Back in 2018, my dad was invited to play bass for a friend of ours at open mic at the Fairport Brewing Company, at the corner of Church and Main in Fairport. Shortly thereafter, I started going to support him. As I watched, I wondered if there was something I could do to perform. I sang in choir in middle and high school, but there weren’t any songs I particularly wanted to perform. However, I had just started writing poetry at the time, so I thought “I can read poetry”.

Jump ahead to July 29 2019. I’d written more poems, and people had just about come to expect me to read at open mic. And my friend Mike says “Ian, I have an idea for you for a poem. Summer Nights on Church and Main.”

The wheels started churning in my head. Glancing every now and then at the sign up sheet, I began to write. By the end of the night, I had a rough draft.

The next week, I read Summer Nights on Church and Main. I introduced it by saying what Mike had said to me, then saying to him “Mike, I have a poem for you. It’s called Summer Nights on Church and Main”.

Jump ahead to August 26. Bobby, Mike’s son and runner of open mic, was leaving soon for New York City. It was his last open mic, and before that, we’d been talking about putting music to the poem. For his last night, he performed it. One day, I’ll find the words to express how happy that made me.

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© 2023 Sky Starlight CC BY-NC-SA

Whisk passed away in October 2004. She lived a long life for a mouse, but I wanted to fill the void she left. On October 20th, I got a dwarf hamster that I named Talis. He had white fur, with flecks of gray so he looked silver.

Like me, Talis was a bit of a hermit. He’d come out, run around, explore a bit, then return to the little hamster potty we got him. He brought this shred-a-bed stuff we got him – little squares of material he could shred and fluff up to build a nest – inside and pack himself in.

That’s how I remember him. A bit grumpy, ready to explore the world around him, but knew when it was time to go home.

I posted Time to Go Home on the day we celebrated as his birthday, July 20th, three months before I got him. Like Whisk, we only had a rough guess as to when his birthday was, but we celebrated it every year all the same.

Also like Whisk, Talis had a lesson to teach me all these years later. I don’t go out much (especially not now), but I don’t always keep track of the time when I do (or when I’m doing anything else, really). It’s important to know when to take a break, and it’s important to know when it’s time to go home.

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© 2023 Sky Starlight CC BY-NC-SA

On September 10, 2003, I got a pet mouse. I named her Whiskers, or Whisk for short. She was a funny little mouse, with sleek black fur, and smarter than I gave her credit for. I was told she was two months old when I got her, so I’ve always celebrated her birthday on July 10th.

Soon after I got her, my friend spent the night. We slept downstairs, and I asked if I could bring Whisk’s cage down. My parents okayed it, so that’s what we did. While we were lying awake, we heard Whisk running in her wheel. Then we heard her stop. Then she started again.

I thought that was odd, so I got up and looked in her cage. Sure enough, she was running, full speed ahead, then coming to a stop and swaying back and forth in the wheel. It was the funniest thing.

That’s my favorite memory of her, one I’ve always held dear. As her birthday arrived this year, I wrote Time for a Break thinking of that memory. It’s a good lesson to learn, even if I don’t always remember. There are many times I’ve worked through lunch, or lost track of time in my determination to get something done.

All these years later, she was still smarter than I gave her credit for. She knew when it was time to take a break.

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© 2023 Sky Starlight CC BY-NC-SA

Whenever I’m driving, I usually have music playing. It’s something to pass the time while I’m getting from point A to point B, and I enjoy listening to music.

One time as I’m driving home from work, one of my favorite songs comes on. For reference, I store my music on my phone, because then I can listen to the music I want when I want, vs. using a service or the radio that randomizes it. So I can always listen to it, but I hadn’t heard it in a while, since it hadn’t been on the current playlist in a while.

But of course, I’m also driving, so my focus is on the road, especially on the interstate where I was at the time. That being the case, I couldn’t enjoy the song as much as I wanted to. When I was able to tune back into the song, it was almost over. The moment was gone.

I realized that it was a lot like life. Those moments that pass you by because you were paying attention to something else, something that seemed so important at the time, but looking back, maybe it wasn’t. In this case, paying attention to the road was very important. But sometimes it’s not. You missed that moment for something that might not have been so important.

Enjoy the Moment is my thoughts on that, and a lesson I’ve learned. I hope other people may learn from it too.

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© 2023 Sky Starlight CC BY-NC-SA

Something I’ve learned while writing is that the best time to come up with stories is when you’re body is occupied, but your mind isn’t. Folding laundry, washing dishes, cleaning the bathroom, and going on walks are all great for this. Thus, several of my poems and stories come from thoughts I have while doing chores.

One day while washing dishes, after scrubbing a pot down, I noticed some food stuck to it. I continued washing it, but thought “how do I know it’s not clean?” The answer seemed obvious; I could still see food on it. But what about the food I couldn’t see? I figured I’d have to assume I got everything and hope for the best.

Being the weird conglomeration of thoughts and emotions my mind is, it moved to parenting. “Isn’t that basically parenting?” it asked me. “Doing the best you can and hoping you got every spot?” I supposed it was.

I’d been sitting on the idea for at least two years before I finally put it into words with Raising Children. My son turned nine at the end of June, and it’s been a difficult nine years. There was a time in third grade when I got confused by a “thought question” – a question that didn’t have a right answer, but was meant to start a class discussion. I got confused, annoyed even, because I like having a right answer, like knowing what I’m doing. With parenting, there is no right answer. I was thrown into unfamiliar territory from the start, and got upset when I thought I was failing.

It brought me comfort to think of raising children like washing dishes. No matter how tough it gets, no matter how badly I think I’m doing, I remember that it’s impossible to be perfect. I’m going to make mistakes, but that doesn’t mean I’m a bad parent. It just makes me human.

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© 2023 Sky Starlight CC BY-NC-SA

Way back in the before time of 2012, a software project of mine called Aris was accepted into the GNU project. Briefly, the GNU project is a collection of software packages claiming to respect the freedom of users and developers. Such software packages publish their source code and allow modification for any purpose.

I was excited about this at the time. I still look at the free software movement and see it as a positive. In my mind, free software respects its users by making a promise that it will favor users over money. As a professional developer, there’s a lot I can learn by studying other developers’ code. Releasing source code – human-readable code, vs. the binary files you run that are machine-readable – allows information to flow freely.

In 2018, and again in 2019, the developers of the GNU project broke into an argument. The same argument both times: should we do more to include other developers? In particular, women. This went around in circles for months. As a developer, I will tell you that before making a huge change, ensure you know it’s a problem. Many of the developers share that mindset, but in this case, some were asking for numbers on how many women have left or shied away because of the way they saw people acting. Others protested having to do anything beyond their normal development duties. Others still asked “what, are we supposed to accept bad code because a woman submitted it?”

I stayed out of this argument because I lacked the emotional stamina to argue with them. Any argument would be subjected to scrutiny. Any statements that were poorly phrased would be crumpled up and ignored. When I saw another email come up, depending on who sent it, I could predict what they were going to say. There was a clear divide among the developers, with most of us staying out of it. But some of what they said stuck with me. Like “why do we need to help women at all?” Those aren’t exact words, but that was the idea.

Jump ahead to 2020. Protests over police brutality and mistreatment of black communities has broken out. And like any parent who’s gotten fed up with their children not listening the first hundred times, they’ve raised their voices. Once again, other people are saying “that’s not my problem” and “police lives matter too”.

I know. All lives matter. But our society was designed to oppress certain people. What the black community is asking for is equality. It’s easy for me to sit and speculate about this, because I’m white, but I see the same things happening in this conversation as I did two years ago within the GNU project. People in power are asking “why should I care?”

Why You Should Care is my response to the arguments I’ve seen. The line “We should judge them solely on their merits” comes from that argument from the GNU developers. Now I keep hearing people say “All lives matter”, as if we should ignore the voices of the oppressed, but we shouldn’t. Everyone suffers in some way, but that doesn’t make it any less real, nor does knowing that ease the pain. It just means we’ve got a lot more work than we realized.

#StoryBehind

© 2023 Sky Starlight CC BY-NC-SA

Back in 2018, I started going to the local literary center in Rochester, Writers and Books. When you go in the front door and turn right, you’ll see the front desk. Throughout 2018 and 2019, I spent my Saturday mornings there, and at that desk, a woman named Mardy would be sitting there.

Mardy was one of those who had life pretty well figured out. She’d run past you on her way through life, and if you were lucky, she’d call back “keep up!”

One Saturday morning in August of 2019 while I was at W&B, waiting for a class, Mardy called to me.

“Ian, I need to go make some copies. You’re in charge.”

So for a few minutes, I was deputized. Those to whom I’ve told this story that knew her were not surprised. She was always a little silly, and completely happy.

Jump ahead to October, and she wasn’t there. I asked, and found out that she wasn’t feeling well. Beyond that, I knew nothing. I figured people get sick, and it’d been long enough after losing two family members so close together that I wasn’t worried.

Besides, I saw her again in November, at the Holiday Bazaar. We talked for a moment, and she asked if I was keeping an eye on things for her. I smiled and said I was. After all, she’d deputized me.

Jump ahead to February 1st, 2020. I’d been thinking recently at that point that it’d be nice to run into Mardy again, happen upon her working the desk. We could’ve talked for a while. Her cheerful demeanor, mixed with a healthy dose of sarcasm, was always a welcomed addition to my day.

I found out that day that not only was Mardy sick, but she’d been given days to live. One day, actually. She passed away February 2nd, 2020. I got the text that morning.

Her funeral was the following week. I didn’t know until I got to W&B. My day cleared up, I ran home after my class, changed, and went out to the funeral. It finally sank in that she was gone when I got there.

I wrote Passing the Torch from those moments I shared with her. The most precious moments we have of someone are the memories we shared with them that no one else knew. It’s our small piece of them that they gave only to us. Those moments, that torch, are mine from Mardy.

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© 2023 Sky Starlight CC BY-NC-SA

I’ve mentioned before that I always write down ideas when they come to me (at least, I try). That includes poems, although in that case, that usually means the title. Something will come to me – a single line, a word, a phrase – and I’ll write it down for later.

At the end of November 2019, I had an idea for a poem: Not Every Superhero has Superpowers. The idea was that I wanted to reach out to my past self and tell him that it was okay that he didn’t have superpowers. He didn’t need them to help people, or be special, or stand up for himself. I was always daydreaming of having superpowers and helping people. I was too afraid to do anything on my own, but I thought that if I had powers, I’d be able to use them to make the world a better place. At least, a better place for me.

That title sat there in my notes until the end of March 2020. I looked at it, wanted to write it, but didn’t think of anything to write in it. I looked at it again as the COVID-19 pandemic continued, and I thought of something new.

When I finally sat down to write it, I knew what to write. I know there are superheroes in the world. Even though many of them don’t feel like it now, it’s important that we keep supporting them. They’re working hard to make the world a better place for everyone, sacrificing more than anyone to do it.

The advice I’d give to myself isn’t just that he doesn’t need to have superpowers, it’s that there’s more to being a hero than that. It’s about making the tough choices. It’s having the strength to stand up for what’s right when everyone else runs away.

Support your heroes. They need all the help they can get right now.

#StoryBehind

© 2023 Sky Starlight CC BY-NC-SA

Warning: Politics Ahead

I watched most of Donald Trump’s impeachment trial, because I wanted to stay informed. There were many things I took away from it, but the biggest one was watching how the two sides regarded one another. It was like watching two groups of people that had lived in completely separate worlds that hated each other. It saddened me to see them like that, but not unexpected.

On social media, in politics, and in many more settings, people have an “Us Against Them” mentality. I can’t explain why, because there are an uncountable number of reasons. Each person has their own reason for thinking this way, and while I can’t judge them for it, I can offer an alternative.

That’s what Stand Tall Together is about: unity. A way forward that doesn’t put us at odds with one another. I’m sure I’ll say this many more times, but that’s what writing means to me. Watching the world and thinking “What if it were this way?” I wrote about the world I wanted to see while I watched two groups of people refuse to get along.

Everyone is important. Everyone can contribute. And if we all stick together, life’s struggles aren’t as daunting. If we all try to go it alone, it’d be like a group of dancers performing individual dances without practice. Everyone will run into one another and get hurt. My actions affect the world around me, just as much as the world around me affects me. That’s just as important to remember now as it was a few months ago, even more so. Trusting the world when the world’s let you down can be hard, but facing life together is easier than facing it alone.

Remember: We stand tall together.

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© 2023 Sky Starlight CC BY-NC-SA

Growing up, Bill Cosby was a household name. Not only that, but he held special significance to my family and I.

I’ve seen Bill Cosby as Himself many times, and the jokes were told throughout my house. Many of them spring to mind as I’m writing this.

Then we found out what he’d been doing. We saw the man behind the stage, and suddenly, the jokes had a sour taste to them. They were so ingrained in my family, that I didn’t know how to think about it.

I shied away from his jokes for a while. They’d been tainted, enough so that I didn’t want to repeat them.

While in a writing workshop, we were given a prompt to write a poem of gratitude towards someone or something horrible. Bill Cosby was one of the first things that popped into my head.

That poem became Thank You for Sharing.

I still don’t have an answer. But I know that someone’s actions can’t take everything they gave me away.

For now, I’ll continue to look to people like Fred Rogers, a man that was just as good off screen as on, and hope that other people can follow his example. I certainly try.

#StoryBehind

© 2023 Sky Starlight CC BY-NC-SA