RPR 110: That time my sister was attacked by turkeys

sober insomnia, an unstoppable auntie, anarchist birds

Is this a turkey? I have no idea. But I do know that this is exactly the vibe of the turkeys that are responsible for the one of the most special memories from my childhood as a big sis. 🥰 Photo credit: Alex Dugan

SOMETHING TO READ

Yesterday I picked up Elissa Washuta’s Creative Capital memoir White Magic at the library*. Before I was twenty pages in I had opened my laptop and purchased my own copy to be delivered ASAP. I don’t do this often because me + public libraries forever and ever and ever ❤️ (and also my bookshelves have long overflowed from my domain into Keri’s), but sometimes I just know when I’m going to need an author’s words over and over again.

This novel has opened up a whole new world of Washuta’s essays for me and now I’m sharing one of my new faves with you. In How Do I Tell My Story of Getting Sober? for Harper’s Bazaar, Washuta invites us into the never-quite-awake and never-quite-asleep world of withdrawal insomnia that comes with new sobriety. It’s a story of rebirth and restraint and rewriting. It’s a story of how everywhere we go, there we are:

A few months before quitting, I had, as they say, pulled a geographic. I left a moldy place in Seattle for a not-yet-moldy place north of the city. I could start fresh in an apartment where I’d never vomited, miles from the bars. My Seattle apartment was behind a block of five of them. I liked them all, but most nights after work, I showed up at the dim tavern that had pull tabs and pool tables. Being a regular meant taking my place at the bar over and over, having a pint of Manny’s set down in front of me before I asked, like in a movie, and I could have as many as I wanted, because the beer was as infinite as God.

If you’ve ever struggled with drinking or trying to force your own broken heart to piece itself back together again, this one’s for you. Enjoy.

SOMETHING TO LISTEN TO

I’m taking a pause from sharing Odd One In teasers this week to share this beautiful 3-minute conversation from StoryCorps: “You Are Seriously Fearless”: A Niece Thanks Her Favorite Aunt For Her Wisdom and Friendship.

Menaja Obinali grew up in the small town of Franklin, Louisiana. At 17-years-old, she lost her vision after waking up in the middle of a fire. Newly blind and now without the ability to paint like she loved to do, she went to live with her sister and her sister’s daughter Jarie, who was just five when her aunt Menaja moved in.

Jarie interviewed Menaja for StoryCorps when the mobile tour passed through Texas in 2014. It’s a short listen, but I recommend having tissues nearby.

SOMETHING TO HOLD ON TO

As a moody, hard-to-amuse tween, I once laughed with absolute abandon alongside my (also hard-to-amuse) mother as my little sister ran in terror from a flock of turkeys. We had encouraged her to share her granola bar with one of them. She was maybe 8 at the time, and tiny.

To this day, my sis enthusiastically chows down at Thanksgiving, even though she has devoted her professional and personal life to rehabilitating dogs and generally communicating with various farm and forest animals.

In case you need further proof that our feathered friends are hilarious and also menacing, a new study by researchers from Naturalis Biodiversity Center and the Natural History Museum Rotterdam has revealed that a group of birds have taken building their nests out of the sharp metal spikes that cities have been attaching to trees(?!) and buildings to try to keep winged terrorists away: Rebellious birds make nests out of anti-bird pins.

If you’re looking for a short and visual recap of the study, check out this Twitter thread from biologist and fowl enthusiast Auke-Florian Hiemstra who led the study while sporting a spectacular nest of hair himself. Shout out to these anti-establishment heroes of the sky.

THAT’S A WRAP ON ISSUE 110

Thanks for reading, listening, and holding on, friends. Stay vigilant out there. Even if there are no turkeys near you, don’t forget that the crows are always watching.

See you next week.

K.

*Shout out to Mary—RPR subscriber, award-winning rodeo dancer, and me and Keri’s 2023 Mom Prom date—for recommending White Magic. Keep your reader buddies close. They’re the best ones.