Reading on the Run V. Jolene Miller

READING ON THE RUN

Binge reading on the run because everything else can wait.

ABOUT THE COLUMNIST

In Alaska, I’m a behavioral health instructor by day and a Ph.D. student by night. When I’m not teaching, I have my nose in a textbook or a scholarly article. These days, my writing is nonfiction and my puppy, Omar, is lucky if I can spare ten minutes to play fetch. I still carry a book in my purse because I hope to get a few minutes to read. Fifteen minutes before dawn, in between assignments, or right before falling into bed. Reading is my resting place.

MISSING AN "E".

BY V. JOLENE MILLER

As we transition to spring, another semester of doctoral courses looms on my horizon My mind is on closereading. Take, for instance, a 52-page paper I recently submitted detailing my plan for researching the influence of formative assessment on student autonomy. I spent a week writing it and knew there were inconsistencies regarding the population and potential research sites in its pages. Yet, it was difficult to think about rereading it to make corrections.

I took the approach that any exhausted doctoral candidate would. I requested the proofreading assistance of my doctoral student husband.

Knowing he too was in the last stretch of the semester and just as tired as I was, I assured him he didn’t have to examine the paper for every grammatical error or misspelled word; all that was required was a close read for flow. My goal was to get some help with the one problematic area of the paper without taxing too much of his energy and time. After all, one thing 2022 has taught me, is that grace must be extended during a close read.

I didn’t anticipate 2021 would leave with a vengeance, taking with it my mother-in-law. We were devastated. Two months is not near enough time to prepare for such a loss.

As my husband and I traveled two days into the new year, my one goal was to support him, his siblings, and their father. This goal consisted of small tasks like repeatedly asking if they were okay, making sure there were snacks and drinks as the siblings cleaned out their childhood home, helping sort, fold, and sack items for donation, and proofreading some of the paperwork they encountered.

All of these tasks were doable. Difficult, considering the circumstances, but doable. It was the least I could do for my husband and his family. Until it wasn’t.

The day before we laid my mother-in-law to rest, we received a call from the nursing home informing us my father-in-law had passed. Keeping a promise he’d made to his children, he had gone to dialysis. Upon returning to the facility, he spoke briefly with a nurse. Then, he settled into his recliner.

My father-in-law was one of my favorite people. We loved M*A*S*H. The day I met him, he was watching a M*A*S*H episode, and I am sure that when I disrupted his TV time to watch with him, it was the hour we connected. He had a great smile.

Naturally, my goal continued as my husband and his siblings prepared another funeral service. Feed them, sort, fold, sack, donate, and proofread. The tasks were more challenging; the hole in my heart wider still. At the funeral home, proofreading became more difficult as the words swam in front of my eyes, blurred by tears I tried hard to keep in check.

In the memorial card, I missed an “e.” Instead of it being tacked appropriately to the end of the word, it was typed as a precursor to the word beside it in the first line of scripture on the page. I didn’t see it.

Grace was extended. the error. My newly-acquired brother-in-law kept one of the flawed copies as a keepsake.

I, on the other hand, lashed out in horror. How could I have missed something so simple? Why hadn’t I noticed it? Why were the people I loved going through such a terrible time? Would I meet another person who enjoyed watching M*A*S*H as much as I did? And, what would it matter if I did; reruns won’t ever be the same.

February 2022 is drawing to a close as I write this. My heart still hurts, and the cherished keepsakes my husband and his siblings have gifted me remain in a tote while we all take baby steps into this world without their parents. Some day, I imagine it will hurt less. Some day, I suspect that missed “e” will be something I can laugh at. The tears in my eyes tell me that today is not that day.

I hope you read your next book closely. Immerse yourself into the storyline and snuggle up with the characters. Okay, don’t snuggle with the villain because that’s weird! If you encounter a typo or a even a glaring discrepancy, email the author. Gently let them know about it so that in a future edition, they can correct it. Then, encourage them to keep writing because you never know what they’re going through.

I won’t know the outcome of my 52-page paper for at least a week. Hopefully, between my husband and I, we caught all the discrepancies. If not, it will be okay.