September 7, 2026

planned obsolescence
has me damn near paranoid

refusing to buy anything new
no technology
no clothing
no materials for making my own things

no cloth for fear of fraying
no printers for fear of subscription fees
no streaming services for fear of handing money to those
who would throw our country down the already flushing toilet of
fascism, and throw our planet farther away from able to
reverse this man-made curse of global climate crisis

can i survive on what i have?
or buying second-hand [hopefully from
reputable sources themselves]
mending and making with the items i’ve hoarded
over the last few decades of my life?

[perhaps my depression-raised grandmother was right]

June 24, 2021 (part 2) or: Grandma Jean

A life
A life well lived
A life well lived for a long time

Spunky,
Always learning,
Always growing,
(except in height)
Always pushing the boundaries
Of what it means
To be a woman
In a yacht club
In a college
In a profession.
To be a person.

And the stories
(oh the stories)
A letter full of spelling mistakes
(from a spelling-bee winner)
Kept for decades
Touted as her favorite letter.
Working in the general store
Her father owned
But banned from interacting with customers
Because of that one time she threw a potato at one.
Wearing witch stickers,
Being a dog magnet,
(when she didn’t really like dogs),
And the one I got to experience:
Staring at a piece of art for a long time
Asking ‘Who did that?’
And when we said ‘You did!’
Her response was,
‘I thought I liked it.’

Let’s raise a glass
(of Vernors)
To Jean Jackson Price.