Monday was winter solstice, the shortest day, the longest night, and a time that has always deeply resonated with me.
Gratitude and gratuitous table setting will always be my jam.
We decorated our Yule log, celebrated our earth, thanked the light, and acknowledged the night by having a “dark dinner” and taking a long nighttime walk with our homemade lanterns.
One of my favorite Mary Oliver poems felt like the right fit this year.
In winter all the singing is in the tops of the trees where the wind-bird
with its white eyes shoves and pushes among the branches. Like any of us
he wants to go to sleep, but he’s restless— he has an idea, and slowly it unfolds
from under his beating wings as long as he stays awake. But his big, round music, after all, is too breathy to last.
So, it’s over. In the pine-crown he makes his nest, he’s done all he can.
I don’t know the name of this bird, I only imagine his glittering beak tucked in a white wing while the clouds—
which he has summoned from the north— which he has taught to be mild, and silent—
thicken, and begin to fall into the world below like stars, or the feathers of some unimaginable bird
that loves us, that is asleep now, and silent— that has turned itself into snow
We haven’t had “real” photos taken since Eleanor’s birth, so when a law student (with a background and love for photography) offered an awesome fundraiser for the Student Bar Association I jumped on it! I’m not much into having posed portraits like this, but see the value in it, so a quick low pressure experience was great. She donated her photo session fees to the association and we got 30 minutes of her time. A win-win.
Thank you Dana Jurgensmeier!
Also, I never really share my kid’s faces on social media, though I sign the releases of schools and activities to do so. I’ve, pretty randomly, decided to share them here as part of our family photos. I can’t articulate a great reason for why I feel OK about this and not about day-to-day posts on social media, but formal family portraits seem like much less of an invasion of their personal autonomy. Life is full of decisions that live on a spectrum, this is one of them.
The letter being shared in our Program’s 2019-2020 Annual Report and with our alumni this September.
As our team put together this report and reviewed the full gamut of events and activities we completed this fall, I felt a new wave of loss over all the great plans we had for spring 2020 that were, of course, cancelled. When the world stopped this March and all the “out of an abundance of caution” cancellation emails started rolling in, academic programs everywhere were suddenly forced to change course. Of all the losses and pain that COVID-19 has caused globally cancelled conferences and academic events are, with out doubt, some of the least important. Acknowledging that, it was still hard to cancel work we had put our hearts and souls into. There was so much I looked forward to sharing with you here that is missing – and that hurts.
Even more seriously, the rug was pulled out from under students everywhere. I am proud of how Nebraska Law responded and we did our best to support students and employees who suddenly found themselves learning and working from home. From “old school” efforts like student phone trees, to more modern efforts in helping students navigating Zoom classrooms, we took efforts to the next level to retain our community.
Did we do it perfectly? No. Spring 2020 was an unprecedented time, and it continues to be so as I write this. There is no blueprint to help us establish best practices for building community when our community can’t be together in person. The past six months have taught us a lot of lessons – and while I hope we don’t have another occasion to apply them in the same context, opportunities to learn always provide opportunities for gratitude.
That feeling is the one I want to leave you with: gratitude. I could outline our response plans, discuss how our online program made us uniquely suited to make the switch, tell you what it felt like to watch our students graduate and move away without being able to hug them, but instead I want to thank our community for rising up to meet the challenges we faced this year.
When all the networking mixers, airport connections, conferences, and “hustle” is stripped away, what is left is the heart of the mission, the research, and the community. This has been a year for introspection, creativity, empathy, and making space for new ideas. While this isn’t the year I would’ve wished for, there is space for gratitude for what this year has been.
To our alumni, friends, and loved ones who have been impacted by COVID-19, our hearts and thoughts are with you.
Elsbeth Magilton Executive Director of Technology, Security, and Space Law Initiatives Space, Cyber, and Telecommunications Law Program Nebraska Governance and Technology Center
We finally made a choice about how the kids will be attending school during the first quarter amidst the pandemic.
We are under no obligation to validate it and fellow parents – neither are you.
This all sucks, big time. Everyone has different situations professionally and financially and by-and-large our leaders failed us. We’re all just doing the best we can with the options available. If you’re panicked, frustrated, angry, sad over back-to-school: I am too. Always up to talk and commiserate, however your kids are attending this fall.
For what it’s worth our kids will be going for the first 10 days so they can get to know their teachers and get some in-person instruction on using their chromebooks for remote learning, which they’ll switch to until we reassess in mid-October for the second quarter. 10 days is the time set by our district to stick with one method or the other – so 10 days in and one and half months remote. It is an imperfect plan, but still at least reduces exposure over the next 9 weeks, while acknowledging other needs.
Eleanor is starting kindergarten and I’ve lost so much sleep and cried many tears processing this.
I do want to say that I feel the folks in our public school system have had their hands tied and are doing the best that they can. We are so proud of the work our elementary school has put into keeping kids safe, using classroom cohorts, and with masks on.
“I heard a bird sing In the dark of December A magical thing And sweet to remember. ‘We are nearer to Spring Than we were in September,’ I heard a bird sing In the dark of December.”
Oliver Herford, I Heard a Bird Sing
I’m not a Christian, nor is my husband, but we celebrate Christmas. It’s kind of gross, I know. Ingenuine and dishonest. The holiday has so permeated our culture, particularly here in the Midwest, that I don’t have the heart to rip it away from my children. I’m not strong enough to deny them the tree, Santa, or jingle bells. Judge that for what you will.
I still feel, however, a need to be spiritual during winter each year – and not just in discussions of gratitude, giving, and family joy (which are also important) but in a deep and old way. I believe strongly in honoring the land and the earth. I don’t have any defined beliefs regarding what lays beyond our world and my suspicions vary day to day. One thing I’m sure of though, is that the cycle of the earth and the ground beneath our feet deeply matter in some ancient way.
To be clear, while it appeals to me somewhat, I’m not Wicca or Pagan either. I’m simply an agnostic descendant of Scandinavians who likes trees and experiencing all the seasons. It’s not a flashy station with a settled dogma, but it’s mine and here we are.
For the past few years I’ve held a special Winter Solstice dinner for my children by candlelight – this is the traditional “dark dinner” where we light every candle in the house and turn off every light bulb. We “light the night” to welcome back the sun as our days begin to stretch longer again. This year I added yule log decorating, some historical discussion of winter holidays that existed before Christmas existed, creating our own solstice lanterns, and a “moon walk”. The day was truly something special between my kids and I (my husband had to work that evening, but did join us for a follow up dark dinner the next evening).
I rarely require much decorum or silence my kids, but I asked for some while I read a few poems about nature, winter, and introspection. They agreed that serious moments, while potentially boring, “make things feel important.”
From our crafty family to you yours – Love, light, joy, and reflection.
“I speak cold silent words a stone might speak If it had words or consciousness, Watching December moonlight on the mountain peak, Relieved of mortal hungers, the whole mess Of needs, desires, ambitions, wishes, hopes. This stillness in me knows the sky’s abyss, Reflected by blank snow along bare slopes, If it had words or consciousness, Would echo what a thinking stone might say To praise oblivion words can’t possess As inorganic muteness goes its way. There’s no serenity without the thought serene, Owl-flight without spread wings, honed eyes, hooked beak, Absence without the meaning absence means. To rescue bleakness from the bleak, I speak cold silent words a stone might speak.”
Are you a working parent of young children passionate about your career? Sucks, huh?
I kid, but I get questions about career balance relatively often and I have funneled my advice into three key realities I try to live by. Because this is the internet, I’m going to preface this post by saying I’m not comparing outside-of-the-home working parents to working-from-home or stay-at-home parents. I wouldn’t dare enter that corner of internet comments. Rather just the self-derived advice I’ve come to live by that I’ve articulated primarily while on panels or speaking to recently graduated alumni (or panicked pregnant people).
(1) Guilt is not a merit badge. You don’t have to wear it. Do not pretend you don’t love travel or your job to ensure people know you also love your kid(s). It is OK to simultaneously love your job and your kid(s).
(2) You don’t have to say yes to everything to feel successful – professionally or with parent groups, sport teams, and schools. Edit ruthlessly for meaning and purpose to your life.
Stop equating “exhausted” with “successful” (I’m working on this one big time).
(3) Frame all professional decisions with the understanding that no matter how indispensable you are at work, if you get hit by a bus they will ultimately replace you.
Your family and friends can’t.
Finally, most of these are true whether you have kids or not. Balance is not something achieved and then archived. It’s a widely flailing place we rarely hit consistently. The best we can do is keep our feet firmly planted on the ground, stop trying to “keep up” with those around you, and do the best quality work you can do: at your office and in your home.
2018 was a year of going, building, hustling, and learning. From speaking at the Museum of Flight in Seattle in January to launching our NASA project in DC this fall, exploring my own state, trusting my expertise and my scholarly pursuits, my first sprint triathlon, my fourth official half marathon, and high rising ropes courses. The bed rock to all of this was a growing and deepening relationship with my husband and our children, who spent a lot of time camping in a tent this year.
In 2019 I want to do more staying. Not necessarily literally “staying,” as I still have to travel some (but hopefully less) but focusing on quality over quantity and understanding that “more” doesn’t always have to be the goal. Last year I hustled for my career, this year I want to be strategic and mindful. I want to sit and be present with my husband and my kids more often.
I want to focus less on “impressive” and more on impact.
I want to continue to spend lots of time outside and sleeping in the tent.
Love and light to all if you! Make 2019 a good one and honor whatever experiences 2018 laid at your feet.
My husband and children take in the Mt. Cutler hiking trail during a recent visit to Colorado Springs – I was there for business, but built in some family vacation before and after.
My phone is pretty old, in modern terms anyway. I’m multiple iphone generations behind. The new OS’s take more space and I have to comb through and dump or delete things to keep storage free. This constant review of my “data” as it were brings something into focus… beyond just, “I should probably upgrade my phone.”
In combing through my gallery tonight to make storage space, I realized that one month ago today I was leaving Austin to head into San Antonio. A week prior to that I was at NASA headquarters and then helping to run one of the largest space law specific conferences in the country – where we announced that we’d been awarded a NASA pilot program grant. Since then I’ve driven rural highways in Kansas, worked with students and attended the American Ballet Theater in New York City, and enjoyed the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. I took my kids trick or treating this week. Tonight I read them 7 books and I rocked my baby girl while I sang to her. This month I’ll be in my place, showing students rural Nebraska and showcasing the critical telecom and broadband infrastructure that keep modern agriculture alive. In December I’m back to DC. In January I’m speaking in front of colleagues from law schools around the country in New Orleans. And so on. I’m always in motion. I visit Universities and military bases all over the U.S., and soon abroad.
I don’t “have it all.” That’s a cliche proverb by now, but I’m “having all of it.” Every last bit. Lately, when someone casually says “how is it going?” I’ve been responding, “I’m exhausted.” It is true, but it’s not complete. I’m taking a moment now to reflect on my infinite gratitude. My position has taken me all over this country in the past six years, but my thankfulness extends beyond travel. I’m having my life. I’m in the driver’s seat.
While in the Chicago airport I received an email that several of my co-workers at the law college had nominated me for an internal award for those who show dedicated service to building our institution; for dedication to our students and our mission. Our Dean, a leader who I respect and invests in his team, selected me from these nominations. Sitting in a dirty airport terminal on a Friday night, away from my kids, cleaning discarded gum off my bags (ugh), I had tears streaming down my face. They believe in me – because I believe in Nebraska.
The prairie is in my bones. I love where I am from, though I didn’t always. When I was 18 if you’d told me I’d be buying a house and raising my family just one zip code over from where I grew up I’d have been horrified. Foolish girl, bless her. She was impulsive, focused on fun and attention, and well, didn’t get into many schools. Nebraska held her. I found my undergraduate education at a small local liberal arts school. I could have left for law school, I got into several schools, but we didn’t. I had reasons, talking points, but I really couldn’t tell you why my husband (then fiance/boyfriend) and I didn’t take that opportunity to move. Educated here, living here, raising my kids here, the open horizon is just a part of who I am. My children are having a picturesque life, and I’m more than a little obsessed with their awesomeness.
I have a career that is growing and changing and taking me to places and opportunities I never anticipated. I’m sometimes restless, being human and all, and around that time some unusual and surprising thing comes along that keeps me engaged and growing where I’m planted.
Life isn’t perfect. I’m tired. I gained all my weight back from my last weight loss (shrug). I forget to do things. Emails sometimes go unanswered. I put my foot in my mouth almost daily. I drink too much cheap wine (see also; weight gain). I sacrifice things I don’t want to – I’m not the best friend, sister, daughter, wife, co-worker, or mother I know I could be if I could any one of things the attention it deserves. I absolutely miss events and important moments in my children’s life because I’m working (that one is the real knife in the gut).
But here it is – I’m having it all of it.
All of life. The excitement of professional growth. The deep bonds of building a family with a partner I cherish. The fulfillment of raising children… the patience and tolerance built from raising children. The ups the downs, the joy.
All of this, one zip code over from where I started. That, right now, is something I’m in awe of.
A friend posted to my wall on Facebook yesterday shortly after Trump’s declaration of the creation of a Space Force at the Space Council meeting (primarily dedicated to space traffic managements move to Commerce) asking for my reaction. Since yesterday afternoon I’ve seen plenty of memes mocking the idea.
In quotes below is my response to my friend. My expertise is still developing and growing, but here are my two cents, mostly intending to simply clarify the need (and long-time existence) of security threats in space.
“Despite a lot of folks laughing at Trump thinking this sounds ridiculous, it’s actually not (this is not an endorsement of him, to be very clear on that key point), in fact it has been discussed for awhile. Also, know that we haven’t yet seen an actual directive, only the verbal announcement at the council meeting which most of us were watching for the space traffic management directive. Anyhow, back to the space force, for context, earlier this year the House and Senate’s proposals on space organization differed significantly this year: the House version of the National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2018 called for the organization of a Space Corps by January 1, 2019 a proposal that was not adopted in the Senate version of the bill and which was opposed by Secretary of Defense James Mattis. Following that there has been significant (if not a bit predatory) criticism on the US Air Force’s handling of space and their procurement process. The USAF has too many friends in the senate to get something like this through there but this directive bypasses that. Related, lots of folks seem to think this is ridiculous and I admit “space force” sounds that way. But I urge people to keep in mind the entire satellite industry including our military space assets. This is a major part of our national infrastructure. In fact GPS satellites are responsible for validating every financial transaction happening electronically in the country. Security of both commercial and public sector assets in space is fundamental to our national security. Further, wars are already fought and space, not with space ships but via satellite nudging, jamming and interference – given the new tech it is a major part of the new war-fighting mission set. Personally I felt the US Air Force was up to the task with some new organizational planning but others obviously felt differently.”
To clarify one of my points above, the administration can’t entirely bypass congress. Trump will need Congress to rewrite Title 10 of the United States Code that specifies the roles and missions of the armed forces.
I can tell graduation is near. I enjoyed attending the Nebraska Law end-of-year alumni awards luncheon this afternoon and I’m looking forward to a dinner this evening with the amazing undergraduates in Political Science Intelligence Community Scholars program. I’m a sentimental dork, but indulge me. Each year we support students to the best of our ability. I, with many others, strive to provide opportunities for intellectual growth, real-world practical experiences, and for bonding and engagement with peers (future colleagues, y’all!) for all the students I work with. We can’t spend the time with each individual we wish we could but each year I get to know an amazing group of people – and each year yet another amazing group graduates. They each face successes and struggles in the years following their graduation, but whether they know it or not they’re constantly on my mind. It is truly a joy and privilege to engage in the world by training the legal workforce that supports innovative technology and serves our country.
As with the careers they will all go on to have, my own has bad days and good days, but I can always say this: I believe in what we do here. I believe the law must grow and adapt and legal education must reflect that. I believe the impact Nebraska alumni – undergrads to JDs to LLMs – have on the world makes it a better place.
I am so unbelievably proud to be a part of so many journeys.
Boldly Go, class of 2018. I’m cheering for you… but you should probably get back to studying because finals are next week and to my LL.M.s – one word.
Elsbeth Magilton 
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