously those of us directly affected by the closings of various UW Colleges campus (Richland, Washington, Marinette, Fond du Lac, Fox Valley, Waukesha, and counting) find the subject matter compelling. But everyone in Wisconsin has a stake in the education of current and future students, and since Wisconsin ONCE had the reputation of supporting a high-performing university SYSTEM, and had a reputation as a state that cared about education, and now is such a dramatic mess–everyone who cares about education in the United States could find something of interest.

And Ken did a really nice job. He worked fast with a low budget, and it’s his first film, but to his credit he conducted a ton of personal interviews and edited them well, and included so many archival campus photos (and more recent photos, like the one of me & my son above). The film has a clear thesis: these closures weren’t necessary (given the budget surplus–in BILLIONS–that Wisconsin currently has available), were a self-fulfilling prophecy (“your enrollment is low so we’re going to cut your budget and eliminate course offerings and restrict recruiting…hey, wow, your enrollment is really low so now we have to close you”), and that drastic budget cuts brought about by Wisconsin Repugnant-cans are to blame. One really effective moment showed how many lawyers, financiers, and business people were on the Board of Regents when lots of bad decisions were being made–how they had no previous education experience, how much money they donated to Republican candidates. He did also, accurately, and fairly, point out that one recent bad decision (voting to eliminate the positions of/lay off/fire 30+ tenured faculty at UW-Washington County and UW-Waukesha) was made by a Board of Regents that consists largely of appointees by Democratic Governor Tony Evers.

My good friend and former colleague Ellyn Lem writes well about that firing of tenured faculty in an article today in Inside Higher Ed. One poignant quote among many: “What is saddest for me about losing my tenured job is that I used that ‘commitment’ from the UW system to be committed back.” That was certainly true of Ellyn, and I saw my work the same way, as did sooooooo many other faculty members. I’m very luckily and happily retired now, but it’s just luck that I was on a campus where losing my job wasn’t in play.

I should disclose I’m biased about the quality of the personal interviews in Closure, since I was one of them, and I show up a lot early in the movie. (Fair warning if you’re used to my looking snazzy–I look pretty ratty, like someone who’d been moving boxes and had maybe been through a hard time for several years, both of which were just true. Good thing I’m not vain.) It was nice to be able to talk about the campus, about trying to scramble to do something, anything to help keep it going and open, and what it was like to be a parent on campus. Ken, novelist that he is, picked up a nice narrative, that my son grew up on campus, felt comfortable there, took 10-credits of biology on campus, would have taken more except the campus closed, and is currently working retail and working on a novel (about which he would only say is “post-apocalyptic.”)

A couple more shots of my son on campus–doing some shredding for me and learning about brains from the amazing biology professor Jennifer Gavinski.

There are several reasons I wanted to blog about Closure. I wanted to recommend Ellyn’s column, I wanted to vent a little/grieve a little, and I wanted to recommend the movie. You can see it in person in Oshkosh, but there is the opportunity this weekend to watch it online. Click here to get tickets to watch it between October 4-5.

It is a very sad story, but I promise it’s not unbearably sad. Regardless, I think it’s really important to bear witness to the work so many of us did for so many students for so many years.

Clockwise from upper left: Fun Infusion Task Force shooting water balloons at the band (we were aiming for the tuba), me & the Roadrunner showing what you might do in the arts with a Richland degree (highlighting rockstar alum Michael), me & English colleague Amy at a meeting, me protesting in Madison in 2011, me & colleagues in Madison at a meeting, me and Rebecca who later volunteered to do recruiting for Richland and was told no thanks. NOTE: the duct tape medallion on my regalia was so I could point to it when speaking to other faculty with medallions and say MINE’S BIGGER.

P.S. if you agree with me that a HUGE part of the problem here is the Wisconsin legislature, dominated by Republicans because of unfair gerrymandering, you should consider donating to Wisconsin Dems. It’s a link connected to my fundraising–I’ve pledged to raise at least $210.

From one fundraiser to another–sorry to go political and

sorry to use this blog so extensively for fundraising (I WILL FIX THAT). In April, I was raising money for Tupelo Press, and I was pleased with how that went. Tupelo really is a good press, and even more importantly, pledging to write and post every day in April got me a lot of good poems, and helped me process my father’s dying. He passed away on May 4. I hadn’t realized it was coming quite that fast, but I knew it was coming. Here’s one poem from that batch:

GREEN FROST


Even when I was driving to work all the time, it was hard to spot:
the precise day the hills were no longer gray but just slightly,
in the right light, very, very pale green, a gray-green,
Russian olive, iceberg, dusty aqua, Pantone 5506. Snapping
a picture, next to impossible but I kept trying today, even though
I had a curbside pickup deadline to meet. Pull over, compose,
click, certain disappointment later when I scan the shots. The phrase
is from my father. I remember him hunting on Sundays when
we were all in the car together, going to church, early 1970s
it had to be, because my brother stopped going in high school.
It was almost always a little ahead or a little past, so now
I wonder if he ever did say, “There. That’s it. Today.” I just learned
he always thought rain drops hitting the sidewalk looked like
little ballerinas. This story from my brother, in town to visit
because Dad’s disappearing, little by little, faster, slower, faster,
and getting extra care from women smart enough to ask if
they should say the word “hospice” to him. Great question and
the answer is no. I say it better than I thought I would, but saying
good-bye when that time comes, soon apparently, will be hard
because I have been saying it for years as he’s faded and is now
essentially gone, the poet, the bear, the rock, the smartest man
who would tell me the precise moment is coming but isn’t here yet.

for Brian

Thanks again to everyone who donated (finally got the thank-yous sent, and I’m ALMOST done with the odes to local businesses who let me set up poetry pop-up shops).

My NEXT fundraising adventure is for Wisconsin Dems. I have pledged to raise at least $210, but I would love to raise a lot more than that.

Why that number? A friend and I were doing a very Wisconsin thing a few weeks ago, making a pilgrimage to Norski Nook in Deforest for pie. The farms between Spring Green and there were OFTEN boasting huge Trump signs. It was distressing. I proposed that we counted the signs on the way back, and I’d make a donation of the # of signs x 10. (This is how you know I’m a retired public educator. I can’t think in terms of multiples of 100 or 1000.)

Wisconsin Dems gave me this link to use, so I can see how much I’m raising.

Thanks for your patience with my fundraising and thanks for any donation you can muster.

OH MY WORD I DID IT

Well, I did it in terms of writing a poem every day in April. I actually wrote 45. You can see them here.

But I haven’t yet met my fundraising goal. I’ve gotten lots of positive comments, so I’m hoping just a few more of those turn into donations. Click here to make a donation. There are thank-you gifts (from me!) for online donations of $25 or more, but even $5 or $10 will help me meet my goal. Tupelo really is a fantastic press, and like William Hurt says in The Big Chill, let’s go out with a bang, not a whimper!

(o.k. so that’s not the scene in the jeep where he says the line, but still.)

Pop-Up Poetry Shop Fun

Today was my second Poetry Pop-Up Shop & they’re so fun, I may keep doing them even when I’m done raising money for Tupelo Press.

I was at the Spring Green General Store today & wrote an ode. It really has been a special place over the years, and it’s one of the main places people know about if they know about Spring Green:

AN ODE TO THE SPRING GREEN GENERAL STORE

Early spring, the flower boxes have funky tulip whirligigs,
birch branches and metal insects on sticks, but soon enough
the plantings will stretch up, spill over, glow
in the afternoon sun. When people ask directions
I tell them it’s the only giant blue building on Albany Street,
“You can’t miss it.” And really, you shouldn’t.

There’s a chocolate therapy bar that fulfills its promise
but also a chocolate chip cookie bar I love even more.

My favorite pants I ever had I bought there: linen crepe,
black, palazzo. Too many amazing shirts to list.

They made a set of directions for the burrito that was safe
for my son to eat (so many food allergies!) and posted it
several places and this gets at the best reason to go—
not just food and clothes and jewelry and toys and
honestly the best dish towels you ever saw in your life,

it’s a place you can go for company, for community, for care.

I’d love it if you wanted to make a donation to Tupelo as a way to support a good press, to celebrate National Poetry Month, to pat me on the back, to just say, “hey, I really liked this one.” AND there are thank-you gifts! Click here to donate.





Pop-Up Poetry Shop!

I’m continuing to write at least one poem a day in April, for three reasons: to challenge myself, to network, and to raise money for a truly fabulous publisher, Tupelo Press.

Big thanks to everyone who’s donated so far! I’m up to $255, and I want to raise at least $350 (ideally even more). Click here to make a donation.

Here’s today’s poem, “The Force That Thought The Green Good Night.” (I’m second alphabetically so you do have to scroll down a bit.) I feel like I’ll lose that title when I revise, but I don’t mind being obvious that it’s heavily influenced by Dylan Thomas.

One of the ways I’m drumming up more donations is to do what I’m calling Pop-Up Poetry Shop. Starting tomorrow (W 4/24), I’m going to one local business a day from 11-1. I’ll be writing, answering questions, collecting donations (if people would rather give me cash than donate online) and exchanging SWAG for donations. For these local events, a $5 donation gives you a chance to tell me what should be in the ode I’ll be working on for whatever business I’m at (even if that means you want me to include you as a customer!) The other bits of cool stuff you can get is described in my previous Tupelo 30/30 post.

Halfway Point! 15 out of 30 poems completed

Rhubarb from Day 15’s poem.

Here is today’s poem, “Jungian Archetype in the Gloaming.” I’m writing a poem a day in April for the Tupelo 30/30 project, and here’s where you can make a donation to:

  • celebrate National Poetry Month,
  • congratulate me for writing 25 poems in 15 days (I’ve been writing two when I can so I’m picking the one I most want to share, not just the only one I have to share),
  • wish me luck in writing at least 15 more,
  • support a truly good press

In recent blog posts, I’ve mentioned books from Tupelo that were important to me, and I’ll do more of that, but I wanted to emphasize they really are a press that works to publish women, LGBTQ folks, poets of color, and many nationalities–all kinds of under-heard voices.

And if all that’s not enough, THERE ARE GIVEAWAYS for making a donation:

  • For any donation $10 or more, you can send me a writing prompt/request. I’ll put all the requests in a hat and draw one for one poem the last week of April [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $25 donation, I will send you one of four (my choice) COASTER POEMS. One is featured in the SWAG picture. They are printed on 56 pt matte paper and are ACTUAL COASTERS. [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $50 donation, you can be the first person I show a 30/30 #2 poem to. 9/10 days so far, I’ve written 2 poems each day so I can choose the one I want to share. I plan to keep that up. If you donate $50, you can send me a couple of dates and I’ll send you one poem from one of those dates. [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $75 donation, I will send you a set of four COASTER POEMS. There’s the sweet one about the good side of drinking wine, a kind of melancholy one about the medicinal beauty of coffee, one in the voice of a coaster/lover who’s happy to be used. NOTE: Those three are available for viewing on the 30/30 daily page. THE FOURTH ONE doesn’t appear anywhere other than a coaster yet, and I promise, it’s the best one, in the voice of a coaster/lover who is NOT happy to be used. Just don’t, you know, get clever and get your own coasters printed with my poems. That’s tacky and copyright infringement, and you know–just support a good press! [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $100 donation, I will craft for you a custom/one-of-a-kind quilted, beribboned poem frame for whichever of my 30/30 poems you want to hang up somewhere (or burn like effigy–whatever. For $100 I don’t care).[LIMITED to 5 donations]
  • For a $300 donation, I will craft a custom sonnet for you. We’ll chat via phone or email and I’ll interview you about what you want, and come up with a sonnet. [LIMITED to 2 donations]
  • For a $500 donation, you may pick three of the above, regardless of stated limits. [LIMITED to 1 donation]

PROVISOS for all the above–any poem mentioned above is still mine to publish and share as I see fit, and I still have the copyright, including the custom sonnets. When you make a donation, you can write me a note to tell me what prize you want, and how best to reach (mailing address for the physical stuff, etc.) In the event of weirdness or harassment, etc., I reserve the right to cancel a giveaway. But mostly, the stipulation is, I hope you enjoy this as much as I’m enjoying this! Also: a lot of these will get sent along in May because of logistics (especially the ones that require sewing or writing a personalized sonnet!), but my goal is to make sure they’re all sent by the end of May.

On the 12th day of poetry, my muses gave to me

Well, o.k. not sure I believe in muses, although the Collected Poems of Ellen Bryan Voigt has been opening lots of poem doors for me the last six months or so. Anyway, as my husband pointed out just now, I’m writing a lot of REALLY UPBEAT POEMS lately. ‘Tis the season. Today’s poem is called “Seasonal” and it features the wreath in the pic. In a rush right now, but I’ll feature more great Tupelo books soon. In the meantime, here’s today’s poem. And here’s where you can donate to Tupelo Press, to support my wild ride and a really good press.

Another Great Tupelo Book

As I mentioned yesterday, I’m writing a poem a day (usually 2!) for Tupelo Press’s 30/30 program. My motives were threefold: push myself as a writer, do some networking, and raise money for Tupelo Press.

My 11th poem appears here today, on the 30/30 page. (It’s called “Walking on Broken Jadeite.” The little bowl and saucer in the picture to the right are family pieces; the cake stand is Martha Stewart’s, to whom I’m not related.)

Why am I happy to raise money for Tupelo? I just think it’s a great press. In my last post, I mentioned Maggie Smith’s book The Good Bones. Today I wanted to talk about an anthology I used to deepen my understanding of Native American poetry: Native Voices, edited by CMarie Fuhrman and Dean Rader. There is a ton of great poetry, and a lot of poets I’d never heard of, but it’s the structure that’s amazing. Poets talking about their own poetry, about poetry they loved–I’d never seen it before.

So–please support this press by making a donation. AND, if you donate, write me a note and tell me which of the giveaways you want from the list below.

  • For any donation over $10, you can send me a writing prompt/request. I’ll put all the requests in a hat and draw one for one poem the last week of April [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $25 donation, I will send you one of four (my choice) COASTER POEMS. One is featured in the picture below. They are printed on 56 pt matte paper and are ACTUAL COASTERS. [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $50 donation, you can be the first person I show a 30/30 #2 poem to. 9/10 days so far, I’ve written 2 poems each day so I can choose the one I want to share. I plan to keep that up. If you donate $50, you can send me a couple of dates and I’ll send you one poem from one of those dates. [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $75 donation, I will send you a set of four COASTER POEMS. There’s the sweet one about the good side of drinking wine, a kind of melancholy one about the medicinal beauty of coffee, one in the voice of a coaster/lover who’s happy to be used. NOTE: Those three are available for viewing on the 30/30 daily page. THE FOURTH ONE doesn’t appear anywhere other than a coaster yet, and I promise, it’s the best one, in the voice of a coaster/lover who is NOT happy to be used. Just don’t, you know, get clever and get your own coasters printed with my poems. That’s tacky and copyright infringement, and you know–just support a good press! [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $100 donation, I will craft for you a custom/one-of-a-kind quilted, beribboned poem frame for whichever of my 30/30 poems you want to hang up somewhere (or burn like effigy–whatever. For $100 I don’t care).[LIMITED to 5 donations]
  • For a $300 donation, I will craft a custom sonnet for you. We’ll chat via phone or email and I’ll interview you about what you want, and come up with a sonnet. [LIMITED to 2 donations]
  • For a $500 donation, you may pick three of the above, regardless of stated limits. [LIMITED to 1 donation]

PROVISOS for all the above–any poem mentioned above is still mine to publish and share as I see fit, and I still have the copyright, including the custom sonnets. When you make a donation, you can write me a note to tell me what prize you want, and how best to reach (mailing address for the physical stuff, etc.) In the event of weirdness or harassment, etc., I reserve the right to cancel a giveaway. But mostly, the stipulation is, I hope you enjoy this as much as I’m enjoying this! Also: a lot of these will get sent along in May because of logistics (especially the ones that require sewing or writing a personalized sonnet!), but my goal is to make sure they’re all sent by the end of May.

WOW I’m really being a poet this month

You probably already already know it’s National Poetry Month. I feel really lucky to get to celebrate three ways this year:

First, I am very honored to be awarded an Artist Development Grant from River Valley ARTS.

I’ll be revising a verse play called Impelled, which follows three characters during an ordinary day. I want it to work onstage and as a collection of poems, and it’s KIND OF working as both, to some extent, but not–it’s not there yet. The funds I was awarded will help me get feedback from a poetry editor, a director, actors, and eventually, and audience. More on this soon! Huge thanks to River Valley ARTS and the Wisconsin Arts Board!

Next, I just got my copy of Wisconsin People & Ideas for Winter/Spring 2024. Honored to have my Honorable Mention poem published here! (The online issue should be available soon; I’ll try to remember to post that when it is.)

And thirdly, but certainly not lastly (because you will be hearing a LOT more about this the rest of the month): I’m one of six poets pledged to write a poem every day in April for Tupelo Press’s 30/30 project. I have ALWAYS wanted to do this, but when I was still a professor, it was just impossible. April is not just a busy teaching time, but it is when just about every academic conference convenes, and when every academic committee meets, and last year, for example, my spare time was sucked up planning for the very-epic Richland Road Rallye.

I’ve written 10 poems so far, and you can find them all here (you have to scroll back to find the earlier ones, and don’t just read mine–lots of good poems here & I’ll be highlighting some of those soon). One word of caution–I’m being a really REAL poet here. I promised myself I wouldn’t self-censor or try to put on my public face, even though, obviously, since I’m sharing these, they’re very public poems. Lots of confessional stuff, as in, personal information, but also–I’m inventing a lot and putting it in the poem whether or not it’s “real.” It’s still confessional. Robert Lowell talked about changing details if the poem demanded it. But yeah–there’s a lot of raw stuff here. If you have personal concerns about any of it, message me. I”M FINE THOUGH. Truly. In therapy & meditating a ton, etc.

But I wanted to post a blog to talk about why I’m happy to fundraise for Tupelo Press. Lots of reasons. I might do a Top Ten Reasons You Should Support Tupelo Press. But this is the first one I thought of–you may well have seen Maggie Smith’s fine poem “Good Bones” before. It pops up on social media a lot. It’s a great poem about the state of the world, finding hopefulness somehow, parenting, and it’s done A LOT for the world of poetry by being both easy to read and rewarding to re-read (with lots of layers). Tupelo is the press that published her book, Good Bones. I think that’s worth supporting, all on its own.

But in the event that’s not enough, or seeing me jam out a poem a day isn’t enough, I have STUFF you can get if you donate!

Note: a lot of these will get sent along in May because of logistics (especially the ones that require sewing!), but my goal is to make sure they’re all sent by the end of May.

  • For any donation over $10, you can send me a writing prompt/request. I’ll put all the requests in a hat and draw one for one poem the last week of April [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $25 donation, I will send you one of four (my choice) COASTER POEMS. One is featured above. They are printed on 56 pt matte paper and are ACTUAL COASTERS. [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $50 donation, you can be the first person I show a 30/30 #2 poem to. 9/10 days so far, I’ve written 2 poems each day so I can choose the one I want to share. I plan to keep that up. If you donate $50, you can send me a couple of dates and I’ll send you one poem from one of those dates. [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $75 donation, I will send you a set of four COASTER POEMS. There’s the sweet one about the good side of drinking wine, a kind of melancholy one about the medicinal beauty of coffee, one in the voice of a coaster/lover who’s happy to be used. NOTE: Those three are available for viewing on the 30/30 daily page. THE FOURTH ONE doesn’t appear anywhere other than a coaster yet, and I promise, it’s the best one, in the voice of a coaster/lover who is NOT happy to be used. Just don’t, you know, get clever and get your own coasters printed with my poems. That’s tacky and copyright infringement, and you know–just support a good press! [LIMITED to 10 donations]
  • For a $100 donation, I will craft for you a custom/one-of-a-kind quilted, beribboned poem frame for whichever of my 30/30 poems you want to hang up somewhere (or burn like effigy–whatever. For $100 I don’t care).[LIMITED to 5 donations]
  • For a $300 donation, I will craft a custom sonnet for you. We’ll chat via phone or email and I’ll interview you about what you want, and come up with a sonnet. [LIMITED to 2 donations]
  • For a $500 donation, you may pick three of the above, regardless of stated limits. [LIMITED to 1 donation]

PROVISOS for all the above–any poem mentioned above is still mine to publish and share as I see fit, and I still have the copyright, including the custom sonnets. When you make a donation, you can write me a note to tell me what prize you want, and how best to reach (mailing address for the physical stuff, etc.) In the event of weirdness or harassment, etc., I reserve the right to cancel a giveaway. But mostly, the stipulation is, I hope you enjoy this as much as I’m enjoying this!

CLICK HERE FOR

THE TUPELO PRESS DONATION PAGE!

10 Months Ago, Something Awesome

When it was first announced that my sweet little campus would be closing, I was treated very well. The chair of my department emailed right away, and essentially, I could’ve spent Fall 2023 semester teaching at the UW-Platteville campus, or the UW-Baraboo/Sauk County campus, or online, or some mix. Online seemed right at first.

But the more I thought about it, the worse that idea seemed. Not just teaching online (which can be done very well, and which I had done at least competently already), but teaching at all. I was filled with the strongest sense of dread I’d ever felt any time I thought about it. I was writing in my journal at one point and the thought occurred to me, “I’d rather be dead.” Not, as in, I was or am suicidal in any way (I have issues, but that’s NOT one of them), but just–my subconscious trying to let me know DON’T DO THIS.

So I decided to retire and announced it and said right away I wanted a big-ass party. I couldn’t get the kind of party retirees at my campus had gotten in the past, where the retiring faculty or staff member met with the dean’s secretary to sketch out what kind of party, after which people would make donations for the party and the gift(s). Nope, couldn’t do that. By the time the campus was closed, there wasn’t a dean, let alone a dean’s secretary. But dammit, I wanted a party. For myself, yes. As I said in my remarks, any criticism anyone ever had of me as a professor wouldn’t be news to me, because I’m super self-critical as a general rule. Super high ambitions and expectations of myself. But I wanted to end my Richland teaching career with people saying nice things to me. To somewhat balance the scales.

My mother and father very generously funded everything, and the lunch ladies made an amazing spread, and my good friends Gail and Lisa (and Lisa’s whole family) handled logistics so it would just work.

So yes, I wanted it for me. But I also wanted to have at least one final party like the parties we’d had in the past, something people could come to and have kind of a reunion, and that’s exactly what happened.

And I wanted it during the school year, so Richland’s last batch of students could attend. It ended up needing to be in March, because we had two alumni events, spring break, play productions, and awards night taking up other weekends before finals.

Thus, the fact that I’m just now sending out thank-you cards is embarrassing. Tacky. Ridiculous. Awkward. Maybe not worth doing at this point? But I am doing it. With personal cards to people who nicely brought or sent gifts, and then probably postcards eventually to people who brought or sent cards, and if there’s someone on the sign-in sheet that just showed up to wish me well and didn’t bring a gift or a card (or they DID but I’ve lost it, which–I’m kind of a clutter-monkey, so yes, things do get lost, and it has been TEN FREAKING MONTHS).

So, for everyone in the above paragraph–your personal thank is coming, slowly but surely. In the meantime:

That’s the design I made for postcards and coffee mugs. I asked people attending to take a postcard and write a thank-you, not to me, but to someone else who’d helped make Richland wonderful.

If you were there and want to relive it, or wanted to come but couldn’t, or are just curious now, or whatever, it is available on Nova Video’s YouTube page, A Very Marnie Sort of Retirement Party.

I’ve watched it once or twice. I might watch again and transcribe my remarks and do another post with other remarks I considered making but cut because, as my good friend Sarah says, “Never leave them wanting less.”

And maybe that’s a good sentence to remember, when a career ends (just a little) too soon. Feels good when I apply it to my professional English teaching years, 1987-2023. When a much-loved campus closes leaving an educational desert behind, the sentence doesn’t have the same ring to it.