When I heard about the decision, these words of his came immediately to mind:
"There is a sense in which I no longer "go to work." If I live in my place, which is my subject, then I am "at" work even when I am not working. It is "my" work because I cannot escape it."
And so, tonight, here I am. In my place.
There (I hear) John Wall dances and people with t-shirts celebrating the NBA Draft.
There are tiny victories in the Come Together of the World Cup. Now that USA is in, we are allowed to care.
There are too many "pink slips" to mention. Good hearted teachers who will probably not get to work with the children they love next year.
There is Texas Tea exploding from the depths that I can no longer blame on the previous Administration.
There are Words.
His words, in boxes at the flagship university of our state. Our State. He said: You Shall Not Shelter. My words under the umbrella of this legacy of filth. No struggling, dying pretty little sea birds covered in oil for the pity of public opinion.
Not you, this public U. With your Coal friends. My words will not live in the shadow of the death you support. You can NOT keep them. You shall not have them any longer.
Standing by his word. Unusual.
"In the country, meanwhile, there is work to be done." - Wendell Berry