2010 - This is it...Imagine

It seems long ago since my return to the United States but it’s been only five months. I’ve purchased a car, acquired a smart phone and established a routine with my dog.  I’ve unpacked just enough boxes to be comfortable and rearranged the closets and cupboards.  

I’ve been home long enough where there is no consideration for a cold shower, I don’t remember what peanut butter tastes like and I’ve given up on walking to the market with a backpack.  I recently found a forgotten and neglected bag of garbage in my freezer, an artifact of past behavior.  

Although I have resumed my past and readjusted to my lifestyle in California, I have changed and look at life differently.  I know what it is like to be different.  I learned what it is like to be accepted into a different culture and cared for by people who wanted to teach me their ways.  Yes, I have been the target of racism, but not often. 

Mia, my new granddaughter, arrived four weeks ago and I’ve bonded once again with Ava, my four year old granddaughter.  She often looks at me very sweetly and says, "I love you Grandma".  Ava and I have been baking cookies and cakes, decorating them with icing and candies.  I’ve gained a few pounds which needs some attention but will likely be put on the back burner until January.  I reactivated my gym and spa memberships.  Now I need to actually use them.

I purchased my car in late August and most days it’s parked at the curb, ignored and gathering dust.  I’m not one to remain idol too long, but I must say this has been a nice break from the world around me. I haven’t spent this much time without work since my late twenties.  Never mind how many years it has been since my twenties – let’s just say it’s a lot.  

Life is taking over.  I have been lifted from a slow leisurely pace and into the fast lane.  One day bleeds into the next and many times I have to look at the calendar to figure out the day of the week.  I still fight the fast-lane concept.  Today, I woke up at ten. I was in a panic. I missed Barkley’s grooming appointment. I shot up from the bed and fumbled for my cell phone.  I quickly looked for the number of “Poodles are People Too” only to discover his appointment is tomorrow. I went back to sleep.

I have been putting off writing this post as I knew it was my last.  I spent the entire day looking at pictures and reading old posts today.  It's been awhile since I've had a day of reflection.  My life, while certainly not even close to perfect, is good and 2010 was a wonderful year.

I began 2010 continuing my service as a Peace Corps Volunteer and ended 2010 reintegrating into life in the United States.  I’ve learned a lot about myself; some things I like and others I need to work on.  I’m rested and have some ideas about the direction of my path. So here are a few highlights of my year:

A few of my favorite after-school program students. I taught them literacy and IT

Cheering for the children who race in my village

I taught Junior Achievement. The children are proudly holding up the banks they made.

This painting was made especially for me.  I had it framed and it will be hung at my mountain home.

A vacation with friends in Costa Rica.  We are ready for zip-lining.

My sister (Janyn) second visit to the island

A great rain forest experience and a new friend.

The beauty and sounds of a rainforest

Elaine and I relaxing in Miami Beach

A quick visit to New York that also included Atlantic City, Jersey Shore and Philadelphia

And of course, my favorite - bartender school

Close of Service Conference - Peace Corps EC78

My son Kevin, travels all the way to Saint Lucia to help me move back to the United States. Unfortunately, it rained almost the whole time.

I enjoyed a few last wonders of nature

Listened to a final crow

Visited one of my favorite views in the village for the last time

My very last visit to Vierge Point in Micoud

And then, just like that this adventure is over

I'm home to celebrate Ava's 4th Birthday

And see her Christmas Play

And bake cookies

We enjoyed dinosaurs at the Discovery Center

And I have a new granddaughter, Mia Jo

Barkley and I are back in routine

I have a believer for Christmas

I helped spread information about Peace Corps at the Orange County Peace Corps Association (OCPCA) booth in Irvine

I was the guest speaker at the OCPCA Christmas Party

I have learned about another's Peace Corps experience in Africa

And, I spoke to a great bunch of students at Cypress College about my experience.

Going back to review my year has been fun. I've had a great year.  Just a few years ago, I never could have imagined so many possibilities.

I’m on to 2011 and the next chunk of my life.  I will begin teaching a course at Webster University in January and will look for some meaningful volunteer work.  I hope to fit some travel into my schedule as well.  There are so many places to see in this world.  Thank you for listening to me.  I’ve used you as my sounding board and as a method to keep my service light and not take myself too seriously. Please feel free to comment or email me!

Just Now

My dad and me in front of the Quonset Hut. That's George, my dog

I lived in a Tucson Quonset Hut when my father was going to college. As a toddler, I have no recollection of those days. But I remember the stories. My dad barely passed high school because he would only attend on test days. Although he aced the tests, attendance was important and this behavior caused considerable strife during his young academic years. Dad did things his way.


He joined the Marine Corps and fought in the war. He came home with a pocket full of savings and flipped a coin. Heads he would go to college, tails he would spend the entire savings in the New Orleans jazz clubs. After countless beers and music-filled nights, he came to California broke and found work in a plastics factory. Once again, he did things his way.  I think he needed that time to compartmentalize things he saw and did during the war; the things that haunted him throughout his lifetime.  


Within a short time he met my mother, who insisted he earn a college degree. That’s when we moved to Tucson, Arizona. He attended the University of Arizona. My dad attended the first class of each course to secure the syllabus and required book. He read the book in the first week, understood the concepts and staying true to his behavior in high school, he only attended class on test days. That way he could watch me and tutor the football players while my mother worked.


My mother never stopped declaring, “you are so much like your father”. In my mind there were no similarities. He was smart. He was a math person. Go figure…well he figured; I never got the hang of it. I’m right-brained. I had to work for my grades. He did things on his own time while I play by the rules.


My father died young, more than thirty years ago. Mom died in 2008. When my sister and I were going through the garage we came across his college diploma. It was mounted onto a wooden board where it hung at work and then, after retirement, in his home-office. This piece of wood represented a lot of work. What do you do with this type of artifact when someone dies? I’m not sure where it ended up. It’s too painful to think that it may be lying in a graveyard dump.


When I was in grad school, few understood the way I would attack a course. I attended the first class in anticipation of acquiring the syllabus and required books. Unlike my father, I attended every single class to ensure I understood the material. I completed a final draft of my course paper by the mid-term and would coast through the rest of the course. I took copious notes during class and just before the end of the course I reviewed my paper, read my notes and outlining key learning points, made appropriate changes. I was always the first done, always the first to present and never, NEVER one to stay up and write a paper the night before it was due. NEVER! I’m not a procrastinator. I like to have things done way before they need to be done. I played by the rules.


Before I left for Peace Corps, I was teaching at three different schools. I usually taught four nights a week. My syllabi were well detailed. I created a detailed class activity sheet for each class. Both were complete before the course began and handed out to students the first night. Many times, I power pointed the assigned books. I searched for appropriate current events and video material.


Each Sunday, I prepared for the week’s classes. I had a bag for each class where I could put appropriate materials, graded papers, books and anything else I would need for the class. The bags were lined up in order of the day of the week. Yes, my life was extremely organized.


There is a saying about time in Saint Lucia. People do things ‘just now’. That means it may get done in ten minutes, an hour, a few hours, or even days. Just now is getting things done on my own time. Since returning from my Peace Corps assignment in August, I have a lot of unstructured time. I will start teaching in January. It’s almost the end of November and I haven’t considered the syllabus. Thinking about the old me, this is quite uncharacteristic. I should have reported my decision on the book last Thursday. The university wants to know. I’m definitely lagging and having trouble getting away from my ‘just now’ time schedule. I’ve stopped playing by the rules.


As I said, my dad did things on his own time. Maybe I am finally living up to my mother’s declaration. Maybe I am like my father. Identifying the book should be a priority. The problem is that I bought a stand mixer this week and I’m more interested in learning to make a good pie crust today. Maybe I’ll listen to some jazz while I bake that pie.

Remembering

I was stunned. I felt unable to move in those first few moments as I watched the towers crash down while people were trying to outrun the billowing cloud behind them. In the days that followed 9-11, people were patriotic, patient and quiet. A man I worked with was a former marine and a patriot. He ran communications at the company where I worked. He was behind his wooden mahogany desk, sitting in his black leather executive chair.  He was stiff, almost at attention while watching the television in his office. I remember one quiet sentence he uttered, “They are all patriotic now, but they will forget”.


I awoke this morning to my usual routine. I went to the kitchen and poured water into the kettle that would be used to make coffee with my press. I filled the cat and dog’s water bowl and fed them their breakfast. Then I brushed my teeth and took a shower. When I returned to the kitchen, Barkley was studying every move I made. He knew it was time for our walk. I grabbed his leash and said, “OK, let’s go”. We slowly walked on the sidewalk and I maneuvered him around the freshly watered lawns. He’s a small dog and low to the ground. Walking through a puddle is sure to soak his entire underside.


I simmered a chicken the day before. Today, I would make chicken soup. When I returned from the walk, I made a list of things I needed to complete the soup; a can of tomatoes, celery, carrots, onions, parsley, peppers and ravioli. I drove to the store and quickly gathered the things I needed and headed home. Upon returning home, I turned on the television and watched a few minutes of the news. I called a friend on the phone and talked for a few minutes.


I picked up the Los Angeles Times and read Joe Mozingo’s front page report on the situation in Haiti. His words are painted with descriptions that leave the reader feeling like they have had first-hand experience. The country was bracing for Hurricane Tomas while dealing with the aftermath of the earthquake earlier this year. Cholera has broken out. People are living in tents. Fortunately, they were spared the wrath of Tomas, but it did present an opportunity to remind people of the suffering the Haitians are experiencing in everyday life. As I read Joe’s article, I remembered my marine friend’s words, “they will forget”.

Castries before Hurricane Tomas

I turned on my computer and opened an email from one of my friends in Saint Lucia. They were not so lucky; Tomas wreaked havoc on the country which was my home for two years. It was before noon, but as I read the email I reflected on things most of us don’t consider in our daily lives. I turned on the water to take a hot shower, to brush my teeth, to fill the tea kettle. I picked up Barkley so he wouldn’t get wet from the freshly watered lawns.

Castries after Hurricane Tomas

Saint Lucia experienced a drought this summer. Pipes in homes were dry during many summer days. In an effort to conserve water, the government shut off the water supply in many areas of the country. Some were carrying buckets of water retrieved from a standpipe. I took my share of cold bucket baths. During Hurricane Tomas, the dam was damaged by a mudslide. The water supply is now in severe crises. People are collecting rainwater to drink. The government is warning people to boil the water they collect. Some do.

Once trees that provided food

I turned on my television knowing I had electricity and dialed my phone expecting service. I went to the store with a list of things I needed, knowing I would get every item on the list plus a couple of impulse buys. Many people are scrambling for supplies. Store shelves are empty and the fruit trees and crops they depend on to feed families are destroyed. The banana industry has been decimated. This is a developing country and the government doesn’t have a lot of money.

Roads sink into the earth

While I drive on well maintained roads, many roads in Saint Lucia are severely damaged. Some have sink holes. A few places could only be reached by boat. 

Shelterboxes provided by Rotary and flown in courtesy of Virgin Airlines

I woke in a warm bed this morning while many people in Saint Lucia are living in tents with outdoor showers and toilet facilities because their homes have been destroyed. One village is so badly damaged there is a question about whether or not anyone will be able to return.


I didn’t respond when I heard my marine friend whisper those words, “they will forget”. He wasn’t looking for a response, but I know what it would have been if he had asked.

Disaster in Paradise

Saint Lucia, the tiny island I called home for two years, was hit hard by Hurricane Tomas last week.  It is difficult to be here and not know about some of my Peace Corps friends and the wonderful friends whose warmth and hospitality made me feel safe and sane.  The media, for some reason, has not focused on this tragedy.


Prime Minister Stephen King has declared a State of Emergency in Saint Lucia and said conservative estimates are around $100M EC.  At least seven lives have been lost, mostly in mudslides.  There is no electricity and water in many parts of the island.  Bridges have been destroyed and the road around the island has been compromised leaving entire areas without communication. 


The HTS Channel website has updates on the disaster in paradise.


Donations for Tomas victims: St. Lucia Red Cross, First Caribbean International Bank, Bridge St. Castries, A/C # 2645392 swift code FCIBLCLC - if you also need other codes are BOFAUS3N, ABA # 026009593 

Tropi-Chopped or Regular?

“Do you want it tropi-chopped?” he said in a thick accent. He repeated it twice with increasing urgency. I had no idea what he was talking about when Kevin jumped in and said, “Yes, tropi-chopped”. I'm still not clear as to what tropi-chopped actually means. 


“Do you want it with vegetables or beans?” This was easy, “vegetables please”. 


 The list of rapid-fire questions was endless: white rice or yellow rice? Combo? What comes with a combo? What side do you want? What do you have? Balsalmic tomatoes, corn, curley fries, cole slaw, French fries, ceasar salad … I’m sure there was more to the list, however, my brain was not processing anything at this point. I was given no time to think and felt like I was being grilled. I wanted to yell, “Just give me something to eat! ” 


Who decided that it would be a good idea to make ordering a meal so complicated? And then he said, “What size drink would you like?” He gave me a cup and sent me on my way to the all-you-can-drink machine where I could choose between coke, diet coke, root beer, Hawaiian Punch, seven up, water, tea and a myriad of assorted all you can drink drinks.


I sat down waiting for my dinner and remembered Elizabeth, a Peace Corps Staffer, telling a story about choosing a bottle of shampoo which spanned the entire isle at Target on her first day back to the United States.  All these choices make life complicated.

Coming Home - Feeling Lucky

This is my group in the beginning.  We never know how this adventure will unfold. And now, here I am at the ending. I'm sure each of our individual endings look different and any expectations we had when this photo was taken are a distant memory.

Only a handful of people know that I only have two weeks left on the island. I have one foot firmly standing on Saint Lucia soil and the other foot stepping back into California.


I am excited to go home and spend time with my three sons and daughter-in-law, my granddaughter, friends, my dog Barkley and a newly acquired kitty, Riley. I am looking forward to seeing my youngest son, Kevin, who is coming to help me move.


I spoke with my granddaughter and she is anxious for me to watch her take tap dancing lessons. I have another granddaughter who will arrive in November. I anticipate and look forward to this next chapter but I feel a pull from Saint Lucia, the country I have grown to appreciate and love.


Two weeks later. It is near midnight. It seems as if I have been travelling for hours. Oh, I almost forgot – I have been travelling for hours.


Edward picked Kevin and I up at my apartment at 1:00 p.m. I looked around one last time at the two bedroom apartment that had become my home.

The main road in my village where I walked
to the highway to catch a bus

Earlier I said my last goodbyes to Elvinette, Brenda and Lyle. The night before, I said goodbyes to my neighbors and my friend Angelina. I walked down the stairs for the last time where John and Elizabeth were waiting to say goodbye. Within just a minute or so we were on our way and I was looking out the window of the van getting a last glimpse of Micoud Village as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

The lines at Hewanorra Airport were longer than I have ever seen. I get lucky. They took my three over-packed suitcases without weighing them and gave Kevin and I boarding passes. We look over at the three hundred people waiting in a line nearby realizing this is the line to get through security.

My last glimpse of Saint Lucia

And, finally - the plane is here

The plane is an hour late and we are warned that we will likely miss our connection. We are given seats in the front of the plane so we can rush the crowd, move through customs, claim our baggage and try to make the Los Angeles flight. This is definitely a sign that I am leaving my slow-paced life where everything will eventually happen and into a world where the word stress is part of life. I am entering the crazy fast moving ridiculous way of life that just two years ago I accepted as normal. Yes, this will be a long day.


No one dares get in our way. We are focused. We successfully navigate our way through Miami Airport getting through customs in record time.


Our luggage is among the first bags thrown onto the luggage carousal. I find two carts, Kevin throws the bags onto the carts and we run through the airport, clearing the last x-ray check in record time.


I yell over at Kevin, “Over here”, knowing where the re-check for Los Angeles is located. A few beads of sweat are on my forehead but I have a feeling of complete satisfaction that we were going to make our flight. A woman behind the ropes approaches. Breathless, I say, “LAX”. She looks at me in an almost bored manner and simply says, “too late” as she pointed to the re-booking line. I look in the direction of her pointing finger and witness the sedentary line with three hundred impatient, grumbling and angry people. This is a fitting welcome to my former life.

The American Airlines agent tells us how "lucky" we are because our flight delay was late due to maintenance. Most of the people in the re-booking line were there due to weather delays.  She explains, "If your flight was late because of weather, American would only re-book your flight".


Quietly, I wondered why this was considered lucky. Wouldn't lucky be considered getting to our destination ahead of time? Or, wouldn't lucky be a free first-class upgrade and getting to our destination on time? Isn't lucky not having to pay for over-packed, bulging bags checked with 'Heavy' tags fastened to them?  Alright, I could continue to contrast my definition of lucky with American Airlines definition, but you get the point I'm trying to make.


After standing in the line for over an hour, and trying to put a 'I feel lucky look' on our face, we are re-booked for the next morning and handed food and hotel vouchers. We were on our way to find the hotel shuttle.


Tomorrow the journey would continue with yet another stop and change of planes. In the end, this simple 'lucky' trip became an adventure which included more than 24 hours, two countries, three states, one missed flight, a hotel stay, three bus rides and a car ride before arriving home.


During our Close of Service Conference, we were warned about re-entry into the United States and the readjustment that people feel. Twice I’d vacationed at home since leaving for my Peace Corps assignment. I am sure these warnings don’t apply to my situation.


My next and maybe last post will describe three stories where I found myself looking at simple things in a very different way.

My Experience: A Retrospective-Part II

THINGS I WILL MISS

In the beginning, I often questioned my decision to become a Peace Corps Volunteer and then slowly things fell into place. When that happened life took over. I am goal oriented and my work was always aimed at the finish line – sustainability. I would think about going home, but it was only during my last couple of days that reality hit. Two years seems like a long time but they went as quickly as Champaign glasses clink in the celebration.

Although, I do not miss trying to catch a bus at the worst part of the day to get to MOPO, I miss the ride with locals.  I miss walking down the path to Patience Combined School. I miss hearing the goats complain while chomping on the grass at the soccer field. I miss seeing the children pass by in their little uniforms while I walk into the school.

I miss the Saint Lucia weather. I miss sitting on my bed listening to a soft rain and hearing the wind whip through the village. At times the wind became so strong that it howled and reminded me of Edgar Allen Poe, whose poetry I read and reread as a kid. When the rain stopped and the windows were opened, the breeze circulated like a giant fan throughout the house.

Janyn's Second Visit

Tracy

I will miss visits from my family and being their tour guide.  I will miss watching my them fall in love with this island in a very special way.

Kevin and Jay

I won’t miss, “Hey white lady”. I’m not sure why people think that’s an appropriate greeting. I’d never say…well, never mind. I never would say it.

I miss the simplicity of life here on the island. Priorities are different here. They value family, church and celebrations in ways I haven't experienced in the United States. They work to live, not something I knew much about when I arrived.

I don’t miss Saint Lucia television commercials as well as Joey the Weatherman and his stupid parrot Bob. I don’t miss the cell phone carrier, LIME, trying to sell their company by offering contests with prizes that will enable you to “party like a rock star”. It’s no wonder I stopped watching television during these past two years. I can’t think of anything else I won’t miss.

I made a note on my journal toward the end of May on a Saturday night:  'The church is rocking. The funeral service began in the late afternoon and continues through the evening.'  I will miss the sounds of the church bells, the people singing hymns and watching the people who are dressed in their finest clothes walking down my street towards and going to the church.

Living in a small village where everyone knows everyone's business was amazing.  I am grateful I was part Micoud and MoPo Village.

My Experience: A Retrospective-Part I

MY JOURNEY

Thanksgiving 2009

This has been an incredible journey. I started writing notes for this post (which as it turns out will be several posts) last Thanksgiving. I wanted to ensure that each day left was enjoyed and that I capture everything that needs to be said in this one final post. This experience encouraged my own growth and understanding of a tiny piece of the world. I received more than I gave. I am lucky to call myself a RPCV, Returned Peace Corps Volunteer.


For those who have read my journal: Your comments and encouragement were appreciated. Writing this journal was therapeutic. One thing I appreciated about writing this blog, was the outlet it provided to laugh at myself. I will miss it, and although this is likely the last series of posts, I will continue writing for my own satisfaction.


There were times when I didn’t want to stay another minute. Those times were usually when I thought I wasn’t making a difference. Then there were times when I could not imagine going home. That’s when I knew that I had made a difference in some small way.


I spent two birthdays here. What better way to celebrate a 60th birthday than to do it as a Peace Corps Volunteer! I spent two Thanksgivings with my family of Peace Corps Volunteers. I left Saint Lucia with great memories of wonderful Saint Lucian friends.


As I settle into my life in the United States and our traditional holidays, I will remember the experience of Saint Lucian celebrations. Saint Lucian holidays are a time to party and celebrate; National Day, Christmas and Boxing Day and New Year’s Eve, Independence Day and Nobel Laureates Week along with other cultural holidays such as LaRose, Carnival and Jounen Kweyol. 


I will think of them each year with gratitude while pulling out each memory of this experience. And, perhaps I will pull out the Saint Lucian Flag and fly it in remembrance of the country I left behind.

FRIENDSHIPS

Before arriving in Saint Lucia, I listed reasons why I should become a Peace Corps Volunteer and reasons why I should not. My number one reason for not becoming a Peace Corps Volunteer is that I’m directionally challenged. I get lost easily; once I got lost in a parking lot. I panicked the first week I was here when I was told to find a bus from my host family home and get to Peace Corps in the capitol by myself – this was a two bus, hour and a half journey. The island seemed so big then, but I did it and developed confidence in the process. 


 Later, I confided in a few Peace Corps Volunteers who helped me gain confidence that I should overcome this handicap – or at least try to find various locations without a GPS System.


I will miss my Peace Corps friends, the Japanese Volunteers and others who have crossed my path during these two years.

Learning Chess

Lunch with the girls.

An overnight at my house.

William and his family

I met people because of this blog. Amy emailed me because she is nearing retirement and thinking about applying for Peace Corps.


William and his family came to my village while his ship was docked in Castries. 


I’ve sent postcards to several places including Samoa, the Phillipines and India, all of which were requested through my blog. 

My friend Greg helping me in IT Class

Greg and Karen are people who I would never met had it not been for this experience, my blog and Karen’s need to know more about the traditional Saint Lucia Formal Dress. A Google search turned up one of my posts and resulted in a new friendship that is very valuable to me. 


Rachel is a brand new Eastern Caribbean Invitee and will be here in late-August. I’m sorry I will miss meeting her. There are countless other contacts and comments from people who have read this blog.


Several people in Saint Lucia took special interest and helped me adjust and find meaningful work.  I will be forever grateful to Brenda, Elvinette, Cynthia Charles and Elizabeth as people who were there to point me in a positive direction. Other friends include Marylene and Melissa.

My friend Angelina

Elvinette playing Bingo at the Mexican Embassey

Cynthia Charles teaching the children

Brenda and Marylene at High Tea

John and Elizabeth with my boys Kevin and Jay

Melissa, my friend

Brenda, my friend and the woman who 'makes it happen in Micoud District

I will miss the friendships with the MoPo children and wish them continued progress on their journey to adulthood.

Me and some of my MoPo kids.

And finally, my special friend Julian.  A friend who I will think of often.  A friend who I am bonded to in a very special way.

Our friend Julian who I cannot say enough about

And so, here it is: the first part of the last posts about my Peace Corps experience - stay tuned.