Two graduations looming, not to mention a middle school semiformal, four days in Boston with a herd of eighth graders, several large family-and-friends parties, and a suddenly complicated baseball schedule for which I am the only driver. Did I mention that I'm also the guest speaker at the eighth-grade graduation? Or that I'm supposed to write a book review by June 11 but haven't yet received the book? Or that I might have to figure out how to fix a girl's hair for the prom? Ay yi yi. I can't even fix my own hair.

In the meantime (I use that word too much, don't I?), I'm still sad about poet and teacher Michael Macklin, who died suddenly in Vermont this week while chaperoning students at the Breadloaf Young Writers Conference. Here's his obituary in today's Portland Press Herald, a reminder that a modest, dedicated person can matter enormously to many, many people.