Book 40 for 2026: “Homegoing”, Yaa Gyasi


The history of Ghana from the 18th century through the slave trade and the into what occurs to the descendants of two sisters.

Effia and Eli are two half sisters who never met. Effia is married off to a prominent Englishman in what later became Ghana during the time of the slave trade. She lives in comparative luxury at Cape Coast Castle. Meanwhile her sister, Esi, has been captured and is in the dungeon under the castle waiting to be transported. She is shipped off to the United States where her children and grandchildren will endure slavery, later work in the coal mines of Pratt City, Alabama, and eventually make it to Harlem.

The son of Effia and the Englishman is sent off to England for his education. Later, he and his descendants will endure the warfare between the Asante and the Fante tribes as they battle each other for power in the slave trade and resist colonization. Eventually, the Asante fight the English and lose. One of Effia’s descendants becomes a school teacher in what is now Ghana and eventually makes it to the United States where he is a professor at a community college.

This novel presents details of events in the slave trade and what happens to families through the centuries that follow. Without reading a detailed history book, this novel enables the reader to learn a lot of history through the lives of these two half sisters.

Evil


Today I participated in something called Black Out Poetry. I had never heard this term before. In this case, everyone picked a magazine, opened it up, found an article, and were told to black out whatever did not speak to you or you thought unimportant, etc. and create a poem from what was left. The magazine I picked up was published in early 2002; all the articles focused on 9/11 and its ongoing aftermath. Articles about evil, its nature, who is and who is not, and how to react to evil dominated. This is the poem I created after blacking out almost all of one article.

The human capacity to create hell haunts our dreams.

We knew the Holocaust, Pol Pot, Middle Passage, Trail of Tears,

horrors.

Wakeup-evil deeds touch our lives. Terror spreads.

Evil is the assertion of self–

treating people like things,

forgetfulness of our better selves, of sacred creation,

of life as an ultimate value.

We live in a tragic world; But

there are creative, healing forces:

the power of Love,

the power to seek Justice,

the power to celebrate Beauty.

I Live in Beauty on the Rim


A number of years ago I lived on a canyon rim in the Panhandle of Texas, a side canyon to Palo Duro Canyon, the second largest canyon in the country. I wrote this poem when I lived there.

The canyon edge looms out my bedroom windows,

pale adobe, stark.

Fall to death or serious injury.

I will not fall; I love living on the edge.

Rain brings a one hundred foot deluge,

roar of water, red adobe, cascading, screaming.

Someone said my house is pink; it is not pink.

Color of canyon, worldwide color,

Moroccan, Pueblo, Saudi, Mali, Navaho, Timbuktu,

desert alive and lovely.

Everywhere.

Three bucks watch me through my bedroom windows.

They see me move; they stare.

Isabella stands, rigid, watching…what?

I kneel to her level, follow her eyes.

Bobcat casually climbs the canyon wall, impervious.

He marks the juniper tree, walks a deer path,

disappears, secretive, rarely seen.

The huge hoot owl’s voice echoes down the canyon,

drifting into my dreams.

A young roadrunner calls, scratchy voice,

running across the patio–on the edge.

In spring the mocking bird sings all night,

“This is my territory.”

I sing all year, full of joy!

Recent Adventures in Santa Barbara County


After dropping my grandson off at his apartment in Goleta, I went in search of a trail about which I had read. Well, GPS did not take me there but to another trail. Here is where I began.

It’s summer and the wetlands are not very wet but this goes between two wetlands. This whole area is apparently for wetland preservation. Lower after looping around, I came to a woods.

I tried to figure out a way to take a photo that would encompass the entirety of these large, tall trees but gave up.

The trail sort of loops back and near here I saw a picnic table covered in graffiti. And then after walking to the other side of the wooded area, I saw this old barn.

Once upon a time, it appears to have been quite fancy.

I walked back to my car and drove to Carpenteria, a smaller beach town south of Santa Barbara toward Ventura. Carpenteria is not fancy like some other beach towns. It is friendly, laid back. I was hungry so went to the Dart Coffee place which was closed the last time I stopped there.

The empanada was yummy and served with their own chimichurri. This is a Frida book I have never seen before; it was on a shelf with other books for anyone to read.

This coffee shop sells cards with paintings similar to this one on the wall in a hallway that goes to other shops.

After wandering around this area and trying to find a shop where I previously bought a sweater (the shop was gone), I walked toward the beach.

In the distance beyond the ocean you can see the Channel Islands.

And turning around and facing the other direction, I saw this.

Delights 6


Redwood tree absorbs the mist.

Jasmine fragrance fills th air.

Scarlet, hot pink, peach, orange and multicolored

rose blooms grace the garden wall.

Hummingbirds drink nectar from the feeder

in the lilac bush.

Morning joy.

Delights – 5


reading,

listening to birds

the gurgling of water,

looking up to watch

four hummingbirds challenge

each other at the feeder, and

I notice I’m surrounded by flowers

and the scent of orange blossoms.

Delights–2


As a person who works with high school students mostly non-white, many of whom have family members who are undocumented, I worry and need to find daily delights to stay sane. I decided to make a list of some of the past week’s delights:

-afternoons 70 degrees, sunny, no wind

-hummingbirds sipping nectar from both flowers and the two feeders

-singing a song the lyrics of which come from a poem by Langston Hughes where he dreams a world with no racism

-sitting on the back patio, listening to birdsong while I read a book about delights

-learning that all the rains have eliminated drought in California

-appreciating all the colors of the flowers blooming in my yard

Garden of Delights


A garden of delights

my my new goal.

Why do I/we need

such a garden?

Sanity, yours and mine.

Genocide in Gaza, Sudan,

eastern Congo, probably

even in other places where

there’s no news.

Poverty here in the richest

nation on Earth.

Poverty my neighbor seems

shocked when I tell her.

People living in condemned

trailers, no heat, no water–

It’s freezing inside.

People surviving, barely.

Malnourished children, big

hungry eyes, staring.

A garden of delights

my new goal.

Why do I/we need

such a garden?

Masked men and some women

attacking people in the streets,

in their homes,

knocking down doors.

smashing windows.

You’d think I’m describing

Russia, Nazi Germany

but no, I’m describing

happenings in my own

county and

across the US.

A garden of delights

my new goal.

Sanity = Delights

I look out my window

purple mountains loom

in crystalline air.

Recent rains create

emerald hills,

blooming freeway daisies,

roses in my garden,

pink, sunset colors, snow.

Bougainvillea the color of blood

climbs my garden wall.

The turquoise fountain gurgles.

Photo of daughter and grandson

make me smile.

Symbols, sacred corn grace

walls and make me

remember cornfields in summer

when on a hot day

I could hear corn grow.

Three different pine trees whisper,

the Soleri bell rings in wind.

Ah, yes, I live in a garden,

a garden of delights.

And I remain sane

for at least one

more day.