Home Again, and What We Learned

Greetings!

I must apologize for one last time for delaying in updating this blog.  If it's any compensation, I'll never do it again.  We left Fort Defiance on June 3, after much frantic scurrying about making sure everything was packed and relatively clean.  Our trip back was mercifully uneventful, with stops in South Dakota, where my maternal grandparents grew up and got married, Nebraska, to see our friend Kat; Louisville, KY, to see another friend, Kate; DC, for a job interview with the Girl Scouts for Sara (she got it!); Philly, for some wedding planning, and then home to my parents' house in CT.

After all of this, we were plunged into a rather immediate frenzy of wedding planning which has yet to let up.  The advantage of having such a momentous event ahead of us is that we have been too busy to be overly culture-shocked.  Unfortunately, at least for me, I feel as though I haven't reached any kind of meaningful conclusion to our experience this year.  I think we had a good sense of closure as we left, with the school year ending and a highly successful trip to the Grand Canyon with the youth group.

One thing I do think we learned, which Sara articulated beautifully in our final mass e-mail, is that we have learned a new way of being in community.  Our community extends now from all those of you who have supported us from afar, to those who welcomed us in Fort Defiance.  This process of moving is, in a way, an expansion of the number of places we call home, and of the number of people which we call family.  

I thought that rather than bore you with a meandering set of thoughts on What We Learned, I would offer a relatively brief list of Things That Are Different Between Here And There.  I'll give a bit of explanation for each item, but my goal is to give a taste of what we did this year and where we lived.  One last plug - if anything in this post, or anything I've written all year,  interests you, please do get in touch with us.  I can't guarantee that we will be prompt in responding before July 19, but we will respond.  It will be helpful for us - certainly for me - to talk about our experience, process it, sort it through, and maybe eventually distill some meaning from it all.

But enough of that - on with the list!

Things That Are Different Between Here and There

1. Thin People.  The overwhelming majority of people that you see around the Rez have some sort of weight problem.  Not, of course, that all people are overweight, but a disproportionately high number of people certainly are.  That's probably due to what I've heard described as the Diet of Poverty-, consisting of low-cost, high-fat foods.
2. We Are Not The Only White People Around.  We very quickly got used to being "in the minority" in most situations, but it was never really that conscious until we came home.  Living on the Mission and working at the school, we didn't not see other white people - we just saw the same ones, all the time.  We didn't really notice the effect of this until we got home and realized that we expected to recognize every white person we saw.  This was especially frustrating in Philadelphia, where the preponderance of twentysomethings roaming the streets at any given time made us feel like we were constantly staring at people, trying to place them.
3. Everyone's Jewelry Is Different.  You just get used to a whole lot of silver and turquoise, you know?
4. We Are Not Surrounded By Kids.  We went to school, and saw 500 or so elementary students each day.  In the evenings and on weekends, we saw the Youth Group.  I got so into the Teacher Mode that my response to being called Mr. White is "Yes?" rather than "That's my father's name." - as though I've somehow earned that badge of adulthood.  (Though it doesn't help much when most of the calls for Mr. White are, in fact, for my father.)  Still, life is strangely quiet when you're not surrounded by the constant questions and excitement of teens and pre-teens.
5. There Are No Animals On The Side Of The Road.  Animals are simply a part of life on the Rez, whether they're dogs looking for food in packs, or horses sneaking on to the Mission to graze on what must be very nice grass.  It's not uncommon to have to wait while a herd of cows or sheep cross the road.  Cows are almost always left to roam on their own, and the land by the sides of the road is considered public, so we would often pass a few cows on our way to buy milk.  The irony did not escape us.  Stray dogs, also, are a constant presence, whether live or dead.  Sara drove by a commotion on the side of the road once after returning to New York - two police cars had stopped to deal with a pet dog that had been hit and killed.  This sight did not even stir the slightest bit of emotion, so common was it to her eyes.  Indeed, the only thing that made her notice is was the fact that there were police cars there!
6. Geography/Topography.  When we drove through Spearfish Canyon in South Dakota, down a winding road, surrounded by trees on high hills, I felt the most refreshing sense of being "home," in a very subtle way.  I am a New Englander - I am used to trees, hills, stone fences, and other picturesque things generally getting in the way of my seeing for miles and miles.  Around the Mission, there were only rocks to break up the eerie feeling of exposure.
7. Convenience.  It took ten minutes at least, driving an average of 50 mph (within posted limits) for us to get to the grocery store from where we lived.  Now, in West Hartford, it takes me maybe five minutes to get to any one of the three nearest grocery stores, depending on traffic.  Most days, I am without a car, but that doesn't matter, because I live within a mile of most places I would possibly have an occasion to visit.
8. Hitchhikers.  They're everywhere in Arizona, nowhere in the Northeast.
9. Family.  We see people's families, and they fall into patterns and categories that my mind insists on calling "normal" - parent/s, kid/s, living together, in a house.   Grandparents are part of the picture, people visited on weekends and holidays, likewise with aunts, uncles, and cousins.  In Fort Defiance, most people live with their extended family - Grandma is a force to be respected and reckoned with, a virtual extra parent, along with aunts, uncles, and older cousins.  For many people we knew, family, not friends, made up the bulk of the social network.
10. Culture.  On Thanksgiving, one of the woman at the church dinner handed me a piece of turkey that is, in my experience, usually found in a wax paper wrapper inside the bird's chest cavity and discarded.  "In our tradition," she told me, "eating this part of the turkey brings good luck to a newlywed groom."  If I had looked at just her face, I would have eaten it right there.  But the circle of widening grins on the women around her told me I was being put on.  It was then that I realized the phrase "in our tradition" could be a punchline.  Still, it is different not to be constantly aware of being in a culture with wholly different taboos and expressions than the one in which I grew up.  I was reminded of this when I saw a snake outside my parents' house.  To a traditional Navajo, this would have meant, at the very least, cause for alarm.  Had it entered the house, a cleansing ceremony would have been necessary.  As it was, I let the snake be, and didn't think about it much.

Well, that's about it.  As I said, do give me or Sara an email if you want to hear more about our experiences.  People in the Philadelphia area, I will be preaching at Redeemer on August 3 at the 8 and 10 o'clock services.  Stop by if you're interested.

Thank you all for reading throughout this year, despite my lack of punctuality in posting.  I hope I was able to give you a tiny idea of what we did, and why.  I'm planning on leaving this blog up until it expires (however long that takes).  My and Sara's emails will remain the same, though our joint account will be deleted shortly.

Thank you for your support, your prayers, and your kind words.

Peace,

Andrew

A brief rant on our school district

Greetings!

Things are well here- for once, my delay in posting is reasonably excusable. My parents were visiting two weeks ago, and so Sara and I took off on a weeklong whirlwind tour of the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, and generally all of the beautiful sights in the Southwest that we should've seen months ago. It was a great time, both because I got to see my parents and show them what we're doing out here, and because we got to see the Grand Canyon. You know how everyone says that it's one of those places you have to see to appreciate? They're all correct. It's just mind-boggling. The week after that, Sara went back to Rochester to visit her mother, taking the cat with her. This left me all alone in the house, with plenty of dishes and schoolwork to do.
One thing I noticed, though, spending all of that time off the reservation with my parents was the attitudes of people towards Sara and me once they found out what we do. On the reservation, people see us, and ask "So, are you teachers or doctors?" Aside from being flattered to be considered old enough to have finished med school, we laugh and say we're teachers (it's easier). Off of the reservation, we got a lot of "street cred" for doing what we do. White people saw us as being more in-touch with a different culture, and Indians saw us as still white, but having a better understanding of the Rez than tourists. Kind of like going to New York City, having lived there in the past- tourists think you're hot stuff, and locals actually tolerate you. My mom and dad and I had a great conversation with a Navajo weaver in a shop in Albuquerque- turns out she has family in Window Rock (not an uncommon phenomenon- the Navajo family/kinship system is extensive).
Anyway, the strange thing about it is that, for that week, I was seeing myself very much as outsiders saw me. I forgot how little I actually understand about Navajo culture and life, and thought about how much I understand, compared to the people I was meeting. Coming back, however, I was immediately taken out of that "big picture" mindset, and reminded of the very pressing problems right here. Take, for instance, the school. I've expressed my opinion on that particular subject before, so I'll try not to go into too much detail. A letter to the editor was published in the Navajo Times this past week, written by a coalition of concerned parents in Fort Defiance. It voiced exactly the concerns that Sara and I (not to mention most of the teachers at the school) have been feeling for much of the year. The letter is online, and you can read it on the Navajo Times website. (You have to scroll down to "Window Rock School District is Failing Students")
Reading this letter reminded me of being off the reservation, in a way. Sara and I are certainly involved in the school, but we're not as invested as the teachers. We are definitely committed to helping the students the best that we can, but "the best that we can" effectively ends with this school year. We are those weird outsider-insiders. We know a lot about what goes on at the school in terms of students, scheduling and classes, but aren't intimately acquainted with the politics of it all. (Which, at least for me, is a good thing). I think one of the differences is that we are not directly tied to the school by anything but the kids. We could stop coming tomorrow, and no one could sue us for breach of contract or stop paying us, or anything. That gives us more freedom, in a sense, but also less tangible commitment. The advantage is, of course, that we are freer to voice our opinions; the disadvantage is that our opinions matter very little.
I suppose that especially now, as we come to the end of the year, we have to understand that we can only do so much. Unfortunately, that's not a great comfort when we can drive down the street to the high school, where most of our students will end up, and if current trends continue, only half will graduate at all. It's no comfort, either, when you can pick out as early as age 7 which students will likely end up in gangs, and even which ones are already in that kind of trouble. Gang activity, drug use, domestic violence, teen pregnancy, and alcoholism are not things that second- and third-graders should have to experience as concrete realities. Nor should they be something that their teachers can almost unerringly spot in their future. When a twelve-year-old tells you that they have a hard time not drinking, there is something deeply wrong.
I understand that these issues cannot be resolved simply by school reform, but it would help if the school district didn't seem hell-bent on destroying children's futures. It would help if, in a district where attendance is one of the main problems keeping schools from achieving their Annual Yearly Progress goals, SOAP were provided bathrooms and classrooms. Simple germ theory (something which these kids might know about if they had a science curriculum) tells us that washing hands = less spread of disease = fewer absences. But no. The requisition form for soap was filled out incorrectly, and so there was no soap. Whether it was not correctly filled out later, or the district became complacent after the PTO stepped in and bought soap OUT OF THEIR OWN POCKET for their children, I don't know. But quite frankly, I'm appalled to know that this level of dysfunction is possible.
OK, I should stop myself before I ramble even more off of any kind of topic. Thanks for reading, and as always, drop me a line if you like.

Peace
Andrew

PS Thanks to all those who commented on the last post- I appreciate your kind words.

Testify!

Greetings!

Sara and I are still recovering from a crazy busy weekend- a youth group sleepover on Friday night, followed by a youth group fundraiser all day Saturday, a four hour Passover seder Saturday night, church on Sunday morning, dinner with Red, his wife and a few others Sunday night, which led into Pictionary with the same crew until late that night. All of them good things, but overwhelmingly tiring. Not to mention the fact that we still have an embarassingly high pile of dishes in the kitchen, and an increasingly inconvenient pile of laundry in the closet. On top of all of that, I managed to preach this Sunday! It was my first real sermon in front of the whole GSM congregation. The texts we used for that day are found here, and the sermon is below. Enjoy, and as always, feel free to drop me a line if you have any thoughts!

Peace,
Andrew

Once I saw this guy on a bridge about to jump. I said, "Don't do it!" He said, "Nobody loves me." I said, "God loves you. Do you believe in God?"
He said, "Yes." I said, "Are you a Christian or a Jew?" He said, "A Christian." I said, "Me, too! Protestant or Catholic?" He said, "Protestant." I said, "Me, too! What franchise?" He said, "Baptist." I said, "Me, too! Northern Baptist or Southern Baptist?" He said, "Northern Baptist." I said, "Me, too! Northern Conservative Baptist or Northern Liberal Baptist?"
He said, "Northern Conservative Baptist." I said, "Me, too! Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region, or Northern Conservative Baptist Eastern Region?" He said, "Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region." I said, "Me, too!"
Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1879, or Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912?" He said, "Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912." I said, "Die, heretic!" And I pushed him over.

I first heard that joke from Miles Gilbert, who used to live here on the Mission. I found out later that it’s from a comedian named Emo Philips. I heard that it was voted the best religious joke of all time by some website. That makes sense to me; I think the funniest jokes are the ones that ring truest. Just like in the story, we always look for those divisions, as insignificant as they may seem, so we can figure out who’s on our side- the right side. We do this especially when it comes to Jesus. We want him on our side, and we’ll split hairs to get him there.

And so when we hear the story from Acts, we are justly outraged. How dare they cover their ears to the Word of God, block out a visionary voice, a prophetic voice, that could lead them to a better understanding of God? For we know the truth, we know that Jesus is Lord, and so this story of the first Christian martyrdom gives us that sense of self-righteousness. How dare they shut us out!

But how often are we the excluders? How many times have you heard someone trot out John 14:6, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life; no one comes to the Father, but through Me” to exclude, to shut out people of other faiths? The interpretation that I hear the most goes something like this: Jesus is the Way, and so you have to believe in Jesus to be saved- even more, you have to believe in Jesus the right way. Maybe it’s just me, but it seems a little odd for Jesus, who welcomed everyone on their own terms, to be as harshly divisive as this interpretation of the passage suggests. Of course, it is dangerous to take this too far, and say that it doesn’t matter at all what you believe. I don’t intend to go that far, but I do think that it’s a question worth asking: Just what are we supposed to make of this verse? How does it affect our faith, and how does it affect how we interact with people of different faiths? Are we to say “Well, you’re not Christian, you’re not saved, you don’t believe the things I do, so you have no way of knowing God. You have no value, because you don’t recognize God the same way I do.” I don’t think so. But I also don’t think we can just dismiss this verse as something we disagree with. We have to wrestle with it. If not simply because it’s in the Gospel, then because how we respond to this verse can have drastic effects for our own lives as Christians.

So I want to describe a few ways of looking at this Gospel, especially at the idea of how we understand our relationship to other spiritualities.

In Luke’s gospel we meet an old man named Simeon, who had been promised that he would see the Messiah before he died. When he sees Jesus as a baby, the Spirit moves him to deliver one of the more beautiful speeches in the Bible.

Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace
According to thy word
For mine eyes have seen thy salvation
Which thou hast prepared before the face of all peoples
To be a light to lighten the Gentiles
And to be the glory of thy people Israel

So Jesus is not just a Messiah to the Chosen people, but he is to light the way of all people, inside and out of the traditional community. But a light spreads from its source- its source does not stretch out to cover everything. So regardless of what others believe, Jesus draws the whole world into God’s family through his followers. According to this, perhaps salvation comes through Jesus, but maybe not directly so.

So if we read today’s Gospel with this in mind, it places a huge burden on us, to literally save the world. But it also lets us get away with a bit of that self-righteousness. We’re still the ones who have got it totally right, and everyone else is just lucky we’re here to have all the answers. So let’s take a look at a slightly different perspective.

Bishop Mark and Steve Darden have brought us the Hogan Learning Circle, a series of presentations about how Christianity and traditional Navajo spirituality intersect. Their basic idea, as I understand it, is that the message of Jesus can be heard and followed in many different ways, and that not all of them look like the form of Christianity that was introduced to this continent by European immigrants. When we take this and compare it to this Gospel, it seems to work pretty well. Jesus is the way to the Father, but there are many different ways to understand Jesus. I’m reminded of an image that Sara’s father likes to use, of three blind men trying to describe an elephant. The first touches the tail and says “It is like a rope.” The second touches the ear and says “No, you’re wrong, it’s like a fan.” The third touches the elephant’s side and says “No, you’re both wrong- it’s like a wall!” Of course, the three men are all both right and wrong. They don’t have the ability to put their different understandings together. Each of them is too intent on being right to understand that perhaps, limited as he is, he might not have the whole picture.

This next one is related to that idea. C.S. Lewis manages to sneak a lot of theology into his series, the Chronicles of Narnia. In the final book, Aslan the lion, who is essentially Jesus, meets with a young man who had served a different god (who, we learn, is utterly evil) his whole life. And yet he had been serving this evil god by doing good things- helping the weak, serving his country, being generous. Aslan tells him that he has taken all of the good things that this man has done, even though he did them in the service of another god. We find that this man, who was an enemy (he thought) of Aslan/Jesus his whole life, ends up sharing in the rewards of the faithful. In this view, then, it is possible to serve Jesus without knowing it, or without meaning to. In the end, C.S. Lewis says that it is impossible to do any good thing in the service of evil, and it is impossible to do any evil thing in the service of good.

So, maybe these examples are all wrong, and there’s another, better one out there. Or maybe, like the blind men and the elephant, they are all pieces of a larger picture, one that we don’t understand yet, limited as we are. But before we give up, let’s take a look at what Jesus says in the rest of the passage. Jesus gives us a way out, as it were. Even if you don’t believe in Me, look at what I’m doing! The lame walk, the blind see, the dead are raised! How can these things come from anything but God? How can this overwhelming evidence do anything but give you faith in the one who’s doing it?
Ultimately, I don’t have an easy answer for how to understand this verse. Of course, I haven’t been to seminary yet, so when I get there and find out, I’ll write you all and let you know. But until then, here’s something to think about. Regardless of how we apply our thoughts on Jesus to other religions, we are still here. Something, someone, has shown Jesus to us, and it struck something deep within us, whoever we are, whatever our past is, and we have been changed. Isn’t that enough?

Job Description

Greetings!

Last time I promised to post a job description here of what we do, in case any interested parties should stumble upon it, and also to give you all an idea of how we're trying to continue our ministry here past our time here. If you know or are a recent college grad who's interested in living and working at Good Shepherd, do get in touch.

Here's the job description:

Dear Inquirer:

Thank you for your interest in volunteering at Good Shepherd Mission! We are a lively Episcopal community located in Fort Defiance, Arizona, on the Navajo Reservation. We share the Gospel through ministries of outreach and celebration, which include holding twice-weekly services, running an active youth group and Sunday School, and housing a food pantry.

The responsibilities of a Good Shepherd Mission (GSM) volunteer are as follows:

• Being an active member of Good Shepherd’s religious and community life. Volunteers become a part of the GSM community, regularly attending Sunday worship and engaging in other aspects of Mission life. This can include participation in weekly Bible studies, assisting with the day-to-day tasks of running a mission, and pitching in with various projects throughout the year.

• Assisting at Tse’hootsooi Elementary School four days per week. Volunteers assist in regular classrooms at the local elementary school, aiding teachers with daily tasks and classroom management. They provide extra support to small groups of students with the possibility of conducting separate classes to work with students who require more attention. Volunteers also help with other projects around the school as needed.

• Running the Good Shepherd Mission Youth Group. This entails planning, organizing, and leading events to engage and nourish young people associated with the Mission as well as those in the community. Past events have included sleepovers, youth-oriented worship services and summer trips, as well as weekly meetings.

Volunteers will serve from August 2008 through June 2009 and will be expected to fundraise $10,000 for travel and living expenses. Housing and utilities are provided by GSM. Applicants must be at least 21 years of age. As Good Shepherd serves a mostly rural community with very little public transit, having your own vehicle is strongly recommended and a driver’s license is required. A qualified applicant will hold a Bachelor's degree from an accredited university, be willing and eager to be a part of a Christian community, and have love for and experience with children and youth.

Please visit our website, www.goodshepherdmission.org, to read more about Good Shepherd Mission. Contact our current volunteers at sara.andrew.mission@gmail.com for further information or an application. Applications are due by June 1, 2008 and acceptance is rolling.

God’s Peace,

Good Shepherd Mission
The Rev. Red Stevens, Vicar
The Rt. Rev. Mark MacDonald, Bishop of Navajoland

Spring Break, Part 3

Chunk 4: Farewells

Well, all good things must come to an end, so on Thursday, we bid farewell to our J2A guests. (A side note: on our last night with them, we just hung out and watched the movie “Hairspray,” with John Travolta. Let me just say that that movie’s exacting adherence to dramatic form was matched only by its delicate handling of the subtleties of race relations in the U.S. It was pretty great.)

We spent a relatively quiet Good Friday with Rachel, not stirring too much except to go to a Stations of the Cross service at the local Catholic mission, and to our own church at night. I’d never done the Stations of the Cross before. The way it usually works is you walk around and reflect on fourteen moments from the Crucifixion. These are those things you often see depicted on the walls of churches – Jesus is condemned, Jesus takes up the Cross, Jesus falls, Jesus meets his mother, etc. The youth group from the mission took turns forming living tableaus of each scene. We all were led around a small area, and said different devotions at each station. The overall effect was quite moving.

On Saturday night, we were at church for the Easter Vigil – sort of two services in one. There’s the Great Vigil, which includes a series of readings and the lighting of the Paschal candle, and that leads right into the first Eucharist of Easter. Traditionally, this is a service where new members are baptized. By our count, there were 19 baptisms on Saturday night alone! In fact, when all of the families of those who were getting baptized went up to the altar, there were maybe ten people still sitting down, out of well over a hundred originally. So, that took a little while.

Easter Sunday was, as always, a rewarding and joyful service. Ten more baptisms at that service brought the total up to around 30. We also distributed Easter baskets to the children- funds for those were raised by the kids at St. Peter’s Church in Henrietta. We gave out 44 baskets filled with school supplies, candy, and small toys. It made a lot of little children in their Sunday best very happy, which is always adorable.

That afternoon, we had a few people over for a sort of Easter dinner. Basically, we stuffed ourselves with ham, lasagna, green beans, carrots, mashed potatoes, and a cake shaped like a rabbit. Complete with little baby rabbits made out of – you guessed it – Twinkies. De-licious.

The next day, we drove to Albuquerque to take Rachel to the airport. This was possibly the hardest part- not because we were saying good-bye to Rachel (heck, we’ll see her again) but because she was taking the Hon. Sandra Day O’Connor with her. It was easiest to send her back cross-country now, rather than driving her later. It was harder than I care to admit to put her in her kennel and send her on that conveyor belt towards the underbelly of a plane. Sara’s parents tell us that she’s doing well, but misses us. Lame pet-owner admission: we talk to her on the phone. Apparently, she gets confused when she hears our voices, and a little sad.

Saying goodbye to Sandra was hard for another reason as well- she found us after we’d been in Fort for only a few weeks, so our experience here is very much tied in with having her. Our house without her is empty in a way it hasn’t been before- we’re fully moved in, but there’s no dog. We can comfort ourselves, however, with the less-than-satisfying reassurance that there’s enough shed dog hair in our house to make another dog, if we wanted. But even that tempting prospect is a bit macabre, so perhaps we’ll just learn to do without. After all, we still have an increasingly crazy cat to keep us company.

That’s all for now- in our last mass e-mail, Sara promised that I would post a job description of what we do here, so I will put that up next. As ever, shoot me an email if you’re so inclined!

Peace,
Andrew

Spring Break, Part 2

Chunk 2: Houseguests Galore!

While we were at Cortez, a group of two teenagers and one adult leader from Redeemer’s J2A (Journey 2 Adulthood) group came to the Mission to stay with us for a few days. The rest of the group is planning on coming in June, after we leave, but these two girls can’t make it then, and so here they came. It was our first time introducing people we knew to life on the Rez. It made us realize a lot more about what we have come to treat as normal, everyday life. The day before we got there, a man had stopped at our door asking for food. That, as I think I’ve mentioned, is a fairly common occurrence, and our usual response is to help out with what we can, or to send the person over to the Parish Hall, where there’s a food pantry and money for gas vouchers. The girls handled it fairly well, for its being their first day in a totally unfamiliar place. Judging by our conversation afterwards, it was one of those times where doing a little thing for someone else can have a big effect on the person giving. They were certainly a little uncomfortable (strangers knocking at your door asking for food is not a common experience in a Philadelphia suburb!) but that discomfort soon turned into the beginning of an awareness of what life is like out here.

Also joining us after we got back was Sara’s little sister Rachel. She was born here, actually, but doesn’t remember much from that time. It was fun to see some of the church ladies remember her. Mostly, these remembrances came in the form of “You were the little blonde one who would always run around the altar during church!” In the D’Angio family, there are Swedish and Italian genes – Sara got the Italian, and Rachel got the Swedish. Pauline (the lay pastor) saw the three of us together and immediately assumed that Rachel was my relative!

Anyway, for a few days, we hung out with our visitors and went on a few hikes in the area. While the J2Aers were off exploring on their own, Sara and I got to spend some quality time with Rachel. This mainly consisted of laying around the house, reading and catching up on wedding planning- everything a vacation is supposed to be!

Chunk 3: Pagosa!

On Wednesday and Thursday, we went with two of our square dancing friends to Pagosa Springs, Colorado, a natural hot springs resort. Sara and I had been there once before (in the fall) and Rachel was eager to find out what all the fuss was about. Let me tell you: happiness is a hot spring. The only minor drawback is that the springs flow through mineral deposits and the whole place smells strongly of sulfur. Well, you can look at that as a drawback, I suppose, or you can just chalk it up as adding to the hedonistic pleasure of it all. The only actual drawback was that in the middle of March, while there is still snow not one mile from where we sat, we had no thought whatsoever of sun protection. Apparently, being at over a mile above sea level can change all that. I have never been so sunburned in all my life. My nose was literally cracked and, at times, bleeding. It was an altogether unsightly scene. But at least we were at the hot springs. Because nothing makes a sunburn feel better than SUBMERGING IT IN 107 DEGREE WATER.

But would I do it all over again? Oh, Lordy yes.

Spring Break, Part 1

Greetings!

Well, it’s been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon, so to speak. Mostly, it’s been quiet in that busy, routine sort of way. I’ve felt settled in here for quite some time, so the school’s spring break the other week provided a welcome respite from the daily routine. Have you ever had that kind of break (or any stretch of time, really) that feels like it’s several chunks of time strung together? Each chunk is connected to the other in a sense, but they’re really discrete and feel far apart in your memory. Anyway, that’s how spring break was. So, here it is, broken down accordingly.

Chunk 1: Cats and Cortez, Colorado

Sara and I have been square dancing since September (remember that “Lollipop Guild” picture?), which is about the last thing you’d expect us to do, what with both of us being massively uncoordinated and all. But it’s a lot of fun, and any dancing awkwardness is quickly dispelled, because there’s someone at the front telling you what to do. Anyway, we went with a few of our friends to a festival in Cortez, Colorado for the first weekend of break. We had an absolute blast! Everything we’ve been learning really came together, and we learned a few “flourishes” to add on to different moves.

The only downside was that we had to miss the first (Friday) night, which we’d been planning on going to, because we had to rush our cat to the vet. Before you start calling us completely soft (an accusation which is reasonably justified), let me explain. I had been cleaning the house for most of the day Friday while Sara was at school [sidenote: when I came in to pick her up wearing my housecleaning apparel (two days without a shower, four days without a shave, dirty jeans and dirtier sweatshirt) one of her students took one look at me and said “Mr. White, you look like a bad person!”] I left the mop and bucket outside to dry, and a few hours later, Sara found the cat curled up next to the bucket, mewing piteously and in obvious pain.

Our immediate thought was that she had been poisoned by drinking Pine-Sol (actually, given our budget, it was something called “True Pine,” which costs about a dollar and packs the same piney wallop as its brand-name counterpart) so we called Animal Poison Control. Ordinarily, I would never have even suspected that the phrase “Animal Poison Control” would even enter my vocabulary, much less be seen as a viable option in any given situation, but here we are. In the end, after an emergency trip to the vet, it turned out that she had hurt herself (probably in a scuffle with one of the myriad stray dogs around) and was limping and mewing because of that. The remedy has been to force a thick, pink antibiotic substance down her throat twice a day. She’s recovering quite nicely and has resumed her busy schedule of naps and running from room to room for no reason whatsoever.