·
Wednesday, 31 October 2007 –
HALLOWEEN!
/\_/\(.o.o.) > ^ < …MEOW!
The Grandma Gathering…
Mark is happily home
from the impromptu Grandma-Gathering in KC.
Getting family
together is almost always a good thing and this gathering was a very good
thing. His grandma is weak, but still
full of ideas and drive. She rejoiced in
seeing all the grandbabies and grown grandkids and her daughters, et al.
Grandma is a role
model for making hard choices – and for living life while she can. Dealing with death and dying should not be so
hard and the way Grandma is orchestrating hers is consistent with the grace and
dignity with which she lives her life.
When the time
comes, we will choose a fine summer day and meet in the Black Hills to scatter
her ashes. A picnic under the pines will
follow.
I’ll bring the
soap bubbles.
The Train Ride…
In Ukraine we
regularly spent 24-hours (each way) cramped up in the train on our rather
frequent trips to and from Kiev and Kerch.
The trip from KC to Santa Fe via AMTRAK isn’t so primitive or colorful,
but there were long delays.
And the AMTRAK train
does not service the capital city. There
is no reliable transportation to and from the tiny fly-speck of a town where
the depot is, so a drive is involved.
The train was delayed several hours (both ways) so I spent time playing
with the dog, reading a novel and writing correspondence waiting for my spouse
to arrive home from his pilgrimage.
Ticket prices in
Ukraine are cheap - $10 and that gives you a fold down bed in a compartment for
4. You can curl up in relative privacy
on that 24-hour rail ride.
AMTRAK gets a
loooooot of cash for a basic coach seat.
Not very comfortable on a 17 hour (plus a 3-hour delay on the returne
trip) trip nor is it private.
And no free hot
tea either!
·
Tuesday, 30 October 2007
The true meaning of life is to
plant trees, under whose shade
you do not expect to sit.
- Nelson Henderson, author
NanoWriMo (Google it) on my Mind
Will I really do it? Should I really do it?
I have done little to no creative writing for
several months. If I love to write, why
am I not writing? Should I force the
writing? Am I just uncommitted? (Should I be committed? Ha!)
Sigh.
Probing Question of the Day (for Me)
“Is there anything that you are feeling rebellious
or ungrateful about? Will you allow your
heavenly Father-Mother’s Love to heal all your rebellion and ingratitude so
they won’t keep troubling you?” (From the CedarS weekly newsletter)
This is the question I needed to ask/answer
when we had the unexpected guests!
Better late than never!
I have so much to be grateful for and I am
grateful. But maybe a bit
rebellious. 8-)
35 Days without Complaint…
Christine Kane (Google her delightful blog)
is taking a 35 day (5 weeks) challenge to lick the bad habits of complaining, criticizing,
whining and gossiping.
Sounds good to me. We can live more
abundantly when we live consciously.
Do right and fear not. (Mary Baker Eddy had
that saying posted above the doorway in her home.)
·
Monday, 29 October 2007
“I rehabilitate dogs. I train people.” Says Ceasar Milan
I need to be the
leader of the pack, or so says dog expert Cesar Milan., the Dog Whisperer. Sweet Zia is usually pretty well behaved, but
on the leash, it is clear that I am merely the tail on a kite. I bounce along behind this 3-legged marvel as
she charges up and down the high desert.
I guess she has me
almost trained! Well, now it is my turn
to work with her.
This morning, I
spend an hour following the routine outlined on the Dog Whisperer’s website. (
http://www.cesarmillaninc.com/ ) Zia is responsive to the exercise; a quick
study.
As we work, I
frequently provide her with irresistible nibbles. She is delicate, taking the offer between
gentle lips. We walk side-by-side for
most of the walk. When she pulls, I
change direction and stride off. She
catches on and the walk is quite a pleasure.
It is an hour well
spent.
·
Sunday, 28 October 2007
Moonlight Under the Aspens
Zia woke me at about
2AM. She seemed concerned about
something. Maybe because Mark is nowhere
to be found. I heard her scrambling up
the stairs to the loft, her toenails clattering across the bare floors up
there.
I got up to see
why my usually complacent dog was so active in the night. As I emerged into the kitchen area, I was
rewarded with the sight of the aspen tree outside the window, awash in the
stark, shimmering light of the harvest moon.
Maybe it was the moonlight that engaged Zia’s attention.
I meandered out to
the hammock and reclined in it for a few minutes, gazing up at the night
sky. The yard was as bright as a theater
set. Miss Zia, sniffed around, happily
investigating and finding meaning in the new scents.
After a few
minutes in the cold night air, we drifted back into the dome-home. I headed back to my lonely bed and curled up
under the cozy red and black flannel sheets and the comforters. Zia gave me a few air licks from the edge of
the bed and then settled in for the rest of the night.
This I Believe (NPR Program) Personal
Philosophies of Men and Women
I love to linger
over Sunday morning coffee and listen to the wonderful programs aired on NPR
stations. “This I Believe” is a
particular favorite of mine.
I listened with
delight as today’s audio essay unfolded.
(See it in print below). I like
the word pictures and can easily imagine the man doing a daily dance of joy in
his dining room – another kind of feast; one for the soul rather than the
body. I like to think abut the “scary
pleasure of beginning something new”
Maybe because I am still in the midst of beginning something new.
I am grateful for
this program.
(The essay that
follows is excerpted from the NPR website and includes a link at the bottom)
Dancing All the
Dances as Long as I Can
Robert Fulghum has
written seven bestsellers including All I Really Need to Know I Learned in
Kindergarten. A native of Waco, Texas, he was a Unitarian minister for 22
years and taught painting and philosophy. Fulghum lives in Seattle and Crete.
“My
passion for tango disguises a fearfulness. I fear the shrinking of life that
goes with aging.”
Weekend Edition Sunday, October 28, 2007 · I believe in dancing.
I believe it is in my nature to dance by virtue of the beat of my heart, the pulse of my blood and the music in my mind. So I dance daily.
The seldom-used dining room of my house is now an often-used ballroom — an open space with a hardwood floor, stereo and a disco ball. The CD-changer has six discs at the ready: waltz, swing, country, rock 'n' roll, salsa and tango.
Each morning when I walk through the house on the way to make coffee, I turn on the music, hit the "shuffle" button and it's Dance Time! I dance alone to whatever is playing. It's a form of existential aerobics, a moving meditation.
Tango is a recent enthusiasm. It's a complex and difficult dance, so I'm up to three lessons a week, three nights out dancing, and I'm off to Buenos Aires for three months of immersion in tango culture.
The first time I went tango dancing I was too intimidated to get out on the floor. I remembered another time I had stayed on the sidelines, when the dancing began after a village wedding on the Greek island of Crete. The fancy footwork confused me. "Don't make a fool of yourself," I thought. "Just watch."
Reading my mind, an older woman dropped out of the dance, sat down beside me, and said, "If you join the dancing, you will feel foolish. If you do not, you will also feel foolish. So, why not dance?"
And, she said she had a secret for me. She whispered, "If you do not dance, we will know you are a fool. But if you dance, we will think well of you for trying."
Recalling her wise words, I took up the challenge of tango.
A friend asked me if my tango-mania wasn't a little ambitious. "Tango? At your age? You must be out of your mind!"
On the contrary: It's a deeply pondered decision. My passion for tango disguises a fearfulness. I fear the shrinking of life that goes with aging. I fear the boredom that comes with not learning and not taking chances. I fear the dying that goes on inside you when you leave the game of life to wait in the final checkout line.
I seek the sharp, scary pleasure that comes from beginning something new — that calls on all my resources and challenges my mind, my body and my spirit, all at once.
My goal now is to dance all the dances as long as I can, and then to sit down contented after the last elegant tango some sweet night and pass on because there wasn't another dance left in me.
So, when people say, "Tango? At your age? Have lost your mind?" I answer,
"No, and I don't intend to."
Independently produced for Weekend Edition Sunday by Jay Allison and Dan Gediman with John Gregory and Viki Merrick.
Dogs as teacher
Please, just one
more example of “This I Believe”! The
essay below, which I listened to as I drove to church one fine September Sunday
morning in Santa Fe, is what pushed me over the edge. My heart sang and I knew I needed a dog in my
life!
Read on…(or visit
the website and hear it read by the charming author…FYI: months after this bad
dog learned new tricks, he got married!)
Teaching a Bad Dog New Tricks
Before he met his chocolate Labrador, Duncan, trial attorney David Buetow was a lifelong bachelor. Buetow is now engaged to his girlfriend, Carrie. The three of them live together on Chicago's north side, where Buetow and Duncan frequently run. Photo Courtesy of David Buetow
Weekend Edition Sunday, September 16, 2007 · I believe in my dog.
I believe in the way he lives his life, and I try to emulate him. I strive to gain his level of happiness in the simplest of things. Like the way he approaches each meal with endless appreciation and even joy. While I struggle to decide what to eat from full cupboards and lament what I don't have, he circles the floor, excitedly anticipating the very same meal, in the very same portion, at the very same time every day.
I believe in how he lives in the present. As my day fills with stress, crowded commutes and endless deadlines, I think of Duncan home alone. His day was probably boring, but he's ready to move right past it once we're together.
I believe in his egalitarian treatment of everyone despite race, creed or appearance. He never pre-judges. Before I had him, I considered myself "street smart," avoiding eye contact with people I didn't know or didn't think I wanted to know. Running through Chicago neighborhoods with Duncan has changed all that. Now when people smile at us, I smile back, and if Duncan stops to say hello I stop and greet them, too.
I never had a dog before; I got Duncan at the urging of a friend who had probably grown as tired of my bachelor behavior as I had. My long work nights and weekends always ended with a lonely run, a bourbon or two, or a phone call to someone I didn't really listen to. All I talked about was me and what was wrong with my life. My friends stopped asking me out because I was always either at work or talking about work.
I had dates with women who would mistakenly think I was loyal to them but I never returned their calls or thanked them for the cookies they left on my doorstep. I was what some people would call "a dog" — a bad dog. Not one person depended on me, nor I upon them. One Sunday I woke up at noon, and I suddenly noticed how silent my house and my life was. I realized I couldn't expect any valued relationship until I created one first. So I got Duncan.
All of a sudden, where no one depended on me, he did. It was extreme detox from selfishness: Let me out. Feed me. Clean up after me. Watch me sleep. I found that I actually liked being relied upon. When I realized that I could meet his needs, I also realized he met mine.
I believe in the nobility of Duncan's loyalty, and his enthusiasm. Every time I come in the door, he's waiting to greet me with glee.
Now, when my girlfriend comes over, I get up and run to the door to greet her like I learned to do from my dog.
Independently produced for Weekend Edition Sunday by Jay Allison and Dan Gediman with John Gregory and Viki Merrick.
·
Saturday, 27 October 2007
The House-Sitters Become Couch-Sitters…
The first yard
sale we go to on this fine Fall day results in a surprising arrangement.
I am eager to find
a couch. But I am low on cash and know
that at the end of our AmeriCorps/VISTA programs next Fall (or when the
dome-home sells) we are likely to abandon many of our possessions. I am looking for a one year couch.
Several yard sales
advertise couches, so I set out with high hopes of finding something suitable.
We arrive at yard
sale #1 and begin perusing the enticing collection of possessions spread across
the lawn. I try on a beat up cowboy hat,
strike a pose and receive a sweet smile of encouragement from my spouse.
One can never have
too many hats and in Santa Fe, people wear them. I add it to my small pile of treasures.
Finally I approach
the woman who is having the sale to inquire about the sofa advertised for sale. It is indoors. We will have to wait a few minutes till her
spouse return and then she will show it to us.
While I wait, I continue to poke through the merchandise. I overhear the woman explaining to another
person why they are selling their things.
I learn they are heading ff on an adventure in South America. Anything not sold will b carted off to her
sister’s crowded home for safe keeping while they are abroad.
Soon she takes us
inside to see the sofa. It is a bit run
down, but in my price range. I explain
to her that this couch will probably only be ours for a year.
Before I could
make an offer, the woman surprises me with one herself.
“Why not take our
good couch and love seat for a year?”
she queried. “We will be gone a
year.”
I look at her with
wide eyes and l then laugh a gentle laugh.
“I have a good feeling about you,” she said.
And so it is. We will be couch-sitters for a year.
The Universe
certainly has a sense of humor and always finds delightful ways to meet our
needs, if we are open to the offers that spill out!
I walk away from
yard sale #1 with my new-old cowboy hat parked jauntily on my head, smiling and
saying a little prayer of thanks.
Yard Sale #2
Yard sale #2
yields a few more treasures. We find a bag-o’balls
- 50 old tennis balls just right for a happy ball-chasing dog like Miss Zia and
I find a 50-cent copy of a like-new hardback book that has long been on my
personal to-read list.
At another sale,
Miss Zia commands the attention and we engage in a long and pleasant
conversation with several locals. At
another sale, we snag some very “tasteful” holiday lights, well suited for any
Santa Fe home - the string of lights
looks like tiny red peppers. There are a
few more books in my bag before the yardsale excursion ends for the day.
Off to the Train Station
Our original plans
for a long, lazy weekend changed once we decided Mark needed to be with his
family in KC for Christmas in October.
I drive Mark to
the AMTRAK station. Though Santa Fe is
the capital, the train does not come through here. The engineering logistics of bringing the
railroad to Santa Fe made the tiny dust-covered town of Lamy, NM a better
location for the depot. I kiss Mark goodbye
at the depot and head home. He will be
in KC in time for breakfast.
·
Friday, 26 October 2007
Saturday is Make a Difference Day –
America’s largest
day of doing good is on the 4th Saturday of October each year. The AmeriCorps set Mark works with each made
arrangements to participate in a local community volunteer activity.
Mark arranged to
wok with an underserved after-school program a few miles south of town. He spent much of the day reworking their
neglected computer systems and then interacting with the kids.
Mark is a kid
magnet.
He came home from
his day with happy plans to provide ten computer workshops for these kids. He will have fun and so will the kids.
The facility needs
so many things, but most of all, they need committed, caring people.
·
Thursday, 25 October 2007
Flat Tires and Realtors…
Mark burst through
the back door. His arrival is
unexpected. He left in the Jeep just as
Miss Zia and I set off for our morning walk.
Now, less than an hour later, he is home.
The Jeep has a
flat tire.
The jack and the
spare are here at the “estate”. So, Mark
got a morning walk too. He got the tire
and jack, returned to the Jeep in Dakota Jack and has arrived home again.
I am to drive him
back to the Jeep, but first we must wait for the realtor who is scheduled to
visit this morning.
The realtor is
late. Mark and I sip coffee and look at
the Koi.
Mark tries not to
think about the Jeep (with out of state plates) disappearing.
The realtor is
late.
Flat tires are
going around. Earlier this week one of
the other AmeriCorps volunteers did not make it to Culture Day. He called (from out of state where he was
visiting his girlfriend) and said he had a flat tire. Too bad, he would have to miss the museum
field trip. His call provided fuel for
gossip.
So, today Mark
must call in and say, “I have a flat tire.
No really….” 8-)
AmeriCorps is not VISTA
Mark is working in
AmeriCorps not VISTA. VISTA has been
around since the 1960’s and there is much focus on the war on poverty, a phrase
that seems an anachronism in this day and age.
What is AmeriCorps?
From
Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:
AmeriCorps is an American
network of more than 3,000 non-profit organizations, public agencies,
and faith-based organizations. It was created
in 1993 by President
Bill
Clinton. More than 70,000 individuals join AmeriCorps each year. There have
been more than 400,000 members since 1994. The work done by these groups ranges from public
education to environmental clean-up.[1]
AmeriCorps is a division of the Corporation For National
and Community Service, which also oversees the Senior
Corps and Learn and Serve America. Collectively,
these three programs represent a total of more than 2 million members in
service each year. AmeriCorps itself is split into three main divisions,
including AmeriCorps State and National, VISTA (Volunteers in Service to
America), and NCCC (National Civilian Community Corps).
AmeriCorps dates to the early 1990s.[2]
Research has illustrated that AmeriCorps programs have a variety of effects on
civic education, education, and public service.[3]
·
Wednesday, 24 October 2007
VISTA: the War on
Poverty Continues…
I tap away at my computer trying to complete the “administrivia” demanded
by the bureaucratic organization I will be part of for the next year. I laugh softly when I see the efforts to
explain why we must accomplish this wok online.
“To save paper” it says. Perhaps,
but after each section I complete there is a note that advises me to print the
form and submit it at training.
So much for
saving paper.
I am off to
VISTA training soon and, like my Peace Corps and Air Force adventures, I find
that people have many questions about just what is I will be doing and why I am
doing it.
A quick Google
directs me to Wikapedia where a brief, dry description spells out the rudiments
of this organization which has been around almost as long as Peace Corps.
So, what is VISTA?
From Wikipedia, the free
encyclopedia:
VISTA or Volunteers in Service to America was created by Lyndon
Johnson's Economic Opportunity Act of 1964
as the domestic version of the Peace Corps.
Initially, the program increased employment opportunities for conscientious
people who felt they could contribute tangibly to the War
on Poverty. Volunteers served in communities throughout the U.S., focusing
on enriching educational programs and vocational training for the nation's
underprivileged classes.
VISTA’s legislative purpose, as defined under the
Domestic Volunteer Service Act (DVSA) of 1973, is to supplement efforts to
fight poverty in low-income communities by engaging Americans from all walks of
life in a year of full time service. VISTA members support the program’s
purpose through three primary objectives: 1) encouraging volunteer service at
the local level, 2) generating the commitment of private sector resources, and
3) strengthening local agencies and organizations that serve low-income
communities. There are currently over 5,000 VISTA members serving in over 1,000
projects throughout the nation.
During the Clinton Administration, VISTA was brought
under the newly created Corporation for National
and Community Service. It was also made part of the new AmeriCorps
program, and was renamed "AmeriCorps*VISTA." VISTA members sign up
with a host agency to a full-time term of service, 365 days over the year. In
return for their service, members are provided with orientation and training, a living stipend calculated at no less than
95% of the poverty line, settling in and transportation costs, child care
benefits and a basic health care plan. Upon completion of their one-year term,
VISTA members have the option of receiving $1,200 or an education award of
$4,725.
A Vow of Poverty…Sort
of!
No, not a vow of poverty, but a really close up view of poverty.
The next year, I will learn first hand what it is like to live at the
poverty level right here in the USA.
Yes, in my earlier career in the Air Force, I was briefly on WIC, a food
program for mothers of young children, but most of my adult life I have been
able to survive happily and even save money - even during our Peace Corps
experiences.
I am not St Francis of Assisi, taking a vow of poverty, but my living
stipend amounts to $900 a month. Not
much in a community like Santa Fe where the rich and beautiful rub elbows with
the very poor.
Living at poverty level, even for a controlled period, can have an
eye-opening effect on people. When
dollar signs haunt your dreams, your dreams can become shortsighted or even disappear.
Of course my orchestrated experience with poverty is not as toxic as living
and breathing poverty day in and day out.
But it will be, is, an opportunity to see how much of America lives in a
country where there are many very rich people who have no clue what it is like.
Of course one year of living this way is not the same as the life sentence
that creates poverty – limited resources, limited education, disease, childcare
and medical challenges, prejudices, lack of skills or a network, etc…
I come to this year with experience, support systems, and education,
options, resources. I will be stretched
thin, but I will survive.
My Work?
I will use my skills (at the NMCL) to recruit volunteers to tutor students
in basic literacy or English as a second language.
We forget there are many people in the USA who can barely read and/or cannot
write. They are adept at hiding
this. We like to think Americans can
read – so many of us graduate from high school, and you cannot graduate from
high school without learning to read.
Ha! Sadly, you can.
English as a Second Language (ESL) opportunities abound these days and
these are great for people who read and write in another native language, but
my passion is those for whom the system has failed. We need Adult Basic Language (ABL) programs
and we need people who will spend 2-3 hours a week working with individuals to
help them meet their own literacy goals: being able to read to a grandchild, to
write a check of to compete a job application or get a driver’s license or a
GED or a better job.
Many Americans live in such a way that they never meet these people face to
face. They do not know they exist among
us.
This VISTA year will help me meet these people and look them in the eye.
In a year, I will move on, but during this year I will learn and grow and
maybe make a difference or at least plant a seed.
I am so grateful for this opportunity…
·
Tuesday, 23 October 2007
Culture Day - Four Museums/Eight Hours!
I am not sure I
can keep up with the agenda. I am not
sure I WANT to keep up.
The art of
visiting a museum, in my opinion, involves a leisurely stroll, not a death
march! I hope there is no test at the
end! I better pay attention!
I am actually just
tagging along on Mark’s workday.
AmeriCorps has some kind of Culture-Day policy that requires members to
regularly take a day to visit local museums.
Santa Fe has marvelous museums – this should be a joy.
But four museums
in one short day?
Chili, Hot Apple Cider and Toasted
Marshmallows…
The plan for this
evening is to bring the AmeriCorps volunteers and the staff home with us. We will circle around the firepit on the
patio and share some chili and Mark’s delicious jalapeño pie, sip steamy cider
and toast the mandatory marshmallows.
Maybe we will sing a few verses of kumbaya under the almost full moon.
·
Sunday, 21 October 2007
The First Snow of the Season…
Snow flurries
around us, dances in the wind, as we unload the many brown bags of groceries
from the pickup truck. I feel as if I am
inside a snow globe and someone has given it a god shake.
The snow is
unexpected. Wind was predicted and so
were the bitter winds, but snow?
No.
Snow is so magical
and even more so when it is the first snow of the season. Unexpected bounty.
Climbing back up
to 7,000 feet from Albuquerque, the panorama of sky and mountains spread out
ahead of us is painted in shades of gray, purple, black, blue. In the distance, what would turned out to be
snow flurries, resembles fog or clouds.
White drifts around the shoulders of the mountains like a cashmere
scarf.
Tumbleweeds scoot
across the highway. I laugh, remembering
old westerns and the Roadrunner cartoons which often showed tumbling
tumbleweeds, tumbling along. When the
snow begins to swirl around us, I take delight in the idea of cactus and
snowfall. I am a Midwesterner at heart
and easily amused!
We settle in for
the evening. Visions of lighting the
fireplace, sipping hot cocoa and sharing big bowls of popcorn fill my
head. Of course before the little
fantasy could play out, the flurries stopped, almost as unexpectedly as they
began.
I stood at the
window a few moments, waiting for act two to begin.
Finally I returned
to the mundane chore of putting away our month’s-supply of groceries.
·
Saturday, 20 October 2007
Mark’s Grandmother is an Amazing Woman.
Grandma H. is in
her nineties, but still so strong, independent and filled with great ideas and
humor. (Her own sister still rides
horses!) She has been battling, with
grace, some significant physical challenges.
The time has come when she decided that the treatment may be worse than
the condition.
She called the
hospice facility and discussed her decisions with a gentle nurse.
When my own mother
entered hospice, I was naïve (or ignorant, o maybe in denial) about what this
step means. She died before I could get
to her side.
Grandma H. will
celebrate a joyous family Christmas in October.
That is fairly certain. Next
weekend the family will gather to share memories and stories and photos.
It is wonderful to
watch.
It is sad too.
·
Friday, 19 October 2007
Dawn Patrol and Doggie Duty
I am out before
the crack of dawn trekking in my combat gear – my old cammie field jacket and
combat boots make fine dog-walking apparel.
The wind whips and my fingers wonder why I do not have my gloves on.
Today I have a
full day at work. Dog will have to stay
home alone. How will she fare? I have been quite spoiled, spending time with
her almost 24/7 since Zia became part of our home.
I too have my
issues. Not separation anxiety, but
others. It has been years since I have
had to report to an office at a specified time, day in and day out. I have had considerable autonomy since 2002.
My real office
hours do not officially start till after Veteran’s Day. But today and tomorrow, I will be in a
workshop and dog will be home alone, amusing herself.
Next week I have
several day-long activities away from home and the following week I go out of
town for several days of training. Mark
will be the one on Dawn Patrol on those days…
·
Thursday, 18 October 2007 – Chip’s Happy
B’Day! 8-)
My Personal Trainer Will Not Pee in the
Yard!
Miss Zia refuses
to go out into the dog run. She thinks
she will have to stay there I guess.
She does not get
far away from her people.
This means I must
faithfully don my dog walking clothes and take a morning hike each day. Miss Zia does a doggie dance when she sees me
settle into a chair to pull on my boots.
She is no
slouch. When we set off, she sniffs the
air and takes off like the lead sled dog in the Iditarod! She may be a skinny girl with three legs, but
she can pull and she can set a challenging pace.
I am breathing
hard after as we crest the hill about a mile away in the deserted fields Zia
has claimed as her “office”. She sniffs
around, checking shrubs and cactus for “messages” from other dogs and finally “does
her business.”
She “downloads”
and is quickly off and running for joy again.
I trail behind, hanging onto her leash for dear life.
I am breathing
hard and I can feel my stomach muscles getting taunt and firm. Thanks to my trainer who will not pee in the
yard!
A Happy E-Mail…
I love to open my
e-mail each day – there are always delightful and wonderful surprises. The one reprinted below has kept me smiling
all day. People are good! 8-)
Posted by: "CLEO L" (My wonderful cousin in Chicago)
Wed Oct 17, 2007 6:00 pm (PST)
….Recently the Chicago Tribune ran a story about the enormous cost to send m-bags of books to out of the way libraries, like the Caleb Library in Malawi. I am packing many of the books I have purchased and used in my classroom over the last twenty odd years to ship there, and the article decried my concern over postage. How many books could I really afford to ship out?
I went to my mail box at school this morning and noted a letter in it. Did not
recognize the name on the return address, but the suburb is about twenty
minutes away. I opened it and found a check for fifty dollars from a former
school teacher/avid reader who wants to be a part in sending books to Malawi,
the Caleb Library. I have a box almost ready, so will use this money to send
the first box; I almost cried, holding the check and realizing how much God
wants these little kids to have books and read. Aren't perfect strangers
wonderful? Or are they angels in disguise?
Anxious to get my first box of books to the Caleb Library, Cleo
PS A Thousand Books, which ships to Romania by a RPCV has offered to ship any
books that are European and not suitable for Malawi. This offer is great for
many books that may not be of interest to the children in Mawingo's school.
The Chicago Tribune Article Follows….
Postal rate change
has impact around globe
By Mary Owen | Tribune staff reporter & RPCV Philippines October 10,
2007
Cleo Lampos has a classroom full of books. On the eve of retirement, she
had planned to ship her materials -- accumulated from 26 years of teaching --
to a school library housed in a mud hut with a tin roof in rural southern
Africa. (CALEB Library Project: www.pulverpages.com
)
Over the last six years, the 4th-grade teacher from Oak Lawn has sent hundreds
of books to that school in Malawi, where 30 students share one English language
textbook, the Internet doesn't exist and electricity is a part-time service.
But last spring, the U.S. Postal Service eliminated some of its international
boat mail services, which included an option to send books for a dollar a pound
to any country.
Hundreds of grass-roots efforts in the Chicago area and across the U.S., many
of them through individuals like Lampos, are unsure whether they can continue
supporting libraries and other English-language programs around the world. Some
say their efforts will be virtually shut down.
"It's going to be a small fortune for me," said Lampos, 61, who
teaches at Nathan Hale Intermediate School in Crestwood. "I'm not sure if
I can continue sending books."
On May 14, the Postal Service cut international surface mail, which moved
packages via ships, to save money, said Yvonne Yoerger, spokeswoman for the
Postal Service. Before the change, materials could be mailed in
66-pound-capacity bags, called M-bags, for the special rate of $1 per pound.
Now, M-bags can go only via air mail. The domestic book rate also increased in
May.
Lampos said she has been sending about 100 pounds of books, ranging in topics
from insects to poetry, to Malawi once or twice a year. Now, shipping 100
pounds of books will cost her at least $395 -- or $43.45 for the first 11
pounds and $3.95 for each additional pound.
Yoerger said federal law requires that postal products and services pay for
their costs, and international service mail was not. Route limitations of the
shipping companies that contracted with the Postal Service often resulted in
packages having to be sent via airplane, even though the sender paid the cheaper
rate.
"It's not a judgment by the Postal Service on whether these efforts are
worthwhile or not," Yoerger said. "We are required to meet our legal
mandates."
More than 6,000 people have signed an online petition to restore the service,
and activists nationwide have formed the Coalition to Restore Low Rate Shipping
for Humanitarian Purposes to lobby for its return, including non-profit groups
such as Friends of Malawi Book Project and Books for Israel.
U.S. Rep. Danny Davis (D-Chicago), who is chairman of the Subcommittee on the
Federal Workforce, Postal Service and District of Columbia, said he has
received calls and e-mails from more than a dozen groups nationwide. Davis said
restoring the $1-a-pound book rate is unlikely because the service simply cannot
pay for itself.
"I'm personally very empathetic, but I'm saying we're not in a position to
make any promises," Davis said Tuesday. "I think it's very noble, but
you also have to have a way to pay for the nobility."
Shipped packages comprised only 2.7 percent of all international mailing from
the U.S. in 2006, due in part to unreliability, Yoerger said. Packages can take
two to four months to arrive. There was an 18.4 percent drop in international
surface mailing from 2005 to 2006, and demand has dropped steadily in the last
decade, she said.
The Kiwanis Club of Lombard sends a set of encyclopedias annually to schools in
developing countries, but with the rate increase, it will likely be able to
send the books only every three to four years, said Kiwanis member David
Gorman. The club's set of roughly 20 encyclopedias and some other reference
materials have helped start libraries in Ethiopia, Dominica, Albania and
Lesotho, he said.
"The advantages you can give these kids with a good library can start them
off on a good path and create a lot of opportunity not only for them, but for
their family and village," said Gorman, who served as a Peace Corps
volunteer in Lesotho.
Gorman of Downers Grove said books are a valuable commodity for teachers in
developing countries where populations are struggling to improve their
English-language skills and compete in a global economy. And reference
materials about health, science and geography curtail a frighteningly common
practice of rural teachers -- teaching inaccurate information because they
don't know the answers.
Sidney Fey of Rogers Park is one of hundreds of Peace Corps volunteers who have
built libraries during their service with the help of their families, friends
and the special M-bag rate. Fey, who served in Mongolia from 2004 to 2006,
received about 200 books and magazines from his family and high school in Avon
in central Illinois. The donations built a library at his high school in
Mongolia, where they didn't have an English-Mongolian dictionary.
"They basically had nothing when I arrived," said Fey, a Loyola
University graduate student. "There was no way that I would have been able
to purchase those resources where I was stationed."
Aside from promoting English-speaking skills in developing countries, many see
their packages as declarations of international friendship.
For the last 17 years, Ramune Kubilius of Evanston has carefully selected books
and magazines for a more private library. While visiting Europe in 1990, the
Northwestern University librarian watched as Vilija Arlauskiene, an English
teacher working in a rural Lithuanian village, pored over some of her
magazines. When she returned to Chicago, Kubilius started sending Arlauskiene
used Reader's Digest magazines and other leisure reading, including romance
novels.
"Every parcel brought a real joy to my home," Arlauskiene said via
e-mail. "I can still remember the great pleasure I felt reading novels by
Danielle Steel. I doubt if I have ever read anything better than 'Now and
Forever.' This way I could improve my bookish English, I could feel the real
everyday language."
Arlauskiene has built a sizable library and has shared many books, which also included mysteries, cowboy adventures and children's books, with her students. She said books in Lithuania are expensive and not accessible to the masses.
Kubilius previously spent about $60 a year shipping books. Now, it could cost
her at least $234 a year to continue shipping her roughly 20-pound shoe boxes
three times a year. It's unclear whether the several dozen books stacked in her
home will make it to Lithuania.
"Now I have to look at other options that aren't going to break the
bank," Kubilius said.
The problem is that she enjoys finding new homes for old books. "I think
it's a common trait for librarians," she said.
Pat Plonski, executive director of Minnesota-based Books for Africa, said he
has received several phone calls and e-mails from people looking for
alternatives for getting books to Africa, especially in the last month,
possibly because people were cleaning out and preparing for the start of the
school year.
Unfortunately, Books for Africa and other organizations that deal with large
volume shipments are not the best alternatives for people trying to get a few
hundred books to a specific place, Plonski said. Books for Africa does not use
M-bag. Instead, it ships about 35,000 books monthly in 40-foot containers --
about the size of a semitrailer truck -- to universities, government agencies
and non-profits, which usually distribute the materials themselves.
Still, Plonski sympathizes with groups trying to help stock a faraway library
with specially selected books, such as gently used Harry Potter books from a
personal collection or an easy-to-use picture dictionary picked up at a neighborhood
garage sale.
"Those M-bags don't have a lot of volume, but they are still very
critical," Plonski said. "It's all about getting the right book to
the right place."
PLEASE
Sign the Petition and Visit the M-Bag Website:
Website: http://mbags.wikispaces.com/Background+and+Mission
Petition: http://www.petitiononline.com/zikomo/petition.html
CALEB Library Project:
www.pulverpages.com
Find out more: www.pulverpages.com
·
Wednesday, 17 October 2007
A Friend of My Brother’s is Going to Call
The gingersnaps
are in a pretty blue bowl and my coffee is made. The orange cat tea-cozy is
tucked around the pot to keep it hot. A
pen and paper are conveniently near by. There
is a fire in the fireplace to take off the chill that is in the air. Zia is stretched out by the fireside on her
cheery yellow and blue rag rug.
The stage is set
for my guest.
Actually, I am happily
waiting for the phone to ring.
I do not know the
caller, but this delightful stranger and I plan to have a lovely chat. She is a friend of my brother and plans to
visit him (in Malawi) sometime soon. I
am intrigued by her adventurous nature and eager to share what I can to make
the trip a success.
·
Tuesday, 16 October 2007
Zia Meets the Koi
·
Monday, 15 October 2007
The Adrenaline Rush of the Morning Dog-Walk
The morning dog
walk leaves me exhilarated.
I return from the
cold, crisp, bright morning trek feeling joyful, capable, eager to begin my day. On these walks, no matter where I am, I
absorb the natural beauty around me (I look past the refuse and deleterious
people leave behind – it is there, but it does not merit my attention nor
should I let it mire me down and ruin my day – a metaphor for other aspects of
life perhaps.) On these walks I commune
with friends and family, dead or alive.
Walking the dog,
which can feel like a chore when I am groggy, rubbing sleep from my eyes and
more interested in sipping coffee and reading my e-mail. But it leads to a rush of joy that comes when
a decision is right. The feeling of
free-falling with no worries, only the consciousness of the feelings – the
adrenaline rush, all this is accomplished during what to some would be a
routine dog-walk.
The dog
knows. She dances around as I tug at my
socks and lace up my old Air Force combat boots. Deep in her throat she makes the muted,
happy-dog sounds. Sometimes and
exuberant bark leaks out.
The Red Puzzle from Hell…
The past two
weeks, I have often felt like I am assembling a 5,000 piece, all red
puzzle. I try to force pieces into place
rather than finding the correct piece.
This is not a good
strategy. (Nor is it a conscious one, usually.) In my panic over how I will
ever get the puzzle assembled, I miss out on the joys of the process. The whole point of putting together a jigsaw
puzzle is the process, the moving forward, the feelings associated with finding
the key pieces and placing tem. Completing
the puzzle is secondary. (Some would
argue otherwise, but the old saying, it is the journey, no the destination,
comes to mind.)
In the month
ahead, I have many interesting and challenging tasks to accomplish. I need to fit all the pieces together, but
the important thing really is that I move forward with joy and gratitude for
the abundance.
Mud Puddles and Mindfulness
If I am not
mindful of the small joys of each day, the opportunities to stretch, to try new
things or take a different path, then I may fight it.
I come upon a mud
puddle and all I can do is complain. I
could become irritated because I will have to navigate around the puddle and I
will be late for my next activity and will likely get a bit of mud on my
clothes which will leave me looking less than professional.
Actually, I could
take off my shoes, roll up my pant legs, and wade in. The cool mud oozing between my toes may
delight me and make me laugh. I could
sit down and just make mud pies.
Of course I could
just walk around that mud puddle and continue happily on my way.
There are always
choices in life. And, as A. Lincoln puts
it (and I have quoted often): people are about as happy as they choose to be.
You Really Cannot Outline how Life will Unfold
– Who Wants to?
I find myself awed
by how wonderful life has been. Our
needs are filled in the most unexpected ways and often in ways that are more
wonderful than we would have dared to plan.
My personal goals
pale compared to what seems to be the grand plan the Universe
(Father-Mother-God) has for my life.
Sometimes it is
really great to not be in charge, to just let life unfold.
My own
expectations can seem so limited when I look back at them.
It is nice to just
take each chapter a page at a time and relish the word pictures spelled out n
the page.
·
Sunday, 14 October 2007
The Late Afternoon Sun Falls Across the Stones
in the Labyrinth.