Changing Weather

I picked up the paper and walked back up the drive to the house. It was sopping wet despite being enveloped in two plastic bags. “That’s OK,” I thought, as I tossed it in the recycling bin, I don’t always read it anyway, I mostly subscribe just to do my part to keep a local actual newspaper in business.

The paper was soaked and so was everything else. I haven’t kept track – I don’t really want to know – but I’m pretty sure it has rained every day since spring break. Mid-March to mid-June is a long time. I’m not complaining. Just stating the facts. Cincinnati weather is not ideal, but it could be worse. Much worse.

Having lived in 8 cities, 5 states, central Europe, and spent time in lots of different climes, I consider myself, while not a weather expert, widely experienced in terms of weather. I have heard this saying everywhere I have been, “If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.” But, of all the places I know, Cincinnati has the most changeable weather. In Colorado or Texas it can be sunny for weeks at a time. In Iowa it can be dreary and rainy for weeks at a time. But here the weather changes all the time.

I know, I said it has been rainy every day since spring break, but not rainy all day. It has also been sunny most days too. Which pretty much makes it feel like a sauna outside. It dumps an inch or so, then gets sunny.

I ate outside on the deck this evening just out of stubbornness. I decided that if I wait for a cool, dry evening I might be eating indoors all summer. The table was wet, and my glasses kept fogging up. At one point I cleaned them off, but it didn’t help that much, the air was so humid it still looked foggy with clean glasses.

I loved the sound of the songbirds, and the stream rushing by, and the evening light on the deck. I ignored the sweat running down my back and enjoyed my grilled steak and veggies. I went 1 for 2 at the grocery store, this afternoon. They did have some nice meat in the “on sale because it’s almost past the ‘sell by’ date” so I got a great price, but they were out of Shiner Bock. I compromised for a Wisconsen beer. It was not bad, but I should have gone with the Dos Equis. The fireflies are coming out now. I love fireflies. I never saw them as a kid, and now I can’t seem to get over how cool they are. They must love the rain, because the yard is alive with them.

It was, pretty much, my first day of summer, even though we’ve been out of school two weeks. Have you ever done something for someone that was nice. I did. I don’t think I can ever do enough nice things for others to make up for all the nice things people have done for me, but I feel calm and peaceful and sort of small, and like I somehow in sync with things. I feel like what I imagine a drill would feel like, if it could, when a carpenter drills a hole in wood, or a hammer driving a nail. Have you ever seen the face of those dogs that pull the dogsleds across the snow in Alaska? Joy and fulfillment – doing what they were made to do. That’s how I feel – working hard at what I’m good at, making progress, and loving it.

Transition

Unbroken snow, sparkling in the afternoon sun, smooth, soft, deep, perfect has lain over the lawn four days straight, untouched by boot or glove. There stands no snowman, fortress, cache of snowballs. There has been no snowball war, trail-blazing, fox and geese. The unblemished white carpet reveals no snow angels, sled tracks, tunnels, or caves. No great mounds of snow or giant snowballs at tall as me.

At what point in my life did I become satisfied to admire the snow through the window?

Lights, bikes, and roadkill

I rode to work this morning between two lights: the full moon setting westward and Venus rising eastward. Both were beautiful.

Mornings I bike in dark, and some blocks are normally pitch dark – no street lights or house lights and plenty of tall trees. But today, even the darkest streets were moonly illuminated.

Lights are a big deal when biking in the dark. For starters, I want to be seen by car drivers, so I wear four separate bright flashing lights: three in back, one in front. As I said, lots of the time I can’t see the road for darkness. Well, actually, my headlight shines out about 6 feet, which allows just about enough time to see what I am going to hit but not enough time to avoid it. So far it’s not been a problem, I’ve only hit pot holes and road kill.

My point is, when cars drive by they light up the road. This is very helpful when cars come from behind, but the lights of cars coming towards me can be a real pain, especially if there is a hill. The problem is too much light – blinding light. In this case the light and the darkness have the same result – I can’t see the road.

It seems to me that spiritual light is the same. A person who is in spiritual darkness is oblivious to their depraved condition. I certainly was before I committed my life to Christ. In many conversations with non-Christians this has been a major point of departure. The concept of man’s corrupt state is the point on which the salvation message turns, for if a person doesn’t need healing he certainly doesn’t need Jesus to die for him. The problem, of course, is not that people can’t see any fault in themselves. The problem is people can’t fathom the holiness of God.

I’ve heard someone say that God only shows us a little bit of the darkness in our hearts at a time, as if we would completely crumple if we suddenly saw our heart as it really is. I think this is true. I think it would be like the headlights in my eyes – equally as blinding as darkness.

I noticed another thing this morning too. In the dark, the moon looked featureless. It looked like a flashlight – just a solid bright light. But once, while waiting at a stoplight, I could stare up at it for a while and as my eyes adjusted the dark spots and craters became recognizable.

I think this is like some people I have met who have walked with God for a long time. They often seem to become more aware of the darkness inside, more able to discern shades of light and dark. They seem to be struggling with the Christian life on a whole different level, as if God had been shining his light in them for a long time, and as they got rid of larger areas of darkness they had become aware of smaller things.

I don’t want to imply that people have only darkness in their hearts. Even the most depraved people I have met demonstrate the goodness that God put in all people. I suppose the difference is that some people are growing gradually more good, and others more dark.

Well, I must be a kinesthetic learner, because I think about this kind of stuff while I’m commuting in the dark on my bike, but not so much when I commute in the car.

The Old Tile Floor

I stood one evening years ago,
Trombone in hand,
On a polished wooden floor,
A great many people in front,waiting,
An orchestra behind,
And squeezed my soul out of the shiny bell.
In the end I put down my horn and those in front
Put hand to hand and sent back to me their gratitude.
I left the stage, they called me back, to stand again
On the polished wooden floor.
It seems something touched them.

I stood yesterday
Bass in hand
On an old tile floor
Students in front, waiting.
I squeezed my soul out of my squeaky little voice.
Two dozen souls joined in.
Slowly at first
We built a song, and sang it out
And played it too
And then the room was alive,
And no one cared that there was no breakfast
This morning or supper last night
Or that they forgot their fathers face.
No one noticed the sweat running down
Our un-air conditioned faces, or that our
Meager space was not intended for little feet
But for chairs and tables not is use.
No one remembered who is smart, who is poor
Who is dirt poor,
No one noticed that I’m old and white and
They are young and black.
In the end I put down my bass, and they
Sent back to me
Their gratitude with peaceful smiles
Through shiny eyes as we sat ourselves
On the old tile floor.
It seems something touched them.

Late Breaking News

Monday I started my second week of school. I forgot how much fun teaching can be.

Wednesday Susan and I celebrated 31 years of marriage with a Cincinnati date: barbequed ribs at the Montgomery Inn, and ice cream at Graeters. We reminisced about old times, and wondered what the next 31 might bring.

Wednesday and Friday I rode my bike to school. It’s 18 miles through the city, but I’ve worked out a pretty good route: mostly residential streets, birds singing and all that. It’s pretty hilly and really dark (I have to leave by 5:40.) It usually takes an hour and 10 minutes, you know, stop lights and all, but Friday I made it home in 57 minutes.

Saturday I mailed the oven range vent hood I “sold” on Ebay. In the end it cost me 10 bucks to send it to some guy in Denver. The height of my Ebay fiasco was hoisting it onto the trunk of my car, (too big to fit inside) strapping a rope around it, and easing my way to the UPS store. At least it’s gone.

Sunday I got inspired to clean up and organize all my stuff in the basement (since that damn vent hood is gone.) I’m beginning to get control of my life again.

Today I joined the select group of Americans who have had a rational discussion about health care. Susan and I worked it all out over supper. If you want the solution just ask.

Day One

Today was my first day of teaching at College Hill Fundamental Academy. This is going to be as good as I thought it might be – the students are bright-eyed and the staff is great. Our principal is a true leader and the atmosphere is positive.

I’m used to memorizing lots of new names, but it’s really hard here because the names aren’t familiar. For example, you can’t believe how many variations there are on the names Shawn and Asia – Deshawn, Dashawn, T’Shawn, Shawntae, Ashawntae, Breasia, Deasia, Ti’asia, Azsia. Nice names but difficult to put to memory.

The students, all ages, loved playing the xylophone I brought from the mountains in Mexico made from rocks. No one can imagine how beautiful it is going to sound – clear and ringing, sort of like glass. They all love the acoustic bass and guitarron.

We are in a “borrowed school” while our building is being remodeled. My room is a storage closet off the cafetorium. There is no air conditioning, no windows. Today it was 90 degrees outside and humid. I completely sweat through my shirt twice with a little drying off session at lunch. A colleague saw me after school and donated a fan. I’m surprised how little it bothered me, I just want to teach these young rascals. In few weeks it will cool off.

Now I have to work out riding my bike to school…

10,000 Miles

Sometime yesterday evening I drove the 10,000th road mile of the summer. As I cruised the sun was setting behind me making everything brilliant. I sliced through over-stuffed green fields, the Indiana corn looking like emerald candles, their amber tassels glowing warmly. I am becoming unexpectedly familiar with the emerald corn of Indiana.

Three hours earlier I delivered my grandkids back to their father, remembering the days when it was him in the backseat, hurtling over the plains to visit family. These days it requires air travel to see our growing family. Saturday we’ll fly to Guatemala for the marriage of my daughter to the man of her dreams.

Today I did not travel great distances, nor did I wipe the poop off anyone’s butt. I’m at home, trying to process all I’ve done this summer, and what lies ahead.

I set out this summer to re-tool myself in the new focus of my career. That took me first to Atlanta and then Worcester, Mass to become certified in an approach to teaching music to children called the “Orff” method.

On my way I visited parts of the country I hadn’t seen, and determined to experience as much regional culture as I could. As I went I made some great new friends, and connected with family and old friends. Nearly every day was intense, and I think it will take a long time to process everything.

You can see a lot in 10,000 miles -

I looked down from the Arch in St. Louis, a grain elevator in Kansas, a mountain railway in Colorado, a hill on the banks of the Allegheny River in Pittsburg, the Vulcan statue in Birmingham, and the Great Smokey Mountains of Tennessee.

I looked up at skyscrapers in Chicago, Boston, Atlanta, St. Louis, Kansas City, Hartford, and Denver, and God’s skyscraper ironically named the Devil’s Tower, the stone-carved faces of our presidents at Mr. Rushmore, the massive and imposing Colorado Rockies, dozens of magnificent bridges spanning our great rivers, and the wild, ominous, and beautiful clouds above the Kansas prairie.

I looked out over the ocean from the deck of a sailboat in Glouster, over the rolling Appalachians of New England, over miles of corn in the “I” states (Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio), over the verdant Dells of Wisconsin, the fairy-land of Southeast Minnesota, the golden hills of South Dakota, and the lonesome grass of the prairie.

Ours is a beautiful country, and, as well, the people in it.

I looked at a lot of eyes. Friendly eyes, wondering eyes, eyes I knew and eyes that were new. Eyes that are watching death approach, and eyes so new they are unaware. I saw eyes alive with excitement and hope, and eyes dull with hopelessness and regret. There was pain too. Some eyes were red with pain, but sometimes it was hidden farther back – deeper pain, lonelier.

Some eyes had seen much more than I, and some much less. I showed some eyes fresh new wonders, and I learned from others the same.

To be sure, there is no end of wonder a person can see if he keeps his eyes open.

I had conversations about love and life, hope and renewal, pain and defeat, old times, coming times, hard times. I heard words of joy, words of peace, words of comfort and inspiration, and sometimes, all of this with the same person.

Sometimes we laughed out loud and fairly shouted with enthusiasm, other times we spoke slowly, quietly breathing heavy words.

We spoke of sorrow, heartbreaking sorrow, and also of joy. We spoke of death, and of life, and how to live, and how to die. We spoke of the past and the future, and, since we were all connected somehow, we tried to understand how one affects the other.

It seems every life has enough sorrow to break a man, and enough joy to save him.

I ate fried okra, shrimp and grits, elk burger, buffalo steak, Paula Dean’s home style, the best barbeque in the state of Alabama, cole slaw, potato salad, lobster, clams, shepherds pie, Fluff, banana pudding, and peach cobbler. I had fine dining, not-so-fine dining, home cooking, self cooking, and even resorted to fast food a few times.

I did my best to understand what makes the South the South, and the East the East; to understand how a physical place on this earth can change the soul of a man; to understand why some pray to God, some are becoming gods, and others only see chemical reactions. To understand what it means to be American, what it means to be a teacher, what it means to be a Fuchtman, what it means to be a human.

It occurs to me that in all of this one thing I did not experience – fear. I can’t really explain it. My Father-in-Law used to tell me (usually after driving his grandkids over the plains in a snow storm to visit family) that God takes care of fools and little children. I’m not sure into which category I fit, maybe both.

There will be blood

I’m at Andy’s house. Grandkids are grand. We replaced 4 old doors that didn’t close with 4 new doors that do. Jesus said you can’t put new wine in old wineskins, but if he lived today he would surely have used doors in this parable. I have suffered several gashes and bruises – mementos of updating this old house.

There is a track worn into the back yard grass by pulling screaming little people around and around in a large plastic green wagon. Katy had withdrawals from Guatemala which resulted in home made corn tortillas and black beans. Yum. Iowa is as sticky as I remembered it to be, and beautifully verdant as it tends to be in the early summer.

Mississippi, Tennessee, Arkansas, Missouri

I left Tupelo under grey skies, but by the time I reached Memphis the sun was shining. So I parked my car and rode around downtown on my bike for a while. I met the unofficial historian of Beale Street. This guy is a pan handler who waxes eloquent about the colorful and shady history of these two blocks. He was really fun and we talked and laughed for quite a while.

I crossed the Mississippi into Arkansas and saw fields of rice for the first time. I took some pictures of it. I’m often surprised at how different the topography is on the other side of a big river. Mississippi was rolling hills, and Arkansas was flat as a pancake, and mostly cultivated. I drove next to the Mississippi River all day, expecting to see the wide, muddy river often, but there is a big levy almost everywhere and you can’t see it at all!

I tried to eat lunch in Oceola, but there were only fast food and chain restaurants, so I drove up to Blytheville and ate at the Fire B Cue Café. I had the best bacon cheeseburger I can ever remember. I met a guy there –he must have been 80 years old – who use to drive trucks but now paints houses. I learned about trucking - why it was a pain to haul beef out of South Dakota, Driving to Cincinnati in the winter, that the delivery entrances to most bakeries are very narrow, and how to avoid getting tickets. I told him he should be out fishing instead of painting and he explained that he is on his 5th wife, and each time he started over he lost it all to the last wife. He has lung cancer and has to take blood thinner, which explained how a simple light scratch from his dog created the large purplish spot on his arm with a dark line down the middle.

Leaving scenic Arkansas I crossed into Missouri at its southernmost point. I arrived in St. Louis in time to go the Arch. It was amazing. My facility with the English language is inadequate, so I’ll have settle with “uber-incredible-” perhaps my favorite man-made structure on the planet. Going up inside, and looking out was awesome, but I think it was even better to stand on the ground and look at it. One almost could get the impression it is alive. The arch changes depending on where you stand and the angle of the sun. I took a jillion pictures and each one is my favorite.

I left St. Louis at sunset and stopped driving in Hannibal, MO.
So, I started the day in the birthplace of Elvis, and ended in the birthplace of Mark Twain. I’m not sure if that is a progression of regression.

Southern Sweep

I woke up this morning in Tupelo, Mississippi. My arrival in the birthplace of Elvis Presley was not premeditated – this is just where I was when I got tired of driving last night. I’ve never been in Mississippi. I’m interested to see what it looks like in the daylight.

I woke up yesterday in Atlanta, Georgia. That was my last day of a two-week class in the Orff approach to teaching music to children. The instruction I received there lifted me to a new level, at least, in my mind. It will take a year of application to complete the process. I made some great friends. The sum of what I learned from my fellow students was equal to the formal curriculum.

I don’t know where I’ll wake up tomorrow. I need to meet Katy in Des Moines Sunday PM. I’ll pass through Memphis and St. Louis today. I don’t know if I’ll be adventurous or just hammer on through. I feel pretty flat – you know, the let down from two intense weeks. It’s cloudy and dreary, but I did buy an umbrella in Savannah….

Never say never

I wore them down. Week after week my students walked into room and tried to remain unaffected. They ranged from uninterested and guarded to disruptive, disrespectful, and downright mean. But I wore them down. Week after week I put music out there with all the enthusiasm I could muster. (Some days this was zero, but God carried me.)

The younger grades have been having a blast all year, but some of the older students have been hard to reach. However, in the last few weeks there have been many actual musical moments with every class. Last week there 8th graders asking for more, high schoolers improvising like crazy, 6th grade boys playing ukelele, and nearly everybody creating original patterns with puili sticks.

I never thought this would happen.

It's another testimony to the allure of music, and the power of prayer and persistence.

Little Mementos

The little mementos you left behind – bits of pencils which I gave you and you broke into little pieces and threw around the room, the mallets you tossed on the floor before you left class, the tissue you used and stuffed under your chair

Illustrate my failure.

I used to love.

Love my work. Love my students. Love my days.

I know I should love you

Staring back at me in apathetic indifference

Resisting insolently

Resisting insistently. Daring me to drag some glimmer of interest

From whatever defense you have constructed.

But

What if I can’t

12 Mega rolls of Charmin

I haven’t written for a while. Mom used to say, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”

They say the average person makes 10’s of thousands of decisions every day. I haven’t heard any statistics about the average ratio of good vs. bad decisions.

Friday after work I decided to ride my bike to drop off my cleaning. That was a good call – beautiful weather.
On my way home I decided to stop by Krogers and pick up a few groceries. Good call.

While in the store I decided to buy 12 mega rolls of Charmin. Seemed like a good call until I realized it didn’t fit in any of the bags on my bike.

I decided to try riding home with one hand on the handlebars and the 12 mega rolls tucked under the other arm. Hmmm, after-work traffic, on the bike, one handed. Seemed like a bad idea.

I decided if I fell that on the way down I would work it out so I fell on the Charmin.

I couldn’t decide what exactly the passers-by were thinking when they saw a guy pedaling along with 12 mega rolls of toilet paper tucked under his arm, but I made it home without incident, so it turned out to be a good call, since there was no toilet paper remaining in the house.

I can’t speak to the other 59,994 decisions I made on Friday, but I think these turned out ok.

Perspective

Starting over again has the benefit of seeing things from a fresh perspective. Over the last month or 6 weeks life has been pretty intense. Here are a few observations I have made about Cincinnati, myself, and life in general.

Chili served on top of spaghetti noodles is actually not so bad.
Hard times are harder when you are alone.
Running on hills takes some getting use to, especially running down.
Having a pair of Great Horned Owls hang out in your back yard is pretty cool.
I can hold up under a great deal of personal difficulty, but not without whining.
When you are unemployed two weeks before school starts, any job looks GOOD.
I don’t have tuberculosis.

Noah and I

This post is arriving late, but it has been in my brain for a month, so I’d better write it. As you know, I was in Guatemala and then Mexico right after school let out. I arrived in Dallas on the afternoon of June 25. My neighbor Rhodney picked me up at the airport. I was saying goodbye to my life in Texas and trying not to think about it. I was home just long enough to walk through the house one more time, and around 6 or 7 PM I set out for my new home in Cincinnati.

I hated to say “Goodbye” to Rhodney and Marianne. We had become good friends, and I had imagined us growing old across the alley together – talking as we took out the trash, or finished mowing the yard like you do in North Texas with your alley neighbors. (The driveways are in the back of the house, so you see your neighbor who lives directly behind you more than any other.)

I drove east out of Texas towards Texarkana, and arrived at the border about sunset. Behind me was a beautiful sunset, and I took a picture. The last time I will see the sun set over Texas. It was sort of poetic – you know – parallel with my life.

Ahead of me there was a rainbow. At the time it seemed like a sign – I will never again be destroyed by a flood.

Corn Hole Anyone?

First impressions of Cincinnati.

I now am very well acquainted with our house, having covered every inch of it, including the ceilings with new paint, and re-acquainted with all our possessions, having moved them all many times from box to room to other room to out-of-the-way-so-I-can-paint.

Today I started on the only remaining surfaces by tearing up carpet.

Sometimes I stop moving or painting and leave the house. For example, delivering resumes to people who don’t have job openings. Here’s what I have found.

The founders of West Chester liked cars and roads, but had not been exposed to the concept of sidewalks. There are no sidewalks and few roads have a shoulder. There are a lot of people who live here, therefore a lot of cars. Non automobile travelers (runners and bikers) have to keep their eyes open.

Most of the roads are windy and most of them don’t go anywhere. There are more dead-ends here than a career in the mortgage industry. You can count all the roads in town that go anywhere on your fingers. Google map it and you’ll see.

My first day here I noticed an old, brightly-painted, yellow building. There were various signs on it, labeling it as a drive-through store where you can buy alcohol, snacks, and “Corn Hole Accs.” Right. Corn Hole??? Yesterday I stopped in. It turns out these stores are common out here. People call them a “Brew Thru.” They are, in fact, a drive through convenience store. You drive in and tell the guy what you want (everything from Bud Light to potato chips) and wait in the car while he fetches it.

And Corn Hole? This turns out to be a game. Basically you throw bean bags at a board with a hole in it. Corn Hole Accs (accessories) turn out to be the bean bags.

Brew Thrus and Corn Hole are very popular, sidewalks failed to make the list.

That’s it for tonight.

Still

In retrospect, I didn’t really mean “Happy,” rather, contented or at peace. I’m at peace. (two days…)

Who Knew

I decided to be happy. That was about 10:30 this morning. We’ll see how long it lasts.

One time, after a teacher in-service about being positive, I tried to go an entire day without being critical or negative. I didn’t succeed. Neither did I on the next 30 days, or any single day of the entire school year. However, the concept stuck with me and maybe I moved a little bit in the right direction.

It’s 1:30 and I’m still happy.

I had a job interview yesterday at an arts school in Hamilton. The kids were great, and the facility is very nice. I don’t think I got it. The phone has been silent.

I’ve been trying to reclaim my unwavering faith in God, the kind I felt in my 30’s. In my youth I thought as I grew older it would be easier to believe. As it turns out, for me at least, the opposite is true. I thought the compilation of experiences with God would accumulate, like a hunks of coal in the furnace, each one a chunk of proof, and those experiences would radiate faith throughout my inner being. I thought by now the flame of faith would be so hot I could cruise into old age without doubt, fear, or uncertainty.

My actual experience is sort of like the story of manna. You know, God gave the people bread for the day, no more. Each day, when I wake up, there is a fresh decision to be made – walk with God or without. And while all the reasons I have to believe, gathered over years (now decades) of walking with God have piled up, so have the doubts, contrary evidence, and self will. In short, as I get older I carry more reasons to believe and more reasons not to. The choice remains the same, but the load is heavier.

It is becoming clear that seeking the kind of faith I had in my 30’s is like trying to teach like I did in my 30’s - impossible because I have changed. Life has changed. Faith (at least for me) gets harder instead of easier. Who knew?

OK, so there it is. In this blog I am nothing if not transparent. I, the Tim, have wimpy, moment-by-moment faith. But, in self defense, I will point out that I am in good company. Check out the Elijah of I Kings 18 and the Elijah of I Kings 19, or perhaps the Peter who watched Jesus heal the sick, raise the dead, calm the seas, and the Peter in Caiphas’ garden (or even Peter walking on the water and then drowning in it), or Thomas.

Understanding the situation will help me deal with it.

By the way, I’m still happy – (2:30PM.)

Back to square one

I’m back from Central America. During those 19 days I experienced some of the best days of my life and some of the worst. I am in the process of transcribing my journal which I will post here soon along with some pictures. Let me give you the setup as of the day I left the country.

The week I left was the last week of school. So I had to say good-bye to my students and friends at Reed Elementary, and also get checked out and moved out. Wednesday and Thursday the movers came to our house and moved our stuff to Cincinnati. Katy was home overseeing the movers and preparing for Guatemala. Thursday was the last day of School and we left the country Friday.

The week previously I had been offered a job 4 miles from our new house in Cincinnati. It looked perfect.

I could imagine my nice new life up north as Katy and I flew south. I would get footage of Guatemalan and Mexican music, buy traditional authentic instruments and costumes, and spend the rest of the summer working towards my goal of showing my new students (in person) and others (through video) about music and people around the world.

During my time out of the country my back pack was stolen with all my camera equipment and passport. No more video. A few days later I cut my Achilles and had to get 6 stitches and just sit in a chair for two days. No more trips, no going anywhere, no running for 10 days.

The night I arrived in Ohio I called my new principal and he said another music teacher in the district had chosen to transfer in, and so there was no job for me.

So I spent the last two days unpacking boxes and moving furniture up and down stairs, trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my legs are cut off from under me, and the future is blank. I don’t know how to move forward or where I’m going.

My new friends in Guatemala told me to be patient, to wait for God. I think He is trying to teach me something – maybe dependence on Him. Anyway sitting here, surrounded by mounds of stuff to put away, looking out the window at the daily rain clouds, dreams and goals that seem impossible to pursue, no friends, no job – I think this is about as low as I have been in a long, long time.

But I do have God, and I have Susan, and I have hope. I’m writing these words to mark this day not to complain about my life, but as a benchmark from which to measure what God is going to do from here. I am trying to take steps forward (even though I don’t know what direction forward is) towards a new life in Cincinnati with God.

JOURNAL FROM GUATEMALA

Today we arrived in Chiriyuju. This area is absolutely beautiful. There are mountains, and small, manicured fields of vegetables everywhere. Everything is very green, and there are all kinds of trees.

Angela’s house is on the old Pan American highway, witch turns out to be a one lane dirt road filled with potholes.

We were met by Mauro’s family, and the mayor and two other city officials. Before long the pastor arrived with four or five elders of the church. Then the school principal joined us and the president of the education association, and a teacher. Throughout the morning more family members showed up.

At one point they moved all the chairs and spread long, fragrant pine needles all over the porch and on the floor of Katy and my rooms. It is a tradition of welcoming honored guests. I have never experienced anything like it. As I write my room is filled with the fragrance of pine.

We ate a feast of vegetables, tortillas, and grilled beef. There was some delicious chili salsa, which I spread all over my food. I don’t think they normally eat so much of it, and I caused quite a stir. It seems as though I will be remember in this village a “The chili guy.”

After much talking we went to a meeting of the local coop, the mayor, the city improvement council, and leaders from the school association. The topic was Katy teaching the younger students on Fridays.

It was sort of like a committee meeting except everyone was nice. They have made a really big deal of welcoming Katy to teach here and dream of a day when their children can speak English and reap the benefits thereof.

They expressed their support, and recommended each child pay a small fee – because if you give something away they will take it for granted. People are the same everywhere.

Then we decided to drive to Chimaltenango for chicken and French fries. For families riding in a compact pick-up, most of us in the back. It is the rainy season here. Therefore we pickup-bed-riders, laying all over each other, held a blue plastic tarp overhead for the 30 minute ride home. I think some part of my shoulders and chest stayed dry.

At this point I feel very welcome (having shared food, laughter, committee meetings, and a blue-tarped baptism) and in some weird way a part of the family – even though I was only here one day, can’t speak Spanish, am taller than 5’3”, and eat chili salsa by the spoonful.

SUNDAY
Today is Sunday. I started the day by running down the old Pan American Highway. The Old Pan American Highway turns out to be a narrow, pot hole filled, winding dirt road. It runs right in front of the house I’m living in. It rains every day here, so I picked my way along, dodging mud puddles. I was warmly greeted by people on bikes, on foot, standing by the road, young and old. All were clearly curious. Some applauded. I met a few colorful buses, and some opinionated dogs.

I couldn’t help but compare running on this old, famous road to the Boston Marathon. Like Boston I wondered who passed that way over the years. Like Boston the people were friendly and encouraging. Unlike Boston, the road was narrow, meandering, and the scenery stunning. You’ll have to see the pictures.

The remainder of the morning was spent rehearsing songs to sing in church, hanging with the family, adding words to my “dictionary,” and practicing Spanish.

Church was very intense and passionate. It was my first experience with “Ranchero” Worship Music. On the trip home I shared the pick-up bed (did I mention it is the rainy season?) with three boys from the family, Katy’s guitar, and 5 or 6 other people from another family. Picture a mother in traditional dress standing (yes standing in the wet pick-up bed) with an infant in a blanket on her back, holding an umbrella over her four daughters sitting on a row behind the cab. The oldest daughter steadied her mom by holding her by the skirt.

We spent the evening in the kitchen talking, planning, and singing. Supper was quesadillas and black beans. I feel quite at home, but really tall.

MONDAY

We rode to bus to Chimaltenango. We = Katy, Rebeca, Michelle, and I. There were many, many stops – mostly women and children taking large baskets to market, or on their way to shop. Two young guys took turns transferring the “cargo” from the women’s heads to the top of the bus, minding the door, and helping the driver enter busy streets or back up.

The women wear traditional dress, so it was very colorful. The buses are painted wild, bright colors too, and each bus has its own name, given by the driver I assume. Most of the names are feminine, and are either inspired by the Catholic Church or a girlfriend – it wasn’t always totally clear which.

In Chimaltenango we had a short meet and greet with the Governor of the state, and also the Mayor. The town is very noisy, crowded, and busy. Store displays spill out into the street so signs are superfluous. There are cars (old cars) and buses (old diesel school buses) spewing huge clouds of exhaust (visible and invisible but very, very smelly) everywhere on the narrow streets. Traffic does not stop for or even notice foot traffic, so I almost got smacked a few times. This did not inspire a great deal of confidence in my hosts. (This later played out to be justified.)

On the way back we passed by the market. I couldn’t believe the bus actually drove there – almost touching the store buildings on one side and the market stalls on the other. A lady brought 2 live chickens on the bus.

We arrived home in time for an excellent bunch prepared by Dona Angela. Afterwards we went to the school –Katy’s first day. The teachers had organized a Welcome party. Many of the students participated. It was very moving. Many people spoke kind words, and there were several groups of students doing traditional dances. Have I mentioned it is the rainy season? The dancers performed in the pouring rain. Afterwards Katy talked with students, and we all had coffee with the teachers. There were some students still playing music, and others were dancing. Katy and I also danced - she with a student and I with a teacher. I thought it would be a fun way to connect with the students. It turns out the church doesn’t allow dancing so I hope I didn’t offend anyone or get Katy in trouble.

At the welcoming party I was videotaping so I put Rebeca’s 7 year old son in charge of taking pictures. (Don’t worry Susan – my camera, not yours!) He did a great job. I love the pictures children take.

Anyway, this evening everyone (Walter, Angela, Rebeca, Carlos, Michelle, and Katy) entertained themselves looking at the pictures Carlos took.

Did I mention it is the rainy season? I did, however, ride inside the pick-up to and from school today – after all, only 6 of us were inside.

So Katy has been officially welcomed by 2 mayors, the Pastor, Elders, the entire church, the City Council, the Education Board, Co-op Board, teachers, students, and the Governor. I told her all that’s left are the Rocks and Trees.

I can’t stop eating tortillas, staring at the view, saying “Gracias, muchos gracias,” and taking pictures.

I’m drinking coffee and liking it. Go figure.

TUESDAY

Today is Tuesday. I ran the other direction out of town this morning. It was just as beautiful as the first way. I just can’t stop taking pictures.

At 8:00 Jorge took me on his motorcycle to an ancient ruin called Ixeche. This was the first capital of the Catecan (spelling?) people. It was beautiful, and moving. NO one was there but the two of us, some workers, and loads of singing birds. It was so peaceful.

Then we went to Tecpan. I got some good video from the back of the motorcycle. He took me to Tecpan to purchase a traditional costume of Guatemala. The first stop was the tailor. I got measured, and started into a few conversations in Spanish which I could not finish.

Then we bought the apron in a different store. In that store I filmed a girl weaving the traditional clothing.

Then we went through the market which was very interesting – I got some good footage. Then, by accident, I heard a marimba band. I followed the sound into a store and filmed these 6 guys playing two marimbas. It was awesome. It turns out they are a professional group. I should mention that the marimba is the traditional instrument of Guatemala.

After lunch I went to the field with the family, and hoed a field of sweet peas. It was interesting to see the field and the work. The women went back, and Walter and I worked a while longer. Then Dona Anjela called and made us come in because the rain was coming- did I mention it’s the rainy season- and she was afraid I would get sick.

At about 4:00 we went to school for an interesting town meeting. The people gathered at the school. The mayor was there, and his secretaries at a table taking minutes. There was some joking around, and the atmosphere was friendly. The mayor gave them information about a government program – something about government distribution of fertilizer. Some men asked questions, the mayor answered. At one point he made a call on his cell phone to get an answer.

After a while it was sprinkling so the table with the secretary guys got moved under the awning where the people were standing. Soon it was raining enough that the mayor came up under the awning too. (Somebody always gets wet – it is the rainy season.) After a bit it came to a vote for “15-15” or “20-20.” This took a few tries by show of hands. I think the 15-15’s won it.

Then the rain came pouring down and, even though the meeting was over, no one could leave, they came by foot or bike. Everybody laughed and waited in good humor.

After supper I was logging my video of the day and they all wanted to watch – so I suggested we watch through the TV. The ten of us (4 ladies, 5 children, and me) watched my video of the day.

One of the things that is different here is shared space. I sleep in a room, but it is still shared space. During the day the children come in, anyone can come in. Everyone spends the day together. Of course the kitchen is the central space.

OK, that’s it.

WEDNESDAY

Today is Wednesday.

I had my stuff stolen today. If I wrote about it I could only complain – so I’m going to bed.

THURSDAY

Today is Thursday. We got up before 5:00 and left for Guatemala City at 5:30. Our mission was to get a temporary passport for me. We arrived at the American Embassy at 7:30 and left at 10:15 with passport in hand. There was happiness all around.

Guatemala City:

I won’t say much because I’m trying to remain positive. But, I don’t like Guatemala City. Not one bit. I don’t think I have ever said that about any city I have ever been in anywhere in the world.

Here goes: The buildings are (with a few exceptions) ugly, or boring, dirty, thrown together. The traffic is horrible. All the cars are so old the exhaust is horrible, not to mention the thousands of old diesel buses spewing huge clouds of black smoke. The air is so thick with pollution my eyes were burning and I had a low-grade head-ache the whole time. I never saw a neat or tidy neighborhood or nicely painted building.

Alright, now all of this would normally fall under the category of “interesting” of “different.” But, the city is so unsafe you can’t just walk down the street, or ride the bus. Seriously. We heard accounts like this: Thieves cut off fingers to get rings or hands to get watches. CUT THEM OFF. Robbed at gunpoint and so on.

I don’t like Guatemala City.

From there we drove back to Chimaltenango to run some errands related to the theft yesterday. I should say that Nehemius, Rebeca, Katy and I were in the truck.

Nehemius and Rebeca were so much fun. We soon put the loss of possessions, worry, and long hours on the road behind us, and had a really fun time. We laughed the whole afternoon.

I wanted to buy a traditional set of girls’ clothing, so we stopped off in Cherijuyu to pick up Nehemius’ wife and drove on to Tecpan. Maria and Rebeca helped us find the right stuff in the market, and did the bartering.

Then it poured rain and we got soaked on the way back to the car- even with umbrellas. We came home via the old Pan American Highway – which I wrote about earlier. It is very beautiful and I got a great picture of a yoke of oxen.

I have to stop for a minute to try to explain how gracious and giving all the people have been. The whole family and Nehemias were in Antigua at the time of the theft. They insisted we drive to Guatemala City to try to get a passport right away. Of course the Embassy is a picture of inept beaurocracy, and we had to come back today. That meant the 7 of us spent 6 hours in the cab of a small Toyota pick-up in stinky, crawling traffic. All the while no one complained and they were all so nice.

Then add the time we spent this morning driving to Guatemala City again.

Last night the pastor and his son came over to fix a lock (keys stolen from Katy’s bag) and prayed with us.

Well, anyway, everyone has been amazing and encouraging.

So, then, tonight we got home and Dona Anjela fixed fried plantains- which were awesome. Then we had chicken, fries, and tortillas. After that we had church, and I talked to the musicians about the bajo sexto – a Latin American guitar.

Driving to church goes like this: me in the back with the two little ones. We pass women with baskets on their heads, children in traditional dress, mend riding bikes, motor bikes, pickups (most of them small Toyotas) or walking - all of them carrying hoes or other farm implements. The driver of every vehicle gives a short toot on the horn to every human they meet. We can’t drive faster than 10 MPH because the road is so full of pot holes (deep ones) and you have to avoid running over all the people I mentioned above. There are lots of cargo trucks so you have to pull over (but not too far or you’ll fall in the ditch) and wait for them to squeeze by.

We are driving so slow that I greet and am greeted by all the above people- most of whom are in great spirits, and are intrigued and humored at the sight of the gringo riding in back.

We always end up with more people in the back than we started out with - stopping to give a ride to some pedestrian.

All of this takes place on the muddy, puddle filled Old Pan Am Highway – (Did I mention it is the rainy season?)

We ended the day at about 9:00 (after coffee, cookies, conversation, and poems by Carlitos – age 6 or 7) with an earth quake. The tremor shook the house pretty good. It felt like being on the ocean for about 2 or 3 seconds.

Well, that’s it.

FRIDAY

I started the day with 4 year old Michelle. “We” washed my clothes in the concrete water basic. I ended the day with a very nice doctor. He put stitches in my foot.

In between I ran 9 miles on the Old Pan Am Highway, past Jorge’s summer cabin, through the next village, down the big hill, past the wheat mill to the fork in the road to Patzan and then turned around. I’m getting pretty familiar with this place.

I spent the afternoon in the field with the family scraping the weeds out from around a field of lettuce. It was fun to work together.

We left there to go visiting and I cut my foot getting out of the back of the pick up. Don’t ask me how I did it, lots of people looked at what happened and it was generally agreed upon to be a miracle – impossible by human standards.

That led to yet another trip in the Toyota – 8 of us – to the hospital in Chimaltenango. Six stitches, a boat-load of advice, a late supper, and much laughter over the events of the day.

I can’t do anything for two days. Hmmmm.

SATURDAY

Today is Saturday. I was bound to my chair because of the stitches. But I had a boat-load of visitors all day. In the morning Bernarda and Rebeca washed my stitches. They were very professional and I don’t think anyone could have done it better.

Then Katy and I talked for a while and afterwards I read some of Shane Claiborn’s book. Then we talked some more. It was good and I think I understand more about Katy’s perspective on Justice etc.

The Pastor, Elders, and Deacons came by to pray for my foot. 12 guys. That was so thoughtful and I was very honored and moved by their show of concern.

Dona Anjela and Rebeca made a delicious dinner of fried chicken and the lima beans from Jorge’s field. (He brought them yesterday.)

After lunch Katy and Rebeca and Michelle went to do chores around town and I read some more and played the guitar and got out my marimba. Jorge came by and we played marimba together. Francisco stopped by – He’s the president of the Education Association. With the help of the dictionary we had a nice conversation. I forgot to say how fun it was to play music w/Jorge. No language barrier there – just friends playing together.

Later Rudi, Fredi, and Wilmer came by and we played marimba too. Then Nehemius and much of his family came by. We tried to talk a bit and then Katy got back so we could have a nice conversation. I think someone else was here too.

Walter and I played guitar (he) and marimba (me) together until nearly supper when Jorge came back from Tecpan with the rest of my traditional costume. Of course I tried it on and everyone was real fun about how cool it looked.

He also gave me a personal souvenir – a vase he made to commemorate his daughter being queen of Chirijuyu. It was an amazing gesture.

Everyone has been so, so nice.

Here’s another quick glimpse at village life: The roads here are all narrow dirt roads. This week they were being repaired. So the men in town volunteered their time to do the handwork alongside the heavy equipment. That way the town didn’t have to pay for a crew to do it. These guys really work together and have a great communal spirit.

SUNDAY

Today is Sunday. I am still grounded. This morning included lots of kids, marimba playing, treatment of my stitches by two different “nurses” and a trip to the cemetery.

Katy and I say “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” in church. I read some this afternoon, and Katy and I had a nice long talk. She’s a gem. We laughed pretty hard at supper, as usual.

At 6:30 there was a service for a woman who died. We just got back – its 10:30. It was very beautiful how the town turned out to honor the dead woman. Hundreds and hundreds. We sat outside under a sort of low porch and under a tarp in the “courtyard” of her house. The most interesting part was the guy who sat by the gate and whacked intruding dogs with a big stick.

Katy and I say again. There was lots of prayers sessions. Here, they pray loudly, passionately, and everybody out loud together at the same time. We sang dozens of hymns – all 4 verses. They sing them sort of drug out, with no apparent awareness of or concern for a steady beat, or meter.

I think I’m the tallest person in town by a foot. Everyone had a pretty good laugh when we stood up to sing because I just missed hitting my head on the beam supporting the roof of the awning. I had to peek down to see the people in the back.

We had the first real sunset today, (it’s the rainy season.) It was nice and I took a picture.

MONDAY

Today is Monday. This morning I packed and helped Katy get started recording her finances.

Rebeca fixed a delicious meal of chicken, rice, and a delicious vegetable sauce.

This afternoon I helped Walter put the posts in for the peas. Katy is at school. She is feeling more in a normal schedule. I think this has been a good transition for her. I think this trip has accomplished the purpose of helping Katy get settled in here in Chirijuyu.

Last Supper

I’m sitting amidst piles of boxes, eating pulled pork and fried okra from “BarB Cutie’s” with a Shiner Bock. It’s not technically my last supper in Texas, but symbolically this is it. I wanted to eat something Texasish. I haven’t searched, but I’m thinking they don’t have fried okra in Cincinnati.

Tomorrow is the last day of school. I won’t miss fried okra anything like I’ll miss my colleagues at school. I have already written what this staff has meant to me. For the last two months I have procrastinated all thoughts of parting. I determined just to enjoy every last day at Reed. Well, tomorrow is the last day. Damn.

They have all been so gracious to me, choosing to look at the positive things I did. They always said the nicest things. I’m pretty much over-rated at school. To me I'm just some guy who tries hard among a staff of people who know what they are doing, and love our students like crazy. Inspirational they are.

I’m hoping I can get through tomorrow without being reduced to a puddle on the floor.

Katy and I are leaving for Guatemala Friday. I’m so proud of her. A parent always hopes their children go beyond them. All three of mine have. I took Katy on a few mission trips, and now she is taking me on one. My purpose is to help get Katy settled, and build relationships with the people of the village. I’m not sure what I’ll actually do, but I hope it includes a little teaching. I also hope I can get footage for a short documentary about village life, textile production in the village, farming, and some local music. I’ve packed my camera, mics, and tripod.

After I leave Guatemala I’ll spend a week in San Miguel, Mexico. Some of my teacher friends invited me to visit them when they go south this summer. It’s a dangerous thing to invite me on a trip like that because I’ll take you up on it!!! I am so excited to go. I have wanted to go to Mexico since high school. Crikey, that’s over 30 years! If things work out, I’ll get to buy an authentic Mexican instrument from the person who made it. I think we’ll see some interesting places. My friends are the most hospitable people I ever met, so it should be fun!

Meanwhile Susan will be in our new Ohio house alone. When I made the plans it seemed like a good idea, I guess I was sort of dragging my feet about leaving here. I think I’ll get a chance to make up for it – our new house needs some remodeling…

I’ve been a little long-winded tonight. I’m not sure I can blog again until I get to Ohio in the 27^th of June. I plan to journal my trip, so when I get back I’ll post an account of my adventures down south.