Snow Daze
On good neighbors and small wins.
Hello, friends. It’s been a minute since I Substacked.
Maple for the People came out in early January, and I think there’s always a natural anticlimax after a book comes out; it’s in process for five-plus years, and then overnight it becomes another spine on shelves, and life moves on.
And of course, these months have been so brutal across the country, heavier even than the heavy we’ve adapted to at this point, and though I originally thought of this newsletter as a space to explore the intersections of my writing with parenting and life—the tagline is, after all, “writing and mothering in wild times”—sometimes it feels like the times are just too wild, and the world doesn’t need another Substack.
In my writing and work, unlike in the real world, it’s been a quiet few weeks since the book came out. I could’ve used that downtime to get ahead on future Substack drafts, to come up with creative Maple-themed marketing campaigns, to start writing the next thing. Instead, I read. I watched the Olympics. My kids haven’t had a full week of school since 2025 at this point (an exaggeration, but only by, like, a week or two?), and I have been simultaneously relishing this fleeting time with them (my oldest is almost 9?! Which is halfway to 18?!) while also hiding from them when possible. Someone in the class WhatsApp chat sent around a meme about how much they love their children but cannot possibly make them another quesadilla. I saw it while scrolling on my phone while literally making quesadillas. So.
All of this has made me think a lot about neighbors. And neighborliness. Neighbors have been big in 2026 so far. And see, I have excellent neighbors. I brag about them a lot. (If you know me in real life and don’t live on my block, you have almost definitely heard about my neighbors.) My kids’ best friends live in two households across the street, and between our three families, the pack of children essentially free-range. These good neighbors make our lives immeasurably better.
Meanwhile, down the street from our pack, there are two more families who recently moved in side-by-side so they could raise their kids together. Our block, in other words, now has two of these multi-family chosen families with free-ranging kid packs—one built deliberately with great effort, the other through random good luck. It’s a very old school suburban vibe, the kind of thing we’re told doesn’t exist anymore, except here we are, in a city, in 2026, and it does.
The other night, as the latest blizzard calmed down, I stepped outside to discover that two guys from next door were shoveling out our driveway. For no reason at all, except to be nice humans! My husband grabbed one of our shovels and headed down the block to shovel out an older neighbor, after learning that another neighbor, who had also planned to help her, had a busted snowblower on his hands. Meanwhile, I looked down and found a Tupperware container of delicious green soup. In the shadows cast by the street lamps, I spotted a neighbor darting back through snowbanks to his house, having dropped it off for us. They had enough to share, so they did.
I think we’ve all observed with wonder the neighborliness in Minnesota over these last months. And I wonder if we’ve learned something from it, something to aspire to. It makes me think back to my first job in education, at the Harlem Children’s Zone in New York. I was compelled by Geoffrey Canada’s vision of blanketing an entire neighborhood with an unbreakable network of support for its children. I’m still moved by that. Maybe it’s simply the recognition that when the problems of the world seem overwhelming, there is always meaningful good we can do right here, right next door.
Or maybe that’s all mumbo jumbo. Maybe it’s the second snow day in a row following school vacation talking. But I’m holding onto it. As I write this, I just watched from my office window as one of my kids entered the neighbor’s house—they’ve been out sledding—and I’ve probably got 10 more minutes until the pack comes bounding back to our side for some afternoon mischief. So I’ll leave it there for now. Wishing you a March that melts all the ice, and brings you more neighbors like mine.
PS: Maple updates
I had such a lovely time at the launch event at Porter Square Books, where my community turned out to fill the place with book love. It was such a joy to share the stage with two incredible seventh grade writers, who had served as beta readers for Maple for the People a couple years ago. Huge thanks, again, to everyone who has supported this little book as she made her way into the world! For every order, recommendation, share, review—a million thank yous, for real.
Speaking of reviews, one more humble ask: If you or a young person in your life has read Maple for the People, would you pleeeeease add a 5-star review on Amazon? (You don’t have to have purchased the book from Bezos to review it there! But the algo being what it is, reviews on Amazon remain super helpful for visibility.) Thank you so much!