tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73394432951434359132024-02-21T09:36:25.234-08:00Gathering ParadiseDréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.comBlogger74125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-78090723097858930352023-11-30T02:19:00.000-08:002023-12-30T17:04:12.090-08:002023 End-of-Year Reflection<span style="font-family: times;">Holiday greetings! <br /></span><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;">I’m writing from my barracks room (apartment,
more accurately) on Camp Foster in Okinawa, Japan. It’s a dreary day by Okinawa
standards—cool, wet, and a bit foggy—perfect for snuggling up inside with
eggnog, gingerbread cookies, a laptop, and my last few holiday postcards. From
my window, I can see the Naval Hospital where I work, just across the parking
lot; beyond that, the city of Chatan and the ocean along Okinawa’s western
coastline. Inside, all around me, I have maps and Oki-inspired art, letters from
family and friends, plants that keep outgrowing their pots, and mementos of a
year well spent. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><b>tl;dr: Okinawa is incredible; the Navy is suiting me; I’m
excited for what lies ahead! Happy 2024! </b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;">For those who prefer the extended cut: </span></div><div><b><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><u><b>Work</b> </u></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;">Sometimes I pause, in awe of the fact that I work in a hospital, that I live in
Okinawa. How incredible that joining the Navy got me here! In January, I began
working in our Substance Abuse Rehabilitation Program clinic, doing on-the-job
training for group therapy. In May, I transitioned to the Child and Adolescent
Mental Health clinic across the hall. We had high hopes of starting some
children’s groups, but due to staffing shortages of providers, I mainly did
administrative clinic work instead. I enjoyed helping the clinic prepare for our
Joint Commission reaccreditation in June. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;">In August, I began studying for the
advancement exam and was happy to put an end to that in the end of September. I
went from CAMH to Outpatient Mental Health. While this is where I was initially
trained when I arrived last November, the transition was a bit tricky. I had
much to relearn. Our roles were shifting amidst efforts to increase training and
opportunities to do behavioral health work (versus front-desk work and taking
vitals). Our directorate—comprised of all 3 clinics—had been experiencing
significant turnover and leadership change, and the ongoing transition as we
onboarded new providers and corpsmen took patience. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;">In late November, I learned
that I’d scored high enough on the exam to be advanced to HM2 (E-5). I was
“frocked” –i.e., allowed to start wearing the rank—on December 1st. This change
justifies a transition that was already in progress; I became our clinic’s
Assistant Leading Petty Officer in the fall, with the expectation that I will
become the acting LPO in February when my current supervisor departs. I’m
excited, but I also have much to learn in the clinic and in the Navy in general;
having been in for just over 2 years, I’m still very much a “boot.”
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6bbmw4-8179OLlp53hu1K-c10jkESI8Yk-3sQJ6Zy-WmSpMQ0w7uRb9l2r5qolIUZSsTkt40e4WTbyitnXkigmnpi8Fu4F6SoqUW6CVP9lb8m5jY204Yahsx3MFS0PijdcssE2ujUtO4tqhFcXEgUkJELkVxQda_2LIovxss1vi9E7oc5c_z2kvL7S0/s1600/IMG_5833.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6bbmw4-8179OLlp53hu1K-c10jkESI8Yk-3sQJ6Zy-WmSpMQ0w7uRb9l2r5qolIUZSsTkt40e4WTbyitnXkigmnpi8Fu4F6SoqUW6CVP9lb8m5jY204Yahsx3MFS0PijdcssE2ujUtO4tqhFcXEgUkJELkVxQda_2LIovxss1vi9E7oc5c_z2kvL7S0/s320/IMG_5833.JPG" /></span></a>
</div><span style="font-family: times;">
I’m excited to build my military understanding through the Naval Studies
Certificate program, an accelerated 5-course series offered through the US Naval
Community College. I was accepted this fall and will begin in January. I’m also
hoping to complete EMT training later this year to build my corpsman skills.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;">It’s sometimes hard for me to explain exactly what I do as a BHT (behavioral
health technician), since so much of my work is not specific to my role. I’m
happy to report that I’m finally starting to screen acute walk-in patients to
OMH. I’ve been leading a weekly 90-minute Mindfulness group since April. My
first real introduction to the topic was in Social Psychology taught by Dr.
Ellen Langer (who wrote the book Mindfulness, literally) in the fall of 2003.
It’s been very enjoyable to keep learning and curating exercises for others
while building my own skills. I am expecting to begin a Dialectical Behavior
Therapy group for OMH soon. Exciting stuff. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;">All in all, I’ve enjoyed my first
year here, and I extended my orders from two years to three. I look forward to
staying until November 2025 (or beyond).
</span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: times;"><u>Navy Life (or, becoming an adult again)</u><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">As I described last year, the transition from training to my first command meant navigating the gap between age peers and rank peers as I tried to make friends. It meant being subject to the various rules that guide one’s life—based on interesting combinations of rank, age, and marital status. I began my time here in a shared suite, without a car, living behind a fence. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Still, Oki winter made for weather cool enough to start exploring off base on foot and using inter-base shuttles and local bus lines. I went on several of the tours offered through the Marine Corps Community Services. Over time, I made more friends and had opportunities to start hiking, going to the beach and museums, and exploring Okinawan food and culture.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwKeJzo3QKzDru_VLn3_n_of7ZU1ruXF8w48xa4EBzvKRDeSONEphTd40l_cJjcF9AKbEN_ZZq0idbUbQTBxQCva_wyJImMcn6kuW7D6yZceGWzzFXLHPJv2oxajT0ikThutudsaHAcKoFHU8e05Eze1KxIaqhrBCzi7QvlSdPoyadP3Tx1DjeXTU2vZ8/s4032/IMG_1873.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwKeJzo3QKzDru_VLn3_n_of7ZU1ruXF8w48xa4EBzvKRDeSONEphTd40l_cJjcF9AKbEN_ZZq0idbUbQTBxQCva_wyJImMcn6kuW7D6yZceGWzzFXLHPJv2oxajT0ikThutudsaHAcKoFHU8e05Eze1KxIaqhrBCzi7QvlSdPoyadP3Tx1DjeXTU2vZ8/s320/IMG_1873.HEIC" width="240" /></a></b></div><b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJwBO3LvhD4eK_ELrAZ3LtpvMW9Py47iUQM5t_Ll7PaN9IFM2jwhUOOKZiQGbfoy3LaYtNWIFvEvI29gp0zY2oiid9tBmnyR-0JWYX3jQyObMHjC95gj_BJeW5ShRUggQO9_aYsazeJ0RG3tQ83nUjSGwFKTI5V37KJ9Xhw_SIleeHcE5IESd-WKhaaWc/s3088/IMG_3905.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJwBO3LvhD4eK_ELrAZ3LtpvMW9Py47iUQM5t_Ll7PaN9IFM2jwhUOOKZiQGbfoy3LaYtNWIFvEvI29gp0zY2oiid9tBmnyR-0JWYX3jQyObMHjC95gj_BJeW5ShRUggQO9_aYsazeJ0RG3tQ83nUjSGwFKTI5V37KJ9Xhw_SIleeHcE5IESd-WKhaaWc/s320/IMG_3905.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgD8sgkBi8iQY1SGf9ewONWNYdHz0UK4NSrtO3z8MGsLyJAKrJbmj1O1Jq86UdVa4Dz6nPD22zK5_cBgFGSjyskhun4yyWC34vh6a7sxo7IXkRkrJ_r4kkrbtlA6y9hJ14eX3b9eos1Dej2_6XifoOT4vFGPY3EfwbDJoGuJ6Z5Uq4XFlADePZvNIc4I/s3088/IMG_5225.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgD8sgkBi8iQY1SGf9ewONWNYdHz0UK4NSrtO3z8MGsLyJAKrJbmj1O1Jq86UdVa4Dz6nPD22zK5_cBgFGSjyskhun4yyWC34vh6a7sxo7IXkRkrJ_r4kkrbtlA6y9hJ14eX3b9eos1Dej2_6XifoOT4vFGPY3EfwbDJoGuJ6Z5Uq4XFlADePZvNIc4I/s320/IMG_5225.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKu_lbseC0yl5b3Eb55Pm8bBapHmG3oXSavxa7um0UnzMdiL7WuUOL20GJrGEYJVQ6VF0F7MrGXqW2wvIHc39s5FcDfxxt2gXKYccS3PkXrXGzLtSIjrGxuxBDfQHmZ7AQGe7JA1jK4DdEa7yOzq6MJ_5m7Jkeik-T65iQ0A2sX0VkP9ICsEFGd_EUoTg/s4032/IMG_8183.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKu_lbseC0yl5b3Eb55Pm8bBapHmG3oXSavxa7um0UnzMdiL7WuUOL20GJrGEYJVQ6VF0F7MrGXqW2wvIHc39s5FcDfxxt2gXKYccS3PkXrXGzLtSIjrGxuxBDfQHmZ7AQGe7JA1jK4DdEa7yOzq6MJ_5m7Jkeik-T65iQ0A2sX0VkP9ICsEFGd_EUoTg/s320/IMG_8183.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></b><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">In March, I had been here the requisite 90 days to request command permission for a driver’s license and vehicle. For my first-ever car purchase, I leaned into Oki’s colorful cube car trend and chose a rose-gold (OK, call it pink) Honda Life. It’s an adorable little kei car with personality, and it opened up the island for me. I look forward to many more adventures in “ma vie en rose.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Rc2VFK59aXAWjyBUKZSetk6IKd5L_m9rSIY8oaYigXkiPAHMURUtgy5U4_XW6Ztnfu79DRFDe8fPoTS2csdSr1RcWAk9UPDcUdRr3bFvo3f_1deIGpERfL78KKfdVrrVyetq_nMm2s2PWEWinnpgDAF-VtV5Cll4hJIyWEGD2Fu-Tx1Yfbd6eOH5ljg/s4032/IMG_4279.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Rc2VFK59aXAWjyBUKZSetk6IKd5L_m9rSIY8oaYigXkiPAHMURUtgy5U4_XW6Ztnfu79DRFDe8fPoTS2csdSr1RcWAk9UPDcUdRr3bFvo3f_1deIGpERfL78KKfdVrrVyetq_nMm2s2PWEWinnpgDAF-VtV5Cll4hJIyWEGD2Fu-Tx1Yfbd6eOH5ljg/s320/IMG_4279.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Later in the spring, as I was submitting a request to live off-base, I was given the opportunity to move from my room in the Bachelor Enlisted Quarters to the Bachelor Officer Quarters across the street. Though I’m not an officer, people are shuffled around based on supply and demand. This meant trading a cozy suite with limited storage space, a suitemate (and her over-far-too-often boyfriend), and a partial kitchen for a private apartment-style room with my own bedroom, living room, full kitchen, and storage space. My quality of life improved immediately with space to have a friend over for conversation, more cooking flexibility, and no resentment about the whose turn it was to buy toilet paper or scrubbing the shower. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">It's amazing what a difference some freedom and privacy can do. Having a car and a kitchen meant that basic tasks – like dropping off a package at the post office or cooking dinner – didn’t require advance strategizing. They also made me feel like a grown-up again. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Now that I’m a frocked E-5, there could come a time when I’m required to live off base due to barracks occupancy levels. To avoid a short-notice eviction, I’ve been exploring off-base apartments and will likely move outside the fence in January. While I’ll miss the convenience of being just steps away from a gym and the hospital, I’m looking forward to the possibility of even more freedom, more space, and closer proximity to the ocean. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><b><u><span style="font-family: times;">Dragon Boat<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">A major part of my life this past year has been dragon boat, or haarii, a sport deeply engrained in Okinawa’s history. February brought three weeks of try-outs for the Navy Women’s Dragon Boat Team, Nirai Kanai, waking before 04:00 to practice paddling at the marina fifteen minutes away. I made the team, and Dragon Boat became a significant part of my life for the next seven months.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Our “big boat” race, for which we’d prepared over 3 months of early mornings, was held May 5 in Naha. Our team had two extra members, one of whom became injured, and I was asked to fill the role of kaneuchi – the drummer/gong-ringer who helps keep the beat set by the pacer. I agreed, knowing that if it wasn’t me, someone else would be removed from the lineup. It was harder than I expected to not paddle in the race after so much preparation. Nonetheless, it was incredible to be part of the experience. These boats and races are featured prominently in Okinawan history and art, and it was an honor to take part in this annual tradition.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_lXNoBF_tMKM7SGj-RYxigX667zeRIqezjDg9dQr4zqHc5Rrkc_CW40AcbIclfvhRD3Bdnml4WOLAACw16SDrTy1YgTI_xFQsVeAckPyPxV6DmOLqTfeWAqI0FIOavHvbTVGDGLfQUIi6xbvmkS1YBYtar5GxgMdD5NpyGY8wd4qDe4UpbMI0ENYZLKw/s1640/dragon%20boat.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="1640" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_lXNoBF_tMKM7SGj-RYxigX667zeRIqezjDg9dQr4zqHc5Rrkc_CW40AcbIclfvhRD3Bdnml4WOLAACw16SDrTy1YgTI_xFQsVeAckPyPxV6DmOLqTfeWAqI0FIOavHvbTVGDGLfQUIi6xbvmkS1YBYtar5GxgMdD5NpyGY8wd4qDe4UpbMI0ENYZLKw/w523-h294/dragon%20boat.png" width="523" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">In June, we switched to “Summer Dragons” for sabani boat racing. These 10-person boats meant different lineups for multiple races through the summer, a different paddling technique, and opportunities to actually be in a boat during practice, rather than standing or on a dock. I took part in three races and was able to support the team for three others. Our final sabani race was held September 17, though we continued to have team activities and gatherings through the fall.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsew2B6lrXzn7PVEy5dNN6CnsfJA0xPxGqNySpantrdD9Mpm0uM6NthvCOobSRpg6eT90ig1x5jvbi3XjRmqhy36ryR4YstquKjXbCUGGO7pPg52cJGpyo7_FZzlwgbHOFDsTEy4IYBH6KjqXTW_K24H122V__UJEojhxIFbrYkfZjbTYAiy-HfzMYcq8/s1334/1_ed4Ud018svcnwt45o7iqxlg_ylqaa.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="1334" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsew2B6lrXzn7PVEy5dNN6CnsfJA0xPxGqNySpantrdD9Mpm0uM6NthvCOobSRpg6eT90ig1x5jvbi3XjRmqhy36ryR4YstquKjXbCUGGO7pPg52cJGpyo7_FZzlwgbHOFDsTEy4IYBH6KjqXTW_K24H122V__UJEojhxIFbrYkfZjbTYAiy-HfzMYcq8/s320/1_ed4Ud018svcnwt45o7iqxlg_ylqaa.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqsTCP3DJdE8ZUfNHY48CQ7DqcOr9zLu7BRnfx_gq2fdx9C4YzBl6YtuU6mvFSPc8y7WJuVIjpa4wV-ml1FkUrUDDKaMMN4IUzu34IZ40lDNFTsNLkGJ66yIkIIQeFmHkpYUp2VeId2i1Z9MMWOwVAiD2rDgLthcGCEdA8y9HlFT2xOqJ88J6VyEbOnM/s1572/IMG_4515.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1572" data-original-width="1178" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqsTCP3DJdE8ZUfNHY48CQ7DqcOr9zLu7BRnfx_gq2fdx9C4YzBl6YtuU6mvFSPc8y7WJuVIjpa4wV-ml1FkUrUDDKaMMN4IUzu34IZ40lDNFTsNLkGJ66yIkIIQeFmHkpYUp2VeId2i1Z9MMWOwVAiD2rDgLthcGCEdA8y9HlFT2xOqJ88J6VyEbOnM/s320/IMG_4515.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; text-align: left;"> </span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Being part of this team has greatly enhanced my community and my fitness. While I am unsure if I will participate in the coming season, I hope to continue nurturing many of the relationships born from this team. In January, I’ll be among a group of 8 taking a trip to Ishigaki—an Okinawan Island near Taiwan—to take part in a 10K. I’m looking forward to this girls’ trip and many more adventures with these inspiring women.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxY5-chbe8YetxxmJr1uOstK3rpvDunUpEXtw5hccATa7-aC5ZTKQOJk-h0RzSUeyiTz6A5Eud_pcMiVN7xIA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><b><u><span style="font-family: times;">Community Engagement & Personal Pursuits<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">While I’m not as immersed in the local community as I’d like, there is no shortage of opportunities within the military community. I joined a concert-style band made up mostly of civilian teachers in the DODEA system. I’ve been able to play in 3 performances, and it’s been a low-demand, high-reward addition to my life. I’ve enjoyed re-acquainting myself with percussion instruments and ensemble music.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jVtaJKRIfoG4fSXgKCx8l8fFR_CJdaT6hyphenhyphennK8etgReM-vJOCs1JPm7T4SwmYMUrGVeqs3BsXCD5HorQ8QFr4oQv624D9Gbes8SvmlJSmuh6QSTj1K_kFHgsQ3M6LXxG8-JSeCttrvn6i2ke3WKm2MsZmOMqgrA85STnaBcMaImz7ZchhDztD9RKcsjQ/s3520/IMG_3940.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3520" data-original-width="1980" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jVtaJKRIfoG4fSXgKCx8l8fFR_CJdaT6hyphenhyphennK8etgReM-vJOCs1JPm7T4SwmYMUrGVeqs3BsXCD5HorQ8QFr4oQv624D9Gbes8SvmlJSmuh6QSTj1K_kFHgsQ3M6LXxG8-JSeCttrvn6i2ke3WKm2MsZmOMqgrA85STnaBcMaImz7ZchhDztD9RKcsjQ/s320/IMG_3940.HEIC" width="180" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Two fellow band members asked me to pet-sit their two cats and house-sit their gorgeous 9<sup>th</sup>-floor apartment overlooking the ocean during their trip Stateside. As a side benefit, this month in my “vacation home” gave me the perfect hosting space for my mom, who made a weeklong trip over the 4<sup>th</sup> of July. I was able to introduce her to some of my friends and coworkers, show her the spaces where I spend my time, and have some fun adventures—beachcombing for sea glass, snorkeling, and visiting castle ruins and museums. We even experienced some Okinawa nightlife with the dragon boat women for a teammate’s farewell outing. It was a quick but fruitful visit, and I’m grateful she was game to make the trip.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-z8eyqTXEAsXDfByabO4h1ApZU98etPK7LI34iA591n_pDGihnfrZiQ6LbSORxySTtyE3NBcTEpVLDM_J6dpVr7GfSIOMmY9oWY0EmT9OROBSWZad2B5OAD7BiykBmNTE2X5Nf6xwo1uQsRfJ3i8ugTHBvnLzxvTD9fOOhGFGvEXzdUmXwVnMv7koftM/s4032/IMG_1824.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-z8eyqTXEAsXDfByabO4h1ApZU98etPK7LI34iA591n_pDGihnfrZiQ6LbSORxySTtyE3NBcTEpVLDM_J6dpVr7GfSIOMmY9oWY0EmT9OROBSWZad2B5OAD7BiykBmNTE2X5Nf6xwo1uQsRfJ3i8ugTHBvnLzxvTD9fOOhGFGvEXzdUmXwVnMv7koftM/s320/IMG_1824.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">During the summer, I obtained my PADI open water dive certification with some extra assistance and extra time, as I initially found breathing through the regulator anxiety-producing. I’m grateful I stuck with it, as I've been on a couple of spectacular dives and can’t wait to keep exploring the plentiful views of coral and sea life here.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxrC1BrPWSu5Kn7Z2B6EAzojzjItyDScU6hgL9gPohlnL3ZHNvEDs_z137p0VgpVpg5YYXwWVSePLvrYQQ7BQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">I also joined an informal hiking group with an intrepid leader who plans weekly routes. Oki has incredible views and I look forward to continued treks with this ever-changing group of active outdoor enthusiasts. I bought a Stand-Up Paddle board and have enjoyed SUPping with friends; I entered a SUP Cup fun race and took second in the women's division. I also began taking aerial yoga in the fall. Look forward to seeing me as a P!nk backup aerial dancer any day now.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp-shmluFhh4_FIWuTjtsXXp-zQI_0JdfoKuUIrp9YXKeMFmpJH76mZdjexe-LPCjjRYxYEUHkHYi4kkNyrUfY-AIuXADJukHd8nJJY8ExWHBuD5YdFoxcgCTg2l7K0qCIJona03nMtUKtR9Cm5WLpzd-MFyJtwqJ7uuTHDodGekHPr8hzzJn-TK6872I/s1500/IMG_5323.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp-shmluFhh4_FIWuTjtsXXp-zQI_0JdfoKuUIrp9YXKeMFmpJH76mZdjexe-LPCjjRYxYEUHkHYi4kkNyrUfY-AIuXADJukHd8nJJY8ExWHBuD5YdFoxcgCTg2l7K0qCIJona03nMtUKtR9Cm5WLpzd-MFyJtwqJ7uuTHDodGekHPr8hzzJn-TK6872I/s320/IMG_5323.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHMuYSELj7dj1JtHeO2wVImUyUdOhNVQ97CNgJ0PguDDeTs0PGlyrBnOU1U0aNAE6WEBll3AKgyHwbd-zwbFGK-bjbVfFDIdBq_YqxdDABDOouqdQg3au_qHn4q9lWWvwhOyx2RDNy0dyo5Ucm6GsZD1AeP9sYICs7aCi2i8N1OJm28FkQlbZhkfr0adU/s4032/IMG_5764.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHMuYSELj7dj1JtHeO2wVImUyUdOhNVQ97CNgJ0PguDDeTs0PGlyrBnOU1U0aNAE6WEBll3AKgyHwbd-zwbFGK-bjbVfFDIdBq_YqxdDABDOouqdQg3au_qHn4q9lWWvwhOyx2RDNy0dyo5Ucm6GsZD1AeP9sYICs7aCi2i8N1OJm28FkQlbZhkfr0adU/s320/IMG_5764.JPG" width="240" /></a></span></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="text-align: center;"> </span></span></p><span style="font-family: times;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtOD0nC0uQw2xGbX4oUC6rEdKyeE7Cc_mc8I8cZEjLN2vfbpkE0oz63W_McWjuC9mnMH_LArcu3JcBymURoLSI-vdzFGyw1hqWT-XwPYy1oTsMie_N018bfXRPmHO3I0fwzkKOCrvw9jTszX4GyI8T5ynjS9Iinqs6SjU-_8Ah-RoGResJbmazgbU8WwI/s4032/IMG_5775.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtOD0nC0uQw2xGbX4oUC6rEdKyeE7Cc_mc8I8cZEjLN2vfbpkE0oz63W_McWjuC9mnMH_LArcu3JcBymURoLSI-vdzFGyw1hqWT-XwPYy1oTsMie_N018bfXRPmHO3I0fwzkKOCrvw9jTszX4GyI8T5ynjS9Iinqs6SjU-_8Ah-RoGResJbmazgbU8WwI/s320/IMG_5775.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju7auNzTsXvRGkg2hAlT5nQWcu40U2vzwmTW-BCm8anAkOCkNiIR0JJiOgzNapcDT6dH9SE0g_XujsTFq5DIE9xsoP0_iZ9HWZbg-N3iWgCFGY3hXCTCM-Mz7gZBcRGPiwwqmAyWZNh29YWT-EC0mq4q3NUg7QLyFxoOPcztq41b9fQahdHNQEmu_NpXA/s320/IMG_5678.JPG" width="256" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6yMGFEl_-JdWUsb-sgAdvFQb3IV4ZC4ZWmHuQAMO8EcSWGV8b_DKUvLiLvKBaP6Ul1jVHB5QHgfGA4pGUryldmnpNTZa4v9-vicDUK5fNJuY5EVJlln5uVru52RGmtd1ReMWJ5Yfzr091q7wa05KBOUwnOy8if8gnftkBfE8f5zD_wx3b_oZb9nZI9A/s1226/IMG_0583.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1226" data-original-width="828" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6yMGFEl_-JdWUsb-sgAdvFQb3IV4ZC4ZWmHuQAMO8EcSWGV8b_DKUvLiLvKBaP6Ul1jVHB5QHgfGA4pGUryldmnpNTZa4v9-vicDUK5fNJuY5EVJlln5uVru52RGmtd1ReMWJ5Yfzr091q7wa05KBOUwnOy8if8gnftkBfE8f5zD_wx3b_oZb9nZI9A/s320/IMG_0583.HEIC" width="216" /></a></div></div></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6bqzvDxCV7vqh1sm7wjXnquiLAqqUKG0rZQsju2jZMHG_v31KCbZVF2IVwGkJW-YNDZW0fV0K2URa6eCzXR8Y2ahcItyJRprPU3mHg1dKDe1vo3bnHrGNneu03sASsGR5tXiZRiXxISMIsTgfVSupd37yRfpOgpJEw7sqza5TOkF9eErtyT7DBFVi7zw/s4032/IMG_5523.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6bqzvDxCV7vqh1sm7wjXnquiLAqqUKG0rZQsju2jZMHG_v31KCbZVF2IVwGkJW-YNDZW0fV0K2URa6eCzXR8Y2ahcItyJRprPU3mHg1dKDe1vo3bnHrGNneu03sASsGR5tXiZRiXxISMIsTgfVSupd37yRfpOgpJEw7sqza5TOkF9eErtyT7DBFVi7zw/s320/IMG_5523.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Feeling well-conditioned from dragon boat training, I completed my annual physical readiness test in mid-May, scoring “Outstanding High” – meaning I obtained the highest points possible in each component (plank, pushups, and rowing). It was my first opportunity to choose a non-running cardio option for my PRT; not running allowed me to surpass my previous performances, points-wise. Maintaining physical fitness was one of the things that attracted me to the military; when I first applied to the Navy, I worked hard to ensure I could simply pass the minimum requirements. It is rewarding to know that I am now capable of meeting the highest expectations of my age and gender peers. Repeating the performance this year will take significant effort, and I look forward to continuing to pushing myself. My directorate recently completed a Ragnar-style relay from Cape Hedo to Cape Kyan, running the length of the island from north to south. My legs of the run added up to ~17 miles, more than I planned. No doubt we’ll be doing it again soon. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ15lYUDEN9-Hwe-c0ikEnw0ha6D5iKLwKd895Gm-nxaChPOcaH1wOPIhlpyHnP5bOpNMFqIFVqxdg_n1F-za124tenn7PZFMjdSEsbCXn-KbfAyjDtQIWlHgn0gL-wv6SwB4oSsGMHbvteeV0AHVKC7vtEyMcxIwISZ7pU4H5BY3wjge4KHq3N_dI0ag/s1600/IMG_5712.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ15lYUDEN9-Hwe-c0ikEnw0ha6D5iKLwKd895Gm-nxaChPOcaH1wOPIhlpyHnP5bOpNMFqIFVqxdg_n1F-za124tenn7PZFMjdSEsbCXn-KbfAyjDtQIWlHgn0gL-wv6SwB4oSsGMHbvteeV0AHVKC7vtEyMcxIwISZ7pU4H5BY3wjge4KHq3N_dI0ag/s320/IMG_5712.JPG" width="240" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8VGN0vFRV03juSbVGX0LfRRPae3v8l0HLQnOGGqFfEWIW3Nwe79w2NO2HgJ79pn6bMebImYQq_sMjoVP2x_LIq4NgLTS-gzpmQcZDP3HD-7rmOizcCuNKxIeC8HLeqwBzwd-lJMnRgZ3o27-zZlXWsdBDnyXjU6mMDNgMRihPtg1elSJTToX1GlB3Uhk/s1600/IMG_5721.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8VGN0vFRV03juSbVGX0LfRRPae3v8l0HLQnOGGqFfEWIW3Nwe79w2NO2HgJ79pn6bMebImYQq_sMjoVP2x_LIq4NgLTS-gzpmQcZDP3HD-7rmOizcCuNKxIeC8HLeqwBzwd-lJMnRgZ3o27-zZlXWsdBDnyXjU6mMDNgMRihPtg1elSJTToX1GlB3Uhk/w240-h312/IMG_5721.JPG" width="240" /></a></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Volunteering is an important part of Navy culture, and tracking it is important for career advancement. It’s also great fun and a wonderful way to be civically engaged. I’m a Team Lead at our base USO; there are also tons of one-off options, so I’ve had great fun cleaning up beaches, timing swim meet races, providing corpsman coverage for range weapons qualifications or base community events, organizing thrift store inventory, donating blood, supporting command events, transporting food for the base pantry, and more.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">I’ve amassed art supplies but haven’t established a painting practice yet, though I’ve been able to make several pieces through classes and events at the USO and Single Marine Program (a community space for unaccompanied active duty folks). I purchased a ukulele but haven’t learned much yet—and am open to FaceTime lessons if anyone wants to connect. I’m slowly, slowly picking up some Japanese characters, and my goal is to recognize hiragana and katakana, at least, though my personal deadline for doing so keeps shifting. My Japanese is woefully inadequate; once I can read the characters, I think the aural version will make more sense for me. In short—I’ve no shortage of goals and pursuits for my spare time.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><b><u><span style="font-family: times;">Dating<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">One of the biggest differences in this chapter of my life from those that came before is in the pursuit of partnership. American men dating and marrying Japanese/Okinawan women is common, but the reverse is not; I’ve not dated anyone local. Nonetheless, I’m on an island with 20,000 Marines: mostly young, fit, unmarried men. More rotate in and out on 6-month deployments to the area. Not to be outdone, plenty of sailors, airmen, and soldiers fill the ranks of contenders in the dating game. It’s an exhilarating place to be a single woman; I can exhaust the options in my age/distance parameters on a dating app, and sign on the next day to find a host of new faces ripe for swiping.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">As a result, I’ve had dates or romantic encounters with 25 (!) different people in the past year. It’s made for many first and second dates. Almost all of them were a perfectly pleasant few hours of my life: a coffee, a dinner, a hike, a walk along the beach; in one case, an impromptu spelunking trip to caves on some remote part of the island. A few of those people have become close friends, and we continue to spend time together and enhance each other’s lives. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">One might think I’m living my best cougar life. And, in a way, I am. It’s strange to have so many options after years of the opposite. I barely dated in high school or college. I had only one or two significant relationships in my 20s. My yearlong relationship at 36 was the most substantial one of my life, and even it began with a likely expiration date as I planned to join the Navy. My attempts at dating post-boot camp and pre-Okinawa were, as I stated last year, a nightmare (Sailors) and an uninspiring but refreshing breath of non-Navy air (civilians).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">It’s fun to meet new people, to share new experiences. It’s fun to have people interested in you. It’s fun to be found attractive. I’m still overcoming long-held, insidiously buried core beliefs about my own desirability. I’m still learning how to share the whole me—the parts of me I keep tucked away at work because they don’t serve me in my current rank and role. In many ways, this series of dating adventures has been enriching.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">In other ways, it has been draining. I have no doubt been the villain in the stories of people who wanted to pursue more with me than I with them. I have added names to my own list of villains—those who stood me up or left me feeling toyed with, dropped, discarded. Generally, there’s a mutual, tacit understanding that no romantic potential exists. While easier, that too can be tiresome, to keep trying and hoping for something so evasive.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">After one first date this fall, a man shared his surprise at how I described my relationship history (or lack thereof). He had assumed, due to my age and single-ness, that I eschewed commitment, enjoyed being untethered, and wanted to date casually indefinitely. After we met, he said, he realized he’d been wrong: that I have a “young heart,” that I am someone who always wanted to find love but simply hadn’t yet. He was right.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">With only <b>one</b> of those 25 people did I sense that the stars might be aligning, did I see the shimmer of possibility. The immediate ease, the desire for conversation to continue without end, the comfort of holding and being held, a whole world blossoming with promise and opportunity. The taste of hope. In one intimate moment, he reflected, in awe, “It’s actually happening.” It felt like it was.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">But it was an eclipse. A cosmic phenomenon: very real, but finite. Powerful but temporary. A delicious moment sipped away (as Taylor Swift would say) like a bottle of wine.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">So then what? I cried, cursed, reflected, wrote, shared, forgave, healed. I hold on to what I have with gratitude. I stay curious about the story still to be written.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">It’s hard to be searching for something that so many people seem to find so easily. But my, what a scavenger hunt it’s been.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><b><u><span style="font-family: times;">Family<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">I’m very fortunate to be able to stay in touch with loved ones at home via FaceTime, Snapchat, and other apps. My nephews are growing up, and I’ve enjoyed watching some of their concerts and competitions via YouTube—an aftereffect of Covid times. My niece Claire is a spunky, almost-two-year-old, whose extensive vocabulary includes “Hi Andrea,” “Happy Holidays,” “See ya! Love ya!” and “Touchdown, Jackrabbits!” She’s excited to become a big sister in about month. As a firstborn daughter myself, I feel a special kinship with her.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">My parents and siblings are all healthy and busy with work and family. Becky has experienced some struggles moving to a group home environment, but we have faith in her. I’m grateful to my mom and sisters for the heavy lifting they are doing to help manage the bumps in this transition. Jim keeps working hard and love his cat Sardine & pup Bear; Anne & Evan are in their second year of marriage and preparing for a big move this summer. Bryce & Ronda and Alex & Beth have meaningful careers and hobbies while being great parents. A special shout-out to Michael and Megan, who became engaged this fall; Megan’s been part of the family for years, and we’re delighted she’ll be sticking around permanently. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The Sutton-Talleys experienced major changes this year, adding a younger brother to the family (who is one year and one day younger than Nalerie), moving to North Dakota, and starting new jobs. Their home in Greeley held much meaning and memory for me, so it was bittersweet to watch them leave it behind, but I am so excited for this chapter and their closer proximity to almost everyone in the extended family, including my parents and siblings. Three years ago, it would have hurt my heart to even imagine being thousands of miles from baby girl, but so far, so good. I love FaceTiming their family, watching them grow, and sharing bits of Okinawa with them through letters and packages. I hope that in some small way, I’m planting seeds of curiosity about the world in Isaac, Nalerie, and Soren, as my parents did in me.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtLacb684-csrZq_Li2FTdfWesnisWjlp5Kg_ulGShVd2hwLFHMAdyn8y65jFe8S7nNiDpoSP9lVyWjW_NfyfzC_5KP8zroU9Fq574hjWvjRl0OXr_PSRzMeerPveb6exUBW89VnUKsuUVm7DkCjHO4zNC78-uTP8Q8McwhenkfSRfVl4SRZsAVnxkElM/s1136/IMG_5662.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtLacb684-csrZq_Li2FTdfWesnisWjlp5Kg_ulGShVd2hwLFHMAdyn8y65jFe8S7nNiDpoSP9lVyWjW_NfyfzC_5KP8zroU9Fq574hjWvjRl0OXr_PSRzMeerPveb6exUBW89VnUKsuUVm7DkCjHO4zNC78-uTP8Q8McwhenkfSRfVl4SRZsAVnxkElM/s320/IMG_5662.PNG" width="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-DCNyR6lrND5g6jx-MTvVO4lClg_8KSBr1Lqf6otgbAsRo8ZlXY9UVCje0mblIrLHI0vEjYfwdHBcL1sHWIRWeim2DHXaE1GylIP8sfqz3Z7DzJeAmCW3pyK-1xSitOPZccc8rPaLPqGALe3ZOS4-i3OnCoj0er2L8FIA-6lzxX1N72Ew0GHhKNwuO4/s1136/IMG_5938.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-DCNyR6lrND5g6jx-MTvVO4lClg_8KSBr1Lqf6otgbAsRo8ZlXY9UVCje0mblIrLHI0vEjYfwdHBcL1sHWIRWeim2DHXaE1GylIP8sfqz3Z7DzJeAmCW3pyK-1xSitOPZccc8rPaLPqGALe3ZOS4-i3OnCoj0er2L8FIA-6lzxX1N72Ew0GHhKNwuO4/s320/IMG_5938.PNG" width="180" /></a></div></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><u>Hopes for 2024</u></b><u><o:p></o:p></u></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">I am honored to serve the United States and simultaneously grateful to be distant from the ongoing chaos. I am hopeful that we will figure it out and emerge a better nation in the days ahead. I’m saddened by the global conflict that seems unceasing. I’m reminded that even routine military service has dangers; the recent loss of the crew of Gundam-22 weighs heavily here, as does the loss of one of our command’s Sailors by his own hand earlier this year.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">The best I can hope for, perhaps selfishly, is to find meaning and purpose in each day, to rise to challenges as they are presented to me. I am looking forward to 2024: to beginning the naval studies courses, snorkeling, diving, aerial yoga/dancing, exploring, traveling. To investing in my community and expanding that to include more of Okinawa. Soon, I’ll be celebrating my 40<sup>th</sup> birthday with my dad; I’m excited to have a few adventures together on the island! It’s strange to imagine myself as 40, an age that once seemed so…old. And yet, I think of friends who have left this earth, of those who never experienced life beyond youth. As a child, we had a small painted rock that had belonged to my Grandma Timmel. It read, “Never regret growing old…it is a privilege denied many.” I feel young and am grateful for the years I’ve had. I’m grateful for each day and every breath that lies before me.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;">Wishing you a 2024 filled with peace, adventure, and joy.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: times;">Love,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: times;">Andrea<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></p></div>Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com085 Adaniya, Kitanakagusuku, Nakagami District, Okinawa 901-2316, Japan26.2954405 127.790951725.311114495335097 126.6923188875 27.279766504664906 128.8895845125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-5151322607736625692023-01-16T18:03:00.012-08:002023-01-19T05:46:55.852-08:002022 End-of-Year ReflectionFriends, near & far: <div><br /></div><div>Happy 2023! I hope that the Year of the Rabbit is off to a pleasant start to you; I know that it is for the SDSU Jackrabbits, who’ve recently returned from Frisco, TX with a shiny championship title. (My niece Claire was present, and while we can’t prove causation, we can’t disprove it, either.) </div><div><br /></div><div>I’ve been musing about priorities. Perhaps they aren’t something we choose so much as something that reveal themselves to us. I’ve been thinking about crafting holiday postcards and writing my annual update since shortly after I arrived in Okinawa on November 19th, yet nearly two months later, nothing has yet emerged. At any point, reading, exploring, settling in, putting together holiday packages, going on tours, and the minutiae of daily life have simply taken precedence.
Still, there are tasks that are challenging to begin, but that provide a great sense of accomplishment once completed. I think I’ve accepted that the window for a mass holiday greeting—even for Lunar New Year—has passed. The time involved in creating artwork, finding a print shop, making it to the post office across base in time to buy stamps, and so on just hasn’t appealed to me over the past few weeks, and so perhaps I’ll instead try to work ahead for next year. Still, I greatly value the task of reflecting on my year. Even more, I value looking back at past years’ summaries. I’ve been writing a “Christmas letter” or end-of-year reflection for over a decade, many of them posted to the blog I kept during my 2011-2013 Peace Corps service, and it would be a shame to miss this year because I was too enthralled with a book or my cozy bed to make the time. So, in perhaps my tardiest year-end update ever, let’s begin. </div><div><br /></div><div>2022 has been marked by my continued transition into the Navy. I originally enlisted (or “DEP’ed in,” entered into the Delayed Entry Program) on 02 June 2021. I officially enlisted and flew to Recruit Training Command in Great Lakes, Illinois, to begin basic training on 07 September 2021. I graduated 10 November and began orientation for Hospital Corpsman Basic (“Corps School”) a week later at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas. Having tested positive for Covid in January 2022, I moved from Class 040 to a class three weeks behind, Class 055, and completed HCB on 07 April. I began Behavioral Health Tech School later that month, on 27 April, and graduated 11 August. Though my training obligations had been completed—and completed well, as I exceeded my goals and graduated all three programs as the top of the class—my orders were kicked back for funding/administrative issues, and I spent another two months at Fort Sam awaiting orders and departure details. I detached from NMTSC (Navy Medicine Training Support Center) on 15 October. I spent 01 November – 17 November at the Transient Processing Unit at Puget Sound, perhaps the Navy’s smallest command, and checked in to my current command, NMRTC (Navy Medicine Training & Readiness Command), at the United States Navy Hospital in Okinawa, Japan, on 19 November. </div><div><br /></div><div>In short: I spent nearly a year at Fort Sam, and I’ve been at my first “real Navy” command in Okinawa as a Hospital Corpsman Behavioral Health Technician for just under two months.
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkLbitDi_rYP8geNgXVj6Z_HOm4khb9HZcyJZd9jRmXySXt4Su5XZZ2XCkwnVWW9yXBQ1PjEvIIOAioc7FVrpLy3dDk8ryVgLGw0DQLHALQftoSXJqp9t_yYbr5URkAstoqBrMqsb9sIwFT9IQI0Cy9E2HXbrG_8A8fPNUltRn4KhTNVV-B8Eu4ibq/s1136/IMG_1801.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkLbitDi_rYP8geNgXVj6Z_HOm4khb9HZcyJZd9jRmXySXt4Su5XZZ2XCkwnVWW9yXBQ1PjEvIIOAioc7FVrpLy3dDk8ryVgLGw0DQLHALQftoSXJqp9t_yYbr5URkAstoqBrMqsb9sIwFT9IQI0Cy9E2HXbrG_8A8fPNUltRn4KhTNVV-B8Eu4ibq/s320/IMG_1801.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After completing the Tactical Combat Casualty Care final practical exam</td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-8cUsi_8PTvu6OAze8o12iGSRMv63Ogs-zoE1NPHGoYzZkdxCEsnOBczZP6ebSNAnHkBceCNAM8cDbSOf3zKL5iLmkfghHJUs1KsKM4AxsQjKvaGcgCfMtXKDrJq2NIzQdKsvHJveDXQVU4BumdzjMSEowzZC0dWqQ-QnuAvk0s3ZOKKHrUgL0HRp/s1200/Resized_Resized_20220811_084519.JPEG" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-8cUsi_8PTvu6OAze8o12iGSRMv63Ogs-zoE1NPHGoYzZkdxCEsnOBczZP6ebSNAnHkBceCNAM8cDbSOf3zKL5iLmkfghHJUs1KsKM4AxsQjKvaGcgCfMtXKDrJq2NIzQdKsvHJveDXQVU4BumdzjMSEowzZC0dWqQ-QnuAvk0s3ZOKKHrUgL0HRp/s320/Resized_Resized_20220811_084519.JPEG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Corps school friend supporting my BHT graduation<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
I wrote last year that the transition to Corps School was difficult. It got better. As time went on, we were given more freedom. I met a lot of interesting people. I learned a lot. I was in charge of the A-school choir for a short while and proud of what we accomplished. I attempted dating in the military (a nightmare, one chapter after another). I attempted dating outside of the military (uninspiring, but the source of some nice “non-Navy air,” friends with whom I could be my full self and for whom the Navy was just a small part of my identity). I explored base resources—including the Student Activity Center and its powerful massage chairs, a great library, a beautiful theatre with performances by a local company, and more—and experienced a lot of San Antonio. I got some Lyfts and rode some buses but mostly put a lot of miles on my feet. I was fortunate to feel safe and be able to explore museums and more almost every weekend when we had the freedom to do so.
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0TW_84kiSJZbl1-uL424Vf0mNim8zdFT3pTm-3TVNFhKqmrcOMTHrGzxgMbx5zN7CeV9qdwx4wd5fk2woBkqtfRvzo1M1IH0in3YGKkT86jQ0xuR_taXpjspHxbXR24RQwDRNzvv8DQQ7EqIoYnoky_ZiFiG3AktZ5vRD4vvAlAHNxDOLqngZ9Y-N/s4032/IMG_1857.HEIC" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0TW_84kiSJZbl1-uL424Vf0mNim8zdFT3pTm-3TVNFhKqmrcOMTHrGzxgMbx5zN7CeV9qdwx4wd5fk2woBkqtfRvzo1M1IH0in3YGKkT86jQ0xuR_taXpjspHxbXR24RQwDRNzvv8DQQ7EqIoYnoky_ZiFiG3AktZ5vRD4vvAlAHNxDOLqngZ9Y-N/s320/IMG_1857.HEIC" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">San Antonio's Fiesta gave me an opportunity to represent the Navy in a parade, the day after I graduated from Corps School. It was one of my best Sailor experiences yet.</td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkXOo4cMTzOjHE3n6_MDDjO030V6BGprrtvWDkGhhBiAlGo4AVTjB06d6sWzrHaYKLzaZmXyjagXWsRjDOMM01w5G42KUiVMbEpI2TpfsG0SwFPGOn7MWuJ1jzseJ22DOjKHcFWnMkFf5NJLgoaujhVHdMJTMhJpDZi2ys5SlmNF0O9_1X41r6W1B/s1136/IMG_2539.JPG" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkXOo4cMTzOjHE3n6_MDDjO030V6BGprrtvWDkGhhBiAlGo4AVTjB06d6sWzrHaYKLzaZmXyjagXWsRjDOMM01w5G42KUiVMbEpI2TpfsG0SwFPGOn7MWuJ1jzseJ22DOjKHcFWnMkFf5NJLgoaujhVHdMJTMhJpDZi2ys5SlmNF0O9_1X41r6W1B/s320/IMG_2539.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes Fort Sam did fun things on base!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
Unfortunately, our time at Fort Sam was marred by an environment that was unnecessarily negative and restrictive. The curriculum did not meet its full potential, and massive amounts of time were poorly utilized. I found myself exhausted by how often our conversations revolved around what we didn’t like: rules we found stupid, disorganization, and poor morale in general. This felt like a place where we should be excited to be in the Navy, being paid to learn, being trained to excel at our next commands! Yet that was rarely the tone, and my whining didn’t help. At the end of my time, while in the Transient Monitoring Division awaiting orders, I had an opportunity to help orient newcomers to base and to create a proposal for some of the HCB leadership. I suggested the creation of a “Welcome Aboard” packet for students, and created prototypes of some of what it could include, like a list of base resources. I suggested ways to reframe the experience without changing a single rule but instead connecting the rules to training objectives to help Sailors feel a sense of belonging and purpose in their role as students at the command. I’ve no idea what, if anything, came of these suggestions. Nonetheless, after a year of complaining with my friends, it felt meaningful to give constructive input. </div><div><br /></div><div>In 2022, I took leave three times:
• In April, to South Dakota to see my family and meet my new niece, Claire, the first child to my sister Beth & her husband Alex, and to California to rendezvous with a dear friend.
• In August/September, to Colorado to spend time with Jacob, Nalerie, & Isaac (Andrew was away for military training), and to South Dakota celebrate the wedding of my sister Anne to Evan.
• In October, to Florida, to catch up with numerous relatives on my maternal (Timmel) side, to Colorado to see friends & to go trick-or-treating with the full Sutton-Talley family, and again to South Dakota for a bonus trip before venturing overseas.
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTEJJSzfS-zdAKHD_dDKTSOaZwNCDEBIy8lg7ImyaZ9IuguQMYaPZUpqsr61-ABgXo4s0VO66qaO_KesPvmmwDE6dVlkcpceA2NTPj29aJDXJsCBmuemllJV56aputg_VLWdR7YVyDNWNGgWj5u_Oo2dQhY1PiLHyu14pSsBVMpxyc8Sw65RVa8bD/s2040/image_0.JPG" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="2040" data-original-width="680" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTEJJSzfS-zdAKHD_dDKTSOaZwNCDEBIy8lg7ImyaZ9IuguQMYaPZUpqsr61-ABgXo4s0VO66qaO_KesPvmmwDE6dVlkcpceA2NTPj29aJDXJsCBmuemllJV56aputg_VLWdR7YVyDNWNGgWj5u_Oo2dQhY1PiLHyu14pSsBVMpxyc8Sw65RVa8bD/s320/image_0.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">with Nalerie & Isaac, August 2022</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWgMXiH6IUqyMkfa3GD3WSegVj07E5f9KPzBzxr7_i27uqeC0wtu-ysp7li0SUVsfHR85rkKAhdNFFo_sZDnuz3cFLPfOC06zzy7bRuAWfqDNluepyU59KA91spA1TdmJ6m3tMg8ZibPSjzkpt99McdjIABc9C_J3FO-goNKCUSJ3eW0QGV8EQWgOW/s3088/IMG_2042.HEIC" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWgMXiH6IUqyMkfa3GD3WSegVj07E5f9KPzBzxr7_i27uqeC0wtu-ysp7li0SUVsfHR85rkKAhdNFFo_sZDnuz3cFLPfOC06zzy7bRuAWfqDNluepyU59KA91spA1TdmJ6m3tMg8ZibPSjzkpt99McdjIABc9C_J3FO-goNKCUSJ3eW0QGV8EQWgOW/s320/IMG_2042.HEIC" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reunited in California after 7.5 years!</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFYJOVgyIAwM8CRq27yw44Eweyxj42gYczAEAur_LC4ih5iUshk7Y4pUEACit0UatO_7K2CS11HuUWEXk2vJ1MJ-HQNPVocfHk0bj-Yf_ZqMgRfHLDNXOuUMCdZ5WCe1Uiyo-5iTOqOYFom6TtXI6mkdDd2vf-etVsMCfVyjFytpjFLpo8v4LQzQpj/s4032/IMG_2600.HEIC" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFYJOVgyIAwM8CRq27yw44Eweyxj42gYczAEAur_LC4ih5iUshk7Y4pUEACit0UatO_7K2CS11HuUWEXk2vJ1MJ-HQNPVocfHk0bj-Yf_ZqMgRfHLDNXOuUMCdZ5WCe1Uiyo-5iTOqOYFom6TtXI6mkdDd2vf-etVsMCfVyjFytpjFLpo8v4LQzQpj/s320/IMG_2600.HEIC" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Their very own uniforms & a healthy Army-Navy rivalry</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6gxQPswI6b6oYl2hxAAzLzrscLp3GpT47sLkICqWBPxgeMH1ByA8RG_osj_Gr0AUBt112-XvEhqWBuJTFf2WtUj5qEpz5xn40I3SV2KfTrAi8ymG0iurEVZ2qxD_Blv_xzFyt9RQ2WY_QN4Lvw8GJDQhyftCmRQ-1IKOy2HyG0b6Hyj1IBLcbLVH/s4032/IMG_2782.HEIC" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6gxQPswI6b6oYl2hxAAzLzrscLp3GpT47sLkICqWBPxgeMH1ByA8RG_osj_Gr0AUBt112-XvEhqWBuJTFf2WtUj5qEpz5xn40I3SV2KfTrAi8ymG0iurEVZ2qxD_Blv_xzFyt9RQ2WY_QN4Lvw8GJDQhyftCmRQ-1IKOy2HyG0b6Hyj1IBLcbLVH/s320/IMG_2782.HEIC" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With my parents, both military retirees, September 2022</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPSZrSmUQbsqn6hhP-fRDtVLAT8VxxziaZYJDAZbOJFY4zNVXDuMJr-8UIt3KpSwvxClln_tGAHIX7KKWcM5lmSp0WbOgo4h3Bcj9L3ibWGI224pm09w91hEQLx_B8McvrvuvsMF8CQxf531EBIyBk_sRN1x4Vdd5LGqzjICp1sLJ-NgOv3okqc79c/s4032/IMG_2839%204.HEIC" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPSZrSmUQbsqn6hhP-fRDtVLAT8VxxziaZYJDAZbOJFY4zNVXDuMJr-8UIt3KpSwvxClln_tGAHIX7KKWcM5lmSp0WbOgo4h3Bcj9L3ibWGI224pm09w91hEQLx_B8McvrvuvsMF8CQxf531EBIyBk_sRN1x4Vdd5LGqzjICp1sLJ-NgOv3okqc79c/s320/IMG_2839%204.HEIC" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anne, Evan, & Leo, September 2022</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_BL9eCPxEoMMzrCICVBUaCTSkJRFkHNImkQfdQVwT7lkfQqflyjLVM02I8tXJRQk_3NoVFPvdxMlAP_1G9BetO5RkZTKz5CRrojG4wy2QZBdWmK0_R2947ENIb-rcAfM3lXF6vO4v_frKkqCyyiFhlm4ATnxHlkJeKUTJUhWPN5So9c_hJmSIfI4/s4032/IMG_2890.HEIC" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm_BL9eCPxEoMMzrCICVBUaCTSkJRFkHNImkQfdQVwT7lkfQqflyjLVM02I8tXJRQk_3NoVFPvdxMlAP_1G9BetO5RkZTKz5CRrojG4wy2QZBdWmK0_R2947ENIb-rcAfM3lXF6vO4v_frKkqCyyiFhlm4ATnxHlkJeKUTJUhWPN5So9c_hJmSIfI4/s320/IMG_2890.HEIC" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back: Caleb, Bryce, me, Isaac; Front: Asher, Ronda, Micah, September 2022</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjCWCSyUJChCbMKvzYAAB9kut4VGiymnD_eaQ9DxpBnTPDMx_XsxC4azKkoAQBbkflSt6xVO-qwbbCncbNeGGWsdukXWTvliwkSCrXqMfUtcnIc0vXN0uLVluqur8ktvj6mzkuUCM-AekRPVcZ6R68_21z4mp4zxZtF3OIXMDTPMXP3r_tkaf66-BG/s4032/IMG_2895.HEIC" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjCWCSyUJChCbMKvzYAAB9kut4VGiymnD_eaQ9DxpBnTPDMx_XsxC4azKkoAQBbkflSt6xVO-qwbbCncbNeGGWsdukXWTvliwkSCrXqMfUtcnIc0vXN0uLVluqur8ktvj6mzkuUCM-AekRPVcZ6R68_21z4mp4zxZtF3OIXMDTPMXP3r_tkaf66-BG/s320/IMG_2895.HEIC" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">with Dad, September 2022</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRL32hEWvTC2a3b1nRMNCEBQEAlChDpqJZphbVyouGaHrn8AhuTlWpMOYlzV4e6fk5FPjXwMEhkWTYeFSI-9F5TP2b9LQV0pL0bA_klAJjN7Z_wHsRteVe_lpppEOl-YI6sqHJqb8XeO0Y4HzNZZufP-Z_HwSGFAY_ZC8EhvVoZr9BO1hHuzCiyZCd/s3024/IMG_3231.heic" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="1997" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRL32hEWvTC2a3b1nRMNCEBQEAlChDpqJZphbVyouGaHrn8AhuTlWpMOYlzV4e6fk5FPjXwMEhkWTYeFSI-9F5TP2b9LQV0pL0bA_klAJjN7Z_wHsRteVe_lpppEOl-YI6sqHJqb8XeO0Y4HzNZZufP-Z_HwSGFAY_ZC8EhvVoZr9BO1hHuzCiyZCd/s320/IMG_3231.heic" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Becky, Anne, me, & Jim, October 2022</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEaI_sj3A8PcuO3Kf4L1vJJDG_xd1ynh8kM53bAbEeas_8aWiD5BNAdjsbkIzwKrpP-D-LWt4KzShZ225PjFVq22eV6it6ltWDcMLW30f9bhOJRfjYDzb_voWEjRKUAnGT2-8g_zNQfssgV9a79DcBZAkScOVVLcUBo1z5l-qWfucIVeHYVxKQvBVt/s3088/IMG_3371.HEIC" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEaI_sj3A8PcuO3Kf4L1vJJDG_xd1ynh8kM53bAbEeas_8aWiD5BNAdjsbkIzwKrpP-D-LWt4KzShZ225PjFVq22eV6it6ltWDcMLW30f9bhOJRfjYDzb_voWEjRKUAnGT2-8g_zNQfssgV9a79DcBZAkScOVVLcUBo1z5l-qWfucIVeHYVxKQvBVt/s320/IMG_3371.HEIC" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cutest astronaut & Minnie Mouse around, October 2022</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_VdmawHOa0ou0fo3RsN7zvlSackwfHqV5BnHMbbO4eEFUXZxiV61UBu6g-4oNGipR5DkXi-BiWi0LUzM8sH5QlDxL5pVXJnN6QvA4rax07Ie91DLcBBv0SNecmQqa0da4lqqYgDHMeyfzkQUyviZLMJ1i3qxy_2rDsFr--2wPss6UTnIu7mHwlYSy/s4032/IMG_9535.HEIC" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_VdmawHOa0ou0fo3RsN7zvlSackwfHqV5BnHMbbO4eEFUXZxiV61UBu6g-4oNGipR5DkXi-BiWi0LUzM8sH5QlDxL5pVXJnN6QvA4rax07Ie91DLcBBv0SNecmQqa0da4lqqYgDHMeyfzkQUyviZLMJ1i3qxy_2rDsFr--2wPss6UTnIu7mHwlYSy/s320/IMG_9535.HEIC" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With little sailor girl Claire Bear, April 2022</td></tr></tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDK1kmGAGByyXN9b72Qkml8RrbL400NRdQJHWlSQq1--SRNxdyHv3pQWzLWcVTl9rSydZfDYDL6L9zKSlasGquAWU1fQGHKC3gpuDivGuTKaIVWI53-sH26NZFHosMc46NtU17d4axR5Ediv6v2Mg9pznaZ7U-J6f3VesRR6PUER0NaCKI6Ch1DwhJ/s3088/IMG_3153.HEIC" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDK1kmGAGByyXN9b72Qkml8RrbL400NRdQJHWlSQq1--SRNxdyHv3pQWzLWcVTl9rSydZfDYDL6L9zKSlasGquAWU1fQGHKC3gpuDivGuTKaIVWI53-sH26NZFHosMc46NtU17d4axR5Ediv6v2Mg9pznaZ7U-J6f3VesRR6PUER0NaCKI6Ch1DwhJ/s320/IMG_3153.HEIC" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">with Aunt Marguerite & Uncle John, October 2022<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMafu5_dkhlt_3I1iN4-wfHXGWf1QyRXfIZ2IFWIKgdbVGV8K-tH3tr89wHdJ2-xcaQaPX8AkVM54hmi67j3OH8pei_-LTGt6pJobp_e_b3DcmlqCuk_gTYitb4CXTQAdAABXa7oh5TKQ5mC3ToEuUVTPonb1jK3B-7KUBf_FpybaH9BRR8F0Q0ipP/s1136/IMG_3865.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMafu5_dkhlt_3I1iN4-wfHXGWf1QyRXfIZ2IFWIKgdbVGV8K-tH3tr89wHdJ2-xcaQaPX8AkVM54hmi67j3OH8pei_-LTGt6pJobp_e_b3DcmlqCuk_gTYitb4CXTQAdAABXa7oh5TKQ5mC3ToEuUVTPonb1jK3B-7KUBf_FpybaH9BRR8F0Q0ipP/s320/IMG_3865.JPG" width="180" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Harvest! October 2022</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><br />
Truth be told, this was more leave than I was entitled to, but it was an administrative error of the Navy, and everyone to whom I brought the matter told me it wouldn’t be corrected and to enjoy it. Enjoy it I did. While in Puget Sound, I also got to make a whirlwind weekend trip to Seattle, Washington & Portland, Oregon, catching up with many friends from past chapters of my life, meeting their spouses & partners and even stopping by my old home & office from 2013/2014. I left the US feeling very ready to live in a new country, buoyed by support and time well-spent with family and friends. </div><div><br /></div><div>I chose my orders to Okinawa. In early July, my BHT class got a list of billets, and we had one hour to sort them out amongst ourselves. It was a difficult conversation, as I had hoped everyone could be satisfied. We knew that ultimately, choosing would go in order of class GPA, and by the grace of a few decimal points on that particular day, I was fortunate to have first choice. On our list, Okinawa was the only overseas option, and ultimately I accepted the opportunity to take it. Needless to say, this type of setting and time limit is not how I usually make major life decisions. </div><div><br /></div><div>However, I’m delighted to be here. The US military has a complicated history in Okinawa, an island prefecture of Japan ~400 miles south of the mainland. If you’re interested in a thoughtful, well-researched book on this presence, I recommend Night in the American Village: Women in the Shadow of the U.S. Military Bases in Okinawa, by Akemi Johnson. I’m only two-thirds through, but it’s one of the best books I’ve read all year and is helping shape—and answer—my questions about my presence here. </div><div><br /></div><div>The first month was lonely; despite a very positive command culture, many holiday parties, and the communal nature of living in the barracks or BEQ (bachelor enlisted quarters), making friends is hard. It’s even harder when most of your peers in rank are 15-20 years younger than you. Still, I’m told that loneliness is a common experience here, and as a community-builder I’m curious to see how I can help change that for future newcomers.
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWwpAp-Mngpc-tOnn70snJixUUMfFUuoR2ONjYdB093ZXfpHlLNqwEGnrHOFECemUeaLa9TFg5Vq7jwWT6XFriAN2Jp1_fBV-58zxrPeanF1g309AMXAK1a3ep70l7AOGtAhu8N1dtbZqG8n8UFP393Bw7Bwv1Y01G0r5sAk6hyGScMpqSwNJkbpNB/s4032/IMG_3683.HEIC" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWwpAp-Mngpc-tOnn70snJixUUMfFUuoR2ONjYdB093ZXfpHlLNqwEGnrHOFECemUeaLa9TFg5Vq7jwWT6XFriAN2Jp1_fBV-58zxrPeanF1g309AMXAK1a3ep70l7AOGtAhu8N1dtbZqG8n8UFP393Bw7Bwv1Y01G0r5sAk6hyGScMpqSwNJkbpNB/s320/IMG_3683.HEIC" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With a Corps School friend at the Navy Hospital's command holiday party<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
A note about rank: I realize that to my non-military friends, I’ve simply joined the Navy and am overseas experiencing all the adventure that entails. Whether I’m a Commander or Seaman Apprentice means next to nothing to you; I’m just in the Navy. Yet it means a lot to those in the military; rank controls so much more than one’s salary. It dictates much about my life: what privileges and liberties I am permitted, whom I am allowed to interact with and in what ways. Inspections, curfew, even freedoms like buying a car, having visitors in my room or staying elsewhere overnight are all dictated by the Navy and related to rank. [Marriage is also heavily incentivized in the military. For example, sometimes the difference between a shared barracks room (subject to inspection by strangers) and a private off-base apartment is a simple little lifetime commitment to another human.] Rank isn’t everything, but it’s a lot. I entered as an E-3 due to my college degree and “picked up” E-4 (Petty Officer Third Class) upon my BHT graduation, a perk of my specific contract. This is advantageous, because it can take several years to become an E-4, especially as a Corpsman where advancement is competitive due to how numerous we are in the Navy. It’s still a very humble rank, however; my college peers who are or were in the Navy are generally O-4s, Lieutenant Commanders. I occupy a strange territory, and I’m still figuring it out day by day.
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_N00nqQXv5Kf2RIZZ6sjpcoZUsLWplU8amt1ekrqUXXd4EM6ujptOcZfpzlt8BhZHt39iRXiUj1n1IzvvDaoh2SIgNyul_7sbWg_-ZGhlVB2oYMStKYumXJEWhb9HbxAr1jQ6gPyt77GYoqWD1DgPQsplHz6wgF25nzLgy7mSKBTdm0M4uR8cTo00/s4032/IMG_2697.HEIC" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_N00nqQXv5Kf2RIZZ6sjpcoZUsLWplU8amt1ekrqUXXd4EM6ujptOcZfpzlt8BhZHt39iRXiUj1n1IzvvDaoh2SIgNyul_7sbWg_-ZGhlVB2oYMStKYumXJEWhb9HbxAr1jQ6gPyt77GYoqWD1DgPQsplHz6wgF25nzLgy7mSKBTdm0M4uR8cTo00/s320/IMG_2697.HEIC" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With HN Micono, one of my roommates from Fort Sam, whom I asked to "pin" me HM3 in my advancement ceremony. She's one of the Sailors I most respect & admire!<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
In another month, I’ll be able to seek permission to buy a car and, depending on barracks occupancy, submit a request to move off-base if I so choose. We shall see. I often feel trapped behind the fences—the sights and sounds of Okinawa close, yet far; the street just outside my window often inaccessible because the nearest open gate is a 30-minute walk. However, needing to rely on my feet and the base and local bus lines to explore is helping me get my bearings and build a mental map that will only be enhanced by the freedom and convenience a car and off-base housing would facilitate. </div><div><br /></div><div>I work in Outpatient Mental Health, which has two locations within our main hospital and also supports the Child and Adolescent Mental Health (CAMH) and Substance Abuse Rehabilitation Program (SARP) clinics across the street. I’ve had the opportunity to do a little bit of front desk/vitals work across these locations and am currently on a three-month rotation in SARP. I have an office and am excited to do actual BHT therapy work. It draws on my previous experience in all the ways I hoped it would, and I’m delighted to keep learning and growing in my clinical skillset. </div><div><br /></div><div>I’m also still finding my place in the command and larger community. This is challenging with my age and rank, but there are still so many options. Volunteering for base clean-ups and at the Marine Thrift Shop (a veritable treasure trove) is easy and enjoyable. We have a fabulous library, USO, Single Marine Program, Tours+, and of course movie theatre, bowling alley, and more—and that’s without leaving base. Okinawa is filled with historic sites, aquariums, shopping centers, hiking trails, beaches, and waterfalls. 1.5 million people live on this 66x8-mile island, so there are plenty of places to go and people to meet. Being stationed with the military in a country whose language I don’t speak—and must really go out of my way to learn—is a wildly different way of living in a foreign country, and one I’m not entirely comfortable embracing. I know I don’t want to be the American who buys all their groceries on base and goes to the same American bar every weekend. I am also accepting that I may never integrate in the way I did in Zambia or other locations overseas. I am hoping to find my own way. At work, this includes determining how best contribute as a BHT, as well as how I am involved in the command, such as teaching Basic Life Support or being part of the color guard. It also involves many decisions in my personal life. I’d love to take a class in aerial yoga (offered nearby) or to seek doula training. I plan to take advantage of world-class diving by becoming SCUBA certified in the coming months. I’m finding my way around the various bases on the island and figuring out how to appreciate acquaintances while searching for meaningful friendships.
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTzShxmQQXcg1LTVPbWLVZ--Z185vPGo0J3qvTjPQQvypwTqBGhZaj5X0Qssc9fjyhXq895UOtbsrMD1X0-1TSqP9mxKjWHvMqOo2MHsDKW-tX8dm5CUJAq6CnQG6tuXvyzZVXzkpLmps4GNaSwHljlGmUvH6Cn9WWbokFGpdu45GikvdBJaJ90i-/s4032/IMG_3838.HEIC" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTzShxmQQXcg1LTVPbWLVZ--Z185vPGo0J3qvTjPQQvypwTqBGhZaj5X0Qssc9fjyhXq895UOtbsrMD1X0-1TSqP9mxKjWHvMqOo2MHsDKW-tX8dm5CUJAq6CnQG6tuXvyzZVXzkpLmps4GNaSwHljlGmUvH6Cn9WWbokFGpdu45GikvdBJaJ90i-/s320/IMG_3838.HEIC" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiji Falls & my first hike in Oki!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div>Before writing this, I re-read last year’s update. Several things resonate nearly verbatim. I recently turned 39 in a barracks room, with no house, no car, no partner, and no children of my own, but with all my needs met, and with an overabundance of opportunity. I am very much still making sense of being in the Navy, grateful for the opportunities it is affording me and will bring in the future, but not oblivious to its history and role in warfare and destruction. As ever, Nalerie is the love of my life and is filling the role of “threenager” with spirit and spunk. Being able to talk with her about her beginnings “in my tummy” was one of the highlights of the past year. Our global climate is just as dangerous, but my individual life is full of love, hope, and joy, as I hope yours is.</div><div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg58KLoqRliyEGQumgxwvZ3I4pp2CFufd3k_ZXLMtK5DCZid_qAYT9FkORsQTRCfus17blVzmD679a-Ilkn7II09DXbqSzAAxsjq9bXrZ3NMmiPtX0GiXlirbLYl0FAy_VEaIz8KTO68tVoo8wnFgxPX4QDK29SNLvOP66PY-i-NYWqPLi-jOeiLKkG/s853/IMG_2619%202.jpg" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg58KLoqRliyEGQumgxwvZ3I4pp2CFufd3k_ZXLMtK5DCZid_qAYT9FkORsQTRCfus17blVzmD679a-Ilkn7II09DXbqSzAAxsjq9bXrZ3NMmiPtX0GiXlirbLYl0FAy_VEaIz8KTO68tVoo8wnFgxPX4QDK29SNLvOP66PY-i-NYWqPLi-jOeiLKkG/s320/IMG_2619%202.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are no words!</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg10eXlyFSQNXW-PP2n7GSgUlTH90tBsTq8TikdKLcJ7RHu0m8NZndkwACeu9vjl2NbspmdqG2OyPcJ7gCSfmHuoV5uSn7g0NAJJNx2n7LrWL8-SvNR6Z6BBRUzb0BSWRDlP1hz2k03h2s6YB4q3oY3kaWj__kd77RTmJZPkFmlt3bDq8KC5bOAoLyF/s1136/IMG_2738.JPG" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg10eXlyFSQNXW-PP2n7GSgUlTH90tBsTq8TikdKLcJ7RHu0m8NZndkwACeu9vjl2NbspmdqG2OyPcJ7gCSfmHuoV5uSn7g0NAJJNx2n7LrWL8-SvNR6Z6BBRUzb0BSWRDlP1hz2k03h2s6YB4q3oY3kaWj__kd77RTmJZPkFmlt3bDq8KC5bOAoLyF/s320/IMG_2738.JPG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">August 2022</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWa2Hr32Fpry2EX15RjB-96kUzwZJl8GfxDWfZRJAEyoDSvb2QpA8_Cb6VEN4PzNoze0fOopHMmTAImvv26FvBKRgv2XCwRaB4Xul7-GRlcHQnTmJj7cGtQyzLoIG8wDhKucx5m1s8OBLsoF7NJaoyPX-gV00HD4P-B15UC_eQV3l3WdnzwcroSVD/s1136/IMG_2917.PNG" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWa2Hr32Fpry2EX15RjB-96kUzwZJl8GfxDWfZRJAEyoDSvb2QpA8_Cb6VEN4PzNoze0fOopHMmTAImvv26FvBKRgv2XCwRaB4Xul7-GRlcHQnTmJj7cGtQyzLoIG8wDhKucx5m1s8OBLsoF7NJaoyPX-gV00HD4P-B15UC_eQV3l3WdnzwcroSVD/s320/IMG_2917.PNG" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">August 2022</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxqNZ9Gc_VBZtA20hfeOdJaeLAPACxv2Aa-C1FQr5T3eA-oBQW_fEdI6fVqZKgke9vHipiD7f0Yp9CUeeNkIrHK_U1DuCQg1GsaAZeHEMbNBdS5vEL0v8lUWtLwhhjEPGIpiJe_-lxKYbe5LhE4NkuCo3AFSbf1M5NPcwjDYBbvpohNJIDcHnQSy4A/s960/IMG_3733.PNG" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxqNZ9Gc_VBZtA20hfeOdJaeLAPACxv2Aa-C1FQr5T3eA-oBQW_fEdI6fVqZKgke9vHipiD7f0Yp9CUeeNkIrHK_U1DuCQg1GsaAZeHEMbNBdS5vEL0v8lUWtLwhhjEPGIpiJe_-lxKYbe5LhE4NkuCo3AFSbf1M5NPcwjDYBbvpohNJIDcHnQSy4A/s320/IMG_3733.PNG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas 2022<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
I’m excited about the work I am doing, and will do, in Okinawa. Paraphrasing a gentleman in the library writer’s hour last week, “The puzzle pieces are on the table, and I want to see what picture emerges.” As ever, I’m hopeful to be part of a team that can respond efficiently and effectively in times of crisis. More importantly, perhaps, I hope that I can have a small part in proactively preventing crisis and helping people to thrive. </div><div><br /></div><div>Wishing you & yours all the best. </div><div><br /></div><div>Love, </div><div>Andréa</div>Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-85024402218238191112022-01-02T14:08:00.008-08:002022-01-02T17:43:12.258-08:002021 End-of-Year Reflection<p><span style="font-family: times;"> Happy New Year, friends!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">First, a little housekeeping. You may have come upon this post after receiving a postcard that looked like this: </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg9lmn3QvOvyZUL0Na0w9oVXE5lBDnPd3_rsawuoobLm7QEtghA96MgZaDQY9X_n3OE6FfvX5oEos3lK1MVfVgi8cazSUROH2pjcbu87TOiwowCqbU2M62sI0Wba1FQpa2ZcdGEDSScfsdJs4hZWQlIlWzE1xP-MGrfsxvtnZyk_5Lf6qSEOTj5Gerl=s790" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="790" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg9lmn3QvOvyZUL0Na0w9oVXE5lBDnPd3_rsawuoobLm7QEtghA96MgZaDQY9X_n3OE6FfvX5oEos3lK1MVfVgi8cazSUROH2pjcbu87TOiwowCqbU2M62sI0Wba1FQpa2ZcdGEDSScfsdJs4hZWQlIlWzE1xP-MGrfsxvtnZyk_5Lf6qSEOTj5Gerl=w436-h293" width="436" /></a></div><p style="font-family: times;">If you're among my handful of nautically-inclined recipients, you likely noticed a gaffe: the common toast among sailors is "Fair winds and following seas," not the inverse. The error on the card was made in the original draft, caught, and fixed. Alas, in the process of getting the cards made (which somehow involved four copy shops, three buses, lots of walking, and multiple emails and phone calls), the erroneous image was printed. I'd like to say I chuckled and sent them off anyway. Instead I cried, cursed myself for not proofreading more carefully, made a few frustrated phone calls, and then sent them off anyway. My appreciation for grammatical and literary accuracy is exceeded by my aversion to the wasted time and money that reprinting would require.</p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">
Other housekeeping: my new address is Mayrose, Andrea, 3288 Corporal Johnson Unit 1692, Fort Sam Houston, TX 78234.
Now on to my year-end reflection. Buckle in: I'm in isolation awaiting Covid test results after experiencing a few scattered symptoms, so I've got nothing but time.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">In January 2021, I was living in Brookings, in an SDSU-owned furnished townhome. I was working as a coordinator for Quarantine & Isolation Housing for students on campus. I was dating a thoughtful gentleman, Chris, and awaiting delayed results on my application to be a Naval intelligence officer. (This is the "career pivot" I had alluded to, without naming, in last year's reflection.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Updates: I transitioned back into a Residence Hall Director Role in February, leaving the gorgeous townhome for a cinder-block campus apartment and working in Young Hall for the remainder of the school year. This temporary-duty position allowed me to do a job I loved as a sprint, not a marathon, and despite the weirdness (and necessity) of Covid-19 restrictions, we were able to accomplish some great things, including an end-of-year volleyball tournament & picnic, and this student-designed (and largely executed) mural in our student lounge/kitchen:</span></p><p><span style="background-color: #fcff01; font-family: times;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgbHBv7F9Pm1cmNJScvL2iafN8ZhLdKon2m8KEPO_6QAFKnsOhvxlBHWZs39iYzG_-FTvVtruxNeql9RCaa_CKIaeGdlsAjbTb3k1IHo85iNZXevjs_DDa44GVegT6YLI43Tt3TKDn5nltqXF6efA7lI4E9k8ZIWmv50j0mXStA_RDLgxitUQthPicF=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgbHBv7F9Pm1cmNJScvL2iafN8ZhLdKon2m8KEPO_6QAFKnsOhvxlBHWZs39iYzG_-FTvVtruxNeql9RCaa_CKIaeGdlsAjbTb3k1IHo85iNZXevjs_DDa44GVegT6YLI43Tt3TKDn5nltqXF6efA7lI4E9k8ZIWmv50j0mXStA_RDLgxitUQthPicF=s320" width="180" /></a></span></div><span style="background-color: #fcff01; font-family: times;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">I learned in January that my officer packet was not accepted, which was not a complete surprise, as the acceptance rate is often 20-30% for this role. After a few months of discussion & careful consideration, I enlisted in the Navy on June 2nd, with a "ship date" of September 7th.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: #fcff01;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiannpRKYuTYGvvIPTgxJuhJHlNceHiYyNZ3RkSGF-iE8tMkiFGBRKJKC9vubzPpzM2INNLiKUrcG9u8oSreJK_ZxLLwbuy5Wp55MeubvZulR6assMsVmv4qJ6K44bi61EfDZtAC22T18ROsbdjbK0ir9RVn6Jcy0YIPs4tlWbbyng2LnlmEgKGGq4l=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiannpRKYuTYGvvIPTgxJuhJHlNceHiYyNZ3RkSGF-iE8tMkiFGBRKJKC9vubzPpzM2INNLiKUrcG9u8oSreJK_ZxLLwbuy5Wp55MeubvZulR6assMsVmv4qJ6K44bi61EfDZtAC22T18ROsbdjbK0ir9RVn6Jcy0YIPs4tlWbbyng2LnlmEgKGGq4l=s320" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: #fcff01;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">My 15th college reunion was held online, and (naturally) took place the same week that I enlisted, wrapped up my role as an RHD, and moved out of my campus apartment. I had the great fortune to collaborate with classmate Aoife Spillane-Hinks and many others in hosting a virtual Memorial Service, and we were pleased with the space we were able to create to honor and remember the dear friends we've lost. I also attended or helped host a couple of other Reunion events, and while the low attendance surprised me, the quality of reconnection was valuable. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">After the reunion, I visited my brother Mike & his partner Megan near Kansas City, along with my dad, nephews, and sister Beth. We toured a U.S. Mint and the WWI Memorial. This image struck me and prompted my commentary: </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiRA8ha1Rtgw4NV7NqmM_PdzgzSCpWkn8iS-bgrd2B672hrMxhFUacsSsSwtKAQcojVvqSuDy3VcqbrnwOf2-UVSc1LNq9hAfjVyKZUGfOY4-is8r2hNQXadblwJeuAagwIoJxBjEGB59cjQBGwi-0NQH-zm3rmq-ZP1Jx9G2XfPOnN7FDLouB059xH=s1136" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="409" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiRA8ha1Rtgw4NV7NqmM_PdzgzSCpWkn8iS-bgrd2B672hrMxhFUacsSsSwtKAQcojVvqSuDy3VcqbrnwOf2-UVSc1LNq9hAfjVyKZUGfOY4-is8r2hNQXadblwJeuAagwIoJxBjEGB59cjQBGwi-0NQH-zm3rmq-ZP1Jx9G2XfPOnN7FDLouB059xH=w230-h409" width="230" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white;">We also toured an agricultural "hall of fame" and spent some time at Megan's family's lake house.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">I spent the summer again working remotely for Harvard's Secondary School Program, which was online for the second year. I was excited to try new programing efforts that challenged me a bit. I led a 5-part creative writing workshop that featured two guest authors with Harvard connections, a choreography collaboration that created movement to student-created music, several relaxed visual art sessions, a series of career panels, among other things. I also gave a presentation to FGLI (first-generation, low-income) college students about navigating the language and landscape of higher education. I enjoyed doing the online job in new ways.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">However, when one has relied on work-provided housing, "working from home: means working from nowhere in particular, and it gave me the freedom to bounce around a bit. Chris bought a 3-bedroom home in April and traveled extensively throughout the summer, so we had a pretty symbiotic housekeeping relationship: I had a quiet, beautiful space in which to work, and in exchange I kept up with the lawn, garden, & housework while he was away. I also helped a bit with my mom & sister Becky's big transition from their Salem house to their Sioux Falls apartment, and I spent a week with Becky in the new apartment while my mom was traveling. Mom, Beth, Anne, & I formed Becky's entourage as we traveled together to Nashville in late July. There, Becky participated in the National "Miss Amazing" program, and it was a great weekend celebrating women with disabilities. (We had the good fortune to see Uncle Mike, Aunt Tawnya, my cousin Emma, and her boyfriend Corey, as well!)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKmDuXtcV5OdquoXQiYszodbVaENRMW2hYwKLv1JU1J_6jk_-a8twgPlsMWYBtZdEbviAJ2Km4pNUmgHicalHmxuDv88vmyONw8JbMObJOfxFCyQ8zxIAtgt0rlFJPufB0mFxPj_Ta5lp8zpl0Vdfble97CsHBGPX2tMckca2YHVPo6qnFtWK8acSX=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiKmDuXtcV5OdquoXQiYszodbVaENRMW2hYwKLv1JU1J_6jk_-a8twgPlsMWYBtZdEbviAJ2Km4pNUmgHicalHmxuDv88vmyONw8JbMObJOfxFCyQ8zxIAtgt0rlFJPufB0mFxPj_Ta5lp8zpl0Vdfble97CsHBGPX2tMckca2YHVPo6qnFtWK8acSX=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anne & Becky</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">August was a free month between Harvard and my forthcoming "2-month, taxpayer-funded fitness and education retreat," and I made the most of it. I spent a week in Colorado, visiting friends Emily, Katie, & Rachel, and of course Nalerie & the Sutton-Talley family. (I also spent a few days with them in February, and they stopped by my mom's apartment in July while in SD, so we are doing a pretty good job of finding ways to stay connected even in Covid times.)</span></p><p><span style="background-color: #fcff01; font-family: times;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvl8n-3aIbKQuR21syJv9Pjkil8Hz5dAC-60dhkMH6c2VToL44XbfUmN1FIuABzVMBOvdt5DG4_UzkMBov2RyJkVe-8SkUbslNwB9LS3Z7ltBxYSGFzrExF3FTHWybuYM-kE910DRz9GRLjSPLwbsPMgd6L3AV9IeQtxzShd3usP4azM_Aq8vBt06U=s1136" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgvl8n-3aIbKQuR21syJv9Pjkil8Hz5dAC-60dhkMH6c2VToL44XbfUmN1FIuABzVMBOvdt5DG4_UzkMBov2RyJkVe-8SkUbslNwB9LS3Z7ltBxYSGFzrExF3FTHWybuYM-kE910DRz9GRLjSPLwbsPMgd6L3AV9IeQtxzShd3usP4azM_Aq8vBt06U=s320" width="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjz-aAL0Uaek9fFtki6dYAY8JDVI4tHRXaFPaKKGKtKyXtMb-9kjSTZNM8um8OpUvTwf_gVfMFFHfRSfxPYPTp8AuZ_Q4o1QwRwa4ktSG8UMH1LUzf-T17WMVac2zkt_Aj3tVF2_FT0K_T2sgJ58xn6NaOJW7uMfFqd3wBhUYVgcQt0vu1z6j85TnYA=s3088" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjz-aAL0Uaek9fFtki6dYAY8JDVI4tHRXaFPaKKGKtKyXtMb-9kjSTZNM8um8OpUvTwf_gVfMFFHfRSfxPYPTp8AuZ_Q4o1QwRwa4ktSG8UMH1LUzf-T17WMVac2zkt_Aj3tVF2_FT0K_T2sgJ58xn6NaOJW7uMfFqd3wBhUYVgcQt0vu1z6j85TnYA=s320" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLKab2j270_aOAP-1WIJ_rStGupGsaghqrPsugt8yP4dc6xaRwoOW4PQ0DBOVrq3dUnhHHdhU55YtSpR4Jr32db00-Cxrc--z9051ZQs4TrEh7cmhpGzrBhaoujvhdh74WMb8ng94Sl5uuvW-PJsEEtApYTOe-qBtr4H3T0odYjtsCyq_WNzxcFsGH=s1136" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLKab2j270_aOAP-1WIJ_rStGupGsaghqrPsugt8yP4dc6xaRwoOW4PQ0DBOVrq3dUnhHHdhU55YtSpR4Jr32db00-Cxrc--z9051ZQs4TrEh7cmhpGzrBhaoujvhdh74WMb8ng94Sl5uuvW-PJsEEtApYTOe-qBtr4H3T0odYjtsCyq_WNzxcFsGH=s320" width="180" /></span><br /></a><br /></span></div><span style="background-color: #fcff01; font-family: times;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhPnVgUf_lECt200BRne1fqOIIlnJ6zvA7TGku--mjI5OsbIqZPUNDB9qCwZJnOcJMiD6iQMpipYdRJRaUaoZD3XZvQIwVHTkShod56Ya5YT-QYtkECLoXzwicztwG0yDB8PrOZLHk9Kvg8UQMis4FEVL3RnHkofeakjzM3ZM4n-B1mM6sJ90kMie6G=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhPnVgUf_lECt200BRne1fqOIIlnJ6zvA7TGku--mjI5OsbIqZPUNDB9qCwZJnOcJMiD6iQMpipYdRJRaUaoZD3XZvQIwVHTkShod56Ya5YT-QYtkECLoXzwicztwG0yDB8PrOZLHk9Kvg8UQMis4FEVL3RnHkofeakjzM3ZM4n-B1mM6sJ90kMie6G=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Isaac, Jacob, Andrea, Nalerie, & Andrew</td></tr></tbody></table></div></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"></div></div><p></p><p>In other adventures, Chris & I had the nephews up for some hiking, trampoline fun at Air Madness, a sleepover & video games, and Wild Water West before they went back to school. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-KV71tdCZP_kEueAJk5ThdPMcoKK0ZnzISKrzlmJnOBuX7TX7sS0Hw9Nd-ynJ16Z1PSeMV0hPSfstPFsyiaJKLxJdRa3TFjIyyLQiaRfwdkERqkcrCMLMQdlU3vdlG8sMsBdQdKuxQaPHCJU9fIKrC2db-NK7D2w0HawjCRgvK5ryafgKdP5qHxh4=s3088" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-KV71tdCZP_kEueAJk5ThdPMcoKK0ZnzISKrzlmJnOBuX7TX7sS0Hw9Nd-ynJ16Z1PSeMV0hPSfstPFsyiaJKLxJdRa3TFjIyyLQiaRfwdkERqkcrCMLMQdlU3vdlG8sMsBdQdKuxQaPHCJU9fIKrC2db-NK7D2w0HawjCRgvK5ryafgKdP5qHxh4=s320" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5GVJztluiRJaqEc1iMTQig1Kz2U6EjHoG0-Bb5WnKdlnJeJJaSJbdNHRLz1Ym6SYPzo5VaWrGkDVe4deu8fUYiZriRM_fBG8yHSdPxngWLAWJosNZTRTx4qjyJ0OkJQ92qTN81V51lLnxUx6GQcAng9i2Lls031AIL2UE4fMFKYVP67HaQYENWf2O=s3088" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj5GVJztluiRJaqEc1iMTQig1Kz2U6EjHoG0-Bb5WnKdlnJeJJaSJbdNHRLz1Ym6SYPzo5VaWrGkDVe4deu8fUYiZriRM_fBG8yHSdPxngWLAWJosNZTRTx4qjyJ0OkJQ92qTN81V51lLnxUx6GQcAng9i2Lls031AIL2UE4fMFKYVP67HaQYENWf2O=s320" width="320" /></a></p><p>Chris & I also made a trip to Wisconsin to see his family, complete with a stop at his sister & brother-in-law's restaurant, Manila, and a 3-sibling birthday party. It felt good to be vaccinated and able to make these trips with relative confidence.</p><p>August, and the summer in general, was also a time of preparation for basic training. I'd put on a few pounds and dropped them by my third full go at <a href="https://whole30.com/whole30-program-rules/">Whole 30</a>. I highly recommend this program (paired with physical activity) if you need to lose weight in a healthy way. With my weight back within Navy regulations, I worked on running, pushups, and the plank. Since I was entering at age 37, the minimum requirements for these fitness were pretty forgiving, but I sure wasn't going to show up just to get sent home (or worse, set back in training) because I wasn't prepared to meet them. As part of the Delayed Entry Program, I had a manual of basic Navy knowledge with which I needed to familiarize myself, monthly meetings, and weekly check-ins with a recruiter to make sure I was on track.</p><p>There were other projects, too. I finished several paintings for friends and gave away many of the art supplies I'd accumulated so that they could be put to good use. In many ways, these last few weeks in August felt like I was closing a chapter: on my six years in South Dakota, my time at SDSU. I wanted to leave things in a good place.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiiQ9suHJP18nKtQAqOsyjcLPF6kMY7XF5s0YSvuFLxmdLbmAfQi01j3rD7QpiAicB2ZeMWfywM4nyCA8MJxroLfoPBd5ExHda8Q7jbL1pIhC3A0N0bNdcvwRhY1sZUjK47joh0TkL8wYkIDTli-7FEMiKUAG0tinoKrGSFIYLQsVG7eAqH20O-A71C=w193-h257" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="193" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An abstract triptych<br />inspired by the Sioux River</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh4Yaax2b0WjG16L6jz8-pM8VrwbBDiLtD1SxpXWMgso2s0iLioE_wOIHQ6-lDeYsHF2Ppe6ZDaL5VjBtuwOTyq4PW-FyVedHBp3CYzw1N3vnZWmCQRnWRdbPT0pzsBBWAPNeojcAhLYnfkM7YIbKlxHHCeHcjbmOZsyN8NzOqzwFykNIK8OVBGgdVo=s2810" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2810" data-original-width="2795" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh4Yaax2b0WjG16L6jz8-pM8VrwbBDiLtD1SxpXWMgso2s0iLioE_wOIHQ6-lDeYsHF2Ppe6ZDaL5VjBtuwOTyq4PW-FyVedHBp3CYzw1N3vnZWmCQRnWRdbPT0pzsBBWAPNeojcAhLYnfkM7YIbKlxHHCeHcjbmOZsyN8NzOqzwFykNIK8OVBGgdVo=w266-h268" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A collage for my friend's "lady wall"</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqRix10KKhwlPi-KmmnRiRaUSR3nECaO_nyESO_SM6XqlomwAaOWv2UwsSTu4EYBvKcxClrsOrG4eTnZXI57-aSktf4nMUjAGiaHFKZ3sFolodsezF4rnoZ-6RlXk9IoX1Vw55ieq3hgYm7Pc1oZfLxUWtalQQbtIaPrHZYmhd-kCFSeKp-x_lnLwX=s3647" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2912" data-original-width="3647" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqRix10KKhwlPi-KmmnRiRaUSR3nECaO_nyESO_SM6XqlomwAaOWv2UwsSTu4EYBvKcxClrsOrG4eTnZXI57-aSktf4nMUjAGiaHFKZ3sFolodsezF4rnoZ-6RlXk9IoX1Vw55ieq3hgYm7Pc1oZfLxUWtalQQbtIaPrHZYmhd-kCFSeKp-x_lnLwX=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rapidly-completed portrait of my friend and<br />her second child</td></tr></tbody></table></div><p><span style="font-family: times;">The "personal archive" reorganization that I undertook in Fall 2020 proved very useful as I secured a storage unit. Having a full inventory of my belongings, and having them organized in sturdy, stackable cases rather than the hodge-podge of storage bins they previously occupied, was very helpful not just when I left but when I returned home in December and selected a few civilian things to bring back with me to Texas.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">On September 5th, we celebrated Bryce & Asher's birthdays and my departure. The next day, I reported to my Armed Services Career Center and was ushered off to the requisite pre-departure hotel stay. on September 7th, I officially (again) enlisted in the U.S. Navy. At that point, changing my mind would mean abandonment...and likely imprisonment.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Boot camp. How to describe it? It was so soft and easy in some ways, and so difficult in others. I was in a a"900 division," which performed for three graduation ceremonies, including our own. I played bells in the drumline, and I enjoyed beginning my Navy career with performance. The nine weeks included a lot of missed sleep, a lot of negativity, and a lot of time spent staring at the wall. </span><span style="font-family: times;">That said, we also had some really cool hands-on training, which I enjoyed. (You can get an overview of the Navy basic training experience in this hourlong documentary, </span><a href="https://youtu.be/pDwLsrmDBF0" style="font-family: times;">Making a Sailor</a><span style="font-family: times;">.) Basic training is where you earn the uniform; I spent a lot of time trying to make sense of the Navy as an organization, and my place in it, as well as thinking of all those who have gone before me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Somehow (and I credit Chris for this observation when we processed it afterward), despite all the tumult I was experiencing internally, I was still able to perform well. My scores in various boot camp tasks--tests, inspections, the physical fitness test, and the like--put me in the top 3% of my training group. Despite fumbling through an Awards Board, I was selected for the Military Excellence Award and recognized as the "finest of this group of graduates." I was awarded a Challenge Coin from the Commanding Officer, a Navy Club watch from the Admiral, and a handful of remarks from staff anytime I goofed in the last couple days of boot camp: "Aren't you supposed to be the #1 graduate?," for example, as I struggled to perform colors properly.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1I5mgHsxOL_pZvGkVPIPp8r1Ht92B1ZJ7iN9OIgvMO7O3V7lBmsxN0nBlqSlyLqk17kpSG_P7fbyJrvZ7GkqJNG5icmXKfJ3hytVIRk981qd9jrSTkdiUbaYmYzBVsQXCEg0xzBUNFx1oOvTOx1SD2lzM61YraQyvsYwAkj8OEkuj5s2A1T65xKOz=s320" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seaman Mayrose, RTC Commanding Officer<br />Captain Sandin, & Rear Admiral Couture<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1I5mgHsxOL_pZvGkVPIPp8r1Ht92B1ZJ7iN9OIgvMO7O3V7lBmsxN0nBlqSlyLqk17kpSG_P7fbyJrvZ7GkqJNG5icmXKfJ3hytVIRk981qd9jrSTkdiUbaYmYzBVsQXCEg0xzBUNFx1oOvTOx1SD2lzM61YraQyvsYwAkj8OEkuj5s2A1T65xKOz=s2048"><span style="font-family: times;"></span></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1I5mgHsxOL_pZvGkVPIPp8r1Ht92B1ZJ7iN9OIgvMO7O3V7lBmsxN0nBlqSlyLqk17kpSG_P7fbyJrvZ7GkqJNG5icmXKfJ3hytVIRk981qd9jrSTkdiUbaYmYzBVsQXCEg0xzBUNFx1oOvTOx1SD2lzM61YraQyvsYwAkj8OEkuj5s2A1T65xKOz=s2048"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_z8UkfBsNakbpvF6VGnxP3v0kRsfLbBGpmkJTREMq6n3sqI04SBh-Fwi_hWDvskiodYBRX6dKShn2_os-zndf6QNdoH8CIAp_rx9abLIS5bUVv8prOGrXsO82tDIFxaw-x-wF5gz_wObg4ZQNo86L3ZDjU3vOsjAk9J9BRdlvYLbuqRigdtpivpK2=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1463" data-original-width="2048" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_z8UkfBsNakbpvF6VGnxP3v0kRsfLbBGpmkJTREMq6n3sqI04SBh-Fwi_hWDvskiodYBRX6dKShn2_os-zndf6QNdoH8CIAp_rx9abLIS5bUVv8prOGrXsO82tDIFxaw-x-wF5gz_wObg4ZQNo86L3ZDjU3vOsjAk9J9BRdlvYLbuqRigdtpivpK2=w221-h158" width="221" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmrTAEp5Rer9UxKtCIs7L8_y_i9sXombh3BTxWU4JVQxxyGXlUSVOcbzpKC225vV79gAP2MQVQn56JO3depEYgVTIAKHYhOaZZ1IISE4O-332B0_2IPmAppfvWU-wAsuE7y-ZRKgs0mozGqyGvHgnsxptexr9Zna-Ur6Gj_C3r3dBQtS8en4TRkpza=s1704" style="font-family: times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1218" data-original-width="1704" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmrTAEp5Rer9UxKtCIs7L8_y_i9sXombh3BTxWU4JVQxxyGXlUSVOcbzpKC225vV79gAP2MQVQn56JO3depEYgVTIAKHYhOaZZ1IISE4O-332B0_2IPmAppfvWU-wAsuE7y-ZRKgs0mozGqyGvHgnsxptexr9Zna-Ur6Gj_C3r3dBQtS8en4TRkpza=w221-h158" width="221" /></a></div></div><p><span style="font-family: times;">Despite the strangeness of this award, I was pleased to make it through our last drumline performance without any horrible sour notes, and to salute the Captain and Admiral without any mistakes that would go viral and disgrace the Navy. If you've always wanted to watch a Navy boot camp graduation, pop some corn and enjoy the <a href="https://youtu.be/RW2mlBt7MzI">November 10, 2020 Navy Pass-in-Review Ceremony</a>.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Mom, Beth, & Becky made the trip to Great Lakes to spend time with me during my two days of liberty. Afterward, my fellow future Hospital Corpsmen and Masters-at-Arms boarded a bus, headed to our flight, and then went right back to boot camp due to mechanical problems. (I felt bad for the staff who were due a weekend off after 8 weeks of training us, and who now had to babysit us until a new plan was made.) Four days later, we finally left boot camp for real, and I arrived in Fort Sam Houston, TX, to begin ~15 weeks of A-school, where I learn my job in the Navy. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">The transition was harder than I expected. On one hand, we were Sailors now. I had one roommate instead of 80; I showered alone behind a curtain, rather than with a dozen other women; I could walk around base alone; I could be in touch with family & friends through my phone; I could plan my sleep schedule to accommodate whatever early wake-up was needed. Still, it was hard to gauge the tone. Sometimes we were spoken to like humans; at other times, we were screamed at like we had been in boot camp. While in Phase 1 of training, we were restricted to base and could not wear civilian clothes. There's effectively no dating (since you can't leave, can't show affection in uniform and must always be in uniform, and can't be in any room other than your own), and there's no alcohol consumption even for those of age. The first few weeks of A school felt like prison, but it has gotten better over time. Though I would likely have enjoyed serving as an officer, I think the Hospital Corps umbrella suits me better. I suspect that I'll be less likely to be tasked with anything that challenges my moral or ethical values, and I am enjoying what I'm learning. I'm often asked why I chose to enlist at my age, and it's a difficult question with a thousand answers.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">It was also great to go home for a few short days, with stops in Sioux Falls, Salem, Brookings, & Vermillion. I was able to see almost everyone in my family, as well as the Sutton-Talleys, and </span></p><p></p><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgb0WT6WPCRqKi3FIk3Jlf28IInoDk1u7hu42jUpR55I-SYRZqyhRaVJXexf3gD5y4kRSNHIc6X25FJi9CXeVR3xemyGFAW7ZMTm-2mwSZM83VkmPyfqZqE8P8AKggVBQlYhwX1VaisAoRqIS6a_aldfncNfL38FKx3I1S41j1AYegQvQO393ZwLQue=w248-h248" width="248" /> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgERLUgDgWn7HbhdZ36uGBCuKbqJNz1RGTdvt88zXFnJ2KHorTG79_Qlzj-10AUu_cZSbPdwswfiSQ1tgkzb-4GQZo0zf9w_ScEDARa7iqnrmWTvKlAFqJFSG4MIOr58aMDj2Ox-vLmDY-rw9H7tnc_jT-mTHBbc84BHp21trrbeS5xnEMJVtyeV3l9=s1136" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgERLUgDgWn7HbhdZ36uGBCuKbqJNz1RGTdvt88zXFnJ2KHorTG79_Qlzj-10AUu_cZSbPdwswfiSQ1tgkzb-4GQZo0zf9w_ScEDARa7iqnrmWTvKlAFqJFSG4MIOr58aMDj2Ox-vLmDY-rw9H7tnc_jT-mTHBbc84BHp21trrbeS5xnEMJVtyeV3l9=s320" width="180" /></a><br /><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhxRlo3tw_y12i3bcCIZoXvg8aTXLQgRhaDVSG5qEZdge_D4ZxTPXDv5nKsk_vuSJMNHPxhIWJRgfqCMASARKijRPuwLpIJKF40Yx5j678umyDIUT6vBmACngHhnTY88ws6xQpBFglTwgTJ43j2hqnTfMjvLj4afe2Bcgo4zgyc-2v1_iGxZ_oBCnox=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhxRlo3tw_y12i3bcCIZoXvg8aTXLQgRhaDVSG5qEZdge_D4ZxTPXDv5nKsk_vuSJMNHPxhIWJRgfqCMASARKijRPuwLpIJKF40Yx5j678umyDIUT6vBmACngHhnTY88ws6xQpBFglTwgTJ43j2hqnTfMjvLj4afe2Bcgo4zgyc-2v1_iGxZ_oBCnox=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom Pattie with Nalerie<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi8ac7x4cjneFcHiSUVNGwwZ-WH4sJFtZyPNFeCRsMbJVH4rBVoeu1togeirwdOcFgf6-l0ii7-dphvWidKnMmzeGUZ84RD2811rQ8536D6eyNOpnCju5Q4yxyGwUz6n3laBbE8U_OtfASN5IIOwUzGclibhPKnxeWgJ_M_NRHFf2n7_fZvV7514QyW=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi8ac7x4cjneFcHiSUVNGwwZ-WH4sJFtZyPNFeCRsMbJVH4rBVoeu1togeirwdOcFgf6-l0ii7-dphvWidKnMmzeGUZ84RD2811rQ8536D6eyNOpnCju5Q4yxyGwUz6n3laBbE8U_OtfASN5IIOwUzGclibhPKnxeWgJ_M_NRHFf2n7_fZvV7514QyW=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back: Alex & Beth, Caleb, Isaac, Pattie, Asher, Micah, Bryce, Michael<br />Front: Evan & Anne, Andrea, Becky, Jim, Ronda<br />Not pictured: Jerry, Megan</td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: times;">I was pleasantly surprised to find myself excited to return to base after my short Exodus. I opted to save some of my leave, and so I've had about 9 days back here to rest, study ahead in my schoolwork, go on outings provided by the USO. I am looking forward to getting back in the swing of things, making new friendships and continuing to develop my skillset as a Hospital Corpsman and in my specialty as a Behavioral Health Technician. (A-school will end in March, and my BHT C-School is 3-4 months, so I'll be here in San Antonio at least until June.)</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidCYMTc4t6UyZAftu2VW2sK3y9d7DZpTl8mPZnNw0prKVELkCb469akl1zdJcmzLzZPm-kK4qoF9FHIXJTg79eICsjYYfSt9SQLDtYfFrUiyKDnlcRiXMnnkm_tDZ5TzpNvSWvKzNaHciSXazayI2S0SQ6fkTEVtjy76TnfldipX21uCLLr_IOpbVy=s1136" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEidCYMTc4t6UyZAftu2VW2sK3y9d7DZpTl8mPZnNw0prKVELkCb469akl1zdJcmzLzZPm-kK4qoF9FHIXJTg79eICsjYYfSt9SQLDtYfFrUiyKDnlcRiXMnnkm_tDZ5TzpNvSWvKzNaHciSXazayI2S0SQ6fkTEVtjy76TnfldipX21uCLLr_IOpbVy=s320" width="180" /></a></div><p></p><p>I turn 38 in two days, in a barracks room, with no house, no car, no children of my own. That makes me an oddity both in the civilian world and in the military, and it's a strange feeling. I am still making sense of being in the Navy. I'm hopeful for the opportunities it will bring. Chris and I bade each other farewell with deep gratitude for our relationship and the mutual agreement that our paths don't align for a long-term future. I'm grateful to have him in my life as my closest friend. I adore watching Nalerie grow and develop and knowing that I not only conceived her, but conceived of her: imagined that she could exist long before she did. I'm excited to think about the places I might go in the Navy and the types of work I might do. It will be months before I know what orders are available, but it's fun to imagine providing mental or physical healthcare at the Naval Academy, on the Navy's hospital ships (the USS Comfort & Mercy), in Hawaii, or in Greece. If I had to choose today, those types of assignments would likely be near the top of my list.</p><p><span style="font-family: times;">I missed <i>news</i> in boot camp: having any connection to the outside world and what is happening. Then I emerged and realized perhaps it was better not to know. Our climate, both environmental and social, feels like a dangerous place. There is still a lot of love and hope and joy, and I'm grateful to have all my needs met. I expect there will be plenty of </span><span style="font-family: times;">need for medical & mental health response everywhere in the coming years, and I'm hopeful to be part of a team that can respond efficiently and effectively in times of crisis.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Wishing you both seas and winds that take you in the directions you want to go this year,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">Andrea</span></p>Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-80909789034520908692020-12-04T06:43:00.169-08:002020-12-16T14:59:41.946-08:002020 End-of-Year Reflection<p> Dear friends, far and near-but-distanced,</p><p>What a ride 2020 has been.</p><p>I kicked off the new year by applying, again, to graduate school at the University of Michigan-Ann Arbor for their interdisciplinary fine arts program. My sister Beth moved from our house in Brookings to Wayne, Nebraska, to join her husband Alex, and my sister Anne moved in from Sioux Falls for a semester of on-campus classes. A late January visit to Colorado was fruitful but difficult and made it clear that the time was right to start processing my post-surrogacy emotions with a counselor. (To be clear, these feelings have never included regret. I visited a counselor proactively pre-legal agreement and conception attempts, as well as pre-delivery. We always predicted I would eventually revisit a counselor post-delivery. It was something akin to icing down muscles post-marathon: you know you'll be sore before you start, and afterward, happy to have completed the run, you must give your body what it needs to heal. )</p><p>February was a busy month for my work with Brookings Community Theatre (BCT); I directed a "Musical Theatre Talent Showcase," working with several great community members and SDSU students for a one-night performance in a new event center in town. I chose "Somewhere in the Middle of Nowhere" from <i>Come From Away </i>and "Once and For All" from <i>Newsies</i> as the opening and closing ensemble numbers. Anne jumped in at the dress rehearsal to help cover a duet for a performer who'd fallen ill, and the event was a success. (Listen to the <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1NnuGxjstZ15bIG6u6hGv4?si=W8tf_hYtR-C1AfK4nfpz0Q" target="_blank">Spotify playlist</a> to hear professional versions of our song lineup.) Working on an incredibly tight rehearsal schedule, this event rekindled my aspirations to direct, choreograph, and organize performances. I hope the future includes more such opportunities. I also spearheaded a South Dakota Arts Council grant proposal for BCT in my role as a board member. This comprehensive proposal took a significant amount of time but yielded a grant of $2,424 as announced in July, as well as created a template from which to work for future applications for this annual funding opportunity. These efforts, combined with evening rehearsals for our spring show, <i>Rabbit Hole </i>(in which I was cast as Nat, the grandmother), made for a busy BCT month.</p><p>March came, and with it an end to long-distance breastfeeding, a return to the gym, and a plan to reconnect with friends after my busy February and five months of milking myself anywhere from 1-8 hours per day. Then, of course, the Earth shifted. Our run of <i>Rabbit Hole </i>(a brilliantly-written show by David Lindsay-Abaire) was cancelled after one performance. Work went remote. Everything was put on hold as we tried to make sense of this new virus, to protect ourselves and those around us.</p><p>Anne and I spent a lot of quality time at home and, with plenty of time to cook, completed the Whole30 challenge. I started running every weeknight and doing workouts every weekday morning with Beth and a few others, led by one of her friends via HouseParty. Becky stayed with Anne and me for a couple weeks. We began preparing to move when our lease ended in May.</p><p>It was announced that my summer job at Harvard, where I was returning for a fourth (non-consecutive) turn as an Assistant Dean of the Secondary School Program, would go fully online. I still had a job but no longer had the housing it normally provides, nor the restorative energy that I was so looking forward to in Cambridge. Meanwhile, I had not been admitted to graduate school; instead, I was in the midst of applying for a major career pivot and did not want to make an extreme move or sign a lease while that process was pending. So I joined Mom and Becky in my hometown of Salem. Hopes for a summer of "Have laptop, will travel," were mostly thwarted, as Covid showed no signs of abating. Nonetheless, we had some quality adventures, including kicking off the summer by camping with Ronda, the four nephews, Beth, Mike, & Becky at Sylvan Lake and in the Badlands. </p><p>Summer School went pretty smoothly online; it was less work than a typical summer but also less rewarding. Still, I enjoyed the talented and affirming students and colleagues who make Harvard such a wonderful place. In August, I transitioned to a temporary, remote position in SDSU's Title IX/EO office, covering a colleague's maternity leave. Through mid-October, I helped investigate claims of discrimination and sexual misconduct, still working from (mom's) home.</p><p>Selection for the long-term job for which I'd applied was still in progress, so I then accepted another temporary position, back in SDSU's Department of Housing & Residential Life (my employer from July 2015-2020). This came with a discounted lease for a furnished guest apartment adjacent to campus, bringing me back to Brookings. After spending most of the past six months in my mom's basement, being a grown-up in my own space and shopping for/cooking my own meals has been a healthy change. The job was set to end December 4th. However, I learned on November 30th that the finish line again shifted, and the career path for which I've applied has become more competitive and would not begin for up to another 6 months. Moreover, there is no guaranteed timeline for when I'll have an official yes or no. These days, I roll with the punches and don't plan too far ahead. While the uncertainty of the shifting ground is not ideal, I've been fortunate to remain gainfully employed throughout the time that Covid-19 has impacted us, and for that I'm deeply grateful.</p><p>Nalerie Renae Sutton-Talley, the little girl who joined our world October 3, 2019, remains a shining light in my life. After their Christmas visit to my family in Salem and my January visit to her family in Colorado, trips to see her in March and October were cancelled due to Covid-19. However, dads Jacob and Andrew brought her to see Anne and me a few days before Mother's Day, while they were visiting their families in South Dakota. I then spent two weeks at their (new!) home in Greeley in July, and we had a fabulous time playing house. (Visits to Peace Corps friend Emily and Camp E-Nini-Hassee friends Katie & Rachel bookended this time and made for a wonderful work-remotely summer trip.) Nalerie's adoption was finalized in August, legally terminating my parental rights and, at long last, fully recognizing both her fathers on her birth certificate. It was a tearful but joyful session of "Zoom court." Baby girl turned one in October; she, big brother Isaac, and dads Andrew and Jacob are a dearly loved extension of our family. The visits with a counselor, a couple of creative projects, time, and looking forward to new chapters have all helped in my healing and in right-sizing their place in my heart. We are so fortunate that our surrogacy partnership has been everything we hoped (and planned) for it to be. Stay tuned--there may still be a book, yet. Time will tell!</p><p>In September, I had an enjoyable two-week stay with my brother Bryce and his family (Ronda, Caleb, Isaac, Micah, & Asher) in Vermillion, including time with each of the boys and plenty of pleasant autumn walks around their neighborhood. Before and after that visit, I spent many hours going through my "life archives": 20+ totes of all my earthly belongings: childhood mementos, journals, college books, legal documents, and so on, of mostly sentimental value. I culled and sorted, but more useful was the opportunity for deep remembering and reflecting. It was, in many ways, a chance to revisit myself: my past, my dreams, my goals. In this time of treading water, it has been helpful to reimagine who I have been and whom I still hope to become.</p><p>I also forced myself to start dating again. Surrogacy--which was, all told, a 3-year journey--had left no emotional space for romance, and my work/class/theatre schedule left little time for lingering, open-ended dates. This year, though Covid has altered our perception of time, the clock's insistent ticking toward 37 sounded loudly in my ears, so I reticently reactivated an old dating app profile. After a handful of video or mostly-outside dates with several nice people, I found myself wanting to keep spending my weekends with a charming guy from Sioux Falls. We've been together(ish) for three months, and while I'm not quite sure we want the same life, we sure do have a good time. He's fluent in all the love languages and we've explored a surprising number of activities--golf, tennis, climbing, hiking, cooking, pumpkin carving, cooking & baking--together, despite the current environment. We even snuck in a long-weekend getaway to the Black Hills in my transition between jobs. With our social interactions otherwise limited, sharing a bubble of our individual households of one has been deeply positive, and I'm excited to keep spending quality time with him.</p><p>While I consider myself civically active, I had not been deeply politically involved since I worked on a Republican campaign back in 2002. Now, having been registered Independent for many years, I was excited to do phone-banking across numerous states to help Joe Biden win this fall's election. It was encouraging to talk to voters, and I breathed a sigh of relief when Biden & Harris were officially declared the victors. The line between loss and win is thin, though, and the election reminded me that we must start listening, and truly trying to understand each other, if we are to unify not just our country but our individual communities.</p><p>I'm still waiting to see where I might set sail in 2021. I'll keep the current aspiration under wraps for now, hinting only that my interest in the field was re-ignited by a prominent fellow Harvard alum/peer. Knowing that the odds are slim that this opportunity will be granted to me, I have some serious work to do in exploring other options for the near future. I'm pretty accustomed to changing angles when I miss a swing. The ocean of possibility is vast and deep.</p><p>For now, I'm happy, healthy, and (as far as I know) Covid-free. (Thankfully, the members of my family who contracted the virus earlier in the year have also recovered.) I must acknowledge my own privilege, particularly in regard to the deep troubles our nation has faced in confronting racist and violent undercurrents. Lives were unduly and tragically ended this year: not just by an indiscriminate virus, but also by a planet in accelerating decline and an insidious devaluing of Black life. Black Lives Matter. Science is real. My own life's peaks and valleys are minor given our real challenges as a society and a global community to address real, life-threatening issues, and I hope I can keep a broader perspective in determining how to do my part. We have a lot of healing to do as a nation. I'm hopeful for the new leadership taking the helm in January. I'm hopeful we can still build the future that the next generation--including my nephews, Nalerie, and her brother--deserve to inherit.</p><p>Sending love and warmth to you and yours,</p><p>Andrea</p>Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-47880882458607757442019-12-31T18:49:00.000-08:002019-12-31T18:51:49.427-08:002019 End-of-Year Reflection<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
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Friends & loved ones,<o:p></o:p></div>
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May this find you looking back fondly on memories of the year quickly drawing to a close.<o:p></o:p></div>
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For me, 2019 was the year of the baby.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve hinted in my last two annual updates that surrogacy could play a role in my life this year. To my delight (and that of her fathers), it defined it. I conceived on January 16<sup>th</sup> and gave birth on October 3<sup>rd</sup>. I’ve just reached the end of the “fourth trimester”—that time of healing and recovery post-birth. I’m long-distance breastfeeding, and the baby—Nalerie Renae Sutton-Talley—still feels very near as a result. I had the great joy of gathering not just with my family, but with hers, at Christmas this year.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The experience has taught and touched me deeply, in ways I’m still wrapping my head around. People have babies all the time, so it seems normal, but it was the hardest and most amazing thing I have ever done. The fact that our bodies can make another human is extraordinary, and that she came to us in every way we hoped she would assures me that the Divine had a hand in it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I did some other things this year, too. I took animation and acting courses, finished a painting or two, and took part in three theatre festivals in which plays I wrote were workshopped/performed as staged readings. I traveled to Florida, Utah, & Iowa for family weddings and quality time. I helped Bryce & Ronda’s family move into a new home in March and joined them on vacation to Branson in June. I took some lovely walks. I helped with a couple Brookings Community Theatre plays and joined the board. I took part in the Christmas dance performance for the third time, this year in SDSU’s beautiful new performing arts theatre.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I also finished my fourth year as a Residence Hall Director at South Dakota State University. Leaving that role meant the end of on-campus housing, so I moved across the street to live with Beth. Our other sisters and I were delighted to be at her side when she married Alex in October, and it’s been a joy living together these past seven months. I stayed on at SDSU within the same department, now as a Secretary for Student Conduct & Residential Life. This mostly clerical role is wildly different from the multidirectional pull and juggle of RHD life, but it’s been a welcome reprieve, creating space for baby and for me in the time of her transition from my body into the bigger world.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The beginning of the year was filled—with pregnancy, travel, classes, extra duties at work, excitement, fatigue. These past few months have been rather the opposite—work, sleep, and breast-pumping for hours a day, but little more. Recovering from the physical work of labor was harder than I anticipated, and lactation can be all-encompassing. It has been a good opportunity to exercise grace and change my expectations for myself, accepting new limitations, at least for now.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Everything I’ve done this year is in direct relation to Baby. Changing my job, moving, and taking a break from classes and hobbies—all were done in consideration of her needs and doing my best to care for her. Having become “plural” for a time, I’m still adjusting to being a singular entity once again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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What comes next after the thing you’ve long hoped for comes and goes? The answer is not yet clear to me. I’m throwing my hat back in the ring at the University of Michigan—Ann Arbor for consideration as an MFA student. I'll miss Beth as she joins Alex in Nebraska in the coming days, yet I'm looking forward to Anne taking her place as my housemate. I’m enjoying Brookings while I’m here, though I sense a coming change in the winds.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My life is a little quieter, but my heart is full. I am beyond grateful to the Sutton-Talleys: Jacob, Andrew, and Isaac--for bringing me into their lives and allowing me to be part of Nalerie joining their family. Our surrogacy partnership was a dream come true—hopefully for them, and undoubtedly for me. I am uncertain where the future will take me. I suppose such is always true at points like this, of reflecting back and peering forward. Yet, if hope is the thing with feathers, as Emily Dickinson suggests, certainly that thing is still perched in my soul—singing the tune without words, and never stopping at all.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Please know how grateful I am for the kind support and love shown to me, baby, and her family throughout this past year. I hope that you and yours are in good health and high spirits as we enter 2020.<o:p></o:p></div>
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With love,<o:p></o:p></div>
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Andréa<o:p></o:p></div>
Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-56102972956231930722019-01-16T10:58:00.000-08:002019-01-16T11:13:27.248-08:002018 End-of-Year Reflection<br />
Friends,<br />
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2018. It's only two weeks behind us, and yet it feels long departed.<br />
<br />
Much of the past year feels shaped by my classes. I took Composition & Choreography and Dance for Musical Theatre in the spring, followed by Stagecraft and Playwriting in the fall. I played Grace (the secretary to Oliver Warbucks) in the Brookings Community Theatre production of <i>Annie</i> over the summer, and assistant-directed <i>Radium Girls </i>in the fall. I completed the second half of the screenplay I wrote in Fall 2017. In painting, I finished my first two commissions and showed pieces in a variety of exhibits in the region. I also had the opportunity to perform again in the Christmas dance/choral celebration.<br />
<br />
I did some part-time work at a golf course over the summer, which was a great opportunity to do hands-on work in a non-supervisory role, though I still have never played a round of golf. I'm in my 4th year as a Residence Hall Director at SDSU, and I feel like a senior in this second go-around at college. I still love my job and have learned how to be efficient enough to make all my other pursuits fit. With an RHD vacancy, I've taken on Honors Hall again, in addition to Caldwell and Schultz, and I now help support 22 staff members, a Graduate Assistant, and over 500 students. I give a number of guest lectures across campus but have stepped back from the LeadState program this year. It's a constant juggling act, but it's quite the pleasant circus. The Mary Poppins in me is a keen observer of the changing winds, however, and I anticipate that the door may open to new adventures in the year now before us.<br />
<br />
My family experienced a number of milestones this past year. My youngest sister, Becky, completed high school and is now in an independent living skills day program, commuting with our Mom. Anne moved to Sioux Falls and turned 21. Jim recovered from a handgun accident and has moved to Florida to pursue his career in fine food service and be nearer to our maternal family. Beth got engaged to Alex Kenkel and is planning an October 2019 wedding. Michael was graduated from USD, studied abroad in New Zealand shortly after his commencement ceremony, spent some time in Salem/Sioux Falls working, and moved to Afghanistan as a civilian security contractor in October. Bryce switched companies in his work; he and Ronda are looking at a possible new home in the country. Caleb transitioned from Catholic elementary school to public middle school, and Isaac, Micah, and Asher keep getting older, smarter, and more entertaining. Mom and Dad both recovered well from emergency surgeries during the year and find ways to enjoy their individual almost-empty nests. Mom continues to be an R.N. at the VA Hospital traveled overseas with her first medical mission, and Dad retired from Sanford Hospital and is keeping busy with projects around the house.<br />
<br />
A year ago, I was caught between pulling forces of malaise and creative urging, ready for grad school but not quite, and unsure of the direction of my creative pursuits. I kept on keeping on, to fruitful results, and 2019 holds much promise. Two of my plays (a 10-minute and full-length) were chosen for staged readings at college festivals: one in Sioux Falls, which I'll be able to attend as the playwright, and one here at SDSU. I submitted a graduate school application to an interdisciplinary Master of Fine Arts Program just over a week ago (which trumped timely completion of this update). I'm enrolled in two classes--Foundations of Animation and Intermediate Acting--this spring. The students are back, campus is abuzz, and the semester is off to the races with a palpable energy.<br />
<br />
Themes of parenthood and family have played heavily in my creative work throughout the past year. In last year's update, I shared my pursuit of surrogacy, and as I predicted, that exploration has been an integral part of 2018. The journey continues, and it's an exciting one of heart, mind, and body. I'm so grateful for those with me on the path, and I look forward to seeing where 2019 brings us, together.<br />
<br />
With the advent of 2019, I turned 35, which feels momentous somehow. I can no longer pretend that I'm a young adult, and any void left by my erstwhile youth is more than filled with the memories of those years. Being 20 meant longing and hoping for the experiences that 35 has already known. What joy, indeed, to have known them!<br />
<br />
Perhaps one of the most interesting features of this past year is the distance I feel from the troubles of our nation. There's a local-ness to South Dakota that can be insulating. While dangerous, it's also protective. Disconnected from the larger turmoil, I can focus my energy here: on these students, these projects, these tangible and immediate moments. If there's anything that the Peace Corps taught me, it's that we change the world by positively impacting our own community, wherever we find ourselves at present, and Brookings is a great place to pursue just that. Nonetheless, I am hopeful for better days to come, and I anticipate that there will be ways to be more connected to the big picture in the year ahead.<br />
<br />
For all of you, and for the past year, I am grateful. Wishing you a year of joy and peace,<br />
Andrea<br />
<br />Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-65532443579860458082019-01-16T10:32:00.001-08:002019-01-16T10:32:31.096-08:002017 End-of-Year Reflection
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">I came to add my 2018 annual reflection, and realized I had never posted the one from last year. Here it is!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">As 2018 dawns, I hope this finds you content and well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The semester break has been a welcome
reprieve from a semester that was fruitful and life-giving but also exhausting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reflecting on the year and writing this update
have proven more difficult than usual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Two forces tug at me—malaise and uncertainty, in one direction, and a
newly-nourished creative spirit, in the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve spent the past year thinking that this week would have me wrapping
up graduate school applications for multidisciplinary MFA programs, a mental
concoction drawing from these ingredients: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">December 2016 completion of the GRE; May 2017 payoff
of my undergraduate debt; June-July 2017 off-contract period used for creative
work and learning; Spring 2017 class in painting and Fall 2017 courses in
painting and screenwriting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Imagine my disappointment
to arrive at the deadline for applications and find that I’m not ready. In the
words of one professor, I don’t yet know what kind of work I want to make or
how I want to make it, which makes choosing programs hard. It makes developing
a body of work to gain acceptance to competitive (and well-funded) programs
even harder. As my 34<sup>th</sup> birthday approaches, there is, perhaps, a sense
of urgency to move forward, but the map before me is bewildering, enticing me
in many directions at once. Perhaps the malaise pulling against this creative
impulse grows out of my dance with time. My partner Time, it seems, is not
ready for graduate school, nor convinced that it is the best next step. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as I’ve had to learn with partners in
waltz or swing, I must yield to my partner and stop trying to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lead</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I begin 2018 with a forward glance of uncertainty:
will I return to SDSU for a fourth academic year--in the same role or a new
one--and if not, where will I go next, and what shall I do?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">And yet, the nourishment:
I’ve done quite a lot creatively over the past year, in many facets of the
arts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gave myself June and July to
explore ideas and experiment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The summer
was like a cotton jersey dress: less exciting than the summer of 2016, but
comfortable, versatile, breezy, productive in input if not as much in
output.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite being relatively
planted, I also snuck in a few trips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
spent a long weekend visiting friends in Minneapolis; Anne, Becky, the nephews,
and I had a great camping trip to the Badlands and Black Hills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went
to Colorado and Wyoming in July, fitting in Laramie, Denver, Colorado Springs,
and Grand Junction to see extended family, former SDSU colleagues, and friends
from past lives: college, Peace Corps, and Camp E-Nini-Hassee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve taken personal, internal journeys, through
challenges like the Marie Kondo approach to minimizing belongings and the Whole
30 food plan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve made new friends and
relished in creating silent time alone with myself. I didn’t know what 2017
would bring, but I’m so grateful for the moments that transpired in the past
year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Without further ado, here
are some of the fruits of those moments:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Theatre: helped backstage<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>in Brookings Community Theatre’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Nerd</i>; played 9 roles in A. R.
Gurney’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Dining Room</i>, a Habitat
for Humanity production performed just days before Gurney’s death; maintained a
voice in the BCT script committee, which recommends shows for production in
Brookings; recently cast as Essie Carmichael in the upcoming BCT production of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You Can’t Take It With You.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Painting: 2 courses; many pieces; showed
work in shows in 3 different local venues; increased skill with painting in oil
and acrylic, as well as creating canvasses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Writing: published a poem in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pasque Petals</i>, the biannual publication
of the SD State Poetry Society; edited a screenplay written in 2009 and
submitted it to competition; began work on a screenplay adaption of a Peace
Corps volunteer’s memoir; wrote the first half of an original fiction screenplay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Dance: first performance in 7 years, in a
liturgical Christmas dance/choral collaboration comprised mainly of modern and
ballet dances.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Music: invested in playing piano, especially
throughout the summer; challenged myself through karaoke to be more comfortable
as a vocalist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Other: started a summer talk radio show on
our college station, KSDJ 90.7, incorporating different guests, and
collaborating with a student on his show discussing film.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Professional work: co-presented 3 sessions
with students at the regional Honors Conference, hosted at SDSU; moved to a new
on-campus apartment, adjusted to new a hall assignment and a new demographic
(and higher number) of students; handled many more conduct meetings than in my
previous two years; managed emergency responses, including the death of one of
our department’s student staff members; co-presented with a colleague at a
regional professional conference; continued coaching in our sophomore
leadership program; and, as a benefit of sticking around for a third year, grew
in my relationships with students as they progress in their college experience.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Of course, my life is
also filled by my family, the immediate members of whom are all conveniently
nearby, in Salem, Vermillion, and Sioux Falls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Anne transferred to SDSU in January, increasing the Mayrose Jackrabbits
to 3, and it’s been awesome to have her near.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In May, Becky will be graduated from high school and Michael from
college; Mom, Dad, Bryce, Ronda, Beth, and Jim are doing well, and our four
nephews keep growing up with energy and sass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">For what more could I ask?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve lived here longer than any place since
college, which is a strange feeling for me, but Brookings is a wonderful
community, full of opportunity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Physically
and emotionally, I am warm; I am fed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
am embraced by care and ideas, who are wonderful company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Asked if I want to write plays, make films,
paint images, choreograph dances, write songs, or perform, I can only respond:
Yes!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hope is that I will be able to
continue making progress toward impactful expression in any and all of those
mediums.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And perhaps the biggest fruit
of 2017 and its corresponding goal is the most uncertain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I have no desire for children at the
moment, I am aware of my age and its implications.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since March, I’ve been actively pursuing
surrogate motherhood, which could allow me the miracle of pregnancy while assisting
others who are ready to experience parenthood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve had numerous conversations with lovely individuals exploring this
option.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Due to timing and other factors,
I have not yet found a match that is just right, but the search continues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wherever the road leads, I am sure this journey
will be an important one in 2018. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">The year has been a
dynamic one for our country and our world, and my small experience reflects
broader concerns: an unclear future instills genuine unease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet I see constant evidence of good people
doing good work, and I hope that my deeds are seen in kind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As always, I embrace vulnerability, gratitude,
and the unknown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wishing you and
yours—indeed, all of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ours</i>—a most
wonderful year to come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">In peace and hope,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Andrea</span></div>
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<!--EndFragment--><br />Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-16354354432847102672016-12-31T09:30:00.000-08:002019-01-16T11:13:15.104-08:00 2016 End-of-Year ReflectionDear ones,<br />
As 2016 draws to a close, I'll be celebrating in a fashion akin to how I spent the year--rallying a crew of old and new friends, connecting people to each other, moving from a big task just completed to the next item of business, playing dress-up, and mixing an overall playfulness with age-appropriate responsibility.<br />
<br />
It's healthy, I think, to reflect back on the past year; in doing so, we relive moments we'd already begun to shelve deep on the wall of memory, and we realize that however quotidian our days may seem, the year has indeed been filled with extraordinary moments. Without further ado, here's the 2016 Year In Review:<br />
<br />
I started the year as a second-semester Residence Hall Director at SDSU in Brookings, SD. I gave a TEDx talk at the inaugural SDSU event with my sister, Beth, then a college senior. I'm not sure we ever titled the talk, but we basically related a silly baboon incident from our shared time in Zambia to how different perceptions cause conflict in the world, and how we can work to change that. In theory, it will be on the Internet eventually; stay tuned. For us as sisters, this was a labor-intensive but fruitful endeavor.<br />
<br />
I added three more roles on the stage with Brookings Community Theatre, in <i>Nightwatch, The Hollow, </i>and <i>It's a Wonderful Life: Live Radio Play</i>. This has been a great way to get involved in the community and build theatre experience; the four shows I've done in the past 14 months have been in four different venues.<br />
<br />
Professionally, I've had some great opportunities:creating a poster presentation to share on campus, co-presenting with a student staff member at the regional student Honors conference, hiring and training a new staff, and attending the regional conference for ACUHO, a professional Residential Life organization. I've also been fortunate to work with LeadState, our sophomore leadership program, run by faculty and staff volunteers across campus.<br />
<br />
Much of this has been possible because I returned to SDSU for a second academic year, which has proven very fruitful. I love living in an academic setting and being surrounded by spunky, smart students. I've done a lot of studying, too: first for the Foreign Service Officer Test (round three; I'm in the same spot I've been twice before, waiting to see if I'm invited to the orals) and then for the GRE, which I took yesterday. <br />
<br />
As much as I enjoy SDSU and being near my family in South Dakota, however, one of the highlights of the past year was the two months spent away. My position has a ten-month contract, which created two delicious months ripe for summer adventure. I managed to make one trip east into five or more mini-trips, starting with a Greyhound ride and including my 10-year college reunion, backpacking in central Massachusetts with my sister Anne, visiting friends and family in Chicago, Boston, Brockton, Scituate, Washington, D.C., Portland, ME, and New York City, and culminating with a job as the Head Resident Teaching Fellow at Hotchkiss Summer Portals, a middle- and high-school program at an esteemed boarding school in Lakeville, CT. It was a satiating blend of old and new--seeing dear folk who've known me, and whom I've known, in different places in our lives, and making new friends and exploring possibilities for the future. Still nomadic at heart, I love these opportunities to step out of my daily experience, reflect on what has been, and daydream about what can be. I am grateful for the hospitality shown to my sister and me during our travels, and I hope to reciprocate to any friends traveling our way!<br />
<br />
Looking forward to 2017: I'm excited to go deeper in relationships with my students and to continue to strive toward a balanced, healthy life. I expect to pay off my undergraduate debt by June, so I feel new freedom to explore graduate schools, and I'm considering MFA and MA programs, eventually working toward a PhD. In preparation, I'm hoping to take a studio art class this semester, do some writing, and seek out opportunities for creative collaboration. What comes next is yet veiled, but I feel no haste and look forward to it revealing itself in due course. Like much of the nation, I am uncertain what the future holds, but I remain hopeful. <br />
<br />
As always, the best moments of the past year have been those of connection and intimacy with friends and family. I hope for many like moments in 2017. Wishing you and yours a fabulous year to come!<br />
<br />
In peace,<br />
AndreaDréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-31047725873964992532016-06-09T10:31:00.004-07:002022-01-02T14:21:53.620-08:00Hiking the Midstate Trail in MassachusettsMy sister (18) and I (32) were planning a 7-10 day hike. She's a total beginner. I've done some hiking and one 2-night, 32-mile backpacking trip, but have other experience as a wilderness counselor (leading 2-3 week canoe trips=food repacking & prep, primitive camping, handling weather & other challenges; Peace Corps=lugging around a heavy backpack, figuring out Plan B, C, D, etc.). It was harder than we expected to find reasonable long hikes in the NE area. All long hikes seemed to have numerous "no camping allowed" areas, which makes it pretty difficult to do an extended or through-hike! We stumbled across the MST (figuratively--on the Internet) and it seemed like a good fit because it went through/near numerous towns (helpful if you need to bail early or have a medical emergency), was described as a pretty easy trail, and could be accomplished end-to-end in 6 or 7 days, we figured, and we made commitments on the following days that would bind us to this end date.<br />
<br /><br />
Our plan was to start at the southern terminus (near Douglas) on Saturday morning. The goal was to hike around 15 miles/day until the northern terminus, ending on Thursday night. This appeared to be about 10-15 miles from Fitchburg, so we planned to road-walk there (or hitch a ride, or find other hikers headed that way--it wasn't a very specific plan) to catch a commuter rail (every 90-120 minutes during weekday daytime hours) to Boston, where family would meet us.<br />
<br /><br />
Here's what actually happened: <br />
<strong>Day 1 (11ish miles):</strong> We started at 11AM as planned. From the Southwest Main Street drop-off in Douglas, described on "A Thru-hiker's Guide to the Massachusetts Midstate Trail" (a very useful 4-page addendum found elsewhere on this site, I believe--thanks, "Nameless Mike" Benedetti!) we headed down a path to the trail. You run it to it and then have to backtrack if you want to start at the actual southern terminus, then retrace your steps and follow it north. We did this. So we thought. We kept walking and not hitting the southern terminus. Finally, we ran across other hikers who explained that we were already about 2.5 miles north of the terminus. We decided it wasn't worth it to backtrack this extra distance to touch Rhode Island and continued north. We walked about 11 miles and finally camped in the backyard area of a church - First Baptist - in Sutton. A gentleman who owned the property next door said that folks had done this before and it shouldn't be a problem. We found literally no place to camp for at least four miles prior to that due to either thick underbrush or heavy residential areas. We made sure we were up and out early on Sunday (by 8:10 AM) prior to the church's service at 9:30 AM.<br />
<br /><br />
Our mileage went down the next couple of days and we realized by day 2-3 that a through-hike was no longer a priority for us. Our packs were about 40 pounds each and this weighed us down significantly. (I'll include a gear list later down, but suffice it to say we carried some supplies we didn't need. Overall were still pretty frugal packers, but water and food are heavy, and if you don't buy super-expensive, ultra-light gear you'll have a few extra ounces here and there that add up.) We were totally exhausted after 11 miles and didn't want to rush through the trail in intense pain, so we decided to just enjoy the journey and go wherever we could. Fifteen miles/day may not be unrealistic for many people on many trails, but it was for us.<br />
<br /><br />
<strong>Day 2 (9.5ish):</strong> the church where we stayed was apparently just past a turn (Junction of Central Pike and Douglas Road?) because we realized after a mile or two on Day 2 that we were significantly off the trail. An iPhone map feature was very helpful in determining this, because we could compare our current location to the map and determine how to reroute. Rather than backtracking, we found another road that would get us back on the trail. Essentially, we stayed on that road (the pike? Sutton Trail Ave? it's hard to tell on the map), then went noth west on Sacarrappa Road until we hit Brown. This worked great, except that part of Sacarrappa Road is actually closed off. The bridge is "out"--but it could hold cement barriers so we figured it could hold us. It did, and we found a nice water source under this bridge. Unfortunately this road has also been the victim of a lot of dumping. :( We camped the second night just after the turnoff from Putnam Road, prior to the big hill. It was a nice wilderness-y area. We got pummeled with rain but our Wilderness Technology North Duo tent ($80 from 2nd Adventure, free shipping, pretty lightweight!) held up just fine. We hung our food in a bag in a tree but we could hear a dog in the distance and suspected there were houses nearby, so it may not have been necessary.<br />
<br /><br />
<strong>Day 3 (7ish):</strong> There is no "sturdy bridge" over the stream that we found, but it wasn't too difficult to navigate. The next turnoff, which leads you back into the woods, came quickly but was VERY easy to miss. You're walking up a pretty steep hill under the powerlines and are so focused on moving upward that you can easily miss it. It's a small painted blaze on a short post, not a plastic marker on a power line pole as others are. We walked up the hill and had to retrace our steps to find it. The "swampy" section appeared swampy, indeed, and my sister realized she was enjoying the road-walking better, so we skipped over that and just continued along Borkum. We were really excited about the campground listed on the guide as "Charlton City Camping" next to Wee Laddie Pond. However, when we got there, we saw no evidence of a campsite. The few people we asked had never heard of it. However, there was a "Virgin Mary Spiritual Vineyard" in the respective area on the map. We continued walking and got to another long residential section. We were ready to stop and there didn't seem to be any reasonable camping spots coming up. We asked if we could use an out-of-the way spot (owned, we learned, by Canterbury Acres-- a horse farm and special needs program, very lovely!) to put up a tent, but the owner refused due to liability. Homeowners a bit further up on E. Charlton Road, however, generously allowed us to use a section of their yard (a bit shielded from the house by some trees) and we camped. <br />
<br /><br />
<strong>Day 4 (8.5ish):</strong> Got nervous about water but reached the subdivision before running out. A generous homeowner let us fill up from his hose. When we reached the Route 9 junction, we stopped at the Spencer Country Inn to figure out our plan to get home, since we'd be ending much further south than we'd planned (not near Fitchburg) and knew that we might have fewer intersections with/near towns after crossing Route 9. Louise was very helpful there and gave some local intel on potential ways to get back. We also charged our phones and used them to look up bus schedules, etc. The inn is also a restaurant and although it isn't open Monday or Tuesday for dining, we could have stayed if we liked. ($55 for a room.) We definitely recommend stopping by this place--it's full of charm and history, and if you're going southbound and need a day to recuperate (or if it's pouring rain), this might be a good overnight or meal option. We made it to the Moose Hill shelter with plenty of time to spare and spent the afternoon relaxing. We again hung our food in a tree. The area seemed to be crawling with poison ivy (though we aren't sure), so be careful! The pond seemed stagnant but the water was OK after filtering. There are houses not too far and some folks were walking their dogs along the path before 9AM in the morning so just be aware of this so you're not taken by surprise.<br />
<br /><br />
<strong>Day 5 (11ish):</strong> The plan we concocted with Louise's help, after looking at numerous options, was to veer off the trail about a mile north of Moose Hill Shelter. Rather than crossing Paxton Road, we took a right and headed east toward the town of Paxton. This would be a very short day -- around 5-7 miles. Our hope was to stay here (in the Cascades Park, if possible) and then walk another 6-8 miles to Worcester on Day 6, where we could catch the commuter rail to Boston. This would get us back a day early, but my sister's blisters were painful, and we didn't want to continue further on the trail and put ourselves in a position in which we couldn't get back on Friday due to weather, distance, etc. However, this park is interesting. It can be tricky to get in (GPS helped here too) but it's neither a developed city park (i.e. no bathrooms or picnic shelters we could find) nor an overnight camp site (closed at night). It's lovely with trails, etc. in the midst of the city, but wasn't helpful to us. So we just kept road walking. We had suspected that it might be difficult to find a place to camp between Paxton and Worcester. We hadn't realized that there is essentially no division between the two cities and that we'd be walking about five miles in Worcester proper. We learned that when you have hiking gear in the city, kind people assume you are hard up and offer you food. Little did they know, we still had about 8-9 pounds of food we wanted to stop carrying around. We caught the 5:20PM commuter rail ($10.50 one-way to Boston, per person) and booked a hotel on Hotwire ($135 with fees) on our phones on the way. Had we planned further in advance, we could have potentially camped on the Boston Harbor Islands to save money and preserve the camping experience, despite leaving the trail early. We also realized that we could have stayed on the trail another day, reconnected at Thompson Road (just south of Browning Pond), and essentially done Day 5's road walking on Day 6.<br />
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<u><strong>Some general summary notes:</strong></u><br />1. Roads are not often marked, so you'll hit a junction and not be sure if this is the correct road.<br />
2. If you go more than a minute (not walking too quickly) without seeing a marker of some kind (new or faded blaze), you're probably off the trail. This may not hold true everywhere but seemed to be the general rule.<br />
3. There really aren't that many places to camp. When we read that you can camp on private property with owners' permission, we imagined a far end of a paddock or an out-of-sight area on their land. It might mean you are literally camping in their front yard because that's the only thing available. This can make going to the bathroom very awkward.<br />
4. Although the trail road-walks through towns, this may not be as convenient as you think. For example, we walked by a lot of houses, but not a lot of public trash bins or convenience stores.<br />
5. Hiking S-N is a bit more challenging because you're reading the trail guide in reverse. Which means when you read "Turn onto E. Charlton Road," you've already been on that road for a while, and you're now turning off it. It seems common sensical but it can actually be pretty confusing, so you need to read ahead and evaluate the instructions to make sure you're not confusing yourself. (This applies to mileage notes as well--you may think you've hit a certain distance once you hit that road, but the mileage is referring to the other end of that road where you get off of it.)<br />
6. In general there were many water sources. However, just because some brooks/ponds/etc. are mentioned in the guide, don't assume this is all of them. There are many others and as beginners we weren't sure where we'd find them so we had to guess about whether to stock up fully (= more weight) or continue on to the next source.<br />
7. Be wary of calling this route "easy." No route is easy when you're carrying gear. We found the road walking to be especially hard on our feet. Even without doing the mountain sections of this trail, we found some pretty steep hills and up-and-down-movement along the section we did, both on the road and in the wooded areas.<br />
8. Many notes in the guide refer to stone walls, brooks, and cart roads. However, these are plentiful--especially stone walls. It can be hard to know if you are truly at the point mentioned. Do your best to gauge based on the distance you've gone.<br />
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<u><strong>Gear:</strong></u><br />
We bought a lot of gear new but also used what we had between ourselves and our parents. We were really happy with what we brought and there was nothing we wished we'd brought but didn't. Some things were extra, but partly that is because we had few medical problems, decent weather, and 2 fewer days on the trail than planned. <br />
<strong>Packs</strong>: Cabela's 80 or 90-L pack (way too big but we didn't fill it to capacity; already had this and didn't want to buy another) + Kelty 65-L pack (came with 10-L removable day pack, unclear if this is included in the 65-L capacity but we left it behind; worked great.) Cabela's pack had a cover; Kelty didn't. Cover is very useful for rain.<br />
<strong>Bags</strong>: Marmot 40-degree bag & compression sack (already had; worked great) & Copper River 20-degree bag (light but bulky. However, it was $30; the next best 20-degree options were $130. The extra bulk was worth the savings as we could attach it to the outside of the pack and line the casing with a trash bag for waterproofing).<br />
<strong>Tent</strong>: Wilderness Technology North Duo. Roomy, light (~6 lbs?), very easy to set up, $80. Recommended. Does not come with a footprint, but we had a lightweight tarp that worked well and only weighed a few ounces.<br />
<strong>Sleeping pad</strong>: Thermarest Ridgerest. Enormous but lightweight. Pads are nice to have but can easily be $50 or more to get one that compresses nicely. This was $15 so we gave it a whirl and it worked well. Much better for car camping than backpacking, although it was easy to strap onto a backpack. Honestly, it's more of a burden when traveling with packs en route to the trail (e.g. on Greyhound, metro, etc.) because of the bulk than it is on the trail, although it makes it challenging to walk side-by-side with a partner because it makes your pack significantly wider.<br />
<strong>First Aid Kit</strong>: We put this together using supplies we already had (thanks to a nurse mom). We used a 7-day pill case to put in small quantities of creams and pills. Included burn cream, first aid ointment, hydrocortisone cream, allergy pills, benadryl, naproxin (painkiller), and probiotic (in the event of diarrhea). We also included sterile gloves, aloe vera in a travel-sized bottle, safety pins, ace bandage, guaze, pre-wrap, alcohol wipes, and Potable Aqua purification tablets in the event that our filter broke.<br />
<strong>Toiletries</strong>: We repacked things in travel-sized bottles (pill bottles also work well). Dr. Bronner's works great for everything--surprisingly well to cut grease on dishes, and we only used a tiny bit of the 3 ounces we took. We had both natural bugspray and Deet bugspray (both helpful), as well as MosquitNo bug bracelet (skip it; not useful unless you're around literate mosquitos that read the "Don't bite me" instructions on the band). We had sunscreen, toothpaste & brushes, floss (with a needle stored inside, to double as a sewing kit), a small comb, tweezers (in case of ticks), contact solution, glasses, and a Burt's Bees poison ivy soap bar we had lying around.<br />
<strong>Water Filter</strong>: Sawyer Mini, $20. Worked like a charm. Put this (and the cleaning plunger, straw & pouch, though we didn't use either so could have skipped them) in a small drawstring bag that we then stored with the cookware. Protip: Bring two (different-colored) 2-liter soda bottles. Keep one for unfiltered water, then filter it into the other. The filter screws right onto the bottle and the suction is helpful. These also fit nicely into the side pouches of packs. Additionally, unlike some filters, this allows you to get water at a source and then filter it later. We also had a Katadyn water bottle with in-bottle filter. A nice backup but unnecessary; it takes up weight and space in the bottle and makes it hard to drink.<br />
<strong>Camp Stove/Cookware</strong>: MSR Pocket Rocket. Awesome. Lightweight, comes in a case, easy to use. We also splurged on a Sea-to-Summit Xpot and 2 bowls & mugs which store inside. We actually ate straight out of the pot usually, so the bowls weren't really necessary but were helpful. This was a big purchase ($120 for those 5 pieces) but is likely to get a lot of use. The portability can't be beat. We were also impressed how easy it was to clean the silicone. We packed the stove, a lighter (and matches in a ziploc), the cookware, a pocketknife, and a scrubby (didn't need--used our fingers or baby wipes for cleaning) in a mesh bag that also housed our water filter supplies in their own bag. Very handy.<br />
<strong>Safety & Misc. Items</strong>: In addition to the pocketknife above, we had another pocketknife, two headlamps, a small flashlight, a camera, extra batteries, a taser (at our father's insistence), a compass that was possibly faulty, two iPhones (on separate cell networks) and chargers, cash, debit cards & IDs, and a Charliecard for transit in Boston. The camera was helpful for photos without draining battery life on the phones. We also carried a small trowel for digging catholes, a pair of MaryJane crocs (flipflops would work as well but very nice for moving around campsite or nighttime bathroom runs)--these hooked outside the pack on carabiners. We skipped toilet paper and carried a packet of unscented baby wipes (multipurpose, highly recommend). We also carried paracord and numerous small carabiners.<br />
<strong>Food</strong>: We spent about $180 at a standard grocery store. It's important to repack food when possible to reduce trash and weight. Tortillas, simple rice/pasta mixes, mac&cheese with sauce (no milk/butter needed), peanut butter, pop-tarts, lots of granola bars of various types, cracker sandwich packs, organic fruit twists (yum), gummy bears, oatmeal, cream of wheat, tuna & salmon in packets (not tins), babybel & laughing cow cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, and lots of dried fruit (apricots, apples, mangos, craisins, pineapple--too much). We pre-made a couple bags of trail mix with pretzel bites, cashews, almonds, peanuts, M&Ms, and craisins. We took salt & pepper in little paper packets (didn't use at all), cooking oil in a travel bottle (helpful but could have skipped), honey (bring less), hot cocoa mix (nice to have in rain), tea bags (ended up not using). Neither of us are big coffee drinkers so we skipped that. Overall it was nice mix of cook, no-cook, and eat-while-walking food. We didn't buy any of the fancy dehydrated meals sold in outdoors stores. However, we didn't have much for veggies at all.<br />
<strong>Clothes</strong>: Skip cotton t-shirts. They stink when you sweat and are cardboard-like when you wash and air-dry. A quick-dry shirt (likely found at your local thrift store for a couple bucks) is preferable. Ideally an outfit to wear and an outfit to sleep in are the only necessary items, but it's helpful to have extras so you can wash or if you get soaked. We each wore sturdy hiking pants (e.g. Columbia quick-dry or cotton cargo pants) with belts, Merrell boots (break in ahead of time), and thick wool socks, like Wigwam, SmartWool, or UnderArmour. We slept without socks but had two pairs--helpful for washing/drying; dried OK hanging from the back of our pack when in the sun; some better than others. The extra warmth was worth it to preserve our legs from bites, scratches, sunburn, ticks, etc., and the socks were cushiony. Extra underwear is helpful for cleanliness. We each had leggings/yoga pants and an additional t-shirt to sleep in, as well as a long-sleeved shirt. We (inadvertently) had extras: hiking pants, leggings, fleece, t-shirt. Could have planned better in this regard, as a few pieces went totally unused. However, we only got rained on once, so we'd have used more over more time or in worse weather. Speaking of rain: we each carried a poncho that went over our bags as well as us. Critical. One was small and weighed a few ounces/fit in your hand when stored. One weighed a pound or two and was bulky. Work with what you have. We also carried a baseball cap each (one not used at all) and a bandanna (awesome for holding back grimy hair and many other purposes).<br />
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<strong><u>Final notes:</u></strong> <br />
The Midstate Trail was worth a try. It has many lovely points. We only saw a section of it (about 5/12s). Finding good camping spots is a challenge but we made do. Don't underestimate the difficulty of hiking if you're a beginner. Be willing to ask for help (water, camping in the yard, etc.). Be flexible to allow for changes--going further or not as far; leaving early or staying late. Lastly: it's ideal if you have someone who can drop you off and pick you up from a trail, but not having this doesn't make it impossible. Good luck and enjoy!<br />
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<br />Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-70028301955583206952015-12-22T06:51:00.001-08:002015-12-22T09:58:07.344-08:00Christmas Update 2015Dear family & friends,<br />
What a lovely year it has been, filled with unexpected and delightful changes. Last year, I left Portland on Thanksgiving to spend December with family, not knowing where the path would lead. <br />
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I stayed through mid-February, covering maternity leave for the McCook Central High School assistant librarian, and helping with the one-act play. Christmas Day 2014 brought a letter from Camp E-Nini-Hassee, an all-girls therapeutic wilderness program in Florida. Under the Eckerd umbrella, ENH is a sister camp to my former beloved Camp E-Ma-Etu in North Carolina, where I spent 2007-2009. I have often thought fondly of my days with Eckerd and considered returning in one capacity or another. I left for Florida in February, only to promptly be given an interview with McKinsey & Company for a San Francisco-based position. I explored this possibility but ultimately joined the counselor staff in Floral City, Florida, in March. There, I worked with amazing young women and co-chiefs (as counselors are called) in the Ayukumkus group through mid-July. Highlights included a two-week river trip on the Suwannee River (my 6th canoe trip with Eckerd), several girls' camp graduations, reading Harry Potter and singing to the girls at bedtime, a "blood and guts" ramble, pow-wow fires, butterflies, dragonflies, fireflies, and noisy armadillos rustling under the tent/cabins at night.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPcksfmUCpq64KBATeC0dFS3O7FZaD2h9yi6ygOC_pTT7X6Ucn9-Kh6yf51jWchEPtQWFnZpt_dIR8GbXhvyGZDBzlirCmCjh2hiMkZLgZTKgn4y9g1pYIlt1LUOA8Ry3ms5FRGnDZGBk/s1600/DSCN3257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPcksfmUCpq64KBATeC0dFS3O7FZaD2h9yi6ygOC_pTT7X6Ucn9-Kh6yf51jWchEPtQWFnZpt_dIR8GbXhvyGZDBzlirCmCjh2hiMkZLgZTKgn4y9g1pYIlt1LUOA8Ry3ms5FRGnDZGBk/s200/DSCN3257.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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The job was every bit as magical as I remembered, and incredibly demanding. If I arrived by 8:15 AM on Wednesday, I'd stay until late Sunday night or early Monday morning. As counselors, we were on duty from 6AM until 10PM. During the eight nighttime hours, we were still near the girls in campsite, but we were relieved by nightwatch staff to write documentation (~2 hours per day), decompress with a co-counselor, check phone messages, attend to any personal needs, and sleep. It was invigorating and exhausting. On our two days off per week, I had adventures with other staff in nearby Inverness or around the region. Yet without a car, I felt alternatively stranded or overly dependent upon my co-workers' generosity. I had come in response to a letter seeking short-term assistance, and while it was a fantastic 1/3 of a year, it was not a permanent arrangement. We explored a teaching position at camp, but ultimately I instead accepted an opportunity to join the student affairs staff at South Dakota State University.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzB7LTvoApXgURP-KVN2yBSfrzdR_E4cFYp1A4ZzeOKdPqc8kby8ju_DTt_bYlqlD1tptKzFj4BqUxaSrp5TF8JaMlxAfjJ7_MOOyKMX_hwDR5Wo8wmqbH1QgtjiDUsRkVdP46buldUcA/s1600/Beth-51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzB7LTvoApXgURP-KVN2yBSfrzdR_E4cFYp1A4ZzeOKdPqc8kby8ju_DTt_bYlqlD1tptKzFj4BqUxaSrp5TF8JaMlxAfjJ7_MOOyKMX_hwDR5Wo8wmqbH1QgtjiDUsRkVdP46buldUcA/s200/Beth-51.jpg" width="200" /></a>When I visited my sister Beth (now a senior) in Brookings the weekend before departing for Florida, I would have never guessed that I would return five months later to become a Jackrabbit myself. Halfway into my yearlong contract, I am amazed at how filled my life has become with a family of students. As a residence hall director, I oversee two halls that consist of three Living Learning Communities (LLCs): Ag/Bio, Healthy Lifestyles, and Honors, with a combined 300 students. I have 18 student staff members who serve as Community Assistants, and whom I absolutely adore. I've taken up water aerobics and learned to rock-climb at our awesome Wellness Center, and the commute from my residence hall apartment to my office is an enviable two-minute walk. Beth generously shares her car with me, but I spend most time on campus. Living two blocks away from her is awesome, and we manage to live independent lives but still see each other and collaborate fairly frequently. We're looking forward to co-presenting a talk at the first-ever TedX-SDSU in February.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHI6El_180XpvvN9nK3wn3z9C69Yry5iiUT75OvCRC_6VG5VZsMhhXF6VaHsmdRl8MJ2vDXS09GG7-s-z50tmyT_51LqpWbCv4aym9XkY7hoT3CKj4Fg8eO_UYcvx85eIKWdL6V8WFJX0/s1600/Snapchat--5031910314392357134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHI6El_180XpvvN9nK3wn3z9C69Yry5iiUT75OvCRC_6VG5VZsMhhXF6VaHsmdRl8MJ2vDXS09GG7-s-z50tmyT_51LqpWbCv4aym9XkY7hoT3CKj4Fg8eO_UYcvx85eIKWdL6V8WFJX0/s200/Snapchat--5031910314392357134.jpg" width="112" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-83wHikSdteUCxzrISU03ilQquTTOdD9y3bZ-ugdy91uskipAbXs3yUwy4jk7mRuaC-3V43cyeVI9NM1GHRm7UC0nCQVbNARILIQIlfe3BrXSjDzVFI-y3besBNJc_FgV0eFQ5WVu640/s1600/20151212_182302.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-83wHikSdteUCxzrISU03ilQquTTOdD9y3bZ-ugdy91uskipAbXs3yUwy4jk7mRuaC-3V43cyeVI9NM1GHRm7UC0nCQVbNARILIQIlfe3BrXSjDzVFI-y3besBNJc_FgV0eFQ5WVu640/s200/20151212_182302.jpg" width="112" /></a>While I am having a blast in my current life, I continue to explore other paths. In October, I again took the Foreign Service Officer Test and passed. With the help of some editing-savvy friends, I revised and submitted my written narratives and will soon learn whether I advance to the third stage of the selection process. After the exam (and relevant preparation), I joined the cast of <i>Lie, Cheat, and Genuflect</i>, a farce produced by Brookings Community Theatre. As "Jane," I was onstage for the first time since high school. It was an enjoyable experience and begins a humble theatre résumé that I hope to build upon in the coming years. I continue to conduct Harvard College interviews as an alumna, and I'm making progress on personal goals related to music performance, writing, and artwork.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJgKby56BhBkfxEwv7m4E7Aux8vVAHc44m9F-NFNt4rR_iGtb0TZCWIgZ7dnkqhd6qRMe3kH5oYBaiEA4RC7bXs3yi_xaCCwEFHQ17LtgK4Z7vWnjq-GdOKDXF-Q_vBpkOZoc6Mus-aPM/s1600/20151115_111757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJgKby56BhBkfxEwv7m4E7Aux8vVAHc44m9F-NFNt4rR_iGtb0TZCWIgZ7dnkqhd6qRMe3kH5oYBaiEA4RC7bXs3yi_xaCCwEFHQ17LtgK4Z7vWnjq-GdOKDXF-Q_vBpkOZoc6Mus-aPM/s200/20151115_111757.jpg" width="112" /></a>A lovely (and very much intended) consequence of my time in Florida and South Dakota has been the chance to spend many great moments with family. I was able to attend the Gasparilla coronation and my cousin Emma's graduation, an extended family Easter, and a lively Timmel family reunion. My mom worked hard to bring all my siblings and nephews to Florida to spend time together prior to the reunion, reaffirming the importance of family connections. Likewise, back in SoDak, I've had several opportunities to spend time with my family in Salem, Vermillion, and Sioux Falls, including Becky's confirmation, Anne's coronation as Homecoming Queen, and numerous performances and school activities. <br />
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The year has been fruitful. I've had three jobs, added two locations to the places I call home, and widened my family with marvelous youth and colleagues, while clocking many hours with my longtime relatives. I've been challenged and rewarded. As I reflect on the past twelve months, I am grateful for their twists and turns. I look forward to an equally unpredictable 2016.<br />
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Here's hoping the year to come is filled with laughter, light, and love.<br />
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Yours,<br />
Andréa MayroseDréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-21615478947955384042014-03-01T15:27:00.002-08:002014-03-01T15:27:56.267-08:00Happy Birthday, Peace Corps!March 1 marks the 53rd birthday of the U.S. Peace Corps. It's incredible to me that JFK had created the organization (under the State Department) within about 6 weeks of taking office. The first volunteers were on the ground in Ghana before the end of the year.<div>
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I am lucky to have found an active Returned Peace Corps community in Portland, and it is exciting to learn from others (many significantly my senior) who have served in countries all around the world and who continue to believe in the importance of the Peace Corps and its mission.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a picture-of-a picture of two of the wall hangings in the Peace Corps provincial office in Northern Province. The President of Zambia, elected during my service, and an old school PC poster overlooked many a report-writing and Skyping session in that office.</td></tr>
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Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-57516252472470839802014-01-02T18:59:00.000-08:002014-01-02T19:28:48.679-08:00Christmas Letter, 2013I'm rather embarrassed at my delinquency in posting anything. I started writing, in my journal (Peace Corps service made me much more of a handwritten pre-writer), a reflection on my first two weeks in Portland...but before I finished it, I found that three weeks had passed...and then four. My recent journal entry, a draft of my annual holiday update, will have to suffice for now.<br />
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Dear friends,<br />
Happy holidays! As I write this in December 2013, I have recently felt snow, for the first time in nearly three years...<br />
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2013 has been a year of transitions, of movement, of family and friendship. The new year broke to laughter and dancing, nine volunteers in the yard of one of our homes, in a village in Kasama district, Zambia, after a memorable 60-mile bike ride the day before. The first third of 2013 was filled with projects, events, and visits to close out my work and life in Zambia. From watching the national football (soccer) team in Ndola stadium and meeting many of the players and coaches afterward, to being initiated by women in my village in a coming-of-age ceremony with two fellow Peace Corps Volunteers, to our village HIV & family planning event, to having my little sisters pile into my bed for a last-night sleepover before I left, teary-eyed, my village for the last time...those last few months in Zambia were filled with beautiful moments. Farewells came and went, and I found myself on a train to Tanzania...a plane to the United States...a bus to South Dakota, via North Carolina...a car back to Florida, via Wisconsin, Illinois, and North Carolina...and a plane to Boston.<br />
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Nine weeks after leaving Zambia, I was able to empty the suitcase and put my things in a drawer. The summer embraced me in familiarity--Harvard's campus, bustling with high school students and my 17-member undergraduate staff, new and old colleagues with whom I deepened both professional and personal relationships, new streets and old in Cambridge & Boston to explore and enjoy--but it, too, passed. <br />
<br />
I asked my heart where it fancied to journey, and it answered Alaska...so off I went to work, however briefly, for Alaska Wildland Adventures, at two remote lodges. Though I initially entertained staying in Alaska, I decided that this was a time for reconnecting, and once the people who had drawn me north left, Alaska was going to become too cold, dark, and far away to be alone.<br />
<br />
So I returned to South Dakota, realizing that in two and a half years, I had only spent a few weeks with my siblings, and that my lack of tethers gave me a wonderful opportunity for bedtime-story-reading, volleyball game and cross country-meet watching, substitute teaching, and bonding with the kinfolk back in my hometown. While I do not feel that South Dakota is the place I want to build my life, I always enjoy going home, and I had a wonderful six weeks <strike>living in my mom's basement</strike> spending time with my family while searching for the next job and place to which to venture. I also prepared for my goal of having one of my brothers move with me and complete his senior year in a new location. During the process, I found a very temporary camp-counselor-like position at a co-curricular camp in Wisconsin, and the ten-day interruption this provided allowed me not only to meet some students and teachers from Chicago and fellow staff at House in the Wood, but also to see 9 different friends in Chicago and Madison en route home.<br />
<br />
On Halloween, I got the call that a position was most likely waiting for me at Mediation Case Manager, which administers the Oregon Foreclosure Avoidance Program on behalf of the state Department of Justice, pending an in-person interview. Five days later, I was on a plane, two suitcases filled with essential belongings. Four days after that, I had signed a job offer and a lease on a lovely little apartment, and I rushed to Goodwill and Trader Joe's to buy a blanket, pillow, pot, spoon, and groceries--the basics for my first night in my new home.<br />
<br />
Eight weeks after my arrival, I feel...really great. I feel comfortably settled into my house (though I'm still buying things) and job (though I'm still learning things). I'm starting to have people I call friends...even close friends. Learning that my brother was not going to join me (due to legal
opposition from one parent) was an adjustment; I had structured my
entire life at this time to support this goal. However, I've embraced the opportunities that this change allows. I've visited a lot of bars and coffeehouses, laughed and flirted and <i>mingled</i>. Socially, the atmosphere is laden with possibility; Portland is full of youth and energy and ideas, just as I had heard (and hoped). At the same time, I'm finding that though I didn't plan to live alone, and probably will not for long, I have loved my moments of solitude. In one way, it's a part of my life in Zambia that I can preserve here. Recreating aspects of my Zamlife that I loved, and adapting them to shape my life here, is something I hope to continue in the coming months and years.<br />
<br />
As I approach my thirtieth birthday, a central question of this time of transition has been <i>what am I building?</i> Nearly eight years out of college, I have experience...yet I remain surrounded by open doors and paths untraveled. I sense that graduate school emerges nearer in my future, but I'm still toying with what sort of classroom I want to enter. I recognize that military service is still a possibility, and I'm deliberating how entering into service now might take a different shape than it does for those who enlist in their...youthier youth. It's an exciting time: I'm old enough to bring a degree of insight to whatever path I venture down next, but young enough that many avenues are yet open.<br />
<br />
Both the short- and long-term future are rich with options, and sitting alone in my apartment, I consider all the things a small city offers me. I can take a class at a community college--Spanish, art, theatre, computer programming, EMT certification. I can join the Peace Corps community monthly book club and writing workshop. I can spend time drawing, painting, creating, and learning to read Tarot in my living room. I can join any of many "young professionals" networking groups or Meetups in the area. I can buy a membership at a fitness facility, or find a dance club/class, or explore something new, like tae kwon do. If my brother isn't coming, I can rent out my room, or host friends and couchsurfers, or move into a bigger, shared house when my lease ends in March. I can settle in deeply to Portland, or take advantage of three different summer job opportunities, or continue exploring career opportunities for the long-term future, while still investing my all in my current job.<br />
<br />
In short...my life this past year has been composed of many delightful mini-chapters, each distinct, each introducing the next just as it draws to a close. I anticipate a continuation of this story structure in the near future; the stillness I feel amidst the ongoing change is not apathy but rather contentment at the pace and manner in which my life is unfolding. My itchy feet remain firmly planted in possibility.<br />
<br />
I am grateful, too, to acknowledge the incredible blessings that this year has brought me. My family and friends in Zambia, who ushered in the new year and bid me farewell, who remain close in heart if ever so distant. My extended family, many of whom I got to see for the first time in years: my maternal side at my cousin Matthew's wedding, and paternal side at my grandmother's funeral. My immediate family, gathered in one place for the first time since December 2010, including my brother Michael, whose much-awaited return from his tour with the Army in Afghanistan came none-too-soon in November. My four nephews, with whom I had a renewed chance to become acquainted (and vice versa) this year, even if a certain seven-year-old among them likes to admonish me, "You should be married by now." And the gamut of friends across the country, with whom I got to reconnect, both in many of the places I've been living and en route here and there, from the first month of my arrival to last night. I'm grateful for the employment I've had of all different sorts, keeping me busy, teaching me skills, easing my transition from Peace Corps work, and making my 2014 taxes the most complicated yet, with five different states and overseas residence for which to account.<br />
<br />
This letter comes post-Christmas, rather than before. Another new year has broken--this one in a much different way than the last. I felt more than a small bit of nostalgia for what I left behind, for moments like that one, celebrating at midnight under the brilliant African sky. I know for certain, however, that I've neither left behind Africa forever nor denied myself a promising horizon. I am grateful for 2013 and all of the incredible people who filled it with joy, and I am excited for all the fruit that 2014 will bear.<br />
<br />
Peace and love,<br />
DreDréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-47647577644227058442013-09-12T13:31:00.000-07:002013-09-12T13:31:42.778-07:00Tell the ones that need to know...We are headed north(written 11 September 2013)<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">Today was my fourth time in the Ted Stevens International
airport in the past month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How quickly
the foreign becomes familiar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">The month began with a week at the backcountry lodge: kayaking one fair evening,
a tiny hike up Cottonwood Trail, although split-shift hours didn’t permit me to make
it all the way to the tundra.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A night of
merriment and costumes in a staff tent-cabin crawl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hastily-made arrangements to be present for
the funeral of my last grandparent back in South Dakota, and an invigorating
return to Alaskan air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Round two of this foray into the country's largest state: </span>I spent a night
in the company’s Anchorage house, used for folks in transit, rode down to Cooper
Landing (with one of the employees who’d most made me feel at home that first
night I arrived) and to Seward with the Operations Manager and RPCV (returned
Peace Corps volunteer) who had conducted my phone interview in July.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a laid-back evening in the port town of
Seward, I boarded a boat for the four-hour, relaxed journey to the Kenai Fjords
Glacier Lodge, another of the parent company's remote locations for Alaskan getaways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A cold sea breeze
accompanied us as we saw sea otters, harbor seals, orcas, humpback whales,
puffins, eagles, and more wildlife in Resurrection Bay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A glacier calved as we bobbed alongside it,
keeping enough distance to maintain safety without compromising the view.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">We reached the lodge, and I got aquick tour and
whirlwind introduction to the 20+ members of staff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next ten days were filled with much of
the same work as I’d been doing at KBL—washing dishes, folding sheets,
preparing cabins for guest occupancy—but in a different location, with
different views, a different vibe, a different staff community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The “new girl” feeling never quite wore off,
but I was welcomed all the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Kayaking and canoeing in the lagoon, stargazing on the beach, hiking up
to the base of Pedersen Glacier and to the ridge that offered spectacular 360
degree views, and reading a John Grisham novel by candlelight filled my
off-time hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">As we wrapped up the season, there were nights of singing
along with talented renditions of Avett Brothers music by talented manipulators
of piano, guitar, banjo, tambourine, and cow-hide drum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> ("Pack the car and write the note. Grab your bag and grab your coat. Tell the ones that need to know. We are headed north.") </span>Games of Apples to Apples, Celebrity, and Big
2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stitching to help one guide finish
her homemade bridesmaids’ gifts as she prepares to wed another staff member
next month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More costumes and drinking
and dancing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And laughter—so much
laughter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">Reverse the trail: boat to Seward, shuttle to Cooper
Landing, then to Anchorage; taxi to the airport.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">And somewhere in there…I did what I came to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had the conversation I flew over 3,300 miles
to have. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Watched the Kenai rush by and
the sun dip below the trees and the last embers of the fire die out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Felt the steady rhythm of the rocking chair—how
I love rocking chairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(If only I had
succeeded in convincing YasiProsper, my carpenter, to learn how to craft one in
Masamba.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may never have left.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">Felt the warmth of friendship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A closeness I still don’t know how to
explain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The certainty that the story is
still being written.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though goodbye was
painful, I know it’s not forever.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">I came to Alaska to see not just an old penpal, but to
experience for myself the place and community that he’s admired so much in his
writing, lauding such praises as, “Alaska gives me more than any place I’ve
ever been.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In venturing north to
glimpse this feast, I found myself nourished by it as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Cambria;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Because through the few weeks of this Alaskan adventure,
there were conversations upon conversations about the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s something empowering about a
community full of dynamic, seasonal workers, who are well-acquainted with
instability, who believe in the power of the flow, who trust that everything
will work out for the best, and it’ll probably be a darn good ride along the
way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s amazing to stand in a kitchen overa
skillet of eggs and say, “My plan?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well,
that pretty much ended last night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today
I’m deciding where to buy a plane ticket,” and be affirmed by a response of, “Cool!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me too!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">I often feel a bit like the little bird in the children’s book
who asks the other animals, “Are you my mother?” in a search to figure out where he
belongs; like Ellen DeGeneres in that old commercial with Beyoncé:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i>
my people?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know if I totally
fit in at this Alaskan company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These
folks are far more outdoorsy than me; I always enjoy camping, but the idea is
sometimes less appealing when I have a bed in front of me, and perhaps
my call-to-adventure side is a bit muted by my laziness side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t have a lot of technical skills in
outdoor activities; by contrast, this staff includes folks who are among the best
young kayakers and skiiers in the country, and many of them have done extended
through hikes on such endurance-testers as the Appalachian Trail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The conversations about travel and hiking and
national parks were so different—both in what was said and what wasn’t—from those
I had with my colleagues and friends in Cambridge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">But still.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were
many things about this environment, these people, that reminded me of my Peace
Corps experience and fellow volunteers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There were laughter, encouragement, hugs, long talks about the lack of a
plan so many of us have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were
moments of introspection and clarity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve
decided not to stay in Alaska, at least for now, and my first flight of the day
touches down in Seattle shortly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">Yesterday, a few of us explored Anchorage a bit,
particularly enjoying the art and history and children’s imaginarium we found
at the museum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We walked home along a
Cook Inlet trail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we walked along, I
looked at the mountains and thought, I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could</i>
have stayed here in Anchorage this winter, and been happy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria;">But of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Happiness can be found everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My Peace Corps replacement, a young woman from Oklahoma, arrived in our
village last week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My home has become
hers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My family and community: hers now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m off to keep creating new ones. Headed north, south, east, or west...I know I'll always find a Brooklyn that will take me in.</span></div>
Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-91097133975567173042013-09-11T16:55:00.000-07:002013-09-11T16:55:00.092-07:00The Next Step Begins(written 17 August 2013)<br />
<br />
Just under four months since I finished my service in the Peace Corps, and I find myself again sleeping under a mosquito net, waking up with a keen awareness of the temperature outside, blowing out a candle in my electricity-free, simple cabin, using an outhouse, and marveling at the beauty all around me.<br />
<br />
I'm keeping house at a lodge on the shores of Skilak Lake, on the Kenai Peninsula of Alaska. I've been here in the Northern USA for about four days--enough to remind me both how uncomfortable transitions can be and how quickly we settle in to new environments.<br />
<br />
What brought me here? Ten letters, more or less, written over five and a half years...one question that cried out louder than any others. The urging of my heart to be where it felt it needed to be. As I journeyed from Boston to Minneapolis, and Minneapolis to Anchorage, I realized, <i>my soft landing is over</i>. <br />
<br />
Harvard--my Cambridge home--felt like a moment, begun and finished in one seductive bat of an eye. It was all I hoped and anticipated it would be: students, staff, colleagues old and new. Street musicians' melodies wafting in my dorm room window, more pizza and ice cream than one could ever need, endless amounts of food savored under the magnificent chandeliers of Annenberg dining hall. It was new relationships and old ones taken to new depths. It was sculling on the Charles, talking into wee hours, alternately being silly with and scolding high school students.<br />
<br />
Come early August, the fairy tale ended, as it always must. The students moved out, the glass slipper lay idle on the stairwell as I fought another round of the recurring battle with my suitcases. The trip included, as a bonus, a night in Minneapolis with my high school classmate Angie, who had switched apartments since I last saw her (two weeks prior to my Peace Corps departure). An icy plane ride provided glimpses of breathtaking Alaskan scenery below.<br />
<br />
My arrival in Alaska was simultaneously warm (the people) and chilly (the weather).<br />
<br />
Imagine your first embrace with a friend you've not seen in so long you've forgotten his face. Imagine surroundings that are new but remind you of places you've loved. Imagine becoming roommates--even temporarily--with the stranger who picked you up at the airport. Imagine knowing that <i>right at this moment </i>is where your plan ends.<br />
<br />
And the real transition--from the Peace Corps to the unknown, the next step--begins.<br />
<br />
Back at camp in North Carolina, we used to sing karaoke to The Fray's <i>How to Save a Life</i>. I hear a particular line in my head all the time, with one word change: "Had I known how to <i>make </i>a life." I once rejected the notion that I am an academic, and was gently corrected by a professor that I can call myself one or not, but it doesn't make me any less a scholar. I haven't figured out what I'd like to pursue as advanced training; it's fluctuated among ideas including filmmaking, fine arts, disaster relief, crisis intervention, Master's and PhD's degrees and biscuits for all. But if nothing else, I think I'm currently and unavoidably a scholar of the shapes and rhythms of human life. I'm fascinated by what fills our days in various roles and locales. I'm intrigued by how much my rhythm can change...by what stays the same...by what that means about me. Is who I am determined by what I do? If so, when what I do changes, what of me stays the same?<br />
<br />
For now...the air is crisp, the mosquitos hungry, the lodge cozy, the kitchen always filled with myriad delights for both nose and tongue. My hands feel the soreness and fatigue of dishes and cleaning. My body slips into deep sleep at night, and in quiet moments throughout the day, I pause, rocking back and forth in a rocking chair, keeping time to the lapping of the water on the shores of Skilak Lake.Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-82863331219415532432013-05-16T19:57:00.001-07:002013-06-03T11:31:41.282-07:00Reentry: One Week(written 15 May 2013)<br />
<br />
I've been back in country for one week.<br />
<br />
<b>My first impressions of America:</b><br />
- Stairs are common, and my knees still creak.<br />
- The post office staff is remarkably efficient, they don't debate shipping costs, and they possess supernatural powers that allow them to transport a package from Florida to Alaska in a mere 4 days.<br />
- More water is run down the sink for no reason than is needed for an entire day's use in the village.<br />
- Paper towels are extremely wasteful but so handy that they're used ubiquitously.<br />
- Houses are enormous, with vast amounts of wasted space.<br />
- Mid-size cars have grown and are practically the size of an SUV. Everyone drives the same non-grey, nondescript color.<br />
- Food is unbelievably good. The variety is staggering. Yet many people eat mostly non-food or highly-processed food, both expensive and poor in nutrients, which is confounding given the availability of delicious nutritious options.<br />
- Eating out appears to be the status quo.<br />
- Air conditioning makes every place too cold.<br />
- Many people spend the amount of money that would put a child in my village through grade 8 or 9 for an entire term (and the absence of said amount prevents many from enrolling) on a meal or an outfit without batting an eye. I have done so numerous times already, though I cringed a little inside.<br />
- iPhones have taken over the nation. They do appear to be pretty handy.<br />
- Cars can now turn on without the driver removing the key from his/her pocket.<br />
- Sidewalks are every bit as wonderful as I recall.<br />
- The current dress styles are not particularly flattering on my body. <br />
<br />
and perhaps most importantly,<br />
- Family stay family despite years of absence.<br />
<br />
<b>Reflections on myself:</b><br />
<b> </b>- I have a strong sense, influenced by Zambia, of what kind of family lifestyle I do and don't want my (future) kids to have.<br />
<b> </b>- Writing letters to people I care about is still a priority.<br />
- Not having my own phone (and hence not knowing for certain the date, time, or anybody's latest plans) is pretty nice, and I may stretch that out as long as possible.<br />
- I almost miss nshima.<br />
- My body still hasn't quite figured out a rational sleeping/waking schedule.<br />
- I'm getting back into some "American" habits far too quickly, even if I resisted them the first couple of days.<br />
- Constructing sentences in Mambwe is already a challenge. Caipa sana.<br />
- I'm scared. Of forgetting. Of losing my language, my connections, my values. Of Zambia drifting away and becoming a hazy phase in my life's timeline.<br />
- I hope that, despite our distance and potentially years (ahead) of absence, my Zambian family will <i>also</i> stay family.<br />
<br />
<br />Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-31598717275514731692013-05-16T07:22:00.004-07:002013-06-03T11:31:16.230-07:00A Transition(written 8 May 2013)<br />
<br />
It's 11:25 Eastern Time, and I'm an RPCV--a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer. Here in Dulles airport in D.C., awaiting my connecting flight, things feel surprisingly normal. The international flights were luxurious, of course; hot running water in the lavatories--imagine! I didn't have hot running water in my house. I didn't have cold running water in my house--or any water at all, unless I pulled it from the well and carried it in myself. Cheese and chocolate at every meal! Delightful. I was overwhelmed initially by the staggering number of movies, music, and other entertainment options, but I barely slept as a result, too enamored with the sights and sounds of my personal screen and plastic-wrapped headphones.<br />
<br />
Now I'm home, back on American property, even if my feet have not yet touched American soil. My Peace Corps journey is over in some ways, but because the 3rd Goal (teaching Americans about the host country of my service) is ongoing (hence the reason PCVs are not "former" or "ex" but simply "Returned") I'm not in a hurry to hang up the hat quite yet I had more things I wanted to write: about meeting the Polish priest to whom much of the credit for anything translated into Mambwe is due, about working in the district library and my love affair with books, about the meaning of luxury in the village and more. Perhaps I'll still write some essays on these topics. Perhaps their absence will be a reflection of the many things I wanted to <i>do</i> in the village and didn't. <br />
<br />
Nonetheless, it seems dreadfully negligent to reassume my life in the USA with a blog that ends in midair, last updated over two months prior to my Close-of-Service (COS) date. Likewise, I've done a poor job of including photos in this forum. Thus I've decided to try and address both deficiencies efficiently. Hence, behold my photo summary of Peace Corps: Community Exit (the last 2.5 months). <br />
<br />
I focused this term on finishing up my work, trying to spend less time at school and more in the community, both for my sanity and to make up for a less balanced approach in the past. Rather than solo- or co-teaching a class, I worked with 7th graders doing remedial and supplementary reading. This was really rewarding, and because we worked in the staff office, many teachers saw my literacy instruction methods and copied them. Skills transfer! I also made last visits to several of the schools in my zone.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVboi9wVBUidZwPcRr4dRTZwG6O-rO97VVPll8Q08OsUVmMPNuHPsG9mkHw1iMrI1rXqVlv_n3E_mKidN_u1XP-oVM0v1faxpLVFETpeNwufYyrqs1bKiqaJykFKnFo6VD0k9p8uC_5o/s1600/DSCN1545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVboi9wVBUidZwPcRr4dRTZwG6O-rO97VVPll8Q08OsUVmMPNuHPsG9mkHw1iMrI1rXqVlv_n3E_mKidN_u1XP-oVM0v1faxpLVFETpeNwufYyrqs1bKiqaJykFKnFo6VD0k9p8uC_5o/s320/DSCN1545.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The signpost for Twime, the school up the mountain which is in transition from being community-run to being a full-fledged government school.</td></tr>
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I finished a preliminary organization of the district library's collection (a year in progress) and worked to create links between people at the local district provincial and national levels who can drive it forward.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAel2LJt0rMyPI7Q7ac2bxEFSPeltNS6_d8Rva-VZrSXlklDlAsBpTSDMlPNOTZlpdA4wtiJbLcZMV4NeTuZDXEK-dRXS8fpxVoV3OsSkHxMhcrd5RqAZC4zqDPTVjFe-TUEezC_mz8jI/s1600/DSCN2099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAel2LJt0rMyPI7Q7ac2bxEFSPeltNS6_d8Rva-VZrSXlklDlAsBpTSDMlPNOTZlpdA4wtiJbLcZMV4NeTuZDXEK-dRXS8fpxVoV3OsSkHxMhcrd5RqAZC4zqDPTVjFe-TUEezC_mz8jI/s320/DSCN2099.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Working with the clinic to help with Under 5 baby-weighing and health lessons and with a community committee to organize a VCT (Voluntary Counselling and Testing for HIV status) and family planning event spiced up my life. Moving outside of the school's structure helped me to get a taste of the types of work many other PCVs do and helped prepare my community for the possibility that they get a Volunteer in the future whose project focus is on health rather than education.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJrXEtuRy9jfX-K1wvhjAeCqn5-eIdcnS3aQjq3vbw4t21uRaLdrtnGAJDFZi6lAHfyWpwwyXZVAAIBr50BtuIwtAmqYVFZGvmss0ynHkoICOF9wFYNeT0u0YzeHXxoHUgHmVy8ntGQc/s1600/DSCN1908.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzJrXEtuRy9jfX-K1wvhjAeCqn5-eIdcnS3aQjq3vbw4t21uRaLdrtnGAJDFZi6lAHfyWpwwyXZVAAIBr50BtuIwtAmqYVFZGvmss0ynHkoICOF9wFYNeT0u0YzeHXxoHUgHmVy8ntGQc/s320/DSCN1908.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An outdoor Under 5 session at the Masamba Rural Health Centre</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_q23fpsmAOrfzf7ZiUmYlrBlRYXT-GRn2P3vUq0V4loyVzL4xgy57IDnrQ7Tod4KDCTuc2nK8KwoKXIyfANQiWbL0yOX1htMP6VNze6bwUB3Js55QMRpD0ZbD1rTDTV73RsuYgaQkAx4/s320/DSCN1216.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Women were offered a variety of family planning services through partner organization Marie Stopes International</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCyDGzkrUr75pgS1d2ryS8Xurk5vFGveQuKKicVgxqKUchZoZ7wB6p32ySidA_AHjVa6X651MdmhjFNG2MU-52WAr1lfh1f-FrCE6Pxrf7OInDMq5gNMnQ-U_cJte3DbdqJyYYOSC-NWg/s1600/DSCN1222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCyDGzkrUr75pgS1d2ryS8Xurk5vFGveQuKKicVgxqKUchZoZ7wB6p32ySidA_AHjVa6X651MdmhjFNG2MU-52WAr1lfh1f-FrCE6Pxrf7OInDMq5gNMnQ-U_cJte3DbdqJyYYOSC-NWg/s320/DSCN1222.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pupils presenting poems and dances at our VCT event</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheKtYm6YOR1yHQVaObeBLnLXX3BUYFoJzQA9bS9Ef_kQBnP8ModaP0F-Xtgv9J7U21OSb62aQYSTzm7GcvEYW5iuH_9sYl2KDNLF4atsNdUwXL2EeXiTLHFXyG2G3EYiM8OehFDXwPu_4/s1600/DSCN1203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheKtYm6YOR1yHQVaObeBLnLXX3BUYFoJzQA9bS9Ef_kQBnP8ModaP0F-Xtgv9J7U21OSb62aQYSTzm7GcvEYW5iuH_9sYl2KDNLF4atsNdUwXL2EeXiTLHFXyG2G3EYiM8OehFDXwPu_4/s320/DSCN1203.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pupils wait out a rainshower in a room set aside for HIV/AIDS information.</td></tr>
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While efforts to organize a community library were not as successful as I hoped, I was able to leave behind books sourced from my family and the Canadian High Commission to start a community library shelf in one of the village shops.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBGTEk1ARm967LCflxKNKSo4kc_nfmREf4EQg-3C1CQh1r62PetIIvXjqkEgp4oznEF5GIPkBvF_zcsmxY8n2u8Rz3K-nuWOVY9Q0wreu7tVXAq5witmb0nPj6GmGi4772oOxaZP6sNM/s1600/DSCN1970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBGTEk1ARm967LCflxKNKSo4kc_nfmREf4EQg-3C1CQh1r62PetIIvXjqkEgp4oznEF5GIPkBvF_zcsmxY8n2u8Rz3K-nuWOVY9Q0wreu7tVXAq5witmb0nPj6GmGi4772oOxaZP6sNM/s320/DSCN1970.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, that's my college classmate on the cover of a magazine joining our humble library shelf. I found the juxtaposition of our two lives amusing.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjihsEYVqsWwuyQlIreFOyCmGfH2ELVymzapxXgEYnLqdQX-aIE-xGdyAL2xEi1EQdV3MQgGckUtEknD7dSO_UoE1IHSsFvoQv6BjwdR4RmsAHjdx-xhCZucnqdhiO2_pG0jB-dXrvr1w/s1600/DSCN0940.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjihsEYVqsWwuyQlIreFOyCmGfH2ELVymzapxXgEYnLqdQX-aIE-xGdyAL2xEi1EQdV3MQgGckUtEknD7dSO_UoE1IHSsFvoQv6BjwdR4RmsAHjdx-xhCZucnqdhiO2_pG0jB-dXrvr1w/s320/DSCN0940.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Band practice at the Roman Catholic church. The instruments are made by hand; guitar heads are made out of old X-rays.</td></tr>
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I also tried to focus on having more time to experience <i>Zambia</i>. To reacquaint myself with my role as Learner. I pounded homemade peanut butter, sifted cassava meal, learned to use a treadle sewing machine, helped repair the thatch on my roof, hung out at the dorms, wandered the village, sat in on a church band practice, and <i>sat</i> more with my family and others.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhNW23kJnsJXQ_a4VFA45vfDyt4bAI_eHE0jzTEiV7BbQyyiaFKISp2FFumUOrHSujAy7NlTCmc93MXt7kmcxu21HK7U6ZKZUSBih0Yoh7fs7DIo-FHtgPXEj1AZKFiOCyDTeaZfcWxYE/s1600/DSCN1413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhNW23kJnsJXQ_a4VFA45vfDyt4bAI_eHE0jzTEiV7BbQyyiaFKISp2FFumUOrHSujAy7NlTCmc93MXt7kmcxu21HK7U6ZKZUSBih0Yoh7fs7DIo-FHtgPXEj1AZKFiOCyDTeaZfcWxYE/s320/DSCN1413.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thatching my house</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvxZE69OnhKLNv2yYoc5MeQNG3PCtKZX6FJmG12-W3N7KS-c0EB_UDDqjX2pZt-9zxwObBCFRrn-kAPDRGJS4Kz9GlTctMpDNwkM6A6siqOzCNkOqJBdkpa7NDPJbWBvgoTxG88dnchvE/s1600/DSCN1457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvxZE69OnhKLNv2yYoc5MeQNG3PCtKZX6FJmG12-W3N7KS-c0EB_UDDqjX2pZt-9zxwObBCFRrn-kAPDRGJS4Kz9GlTctMpDNwkM6A6siqOzCNkOqJBdkpa7NDPJbWBvgoTxG88dnchvE/s320/DSCN1457.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sifting cassava meal</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQxbyklVmeW6teQBTexxRBalv0ilflKkzv4LFsFZNU_MWwJSW9TzE_JodpVXUJTnsnNav4lfQahQyVtdrAICaxho_D-V4-Bpu0Krhb-a3b1jrcmu1OWtPNkMN8PNKAv6rN_ltPw7loK0M/s1600/DSCN1507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQxbyklVmeW6teQBTexxRBalv0ilflKkzv4LFsFZNU_MWwJSW9TzE_JodpVXUJTnsnNav4lfQahQyVtdrAICaxho_D-V4-Bpu0Krhb-a3b1jrcmu1OWtPNkMN8PNKAv6rN_ltPw7loK0M/s320/DSCN1507.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Improving the aesthetics of my house with a new coat of mud along the bottom exterior</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicwwvK1GuZQ3hOB2hkfQPbQa3Y_1A0BT6CKOJ4JnPeLrFVfEf0MxfYieOFawRCAGjcEJduppf4Jjg3NoB04D6tpI7szrfSt9ssMmQikYqDGkdD_P9yy4geq_q0PAKtgg6JeD6wNHUZIu4/s1600/DSCN1881.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicwwvK1GuZQ3hOB2hkfQPbQa3Y_1A0BT6CKOJ4JnPeLrFVfEf0MxfYieOFawRCAGjcEJduppf4Jjg3NoB04D6tpI7szrfSt9ssMmQikYqDGkdD_P9yy4geq_q0PAKtgg6JeD6wNHUZIu4/s320/DSCN1881.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Learning how to use a treadle sewing machine with my friend Jane</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX4yYthio7k_Fd7txFDu_i6Q-3cddIY8fNfthoNXoAuAwIWC8L7F0liqpDY5tjlyQoSMbLvxmi5bdqsYiPBF38KnuYCetgOkIxlIFKOX6ml2KGWYDXhamC2nsxChQmEMa47v1qc2rAiN4/s1600/DSCN1919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX4yYthio7k_Fd7txFDu_i6Q-3cddIY8fNfthoNXoAuAwIWC8L7F0liqpDY5tjlyQoSMbLvxmi5bdqsYiPBF38KnuYCetgOkIxlIFKOX6ml2KGWYDXhamC2nsxChQmEMa47v1qc2rAiN4/s320/DSCN1919.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jane happens to be much more patient with the sewing machine than am I</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrxNyg8K8_mDrrYXeG-6ryTgtgUz5c7WqHBxxBTsAIsfQpr24xh69fwAEQMlPbpXaD0tuxyCReEPNHQwZjXNcHW2Z6OVyAcdea0LVINlbS_oR0T92gmHRfa8APCANaLeHgXPh78Y7WsqE/s1600/DSCN1906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrxNyg8K8_mDrrYXeG-6ryTgtgUz5c7WqHBxxBTsAIsfQpr24xh69fwAEQMlPbpXaD0tuxyCReEPNHQwZjXNcHW2Z6OVyAcdea0LVINlbS_oR0T92gmHRfa8APCANaLeHgXPh78Y7WsqE/s320/DSCN1906.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting my hair done by grade 8 and 9 pupils at the girls' dorm</td></tr>
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The mosquito net longevity study (no photos allowed due to study protocol) gave many opportunities to interact with the community outside of my normal routine, as well. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgydHL9xeeFMv19HTI4X5sA0Aeq4DEBvozd9CHUsd2QDPudBARezb7eNPxzfJGf_SvpZT84MStAFshIxqTwvhpEK4X8oKLvrxQtPKLLNlflIkFfJiE0o2m4zIXaptU3j21Nd_sNUMKEa9s/s1600/DSCN1580.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgydHL9xeeFMv19HTI4X5sA0Aeq4DEBvozd9CHUsd2QDPudBARezb7eNPxzfJGf_SvpZT84MStAFshIxqTwvhpEK4X8oKLvrxQtPKLLNlflIkFfJiE0o2m4zIXaptU3j21Nd_sNUMKEa9s/s320/DSCN1580.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making nshima in a showmaker (big pot) for my last village party</td></tr>
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The last three months witnessed another PCV/family village party complete with dancing around a bonfire (thanks to very determined efforts by many), as well as to visits from other PCVs to my site and last visits by me to some of their sites, as well. I was particularly privileged to take part in a traditional (if watered-down to accomodate our mizungu sensibilities) Mambwe women's initiation ceremony in my village with two close PCV friends. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYIyuofkIhBD7rP9ARnnxPYpYUnlwHdqDN3EH7oKtYWvEx_5QL4spDUIP3jzfAPCzK04jz11XOLLJKTOIN_qBUZFAZHdj4u9faL_mSqPUyY3E98A8yQur3dx8KMJuwS7d4Shdn_N04Tmc/s1600/DSCN1581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYIyuofkIhBD7rP9ARnnxPYpYUnlwHdqDN3EH7oKtYWvEx_5QL4spDUIP3jzfAPCzK04jz11XOLLJKTOIN_qBUZFAZHdj4u9faL_mSqPUyY3E98A8yQur3dx8KMJuwS7d4Shdn_N04Tmc/s320/DSCN1581.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch with the family on party day (That's my friend Jessi, not me)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmLWeRf2Thz423cRPRmKoh2RjV0AO_9SG-E84TK035Hsp2pVWg1P32mygW8FB0kVcemlfDgBl_GEsf37nR9BbId-VTt-C2LBrMwl09TqNQaX3A2TYyP096Xrg2jsMVfc3C-l-BUURvxU/s1600/DSCN1603.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmLWeRf2Thz423cRPRmKoh2RjV0AO_9SG-E84TK035Hsp2pVWg1P32mygW8FB0kVcemlfDgBl_GEsf37nR9BbId-VTt-C2LBrMwl09TqNQaX3A2TYyP096Xrg2jsMVfc3C-l-BUURvxU/s320/DSCN1603.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PCVs hanging out as I begin the long process of packing and giving things away</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-yB8k4DhHLKn_c0gWb-rZrLC0wT3NzT5w1V-DM8H1urlwcZ8_2dkqZNTHVC7EYbEP68YUee9Cqa6cWFk4GI_886h61TfFnvLbOpktt8mHK_PYM5kIqqwIvcHPiyydvI0ssarnClPe2no/s1600/DSCN1636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-yB8k4DhHLKn_c0gWb-rZrLC0wT3NzT5w1V-DM8H1urlwcZ8_2dkqZNTHVC7EYbEP68YUee9Cqa6cWFk4GI_886h61TfFnvLbOpktt8mHK_PYM5kIqqwIvcHPiyydvI0ssarnClPe2no/s320/DSCN1636.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Group dinner at the NoPro house with PCVs, including our three incoming agricultural Volunteers</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZIkYxbmiUetulVbCzE_1iu-Grp0gbIvG5di_wD9aS-AK8O5MSJEGeecDDSHwNTICoHFIYNl24Nq7h4E5pGeUD6awnjb7Kvm2FJksstEtlF5EE8FcYJ7Z4cO5df1RcDfmlXAtV5WolfY/s1600/DSCF6990.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZIkYxbmiUetulVbCzE_1iu-Grp0gbIvG5di_wD9aS-AK8O5MSJEGeecDDSHwNTICoHFIYNl24Nq7h4E5pGeUD6awnjb7Kvm2FJksstEtlF5EE8FcYJ7Z4cO5df1RcDfmlXAtV5WolfY/s320/DSCF6990.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mambwe initiation ceremony</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6B6u5vTrjMNr-BnMi4PRew39caY73Qpjheo7MgpjADTbaFZUeIwGHQstK9ZEQ5ZdJhIbeYCsEXB0y6RatiwqnanSvjGtNvniExqhFxRIzOVJ4RtLnJdguj4QnH96dDZsh4QhoM90YgFg/s1600/DSCF7058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6B6u5vTrjMNr-BnMi4PRew39caY73Qpjheo7MgpjADTbaFZUeIwGHQstK9ZEQ5ZdJhIbeYCsEXB0y6RatiwqnanSvjGtNvniExqhFxRIzOVJ4RtLnJdguj4QnH96dDZsh4QhoM90YgFg/s320/DSCF7058.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming of age as Mambwe women</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGyPqkcWLfN4H7ER-7Aanm1sGME_OHvI0G3TYJoPZa4k-BirmUrOOnfUVhc_gAtr_J2b0UGVog-lgrQesPiWwh7S7m6G0McrbQ7F5dU8XbJ649i07uEUrnOLdmytPeDVNzujWkLEBtqSk/s1600/DSCN1729.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGyPqkcWLfN4H7ER-7Aanm1sGME_OHvI0G3TYJoPZa4k-BirmUrOOnfUVhc_gAtr_J2b0UGVog-lgrQesPiWwh7S7m6G0McrbQ7F5dU8XbJ649i07uEUrnOLdmytPeDVNzujWkLEBtqSk/s320/DSCN1729.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tea at Tyler's. He is my fellow South Dakotan, a PCV who lived about 150km SE of me for my last 7 months.</td></tr>
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<b>Then came the goodbyes.</b><br />
To pupils, family, friends. A last night in Mpulungu, Easter Sunday morning contemplation in the old church built years ago by the London Mission Society. A day saying goodbye to Mbala and many of the people and businesses that have been important to me there.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOjflifKbAWTqQtcQXmfGmLzcp1LYUlngQci8otfghyphenhyphenHoat-uSOri_YEiTDzl2smGdm7dcoFoAJuWevmtXNpu3_9_zNjWohtCimSOU_0UEq3l7s54NBrWU8hLESdcVlI2cAkVQyPZWPW0/s1600/DSCN1846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOjflifKbAWTqQtcQXmfGmLzcp1LYUlngQci8otfghyphenhyphenHoat-uSOri_YEiTDzl2smGdm7dcoFoAJuWevmtXNpu3_9_zNjWohtCimSOU_0UEq3l7s54NBrWU8hLESdcVlI2cAkVQyPZWPW0/s320/DSCN1846.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easter morning at Niamkolo church</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67H_tHHZoigmWbFgoDSWBnYrO-1Rm_9Be0gtmZIISuSZYQDuZ80FW1a466FYmr5eWRRV6YNbPc2pCxMk4NH2DzndxhvIaNHP6SFneV5doNmlPRCnrK4mkPR50QxHnHR0phY9Yu0Vgf6U/s1600/DSCN1806.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67H_tHHZoigmWbFgoDSWBnYrO-1Rm_9Be0gtmZIISuSZYQDuZ80FW1a466FYmr5eWRRV6YNbPc2pCxMk4NH2DzndxhvIaNHP6SFneV5doNmlPRCnrK4mkPR50QxHnHR0phY9Yu0Vgf6U/s320/DSCN1806.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mpulungu at dusk</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUUghatet0AM8WIB6-HYZ4eGeung6t9F0ejYmBs_jy6BJGU66uxYtcDqQd27L8jcorQ_aAYe8c210g1KNI-T8w45ZfKfyoUtVggYkHkhIlF3a8IGQ4FLcrpGI4O3zBfNop7SgcbilgnQ/s1600/DSCN1807.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUUghatet0AM8WIB6-HYZ4eGeung6t9F0ejYmBs_jy6BJGU66uxYtcDqQd27L8jcorQ_aAYe8c210g1KNI-T8w45ZfKfyoUtVggYkHkhIlF3a8IGQ4FLcrpGI4O3zBfNop7SgcbilgnQ/s320/DSCN1807.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Tanganyika<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ_m0o4No2LsJjgtWmkkDHYIfLRLqdwgLol6NV6QyZ394pcmxtdre1Xz8Oyaer7r-zzPl_CFKDEY_gboj5kC3MXpXJnIh0gYVokFDXr_cH9ZKpdo021OicENwVLtPuvMp4xn4OELJIIYU/s1600/DSCN2092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ_m0o4No2LsJjgtWmkkDHYIfLRLqdwgLol6NV6QyZ394pcmxtdre1Xz8Oyaer7r-zzPl_CFKDEY_gboj5kC3MXpXJnIh0gYVokFDXr_cH9ZKpdo021OicENwVLtPuvMp4xn4OELJIIYU/s320/DSCN2092.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9qRmyA1-m4TTCPCEtxVxJR70Kxsw82qrC1htAFo4-NoBJ02EhZ2uMVJvkmQOaoorZYEHgGe2pwHm86K3UNDhUhIEPfVlj-gQsWeiL5zWs720NjDafu_lvkB068W5yKWgCCsRhOZz2syM/s1600/DSCN2085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9qRmyA1-m4TTCPCEtxVxJR70Kxsw82qrC1htAFo4-NoBJ02EhZ2uMVJvkmQOaoorZYEHgGe2pwHm86K3UNDhUhIEPfVlj-gQsWeiL5zWs720NjDafu_lvkB068W5yKWgCCsRhOZz2syM/s320/DSCN2085.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Catholic church clock tower. The third side's clock didn't say the correct time, either.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjXPqTuaPY4XI76jE61jUtmlSkvehdypf-75D6WWW0Vt2rQ8f9XAjYQJKr0-vzfPXYYWIosjBtYg627NWYxn4Ip1m_M4DM6T7xVbOeyAWTtaiiAAGlVTaV37COnZkn_bYvNaNQO2Om1s/s1600/DSCN2102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjXPqTuaPY4XI76jE61jUtmlSkvehdypf-75D6WWW0Vt2rQ8f9XAjYQJKr0-vzfPXYYWIosjBtYg627NWYxn4Ip1m_M4DM6T7xVbOeyAWTtaiiAAGlVTaV37COnZkn_bYvNaNQO2Om1s/s320/DSCN2102.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Box 420083 has brought me love from the U.S., Norway, Ireland, Antarctica, and beyond</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVpiMZ91uFUjzM4qZFRFqRNEFl9YHAj9Ods8cjVTFcIVjn1W0nRK9bAKvMcgFFaOIr0tByl7rZpjwnvd-2KJQRgtJI8uJVjFvyJ9okPBv4-G3YjUDj-wkylCjAjLy43ugCg-zpIHCLuI/s1600/DSCN2110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVpiMZ91uFUjzM4qZFRFqRNEFl9YHAj9Ods8cjVTFcIVjn1W0nRK9bAKvMcgFFaOIr0tByl7rZpjwnvd-2KJQRgtJI8uJVjFvyJ9okPBv4-G3YjUDj-wkylCjAjLy43ugCg-zpIHCLuI/s320/DSCN2110.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My best friend and counterpart at Masamba, hard at work in Mbala during his term break from the University of Zambia</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJERMg8Y652IZmjsli1zOTDAphrmBUwIbBLDmvSCSIoQNhTumIJ8WkCtkgS53Jgjf8S6ZnVWM1NXAyjm3mNvzteNAGEYk8GtuksE9UvzPCXYv7NJLWjT3G2tDLp3U36Vt-AgGRtgJw87k/s1600/DSCN2069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJERMg8Y652IZmjsli1zOTDAphrmBUwIbBLDmvSCSIoQNhTumIJ8WkCtkgS53Jgjf8S6ZnVWM1NXAyjm3mNvzteNAGEYk8GtuksE9UvzPCXYv7NJLWjT3G2tDLp3U36Vt-AgGRtgJw87k/s320/DSCN2069.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my hardest goodbyes--brothers Joseph and Davey (and unknown friend), living independently in Mbala while attending Grade 10.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI0BURzKHjk9tyy6U3wZSVHAhTO_gOHrkH1_MWDJ7bF-2GmgAPaj6r1iNL8XEwU8I-_3kxdzQE8LSA3zuK0LlA7pHsXP_PkmnsPv_6c4oRVlgngxGBAmyICAiD1ptu3d528dkz-zkrj6c/s1600/DSCN2062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI0BURzKHjk9tyy6U3wZSVHAhTO_gOHrkH1_MWDJ7bF-2GmgAPaj6r1iNL8XEwU8I-_3kxdzQE8LSA3zuK0LlA7pHsXP_PkmnsPv_6c4oRVlgngxGBAmyICAiD1ptu3d528dkz-zkrj6c/s320/DSCN2062.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Zambian brother Davey in a shirt that says U.S. ARMY, holding a snap of my biological brother Michael, a private in the real U.S. Army.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHHRYWHlwZr0vDsgfrHnOEDCbfOR5qAopI0m9BXcVCkrQiZ-C6DmsBd3cS4jWlfLYP2qOmx5KZVRPd7uZZsacUWRJSs7OQ7OI5vpgLKOfv7o4Xu6PZIZwvi3jX327e1a2iOOG4vfhRw2o/s1600/DSCN1380.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHHRYWHlwZr0vDsgfrHnOEDCbfOR5qAopI0m9BXcVCkrQiZ-C6DmsBd3cS4jWlfLYP2qOmx5KZVRPd7uZZsacUWRJSs7OQ7OI5vpgLKOfv7o4Xu6PZIZwvi3jX327e1a2iOOG4vfhRw2o/s320/DSCN1380.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mbala/Mpulungu junction at the head of the Kasama-Mbala tarmac road</td></tr>
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<br />
Goodbye to the community at a farewell party thrown by my school, and to the pupils through my favorite circle dance with a chorus of "Bashana bashana bashana...," and assemblies.<br />
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Last moments--ordinary ones--with my Zambian family, the joy of my Peace Corps service.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photos of family, both American and Zambian, on my sitting room wall</td></tr>
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Packing up and giving away. Boarding a 7:30 a.m. bus with a few belongings in the trailer in back. Sobbing the first 40 minutes of my two-hour ride to Kasama.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My main host family: me, Ireen, Davey, Sarah, YanaSam, Meleby, and YasiSam Bwalya.</td></tr>
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Then goodbye to the rest of Peace Corps. A night at Chishimba Falls--our Northern Province treasure--and a costume party with most of the Volunteers from the province. A quote on the wall, as is the custom for every PCV when s/he closes service, and an official ring-out in the PC/Z headquarters in Lusaka.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Officially ending my Peace Corps service at our office in Lusaka</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Then I embarked on a holiday (vacation) to Tanzania: 3 days on a train, a Vespa "disaster" in Stonetown, healing on the glorious beaches of Zanzibar, two 20-hour bus rides sandwiching an incredibly restorative visit to parents of an old friend, and an imbasela trip to the Serengeti (the most spectacular natural celebration of Africa's flora and fauna I've ever seen).<br />
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Then, goodbye to Mama Africa, for now. I'll be back, though I don't know when, why, or how. I'm grateful for the Peace Corps. In the D.C. airport, I encountered a group of young, green, army recruits bound for basic training. As we rode the shuttle to our departure terminals, I told them of my own soldier brother, currently in Afghanistan. I wished them well, and I hoped that they believe in what they're doing, just as I hope for Michael.<br />
<br />
I didn't always know, and still don't, if what I did as a Peace Corps Volunteer was good. If I made the most of it. If we are right to be there in the way we are.<br />
<br />
I do know, however, that I believe in the ideals of Peace Corps. I believe in my community, and I believe in my family. I have done my level best. These initial hours in the U.S. have felt more familiar to me than I might have expected, but it is, after all, my home. Nonetheless, Zambia is my home, too, and I know that I will miss it every day.<br />
<span id="goog_102924639"></span><span id="goog_102924640"></span><br />Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-88997208127065993092013-05-14T16:57:00.001-07:002013-06-03T11:28:15.067-07:00Celebration of Womanhood(written 18 April 2013 to submit as a vignette for future Peace Corps publications)<br />
<br />
The breeze blew lightly and dusk hinted at approaching nightfall. As we emerged from the quiet pond where the river pooled and waterbugs skittered to and fro, women begin to dab our faces and bare chests with a grey-colored paste, laughing a bit as they realized that this mud was barely visible on our Caucasian skin. They scrounged for pieces of charcoal or red clay, mixed new colors, and continued streaking our skin with these tri-color balms. They sang quietly, soothingly, words we didn’t understand. Fronds of fragrant greenery were located, twisted into sashes, and slipped over our heads and between our breasts; violet flowers were tucked into the garlands. We were wrapped in our colorful fabric chitenges to make sure modesty was preserved for our walk back into the village, then led precariously across the makeshift bridge of tree trunks. Items were placed on our heads, and the women began singing more loudly as we processed back toward the house where we would experience the third and final component of our initiation into Mambwe womanhood.<br />
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I was accompanied by two other American women who had come to Zambia as Peace Corps Volunteers in Rural Education Development, just as I had. They had visited me at my site enough to know my family and friends, and on this day—five days before my departure from the village at the close of my two years—they had come to share in a Mambwe ritual that would allow us to be in communion with each other and women of the village in an entirely new way. I had seen elements of the girlhood initiation in the past, but on this evening I was not a spectator. I was being welcomed in a celebration of the female spirit that unites us, despite origin or race. <br />
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This is what Peace Corps has meant to me—being a part of it. Being comfortable in this ceremony, perhaps ancient, in this community of people who once saw me only as an odd stranger, and more than that, knowing that those people were comfortable with me. No travel experience, however authentic, can compare to the experience of living, in all its complexity, in a community that begins as foreign and becomes your own.<br />
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As we stood by the river, being ornamented with elements of the environment by women who live in harmony with it, with each other, and with us, the three of us shared smiles of serenity and awe, blinked back tears of contentment, and gave silent prayers of thanks for this April evening in Zambia.<br />
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<br />Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-44816480933981295752013-05-14T16:50:00.001-07:002013-06-03T11:18:50.609-07:00Palm Sunday(written 15 March 2013, about an experience in April 2011)<br />
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A crowd of people had gathered around the school. They had come from their homes, having swept the dirt courtyard, drawn water from the nearest source, prepared food (purchased in a dusty market or harvested from the field) over a fire in an outdoor kitchen structure, scrubbed clothes by hand and hung it up to dry, fed their babies, bathed their bodies, dressed in their nicest garments. They wore bright fabrics, headscarves, suits. Their shoes were polished, no matter how shabby. Their faces were bright and happy, their dark skin shining. The air was clear and mild, and quiet, pleasant banter could be heard as children played. A few people passed out palm fronds that had been gathered earlier streamside or some other nearby place. <br />
<br />
As I joined the cheerful menagerie just a few days before finishing my training and being sworn in as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I thought, "This must have been what this same morning felt like, so long ago." We were waiting for the priest, waiting to begin the Palm Sunday service and procession to the Catholic church nearby. I've been part of many Palm Sunday services in various churches across the United States, but somehow this reenactment of Jesus' arrival in Jerusalem felt more authentic. It seemed more natural, more real, because I supposed that some of these peoples' lives are not so different from those in the time of the New Testament. <br />
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Thoughts of hurried Sunday mornings in my family's home--hot indoor showers, dishes hurriedly thrown in the dishwasher, frantic searches for a pair of pantyhose or a missing shoe, the inevitable chorus of "Let's go! We'll be late!"--seemed so far from the rhythm of this morning, of every morning, in this village in Zambia. <br />
<br />
It was April of 2011, but it could have been April of 30 AD. Palm frond in hand, I had a new appreciation of, almost an experience of, what had before been just a story in the Bible.Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-40219366639441566082013-03-03T05:12:00.003-08:002013-06-03T11:17:13.570-07:00Tag!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">(written 13/14 February 2013, after reading a blog entry by an incoming Peace Corps/Zambia Volunteer)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Your blog entry</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Staging completed!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m tucked into my sheets</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Foam mattress still holding up well</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Glow from my paraffin lamp and a candle</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And from my phone screen</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I read your day’s summary</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You helped the other newcomers</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was one of the first to arrive, too</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was freezing…but sunny that day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Leaving behind my winter coat</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">(But you’re from Cali.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You probably don’t own one.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Eager, bright faces.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We all had new clothes too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One year ago—I was with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> new group</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just days after they arrived.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Shiny gear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too much luggage.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It breaks and changes, becomes dirty,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But not as much as you’d expect.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Like I said, mattress is still holding up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hit me a while back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s all so transitory</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t know half the people here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">250 Volunteers. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ish.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">50 (ish) turn over twice a year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We’re part of something big.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It feels so personal, so monumental, this journey</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I mean, we’re both writing a blog</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You prepare your heart, your bags.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You leave!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You arrive!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>and yet you find others leaving.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Laura, Sajay, Chris and Nicki—met them so briefly</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And Casey, gracing our PST</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They were old hands.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Been here two years!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imagine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We couldn’t.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That’s me now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So full of hope, energy, nerves, you 43.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You’re on a plane as I write this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">From a committee meeting in my village.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Planning HIV prevention work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yup.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s real.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This will be your job soon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You’ll make fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And bicycle a lot. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Get soaked in the rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Try to keep your belongings from being soaked in the rain from leaks in your thatch roof.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or eaten by termites.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ll probably drop your cell phone down your pit latrine (it happens so often—you’d think we’d learn.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ll cry some and laugh a lot.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You’ll call little African children—maybe the same ones sponsored by other Americans through aid NGOS—your brothers and sisters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And mean it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You’ll be blown away by the rainbows.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">By the sky.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The slushy mess outside the Philadelphia Holiday Inn—</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You won’t miss it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Two years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Already?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You’re just arriving.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We’re trying to wrap our heads</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">around the fact that we’re leaving.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You found me in your preparations to come here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I will follow you to stay connected once I go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">TAG!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re It!</span></div>
Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-76596911321383356692013-02-11T03:52:00.002-08:002013-06-03T11:15:57.729-07:00The Missed Details<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">(written 9 Feb. 2013 as an update to students in South Dakota and Florida)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m sitting in a mango tree before 7 am, with less than 9 weeks remaining before I leave my village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What can I say in the way of an update?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How to discern what is relevant to you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My blog entries have given little insights, I hope, but they are written when the spirit moves me and I take the time to sit down, reflect, and write, then later to type and post online.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I imagine I’ve skipped masses of daily details so normal to me now that they’re almost mundane: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The way my family eats dinner outside on the ground, around a collective pot and side dishes, using our fingers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The energy-efficient way of heating bath water in the sun (on days it doesn’t rain), in a large tub covered in plastic sheeting—mine was cut from my mattress packaging—held securely by a long strip of rubber commonly used to tie parcels to bicycle racks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The rhythm of pumping clean water from a borehole, or of hauling it up, hand over hand, from a well, carefully winding the rope in a coil on the ground without ever losing hold of the 10-liter bucket of water making its ascent. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gathering stems of long, wheat-like grass from the soccer pitch, and weaving the strands together to make a handheld broom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes people write me letters and say it’s interesting to hear about how different life is here.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">This always takes me by surprise, because I don’t feel that it is so different.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">The threads of common humanity are stronger than we imagine.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I suppose it’s like wearing a pair of tinted glasses—at first, after you put them on, everything has a new shade and looks exciting, if perhaps disorienting.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">After a while, however, the colorful tinting becomes natural, and what you see remains the same as it always has.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">You’re mindful of the new hue, of course, but it no longer distracts you from the shapes and forms you see.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If this is true, though, then will going back to the States be akin to removing the glasses?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And will I be disoriented there?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps, and a bit of anxiety about this has been popping up in the last few days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nervousness not just about the U.S., exactly, but about the things I want to do here, the ways I want to take advantage of the two remaining months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m so very privileged to live here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a U.S. citizen, I had the good fortune to be caught up in the Peace Corps tornado and dropped down like Dorothy in a different place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moreover, I have more than adequate support—financial and otherwise—to live comfortably in that place, more comfortably than many of its own citizens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My two-year-journey is to an Emerald City called “COS,” or “Close-of-Service,” and while it will be exciting to go home once I reach that destination, it will also mean leaving behind this enchanting Oz.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But Oz has its threats, too, and I’ve not been immune to its witches.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">(I mean this, of course, in a purely metaphorical sense, though many Zambians believe that witchcraft is real, practiced, and powerful.)</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I see things that make me, in turns, agitated, furious, and apathetic.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">When a young man starts beating another, accused of theft, and people gather around to watch, including a mother with her second-grade son.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">When a teacher is away from school for three full weeks in a term, leaving no lesson plans or even an attendance register behind, and the administration makes no plan whatsoever for how those pupils will be taught the curriculum, other than occasionally instructing another teacher (busy with a room of 100 pupils of his or her own) to “keep the unattended class busy.”</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">When grown men ask me for money—equivalent to 40 US cents—to buy alcohol.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There are days when I can’t wait to get back to the U.S., where [insert any particular problem bothering me that day here] just won’t exist.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Then I think back to the months prior to Peace Corps, when I couldn’t wait to leave my American frustrations behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Students who make sexually inappropriate comments to their teachers, in class, and don’t even see it as wrong; freezing cold weather; hectic schedules; church services people attend not out of any desire to praise or worship but to make sure they’ve been seen as a “good churchgoing person.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every one of these things was like a heavy coat in November and December of 2010 and January of 2011, a coat I looked forward to shedding once I hit African soil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I spent the summer of 2004 in Cameroon, so I had an idea of what I might find here in Zambia and was looking forward to certain elements of African cultures.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I did shed those vestments, but found others to dress in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No place is without troubles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the converse is also true: No place is without beauty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Zambia is utterly filled with it, despite what is seen at surface level, what Westerners want to label “poverty” and aid by writing a check so they can go right on with their day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are birds here, and wildflowers, an airy cloak of nature enfolding us, and much of what is used in daily life is gleaned from the living world all around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are family bonds that make one’s aunt akin to one’s mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is an understanding of real, physical labor, evident in the toned muscles and lack of excess fat in so many Zambians, bodies that look like sculptures, that reveal what human anatomy <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should</i> look like, though the concept of dieting is completely foreign.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(In two years, I’ve had only one, naturally rotund Zambian woman tell me she’d like to slim down and ask for advice on how.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For most, the idea of reducing weight-gain-causing food intake is bizarre.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imagine having so much money to buy sweets and fatty foods that you must conscious <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">limit</i> yourself—the notion is preposterous.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And Zambians have a sense of happiness and hope that seems only penetrable by the present, if unintended, message by Western countries that they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">need</i> us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My own presence is, in a way, part of this message, though I hope I’ve been more a symbol of cooperation and mutual learning than one of aid—that we, the USA, need Zambia as much as it needs us, that we’re all in a vast web that should be woven out of mutual respect and understanding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That we’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all</i> vital to the global effort for our shared development and progression toward a more equitable, prosperous, peaceful future.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So in the way of an update…that’s what I’ve got.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m still figuring it all out, and I’m afraid I’ve done an inadequate job of providing the rich details that fill my senses each day, but ultimately I’m happy to enjoy the remaining nine weeks in</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">my village, soaking in the African sun and all that Zambia has to teach me.</span></div>
Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-59306745929423351772013-02-11T03:51:00.004-08:002013-06-03T11:12:20.000-07:00Brazier Making<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">(written 23 January 2013)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The metalsmith sat on the ground, as usual, working on a wide strip of perforated metal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He brought a chair out of the house for me, and I sat under the mango tree, watching as he manipulated the sheet with his hands and a hammer, bending it against what appeared to be a scrap of railroad iron.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Folding over each end and then binding them together to form a circle, the brazier began to take shape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tracing around the form, he cut out a circle, perforating it with lines of circles by methodically pounding a bolt into the metal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This he set inside the metal cylinder, a base for the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">amalasha</i> (natural wood charcoal).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Underneath he had already made slices; now he pushed back portions of the metal to hold the base in place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The top half provided a bed for the charcoal, the upper lip of the brazier a stable resting place for a pot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The perforations allowed air flow to fuel the fire and ashes to fall through below.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hence, the bottom needed a flat surface, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The man retrieved a beat-up enamel-coated serving platter from the house, again tracing and cutting out a circle from it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sealed it to the frame by folding the metal, bit by bit, around the edge, undoing it and making minor adjustments when he made a slight mistake.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I sat with him for around an hour as he worked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A toddler climbed around his lap for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Last born?” I asked, thinking that perhaps he was even a grandchild.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“First born,” he replied, and, by way of explanation, added:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I didn’t marry quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nacinanga</i>—I played.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was endearing to see his affection for his child, who tumbled around on him as his father went about his work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Soon the brazier was complete, save for a thin wire that would be inserted to function as a handle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The barefoot craftsman—I don’t even know his name—constructed it in his dirt courtyard, by hand, in about two hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will sell for K12,000—now, after rebasing, K12—about US $2.50.</span></div>
Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-70782311299556570452013-02-11T03:51:00.001-08:002013-06-03T11:11:35.737-07:00Mushroom Hunting<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">(written 23 January 2013)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">On my 29<sup>th</sup> birthday, I went mushroom hunting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In the US, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tend to forget—or indeed perhaps have never really been aware—that foods have seasons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have mango season, amasuku (wild fruit) season, guava season…a season for sweet potatoes, fresh maize, and even animals like caterpillars and inswa (a type of flying ant/termite).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s delightful when a favorite food makes its first appearance at the market.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While some food preservation is practice—drying fish in the sun, for example—it’s generally feast or famine for a particular food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We eat lots of mangoes for a few months, and then wait until the coming year when the blooms will bear fruit and grow heavy again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">January is mushroom season.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I returned from a failed meeting at the clinic in mid-morning to find my sisters about to go into the woods behind my house in search if fungi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They waited for me and we went together. The mushrooms we sought were roughly the size of an Oreo cookie; the color of irish potatoes on top and a light yellow, like sweet potatoes, on the underside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sisters—age 5, 7, 8, and 13—showed me how to find them and advised me as we plucked them from the ground:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Iviola—</i>that’s rotten,” they’d say, even though I couldn’t tell the difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked about other mushrooms I found as we walked—red, orange, yellow, even a white one with brown squarish spots, a pattern befitting an animal’s pelt; big mushrooms and tiny ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today, however, they were interested only in the pale brown ones that were plentiful if one wandered around long enough in the right place.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We wandered for perhaps 30 minutes, until we’d filled a bright silver bowl they had toted from home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Completely disoriented, I followed my sisters as they led me out of the woods and back into my yard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Foraging is still an essential part of getting groceries here in the village. </span></div>
Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-41429698066857103202013-01-02T22:29:00.002-08:002013-06-03T11:10:56.851-07:00New Year, New Money!I squealed a little bit inside the ATM. Or perhaps it was more like screaming.<br />
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"Hey, you, what's your problem?" I heard.<br />
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"Is that guy talking to me?" I asked my friend Derek, who was waiting beside his bike outside the ATM cubicle's reflective blue glass. I looked out and saw a man in a taxi looking back at me.<br />
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"What's your problem?" he repeated.<br />
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"New money!" I exclaimed, and we both laughed.<br />
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January 1st was the first day the Zambian government unrolled the new rebased kwacha. There have been posters up for months depicting the forthcoming bills and coins, but this was the first day my bank account reflected the new notation and spit out crisp new currency.<br />
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Essentially, the government has cut three zeros off the end of our currency. The exchange rate since I've been here has been roughly 5,000 kwacha for $1 USD. In common parlance we say "5 pin," and I'm told it's because when rapid inflation happened years ago, people would literally pin together a stack of bills to equate to 1,000, so any multiple of 1,000 translated into that number of pins of bills. Now we will say simply, "5 kwacha." To take the place of amounts smaller than K1,000--particularly the highly useful K500 note, which has bought me many a bun, scone, and fritter--the government will soon be unveiling coins, with the name of Ngwee, which seem to me to be similar to the coins that were used not long after Zambian independence but were either institutionally phased out or just sort of faded away as their diminishing value made them useless. <br />
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The motto on the posters has been "New money, same value," but rebasing is a tricky business. I don't know the economics of it, but I'm interested to see how it plays out. Yesterday, running errands around town and asking vendors their prices, many people laughed as they would say, "4 thousand...4 KWACHA!" The value of the currency has not changed, just the number of zeros. But money is a psychology, and it does involve a mental shift. Currently both currencies can be used, which is a bit tricky. The picture below shows a brand-new 50 kwacha and 100 kwacha note next to an old 50,000 kwacha and 100 kwacha note. The two "50s" are equal in value--I can use either today to buy the same item. But the old 100 kwacha note is just as useless as it's been for a while (procuring me perhaps a small candy, similar to a penny-candy idea) while the new 100 kwacha has the value of two new 50 kwachas. <br />
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Simple math, right? But when you've been accustomed for years to the idea that 100 kwacha has almost no value, it's a change to think that it has a *lot* of value. So much that some worry it will in effect become useless, as well, because in village economies that run primarily on (former denominations) K500, K1000, and K5000 transactions, for things like eggs, soap, cooking oil, and soda, it has always been very hard to use a K50,000 note. No one has change for it. As PCVs we are always very intentional to use a variety of K50,000 bills when in town, at big shops, on transport, etc. so that when we reach our village we will have small bills we can use for small transactions. Now, however, there's not only a K50 bill (same as the previous K50,000) but a K100 bill. The ATM gleefully deposits the currency in my hand, but I'm a little wary...how will I ever use this, other than on a cross-country bus ticket or in the provincial capital supermarket?<br />
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The two currencies will both be in circulation until June, I believe, so any effects will take a while to see. Nonetheless, it's a fairly exciting thing to witness!Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-66032389473948053192013-01-01T13:53:00.004-08:002013-06-03T11:08:56.342-07:00New Year's Resolutions...amendedThe day after Christmas, I listed my New Year's Resolutions:<br />
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1. Remove the word "should" from my vocabulary.<br />
2. Live in community, in honor of Ben Horne. <br />
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Then, on New Year's Eve, as I was enjoying a delicious bowl of beans, rice, soya, and guacamole with nine other PCVs--the day after an extremely adventurous 80-km ride to one of their sites, which itself followed a whirlwind tour of three <em>other</em> PCV friends' sites in Luwingu district--I realized I needed to add one more. I looked at Erica O. and said, <br />
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"I want to draw a larger circle."<br />
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She understood instantly, as we had discussed at length the quote I was referencing, and the situation for which it is a metaphor, three nights prior at her house. Her smile and nod warmed my heart and filled me with encouragement.<br />
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The reference is to the poem "Outwitted" by Edwin Markham. I found it--or some paraphrased version--in the book <em>Apples of Gold</em>, a quote collection of sorts, that found its way into the assortment of books my mom and sister brought in their suitcases to Zambia to be used in my reading promotion work with my pupils and community. The first time I read it, I knew that this was the answer to a wound I've been letting time heal (slowly) while I've been here. I haven't known exactly how to draw a larger circle, and I still don't, but I love the idea that this poem implies--acceptance, forgiveness, and inclusion. This idea seems to be a good approach to any hurt that may linger from 2012 or may come in 2013. Cheers to that!<br />
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<strong>Outwitted </strong>by Edwin Markham</div>
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He drew a circle that shut me out —</div>
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Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.</div>
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But Love and I had the wit to win:</div>
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We drew a circle that took him in!</div>
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Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7339443295143435913.post-85096470399814648932012-12-26T22:12:00.000-08:002013-06-03T11:07:39.294-07:00New Year's ResolutionsFor 2013, I have two simple goals:<br />
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1. Remove the word "should" from my vocabulary.<br />
2. Live in community, in honor of Ben Horne. Dréhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07405454379595532647noreply@blogger.com1