There’s something I really don’t like about finishing things. Good at starting. Good at ongoing. Good at thinking about. Finishing: very depressing. So. I had just finished organizing the entire program for a SWAA conference one year, along with two colleagues. SWAA would be the Southwestern Anthropological Association. And we planned some real conference treats. […]
Candy Pants was my dad’s hunting dog, retired to California, endured four dogs’ worth of veterinary crises, and healed me—not exactly in that order.
My ordeal was long ago and I’m fine. For far too many others, this story is today, this story is now, and this story is how they will die.