There are no stars in the Waiting Place. It's just endless darkness in every direction. Not a scary kind of darkness though. It's more of a mysterious kind of darkness. It's never bothered me at all, but man! I'd really like to see a star.
Julie says that stars are balls of fire, suspended in the air a very very long way away from where I sit. I never believe anything Julie says. She's a teacher. She teaches here and there and between journeys she stops to sit with me sometimes. She likes to tell me about things but I usually don't listen.
One day I asked my friend, Eric about stars. Eric's a smart cookie. He's been to places I can barely imagine. He used to sit with me for a few hours once or twice a week and tell me about all kinds of things. Eric is round and brown and has a large, warm smile. Eric says that stars are just the ashes from all the cigarettes God smoked that day. He says He puts his cigarettes out in the sky, then the ashes burn out by morning. I asked Eric where I could find stars. He said, "Wherever the sky is clear." I don't quite understand what that means. I look up all the time but I never see a thing.
One day Eric was sitting with me and he was telling me about a play he had seen in a place called London. He said the stage was outdoors and he could see the stars. Again, I asked him about stars. Eric said that sometimes the stars come together to form pictures and some people use those pictures to tell stories. I was completely amazed and painfully jealous. I didn't feel as if I'd ever see a star. Not from my bench.
"You've gotta get off this bench." Eric told me.
"But I have nowhere to go."
"Everyone has somewhere to go."
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"I'm going to get my degree." he said.
"Well, why are you traveling so much? Don't you have to just stay in one place for a while for a degree? Arn't you supposed to pick a school and stay there? Where are you always going?"
"Not all degrees are that easy to obtain." he said with a smile.
We sat in silence for a while, watching the waves of people passing by. I remembered my own journey to find a degree. It led me here. Suddenly I was struck with an idea.
"Hey Eric!" I said suddenly.
"Yes?"
"I have an idea. How about the next time you go somewhere amazing you bring me back a star?"
He looked at me amused.
"Please." I begged, "I'll never ask you for anything else ever again. Please? Just one star? Just a little one?"
He smiled at me and said, "Okay, I'll bring you back a star."
Eric left that day and I waited everyday for him to come back. For him to bring me a star. I trusted Eric to return. And one day he did. I saw him in the crowd from a distance and felt my heart jump. I stood on my bench and waved my arms frantically. to make sure he could see me. When he finally made his way to my bench he sat down beside me and started telling me about his latest adventure. I felt that it would've been rude to cut him off to ask for my star. So I let him continue his painfully long and dull story about his trip to Philadelphia. It would not have been a dull story at all had I not been anxiously waiting to see my star. Then my heart sunk. Had he forgotten?
Finally he finished his story and sat in contentment, watching the crowds of people passing by as I watched him. Then finally I cleared my throat and asked, "So, did you bring me a star?" He turned his head to look at me. He was giving me a smile that meant he was hiding something. I was practically bouncing in my seat. Then he reached his hand into his jeans pocket, leaned toward me and whispered, "I got you something better."
Better? My heart sunk again. I wanted a star. He pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me. It was a ticket. For me. My name was on it. "What's this?" I asked.
"It's your ticket." he answered.
"My ticket to what?"
"To stars." he replied smiling that big warm smile.
I had had a ticket once before. It just blew to me with a breeze. It landed right under my bench. My name was on it. I had held on to it for a few days. Then I had heard a ship belowing somewhere south. It was my ship. I could just tell. It was the ship my ticket was for. But I was too afraid to leave my bench. The ship sailed on without me and I let my ticket go, and it blew away with another breeze. That was the last ticket I've had, until this one.
"Where'd you get it from?" I asked.
"It blew to me on a breeze." he said. "I have to go." He stood up a smoothed out his sweater vest and fixed his collar.
"Where are you going?"
"I've got class."
"Where?"
"I don't know actually. But I've got a good feeling about this one."
"Eric.." I started as he turned to walk away.
"Don't waste this one." he said to me, "You're not meant to stay here."
He walked away. Through the crowd. Eventually I couldn't see him anymore. I sat on my bench clutching this mysterious ticket with both hands. I looked down at it. Eric had doodled something in the corner of the ticket with pencil. It was a star.
December 27, 2011
May 23, 2011
Thunder 1
I remember sitting in our Rehoboth beach house one evening watching the news on TV with Raven 4. There were stories of storms and mild flooding and we all watched attentively with hopeful eyes.
No one hopes for a disaster. That's just crazy. But here in AmeriCorps we hope for the opportunity to help when disaster strikes. Being called for disaster is one of, if not thee most exciting possibilities of the AmeriCorps experience. At least I always thought so. And since the day I was inducted into this program I prayed for the opportunity to serve on disaster. First, disaster has to strike. The staff has been telling us all year long that disasters have been rare since Hurricane Katrina (during which NCCC teams were 1 of the first groups to respond). A weekly disaster list is sent out every single week. Every TL picks their top two Corps Members & if your name happens to be at the top of the list on a week when disaster strikes you're eligible to be pulled from your team to join a composite team to go serve.
When 2nd round started this was the plan; Raven 4 was going to stay at the Point for two weeks, working at Iron Hill Park in Delaware. Then head to Boston for 6 weeks to work on the Mystic River. We were all pretty excited. Then we finished our first day at Iron Hill park and did not know how we were going to last two weeks. Little did we know that none of us would have to. After our 2nd day of work I went back to the Point to learn that I was selected to be part of a composite team that would be headed south to help out with tornado relief. It was a Tuesday. I was no longer Raven 4. I was from then on, Thunder 1.
We left Maryland on May 5th, spent the night in Tennessee, and arrived in Tuscaloosa, Alabama on the 6th. The Crimson Tide was rocked my tornadoes recently and we are here mainly to run a volunteer center. We also go out into the community and do assessments. We've also done cleanups and debris removal. Is being on disaster everything I thought it would be? Well, yeah. This is exactly what I joined this program to do. To directly help people and places that need it the most. It's nice getting to know different Corp Members and being on a new team, even though I miss Raven 4 like a big baby misses their blanky. It's awesome being in Alabama because I've never been here before. I'm experiencing the south for the first real time and it's pretty cool. But mostly, I'm glad to be sitting on the other end of the help hotline. I'm glad to be in the midst of the need, with my team, Getting Things Done.
No one hopes for a disaster. That's just crazy. But here in AmeriCorps we hope for the opportunity to help when disaster strikes. Being called for disaster is one of, if not thee most exciting possibilities of the AmeriCorps experience. At least I always thought so. And since the day I was inducted into this program I prayed for the opportunity to serve on disaster. First, disaster has to strike. The staff has been telling us all year long that disasters have been rare since Hurricane Katrina (during which NCCC teams were 1 of the first groups to respond). A weekly disaster list is sent out every single week. Every TL picks their top two Corps Members & if your name happens to be at the top of the list on a week when disaster strikes you're eligible to be pulled from your team to join a composite team to go serve.
When 2nd round started this was the plan; Raven 4 was going to stay at the Point for two weeks, working at Iron Hill Park in Delaware. Then head to Boston for 6 weeks to work on the Mystic River. We were all pretty excited. Then we finished our first day at Iron Hill park and did not know how we were going to last two weeks. Little did we know that none of us would have to. After our 2nd day of work I went back to the Point to learn that I was selected to be part of a composite team that would be headed south to help out with tornado relief. It was a Tuesday. I was no longer Raven 4. I was from then on, Thunder 1.
We left Maryland on May 5th, spent the night in Tennessee, and arrived in Tuscaloosa, Alabama on the 6th. The Crimson Tide was rocked my tornadoes recently and we are here mainly to run a volunteer center. We also go out into the community and do assessments. We've also done cleanups and debris removal. Is being on disaster everything I thought it would be? Well, yeah. This is exactly what I joined this program to do. To directly help people and places that need it the most. It's nice getting to know different Corp Members and being on a new team, even though I miss Raven 4 like a big baby misses their blanky. It's awesome being in Alabama because I've never been here before. I'm experiencing the south for the first real time and it's pretty cool. But mostly, I'm glad to be sitting on the other end of the help hotline. I'm glad to be in the midst of the need, with my team, Getting Things Done.
May 1, 2011
Stop Drop Kaboom!
'Transition' is the brief week between rounds when teams give their debrief presentations to the staff, summing up all they've gotten done during the last round. Also a briefing presentation of the same nature, explaining everything that will get done in the upcoming round. Everyone has meetings on top of meetings. It's a busy week and on top of everything there is to do, we have to squeeze in time for each other. We haven't seen each other in 6 weeks.
Raven 4 returned to the Point early in the afternoon on the Friday our first round ended. We were all so eager to get back to base we didn't give the farm a second glance when we drove off in our 15P. As the evening neared more and more teams arrived, Ravens flocking in from up and down the coast. Buffalo and Moose too. I waited impatiently for Raven 7 to get in from Vermont. I missed my roommate, Ariel and my friend, Zac more than anyone else. And once they arrived I felt every antsy nerve in my body calm. And so our spring break weekend and transition week began.
I've started calling the Point 'home'. It feels more like a home than anywhere else I've been in years. Even home itself. When we all left for first round in early March the Point was bare. Arriving that Friday we saw that it had come alive during our absence. The grass had grown greener. The trees were dressed in beautiful hues of white and pink. And flower petals rained down from every direction. Home.
Late night walks by the water, adventures through Perryville and trips to the Box Car ice cream shop were cut short when we received the news on Monday that the fire team was being called out early. Instead of deploying on Saturday, they were shipping out on Thursday. That meant Zac. And Raven 4's own Logan. They were busier than ever over the next few days preparing to leave. That meant late nights were our only means of spending time. Early Thursday morning, after a shorter than usual PT session, a bunch of us stood in the street and waved goodbye as Phoenix 2 drove off, southbound to begin their great adventure.
The rest of the week passed by in a blur. Deployment day was scheduled for Saturday. Raven 4 is spending the first 2 weeks of this round here at the Point. We'll be commuting to Newark, Delaware everyday to work at Iron Hill Park. So Raven 4, along with 2 other teams who will also be staying at the Point for a while piled into our vans on Saturday and headed to Washington DC for the day to build a playground. We left very early, while the rest of the campus was still asleep. I appreciated this. We were one of the last teams to leave for round one too and the abandonment of having to say goodbye while all the other teams deploy is nothing less than depressing. I was happy to not be around for the departure period.
In DC, at the school where we would be building, we met the girl in charge. The organization is called Kaboom. They do blitz playground builds all around the country. Her name was Danielle and to our delight she was an AmeriCorps NCCC alumni. She wasn't an Atlantic Region alum, but still, she's part of the NCCC family. In the area where we had breakfast there were dozens of pictures covering the walls and windows. Kids had drawn them and each one was labeled, "My Dream Playground..." and each one was a doodle of their perfect playground. There were swirly sliding boards and colorful play stations. We were easily reminded not only of why we were in DC for the day but why we're in AmeriCorps. For little kids who have no playgrounds to play in. For our country.
In a matter of 7 hours we built an entire playground. It wasn't a miracle, it was AmeriCorps. Dozens of kids watched from a fenced in yard, pointing and excited. Disappointed in the end to learn that they would have to wait 3 days for the cement to harden around the equipment to play in their new playground. But it was amazing to see a difference so substantial happen in only a few hours. That's what this year is about, making a difference. And once I saw that playground, bright and erected, it was hard to be bitter at the thought of everyone leaving. Even Phoenix 2. Because they're off making substantial differences as well. We are a force. Like a storm. Oh how amazing it would be to capture a storm in a jar, to have lightening and thunder right in the palm of your hand, to enjoy at any moment. But what good would a storm do in a jar? So, with reluctance I text a goodbye to my friends.
Second round is 8 weeks long. My team has grown into a family. I've grown in ways I can't yet sum up. And believe it or not we're not even half way there yet. As this AmeriCorps adventure of mine continues all I have to say is it's already been more than I imagined. Round two can only hold good things.
Raven 4 returned to the Point early in the afternoon on the Friday our first round ended. We were all so eager to get back to base we didn't give the farm a second glance when we drove off in our 15P. As the evening neared more and more teams arrived, Ravens flocking in from up and down the coast. Buffalo and Moose too. I waited impatiently for Raven 7 to get in from Vermont. I missed my roommate, Ariel and my friend, Zac more than anyone else. And once they arrived I felt every antsy nerve in my body calm. And so our spring break weekend and transition week began.
I've started calling the Point 'home'. It feels more like a home than anywhere else I've been in years. Even home itself. When we all left for first round in early March the Point was bare. Arriving that Friday we saw that it had come alive during our absence. The grass had grown greener. The trees were dressed in beautiful hues of white and pink. And flower petals rained down from every direction. Home.
Late night walks by the water, adventures through Perryville and trips to the Box Car ice cream shop were cut short when we received the news on Monday that the fire team was being called out early. Instead of deploying on Saturday, they were shipping out on Thursday. That meant Zac. And Raven 4's own Logan. They were busier than ever over the next few days preparing to leave. That meant late nights were our only means of spending time. Early Thursday morning, after a shorter than usual PT session, a bunch of us stood in the street and waved goodbye as Phoenix 2 drove off, southbound to begin their great adventure.
The rest of the week passed by in a blur. Deployment day was scheduled for Saturday. Raven 4 is spending the first 2 weeks of this round here at the Point. We'll be commuting to Newark, Delaware everyday to work at Iron Hill Park. So Raven 4, along with 2 other teams who will also be staying at the Point for a while piled into our vans on Saturday and headed to Washington DC for the day to build a playground. We left very early, while the rest of the campus was still asleep. I appreciated this. We were one of the last teams to leave for round one too and the abandonment of having to say goodbye while all the other teams deploy is nothing less than depressing. I was happy to not be around for the departure period.
In DC, at the school where we would be building, we met the girl in charge. The organization is called Kaboom. They do blitz playground builds all around the country. Her name was Danielle and to our delight she was an AmeriCorps NCCC alumni. She wasn't an Atlantic Region alum, but still, she's part of the NCCC family. In the area where we had breakfast there were dozens of pictures covering the walls and windows. Kids had drawn them and each one was labeled, "My Dream Playground..." and each one was a doodle of their perfect playground. There were swirly sliding boards and colorful play stations. We were easily reminded not only of why we were in DC for the day but why we're in AmeriCorps. For little kids who have no playgrounds to play in. For our country.
In a matter of 7 hours we built an entire playground. It wasn't a miracle, it was AmeriCorps. Dozens of kids watched from a fenced in yard, pointing and excited. Disappointed in the end to learn that they would have to wait 3 days for the cement to harden around the equipment to play in their new playground. But it was amazing to see a difference so substantial happen in only a few hours. That's what this year is about, making a difference. And once I saw that playground, bright and erected, it was hard to be bitter at the thought of everyone leaving. Even Phoenix 2. Because they're off making substantial differences as well. We are a force. Like a storm. Oh how amazing it would be to capture a storm in a jar, to have lightening and thunder right in the palm of your hand, to enjoy at any moment. But what good would a storm do in a jar? So, with reluctance I text a goodbye to my friends.
Second round is 8 weeks long. My team has grown into a family. I've grown in ways I can't yet sum up. And believe it or not we're not even half way there yet. As this AmeriCorps adventure of mine continues all I have to say is it's already been more than I imagined. Round two can only hold good things.
April 18, 2011
L'chaim
Have you ever tasted asparagus straight from the ground? It's good. Ian picked both Hannah and I nice strong stalks of asparagus this morning. Ian is an earthy man. Over the last five weeks he's done this almost everyday. We'll be walking or talking and he'll just reach down and pluck something from the ground and tell me to taste it. He's given me earth fresh carrots, radishes, lettuce, arugula and numerous leaves of various varieties. Every time I pause as I did this morning with the asparagus, with the belief that everything I consume should be cleaned and processed. Then Ian bites in and I feel that it's okay to do the same. Every time I'm impressed by how delicious everything is. Straight from the ground.
At the end of every spike we have to put together a portfolio and a debrief presentation. The debrief presentation is a power point that we present as a team (in formal attire) to our region director and staff, summarizing our accomplishments over the last 6 weeks. The porfolio is a book we put together with the same purpose, but less formal and more personal. The portfolios are archived in this one room on campus with every porfolio from every project from every team in every class ever. They're more of a resource for future classes, kind of a legacy or a footprint.
Last week our next round project was finally revealed to us via Amelia's usual clues and scavenger hunt. That means the end is officailly here. This past weekend we compiled our power point presentation and wrote up the main components of our portfolio. That meant looking back on the last five weeks and reflecting. My reflection is as follows;
At some point this round our team started hooting to each other as a means of communication. One hoot means, “Hey, what’s up?” Two hoots mean, “I need help, come quick!” And three hoots mean that dinner is ready. One day Adeliah and I were on the farm feeding the chickens and somehow those feathered fiends pulled a Houdini and set themselves free. After more than half an hour of chasing 9 chickens around the farm, we only caught 5. With 4 chickens left running around we were zapped of all energy. I ran to the top of a hill and double-hooted at the top of my lungs. This was the first time anyone attempted to use the emergency hoot. I knew it wouldn’t work. It was cold and raining and Adeliah and I stared around at the remaining chickens, ready to accept defeat when BEHOLD! Not even ten minutes later and here comes all of Raven 4 headed our way. It was the middle of the work day and they all stopped whatever they were doing because they heard my hoot. Once the entire team was there running around together, laughing and strategizing it wasn’t so cold anymore. We caught those chickens that day. And the emergency hoot has not been needed since. Of all the fine things I’ve learned while on Kayam Farm my favorite lessons would have to include the Hebrew lessons. Also, I learned that we can live harmoniously with bugs. I learned that comfort is a state of mind. I learned to inoculate mushrooms. I learned how much different cultures have in common. I learned to plant and harvest. But the most meaningful lesson I’ve learned this round is if I hoot, my team will always be there.
Living and working on Kayam farm has been a golden experience. I dealt with sleeping in freezing weather, and I survived. I don't scream too loudly when I see a spider now. And I know how amazing things taste straight from the ground. I turned 23. I've begun learning how to cook. I discovered muscles that I didn't know I had. All the while we've transmformed this farm into a beautiful and productive establishment. At the same time I can feel myself transforming into something beautiful and productive as well.
Tonight we are holding our own seder in honor of our Jewish sponsors. Our theme was 'freedom', which is what Passover is all about after all. I have to admit, being here is the most free I've felt in my entire life. We won't be here to see the fruits of our labor but we know that the ripples of all we've done will spread wide. We each brought an item for the seder plate. I brought the robin's egg I found the other day. For me, that egg represents discovery. As we finish out our last week here at Kayam Farm I'm realizing exactly how free I am. And I'm very thankful for that freedom.
At the end of every spike we have to put together a portfolio and a debrief presentation. The debrief presentation is a power point that we present as a team (in formal attire) to our region director and staff, summarizing our accomplishments over the last 6 weeks. The porfolio is a book we put together with the same purpose, but less formal and more personal. The portfolios are archived in this one room on campus with every porfolio from every project from every team in every class ever. They're more of a resource for future classes, kind of a legacy or a footprint.
Last week our next round project was finally revealed to us via Amelia's usual clues and scavenger hunt. That means the end is officailly here. This past weekend we compiled our power point presentation and wrote up the main components of our portfolio. That meant looking back on the last five weeks and reflecting. My reflection is as follows;
At some point this round our team started hooting to each other as a means of communication. One hoot means, “Hey, what’s up?” Two hoots mean, “I need help, come quick!” And three hoots mean that dinner is ready. One day Adeliah and I were on the farm feeding the chickens and somehow those feathered fiends pulled a Houdini and set themselves free. After more than half an hour of chasing 9 chickens around the farm, we only caught 5. With 4 chickens left running around we were zapped of all energy. I ran to the top of a hill and double-hooted at the top of my lungs. This was the first time anyone attempted to use the emergency hoot. I knew it wouldn’t work. It was cold and raining and Adeliah and I stared around at the remaining chickens, ready to accept defeat when BEHOLD! Not even ten minutes later and here comes all of Raven 4 headed our way. It was the middle of the work day and they all stopped whatever they were doing because they heard my hoot. Once the entire team was there running around together, laughing and strategizing it wasn’t so cold anymore. We caught those chickens that day. And the emergency hoot has not been needed since. Of all the fine things I’ve learned while on Kayam Farm my favorite lessons would have to include the Hebrew lessons. Also, I learned that we can live harmoniously with bugs. I learned that comfort is a state of mind. I learned to inoculate mushrooms. I learned how much different cultures have in common. I learned to plant and harvest. But the most meaningful lesson I’ve learned this round is if I hoot, my team will always be there.
Living and working on Kayam farm has been a golden experience. I dealt with sleeping in freezing weather, and I survived. I don't scream too loudly when I see a spider now. And I know how amazing things taste straight from the ground. I turned 23. I've begun learning how to cook. I discovered muscles that I didn't know I had. All the while we've transmformed this farm into a beautiful and productive establishment. At the same time I can feel myself transforming into something beautiful and productive as well.
Tonight we are holding our own seder in honor of our Jewish sponsors. Our theme was 'freedom', which is what Passover is all about after all. I have to admit, being here is the most free I've felt in my entire life. We won't be here to see the fruits of our labor but we know that the ripples of all we've done will spread wide. We each brought an item for the seder plate. I brought the robin's egg I found the other day. For me, that egg represents discovery. As we finish out our last week here at Kayam Farm I'm realizing exactly how free I am. And I'm very thankful for that freedom.
April 3, 2011
Cold Nights
The sound of Morgan breathing, Daniel’s fingers on his keyboard, and the soft hum of the refrigerator must be the most soothing combination on Earth. We’re two inches from midnight and we should all be in bed but this is rare, the room being this quiet. We’re all sitting silently, absorbed in whatever is happening on our individual computer screens. Daniel, Adeliah, Morgan and I. Everyone else has gone to bed.
We don’t look forward to bedtime. I put on almost all of the layers in my tiny wardrobe, including a black sweatshirt I bought from the dollar store as well as my hoodie, neck guard and gloves. I usually put my sleeping bag in the dryer before going to bed, so that when I lay down in it it’s nice and warm. I wrap up in one fleece blanket inside my sleeping bag and then I throw another one over me, outside of my sleeping bag. I only go to bed when I’m exhausted enough to fall asleep right away. But every night, like clockwork, I wake up around 2 or 3 AM. The bitter cold creeps inside my sleeping bag and I feel it in my toes, though I’m wearing two pairs of socks. I feel it in my legs, though I’m wearing two pairs of sweatpants. I feel it all over. Cold. The kind of cold that makes you feel wet. I try hard not to squirm because Adeliah, on the bottom bunk can feel the bed shake every time I move. All the other girls are probably awake too. None of us are used to sleeping in such cold temperatures. But we all just lay there in the dark, hopelessly desperate for a little unconsciousness. But it’s cold. Freezing cold. And you can hear every little breeze blowing outside the tent. Can you feel it too or is that your imagination? Eventually the sun will come up and I’ll rush off to take a hot shower to get my blood flowing. But for now, while the weather is cold, the nights here on Kayam Farm are long and unpleasant. We don’t look forward to going to bed. Until I’m exhausted enough, I’ll sit right here and listen to the soft hum of the refrigerator, Daniel’s fingers on his keyboard and Morgan breathing. It’s soothing.
March 9, 2011
Wednesday Morning Mile
This morning, like all mornings mine and Ariel's alarms went off in unison. We both pushed the snooze buttons in unison. Then ten minutes later they both went off again. And we both pushed snooze again. Then again, our alarms went off at the exact same time. Then for the third time we pushed our snooze buttons simultaneously. Then our alarms went off again, like twins. Finally, Kelsey got up across the room. Life in the room made us stir. When we realized we had only ten minutes until we were to be in the gym, we jumped up.
From the gym we drove down to the other side of campus where we were going to start a 1.5 mile run. It was 6am. A small group of friends and I have become infamous for staying up super late. But last night we respectfully retired a little past midnight. As I stood in the cool morning air, staring at the sky which looked like a grapefruit that God just sliced open, I regretted not going to bed earlier.
There were about 160 of us. The entire Raven unit and all of the Moose. Dernard laid out the ground rules. And then we were off.
What does running mean to me? Running means leaving my barriers behind. All of the physical frustration and negative thoughts that cross your mind during a long run... When you run through that you realize that there's nothing in the world you can't do. I ran and ran and ran. I told my teammates last night at dinner that my goal for our run was 13 minutes. About halfway through I knew I wasn't going to make it. But I ran and ran and ran. The Chesepeake Bay to my left and my fellow Ravens and Moose at my right. I ran and ran and ran.
When I saw the small crowd in the distance and the group of TL's I felt like an old version of myself. The one who used to run cross country races. I broke into a sprint. I passed several runners and saw two TL's, Julian and Leann cheering my burst of speed. The best feeling in the world though, was the faces at the finish line. Not my friends, or even my fellow Ravens, but my teammates. My guys. There was Jake, Owen and Daniel. I heard them shouting my name and saw their hands held high preparing for high-fives. I felt like I was in high school again. That immense sense of support and love, like you're unstoppable, when your team is there waiting for you at the finish line. I passed the stop mark as Dernard shouted my time; 10:43.
Running means breaking my barriers. I can do anything.
From the gym we drove down to the other side of campus where we were going to start a 1.5 mile run. It was 6am. A small group of friends and I have become infamous for staying up super late. But last night we respectfully retired a little past midnight. As I stood in the cool morning air, staring at the sky which looked like a grapefruit that God just sliced open, I regretted not going to bed earlier.
There were about 160 of us. The entire Raven unit and all of the Moose. Dernard laid out the ground rules. And then we were off.
What does running mean to me? Running means leaving my barriers behind. All of the physical frustration and negative thoughts that cross your mind during a long run... When you run through that you realize that there's nothing in the world you can't do. I ran and ran and ran. I told my teammates last night at dinner that my goal for our run was 13 minutes. About halfway through I knew I wasn't going to make it. But I ran and ran and ran. The Chesepeake Bay to my left and my fellow Ravens and Moose at my right. I ran and ran and ran.
When I saw the small crowd in the distance and the group of TL's I felt like an old version of myself. The one who used to run cross country races. I broke into a sprint. I passed several runners and saw two TL's, Julian and Leann cheering my burst of speed. The best feeling in the world though, was the faces at the finish line. Not my friends, or even my fellow Ravens, but my teammates. My guys. There was Jake, Owen and Daniel. I heard them shouting my name and saw their hands held high preparing for high-fives. I felt like I was in high school again. That immense sense of support and love, like you're unstoppable, when your team is there waiting for you at the finish line. I passed the stop mark as Dernard shouted my time; 10:43.
Running means breaking my barriers. I can do anything.
February 26, 2011
The AmeriLife
Welcome to life at The Point. We are the Atlantic Region, one of the five NCCC campuses in the country. We are Class XVII. There are 245 of us, from all over the country. From as far away as the US Virgin Islands and Hawaii. We are split into three units, Raven, Moose and Buffalo. There are about 80 people in each unit. When I was first led to my room my first day on campus I was so happy to see the raven on my door. It was the unit I was wishing for. Moose live in “The Village” which is a community of small houses down the road. Raven and Buffalo live in the dorms, Buffalo on the first floor and Ravens on the second. Each unit is broken into seven teams of about 9 to 11 people on each.
Every Corps Member when arriving on campus looks forward to four aspects of the AmeriLife more than anything else. One; receiving our teams. Two; Induction. Three; Spikes. And four; Graduation. Of course there is much more to look forward to but these four things are kind of like the lifeline of the AmerCorps experience. Receiving your team and induction is like a birth. Spikes are the life. And Graduation, well, obviously.
On our second day at The Point we received our Pods, which are temporary teams until final teams are picked. I was in Raven 1 and I had the best Pod imaginable. We were like a family. And our fearless leader, KJ was hilarious. In our group there was never a dull moment.
Since we arrived on February 7th we’ve gone through medical screenings and have been in CTI (Corps Training Institute) which is just what it sounds like; training. We train everyday, Monday through Friday, from 8am until 4pm. We are trained in anything and everything; disaster relief, shelter simulation, diversity, CPR, tool safety and so much more. I may need a binder for all the certifications when we’re done. Most trainings are here on campus but some days we travel elsewhere. CTI lasts for five weeks. It’s more exhausting than it sounds.
After our first week on campus, after everyone who wanted to try out for the fire fighting team did so and the fire fighting team (The Phoenixes) was selected, we received our teams. It was a big deal. We drove into a parking lot with KJ, in our van, with the 20 other vans parked around us. It was a long, dramatic process revealing teams. But when we drove away we were in different vans with different people and different Team Leaders. Amelia is my new TL. We are Raven 4. I still go to KJ first with anything though. Amelia and I are still feeling each other out. It took me a few days to warm up to my team. They aren’t as close and fun as my Pod but they’re not bad. Even if they were, I’d have to get used to them anyway. In NCCC, your team is your family. You eat with them, live with them, work with them and travel with them. I still see my Pod around and we still claim each other. You have this bond with your Pod that I was happy to learn doesn’t go away after Pod week.
My team shares a kitchen unit with Raven 5. Last week we failed our inspection. We both blamed each other. This week, Ravens 2 and 3 were free from cleaning duties as my team and Raven 5 had to do their share as punishment. Worse fates await for people who fail their room inspections.
Physical training is three times a week. Twice in the morning before the sun rises, with Dernard. And once in the evening. The evening PT is usually easier than the AM PT’s because they’re just with the team. Morning PT’s with Dernard are done with entire units. Dernard is an ex-military man so our PT sessions are definitely military styled. Phoenixes have PT five times a week.
I don’t know who was sick first, but it spread like wildfire. Inevitable when you have 245 young people living together. I caught it from Emily. Then all my other roommates caught it. I remember warning Zac before he sat so close to me. His response, “I don’t care, if I get sick I’ll just be sick.” He said that thinking he had Superman’s immune system. He’s sick now. KJ caught it from all of us. Like a flood, this one cold covered the entire class.
March 10th is when CTI officially ends. We are inducted on March 11th at a big ceremony off campus. Then, without wasting any time at all, we leave for our first Spike on March 12th.
Last night my teammate, Owen made another amazing dinner; fish, salad and mashed potatoes from scratch. Afterwards we all sat at the table in conversation, laughing and talking. At one point we all grew quiet. The other Raven teams were dining noisily around us and we just sat there taking it all in. This new life we’ve all embraced. I looked to the end of the table at Morgan, who was draining the pitcher of orange juice. He had caught my cold and was craving orange juice all week long and we finally got him some. He put his glass down with a heavy sigh, then looked around at us and smiled.
“Life is good.” he said slowly.
“I agree.” I smiled, holding up my water bottle in a toast. Up and down the table my team agreed, as we toasted to the AmeriLife.
Every Corps Member when arriving on campus looks forward to four aspects of the AmeriLife more than anything else. One; receiving our teams. Two; Induction. Three; Spikes. And four; Graduation. Of course there is much more to look forward to but these four things are kind of like the lifeline of the AmerCorps experience. Receiving your team and induction is like a birth. Spikes are the life. And Graduation, well, obviously.
On our second day at The Point we received our Pods, which are temporary teams until final teams are picked. I was in Raven 1 and I had the best Pod imaginable. We were like a family. And our fearless leader, KJ was hilarious. In our group there was never a dull moment.
Since we arrived on February 7th we’ve gone through medical screenings and have been in CTI (Corps Training Institute) which is just what it sounds like; training. We train everyday, Monday through Friday, from 8am until 4pm. We are trained in anything and everything; disaster relief, shelter simulation, diversity, CPR, tool safety and so much more. I may need a binder for all the certifications when we’re done. Most trainings are here on campus but some days we travel elsewhere. CTI lasts for five weeks. It’s more exhausting than it sounds.
After our first week on campus, after everyone who wanted to try out for the fire fighting team did so and the fire fighting team (The Phoenixes) was selected, we received our teams. It was a big deal. We drove into a parking lot with KJ, in our van, with the 20 other vans parked around us. It was a long, dramatic process revealing teams. But when we drove away we were in different vans with different people and different Team Leaders. Amelia is my new TL. We are Raven 4. I still go to KJ first with anything though. Amelia and I are still feeling each other out. It took me a few days to warm up to my team. They aren’t as close and fun as my Pod but they’re not bad. Even if they were, I’d have to get used to them anyway. In NCCC, your team is your family. You eat with them, live with them, work with them and travel with them. I still see my Pod around and we still claim each other. You have this bond with your Pod that I was happy to learn doesn’t go away after Pod week.
My team shares a kitchen unit with Raven 5. Last week we failed our inspection. We both blamed each other. This week, Ravens 2 and 3 were free from cleaning duties as my team and Raven 5 had to do their share as punishment. Worse fates await for people who fail their room inspections.
Physical training is three times a week. Twice in the morning before the sun rises, with Dernard. And once in the evening. The evening PT is usually easier than the AM PT’s because they’re just with the team. Morning PT’s with Dernard are done with entire units. Dernard is an ex-military man so our PT sessions are definitely military styled. Phoenixes have PT five times a week.
I don’t know who was sick first, but it spread like wildfire. Inevitable when you have 245 young people living together. I caught it from Emily. Then all my other roommates caught it. I remember warning Zac before he sat so close to me. His response, “I don’t care, if I get sick I’ll just be sick.” He said that thinking he had Superman’s immune system. He’s sick now. KJ caught it from all of us. Like a flood, this one cold covered the entire class.
March 10th is when CTI officially ends. We are inducted on March 11th at a big ceremony off campus. Then, without wasting any time at all, we leave for our first Spike on March 12th.
Last night my teammate, Owen made another amazing dinner; fish, salad and mashed potatoes from scratch. Afterwards we all sat at the table in conversation, laughing and talking. At one point we all grew quiet. The other Raven teams were dining noisily around us and we just sat there taking it all in. This new life we’ve all embraced. I looked to the end of the table at Morgan, who was draining the pitcher of orange juice. He had caught my cold and was craving orange juice all week long and we finally got him some. He put his glass down with a heavy sigh, then looked around at us and smiled.
“Life is good.” he said slowly.
“I agree.” I smiled, holding up my water bottle in a toast. Up and down the table my team agreed, as we toasted to the AmeriLife.
February 10, 2011
The Point
The misunderstandings between my mother and I run deep. Deep and wide and far. Like the Nile. We have a Nile of misunderstanding between us. I stand on one shore and she another. We can’t see each other, we shout but can’t hear each other. I think that’s common amongst mothers and daughters. The people in the train station couldn’t see the Nile as we sat near each other, my luggage in between us. But it was there, invisible, deep and wide. She doesn’t understand why I have to leave. It’s a combination of being the baby, wanting me near forever and also never having left home herself, so not really understanding why anyone would ever want to go anywhere different. She doesn’t get it and she never will. Regardless, there she sat with me, without me having to ask, waiting for my train to come and take me away. Even as she walked me to the escalators where I’d disappear and she kissed me on my cheek and said goodbye, I know she was wondering, “What’s the point? Why leave at all?” Trying with amazing effort to understand but failing.
My train pulled in like a snake with the speed of a bullet. I don’t think I’ve ever traveled by train before. At least not a train above ground. I had one large suitcase, a duffle bag, a backpack and a pillow. I was ready. For what, I don’t know, but I was ready. I could almost feel my nerves bubbling underneath my skin, but I was ready. I wasn’t even sad as I watched the Philadelphia skyline disappear behind me. I leaned my pillow against the window and tried to relax. I fell asleep as we passed through Delaware. About an hour and a half later we reached BWI in Baltimore and I felt my nerves wake up again. I got off on an outdoor platform, completely lost. I followed the nice gentleman that was sitting across from me on the train to the main entrance of the station. It was a cool, cloudy day. I could see my breath when I exhaled. I saw a young guy with red hair & a matching mustache pacing back and forth nearby. He was wearing Khakis and a long-sleeved green t-shirt. I approached him and smiled.
“Hi.” I said.
“Hi,” he responded, stretching out a hand, “I’m Griffith. And you’re…”
“Aja.”
“Nice to meet you. Right this way.”
He showed me to a van, where he loaded my things inside. Then we took off through the streets and highways of Baltimore. There was small talk. Mostly I just took in the sights and listened to John Legend coming through the speakers. When I heard his velvety voice singing “Wake Up Everybody” I felt as though I was right where I was supposed to be.
“You ever been to Maryland?” Griff asked.
“Well,” I explained, “I came to DC a few years ago for a protest march with my ex at the capitol, but I’ve never really…”
“Seen Maryland.” he finished for me.
“Yeah.”
We drove and drove until we weren’t in Baltimore anymore. Eventually we passed into a small town known as ‘Perryville’, with a cute little elementary school, sheriff’s office, town hall and everything.
“So, where are you hoping to go this year? Anywhere in particular?” Griff asked after a long spell of silence.
“Anywhere I’ve never been is fine with me.”
“I hear ya.” he laughed.
After about forty minutes we crossed a large bridge, onto a quaint road leading to what looked like a small village. We passed an old sign that read, ‘Perry Point’. The Chesapeake Bay was shining brilliantly nearby, while swarms of geese covered the snowy ground.
“This,” Griff explained, “is The Point.”
After a few minutes we pulled up outside of a building and Griff unloaded my luggage. A nearby group of people, also in green shirts and khakis waved & yelled, “Welcome to The Point!” Griff lead me inside a gymnasium and leaned my things against a wall. Then he left. I spent at least an hour in that gym filling out paperwork. Eventually I stopped reading things and just signed wherever it was asking me to. I may have signed my life away, I wouldn’t know. I was fitted for clothes. I had my picture taken for an ID card. Then I received my room key and a nice young guy named Brandon offered to show me to my room and carry my things. When I unlocked the door to my room I saw that I was the first of four to arrive. Brandon sat my things down by the bed I picked and I went to peek out of one of the windows. I could see the geese flooding the lawns down by the water, and the waves of the river moving peacefully, and the tiny boats docked faraway on the opposite shore. Brandon moved behind me. I had forgotten he was there.
“Where can I go running around here?” I asked.
“I run down by the water. It’s nice down there. I can show you around if you want.”
“Okay.” I said.
Brandon took me on a tour of the dorm building first, before heading out onto the campus. There were 240 of us coming in. From as far away as Hawaii and the US Virgin Islands. I think in the last 24 hours I’ve met people from at least 19 different states. I’m reminded of how diverse America is. We are the only country in the world with individual states. And our states are like small countries of their own. And as I meet all of these people I hear different accents. I hear different stories. I’m hearing about things I’ve never heard of. And it reminds me of how big the world is. I’m not sure if my mom could ever really understand my need to be elsewhere. To meet people from far corners of the country. To do something worth while. She could probably never understand how amazingly peaceful it feels to stand on the bank of the Chesapeake Bay in winter time as the sun sets. This is where a journey begins. This is my new home away from home. This, as the inhabitants affectionately call it, is The Point.
My train pulled in like a snake with the speed of a bullet. I don’t think I’ve ever traveled by train before. At least not a train above ground. I had one large suitcase, a duffle bag, a backpack and a pillow. I was ready. For what, I don’t know, but I was ready. I could almost feel my nerves bubbling underneath my skin, but I was ready. I wasn’t even sad as I watched the Philadelphia skyline disappear behind me. I leaned my pillow against the window and tried to relax. I fell asleep as we passed through Delaware. About an hour and a half later we reached BWI in Baltimore and I felt my nerves wake up again. I got off on an outdoor platform, completely lost. I followed the nice gentleman that was sitting across from me on the train to the main entrance of the station. It was a cool, cloudy day. I could see my breath when I exhaled. I saw a young guy with red hair & a matching mustache pacing back and forth nearby. He was wearing Khakis and a long-sleeved green t-shirt. I approached him and smiled.
“Hi.” I said.
“Hi,” he responded, stretching out a hand, “I’m Griffith. And you’re…”
“Aja.”
“Nice to meet you. Right this way.”
He showed me to a van, where he loaded my things inside. Then we took off through the streets and highways of Baltimore. There was small talk. Mostly I just took in the sights and listened to John Legend coming through the speakers. When I heard his velvety voice singing “Wake Up Everybody” I felt as though I was right where I was supposed to be.
“You ever been to Maryland?” Griff asked.
“Well,” I explained, “I came to DC a few years ago for a protest march with my ex at the capitol, but I’ve never really…”
“Seen Maryland.” he finished for me.
“Yeah.”
We drove and drove until we weren’t in Baltimore anymore. Eventually we passed into a small town known as ‘Perryville’, with a cute little elementary school, sheriff’s office, town hall and everything.
“So, where are you hoping to go this year? Anywhere in particular?” Griff asked after a long spell of silence.
“Anywhere I’ve never been is fine with me.”
“I hear ya.” he laughed.
After about forty minutes we crossed a large bridge, onto a quaint road leading to what looked like a small village. We passed an old sign that read, ‘Perry Point’. The Chesapeake Bay was shining brilliantly nearby, while swarms of geese covered the snowy ground.
“This,” Griff explained, “is The Point.”
After a few minutes we pulled up outside of a building and Griff unloaded my luggage. A nearby group of people, also in green shirts and khakis waved & yelled, “Welcome to The Point!” Griff lead me inside a gymnasium and leaned my things against a wall. Then he left. I spent at least an hour in that gym filling out paperwork. Eventually I stopped reading things and just signed wherever it was asking me to. I may have signed my life away, I wouldn’t know. I was fitted for clothes. I had my picture taken for an ID card. Then I received my room key and a nice young guy named Brandon offered to show me to my room and carry my things. When I unlocked the door to my room I saw that I was the first of four to arrive. Brandon sat my things down by the bed I picked and I went to peek out of one of the windows. I could see the geese flooding the lawns down by the water, and the waves of the river moving peacefully, and the tiny boats docked faraway on the opposite shore. Brandon moved behind me. I had forgotten he was there.
“Where can I go running around here?” I asked.
“I run down by the water. It’s nice down there. I can show you around if you want.”
“Okay.” I said.
Brandon took me on a tour of the dorm building first, before heading out onto the campus. There were 240 of us coming in. From as far away as Hawaii and the US Virgin Islands. I think in the last 24 hours I’ve met people from at least 19 different states. I’m reminded of how diverse America is. We are the only country in the world with individual states. And our states are like small countries of their own. And as I meet all of these people I hear different accents. I hear different stories. I’m hearing about things I’ve never heard of. And it reminds me of how big the world is. I’m not sure if my mom could ever really understand my need to be elsewhere. To meet people from far corners of the country. To do something worth while. She could probably never understand how amazingly peaceful it feels to stand on the bank of the Chesapeake Bay in winter time as the sun sets. This is where a journey begins. This is my new home away from home. This, as the inhabitants affectionately call it, is The Point.
January 31, 2011
A Penny Tossed, A Penny Earned
In June 2010 I started working in a part of Philly known as Olde City. (or Old City, but I like that old-school irrelevant E. It‘s classy.) It’s the historical part of the city. It’s kind of a museum in and of itself. Olde City has become my playground these last few months, not only do I work there but I would have lunch between shifts there. I went on fancy dates down there. I even took to partying in Olde City bars. During the day it’s swarmed with tourist but in the evening and at night Olde City is very beautiful and chic.
There is one particular spot in Olde City that I would visit at least once a week. Ben Franklin’s grave. I found it last July. I was walking from my usual Starbucks at 3rd & Arch Streets to the African American Museum where there was a Phillies Phanatic statue (there were 20 Phanatic statues all around the city that summer & I vowed to find them all. I got 14). As I walked straight down Arch Street towards the museum I passed a gate where tourist were gathered. I didn’t think much of it because tourists gather all over Olde City because there’s something historical with every half step you take. But then, a jeep stopped at the red light in the street and a man jumped out hastily. He ran right in front of me, tossed some pennies through the gate and darted back to his jeep as the light turned green. He was not a tourist. I moved closer to the gate and noticed the final resting place of Ben Franklin; a large marble slate on the ground. There were pennies covering it, some silver change as well. Like most native Philadelphians, I had never seen any of this historical stuff that draws tourists to Olde City. Honestly, I didn’t even know Franklin was buried here.
But what’s up with the pennies?
Well, I’ve been told several things. The most common answer I received is simply, it’s for good luck. I also heard that all the change is collected daily and donated to a local church. Another theory taught me that it was Ben Franklin who coined the term, “A penny saved is a penny earned.” And people toss their pennies on his grave for financial luck.
That first day I stumbled upon that grave I tossed a few pennies through the bars just for kicks and giggles. Later that week I received a raise at work. I’ve been going back every single week to toss a few pennies on ol’ Ben’s grave ever since. Except for this month. Since the boat’s being renovated I haven’t been working in Olde City so I haven’t been to see Ben. The last time was the morning of New Years Day. The girls I work with and I were leaving our hotel and the last thing we did before parting ways was toss some pennies on the grave. We stood together quietly, each making wishes, a separate wish for each penny we tossed.
Last weekend I met up with a friend down there in Olde City, at my usual Starbucks. Before I met him, I stopped by Franklin’s grave. I had grabbed a fistful of pennies from a bank in my bedroom. When the two tourists who were there walked away I was surprised to find myself alone. No tourists? Creepy. But it was an opportune moment for this young, meek Philadelphian to admit to this legendary, immortal Philadelphian that I’m not as brave as I pretend to be. Was he listening? Of course not, he’s dead. But it was therapeutic regardless. I’ll be leaving Philly soon. Because life isn’t happening for me here. But I couldn’t leave without tossing a few pennies.
There is one particular spot in Olde City that I would visit at least once a week. Ben Franklin’s grave. I found it last July. I was walking from my usual Starbucks at 3rd & Arch Streets to the African American Museum where there was a Phillies Phanatic statue (there were 20 Phanatic statues all around the city that summer & I vowed to find them all. I got 14). As I walked straight down Arch Street towards the museum I passed a gate where tourist were gathered. I didn’t think much of it because tourists gather all over Olde City because there’s something historical with every half step you take. But then, a jeep stopped at the red light in the street and a man jumped out hastily. He ran right in front of me, tossed some pennies through the gate and darted back to his jeep as the light turned green. He was not a tourist. I moved closer to the gate and noticed the final resting place of Ben Franklin; a large marble slate on the ground. There were pennies covering it, some silver change as well. Like most native Philadelphians, I had never seen any of this historical stuff that draws tourists to Olde City. Honestly, I didn’t even know Franklin was buried here.
But what’s up with the pennies?
Well, I’ve been told several things. The most common answer I received is simply, it’s for good luck. I also heard that all the change is collected daily and donated to a local church. Another theory taught me that it was Ben Franklin who coined the term, “A penny saved is a penny earned.” And people toss their pennies on his grave for financial luck.
That first day I stumbled upon that grave I tossed a few pennies through the bars just for kicks and giggles. Later that week I received a raise at work. I’ve been going back every single week to toss a few pennies on ol’ Ben’s grave ever since. Except for this month. Since the boat’s being renovated I haven’t been working in Olde City so I haven’t been to see Ben. The last time was the morning of New Years Day. The girls I work with and I were leaving our hotel and the last thing we did before parting ways was toss some pennies on the grave. We stood together quietly, each making wishes, a separate wish for each penny we tossed.
Last weekend I met up with a friend down there in Olde City, at my usual Starbucks. Before I met him, I stopped by Franklin’s grave. I had grabbed a fistful of pennies from a bank in my bedroom. When the two tourists who were there walked away I was surprised to find myself alone. No tourists? Creepy. But it was an opportune moment for this young, meek Philadelphian to admit to this legendary, immortal Philadelphian that I’m not as brave as I pretend to be. Was he listening? Of course not, he’s dead. But it was therapeutic regardless. I’ll be leaving Philly soon. Because life isn’t happening for me here. But I couldn’t leave without tossing a few pennies.
One penny for good fortune
‘Cause you can never have too much
One penny for my health
My heart and bones and brain and such
One penny for my family
My Mom, Grandma and sister too
Make that two pennies for my family
In case the 1st doesn’t come through
One penny for my friends
The ones I have to leave behind
One penny for strangers like me
All the friends I hope to find
One penny for my city
My neighborhood, my house and bed
So one day if I follow my feet back home
I’ll have somewhere to rest my head
One penny for strength and courage
That I’ll always find them in a clutch
And one more penny for good fortune
‘Cause you can never have too much
~ADev
January 13, 2011
The Waiting Place
Today I found myself sitting in the dark. On a bench. Alone. It’s dark like midnight all day long so you can never tell the dusk from dawn or the night from day. It’s just dark. But the air is cool and clean. I can’t tell you where I am exactly, or if this place is a park, or a train station. Sometimes I can hear an ocean nearby. And planes. And cars and carriages. But I never see anything. I just hear them. All I ever see is people. There are people everywhere. They walk by as if they have somewhere to be. All kinds of people. Some seem excited about wherever they’re going and some walk so slow I wonder if they really want to get to where they’re going. Me, I just sit here. Because I don’t know where to go. I’ve been sitting here for years. Sometimes people stop to talk to me, they sit with me awhile. But they never stay long. Not that they should. Everyone’s got somewhere to be. Everyone. I have somewhere to be too, I just don’t know where yet. So I’ve been sitting here on this bench waiting. I’m not sure what I’m waiting for. Maybe for a stranger holding a sign with my name on it to say he’s my ride. Or for a distant voice to sound, telling me my flight is about to take off and from which gate. When the boats and trains whistles blow I can always tell from the sound that they’re not for me. So I don’t move. I just sit here and wait.
One time, a few years back, this old man sat down next to me. He said he had been walking awhile and was real tired so he asked to sit on my bench and I didn’t mind. Company is nice, even brief company. Anyway, we sat there for a long time just staring out at the people. Funny thing about Waiting Places, all those damn people. There really is nothing but people. You try to look past them but as far as you can see there are just people. Walking. No horizon even, the crowd of people just goes on forever. I know there’s boats and trains and planes out there somewhere but they’re far off, hidden behind all these damn people. Anyway, this old man, he said his name was Mifflin. He was a thin white man with dark hair and the friendliest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. He was dressed in a snazzy grey suit, with a white shirt and a tie. He asked me where I was going.
“Nowhere yet.” I replied.
“Why not?”
“Because I have nowhere to be.”
“Everyone has somewhere to be.” he corrected, “You, me, everyone. We’re all born with a special invitation, He just doesn’t give us directions. Sometimes He doesn’t even tell us the destination. But that doesn’t mean He dosen’t expect us to get there.” He laughed but I was afraid that he was serious.
“What if we don’t get there?” I asked fearfully, “Or what if we end up somewhere else?”
Somewhere in the dark distance a ship was bellowing. We both looked south where the ship we couldn’t see was preparing for departure.
“Why don’t you run for that ship if you’re so worried about being somewhere?”
“Because it’s not for me.”
“How do you know?” Mifflin asked.
“I just know.” I said decisively, secretly not so sure. He stared at me curiously.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said putting a gentle hand on my shoulder, “Intuition is the only tool He gives to us all. Most people discard theirs in the beginning believing it to be unnecessary. But if you follow yours as He intended you to, use it as a compass should be used, believe me, you will find your way. Don’t doubt it because it has kept you here so long. Don’t be frustrated, be patient.” We sat there for a long while as the people walked by all around us. People with places to be. Finally Mifflin glanced at his watch and stood up. He said his goodbyes and as he walked away I shouted his name through the silent crowd.
“Where are you going?” I asked as he turned around. He smiled broadly and smoothed out his suit.
“I have a party to host.”
“What kind of party?”
“A grand party.” he said smiling, “And there are an awful lot of people who’ll be waiting for me so I probably shouldn't be late.” He winked at me once then turned away to disappear into the crowd.
That was years ago. I’m still here watching all these people walk by. I can’t tell you what I’m waiting for. Because I don’t know. But if I follow my compass like Mifflin told me to, I won‘t get lost. A plane or train or car or carriage will arrive eventually and if it’s for me, I’ll just know. I hope something arrives for me. I have to be patient. I have to have faith. I’ll sit here in the dark, on this bench, watching the people walk by. I’ll just wait. Because this is the Waiting Place.
One time, a few years back, this old man sat down next to me. He said he had been walking awhile and was real tired so he asked to sit on my bench and I didn’t mind. Company is nice, even brief company. Anyway, we sat there for a long time just staring out at the people. Funny thing about Waiting Places, all those damn people. There really is nothing but people. You try to look past them but as far as you can see there are just people. Walking. No horizon even, the crowd of people just goes on forever. I know there’s boats and trains and planes out there somewhere but they’re far off, hidden behind all these damn people. Anyway, this old man, he said his name was Mifflin. He was a thin white man with dark hair and the friendliest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. He was dressed in a snazzy grey suit, with a white shirt and a tie. He asked me where I was going.
“Nowhere yet.” I replied.
“Why not?”
“Because I have nowhere to be.”
“Everyone has somewhere to be.” he corrected, “You, me, everyone. We’re all born with a special invitation, He just doesn’t give us directions. Sometimes He doesn’t even tell us the destination. But that doesn’t mean He dosen’t expect us to get there.” He laughed but I was afraid that he was serious.
“What if we don’t get there?” I asked fearfully, “Or what if we end up somewhere else?”
Somewhere in the dark distance a ship was bellowing. We both looked south where the ship we couldn’t see was preparing for departure.
“Why don’t you run for that ship if you’re so worried about being somewhere?”
“Because it’s not for me.”
“How do you know?” Mifflin asked.
“I just know.” I said decisively, secretly not so sure. He stared at me curiously.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said putting a gentle hand on my shoulder, “Intuition is the only tool He gives to us all. Most people discard theirs in the beginning believing it to be unnecessary. But if you follow yours as He intended you to, use it as a compass should be used, believe me, you will find your way. Don’t doubt it because it has kept you here so long. Don’t be frustrated, be patient.” We sat there for a long while as the people walked by all around us. People with places to be. Finally Mifflin glanced at his watch and stood up. He said his goodbyes and as he walked away I shouted his name through the silent crowd.
“Where are you going?” I asked as he turned around. He smiled broadly and smoothed out his suit.
“I have a party to host.”
“What kind of party?”
“A grand party.” he said smiling, “And there are an awful lot of people who’ll be waiting for me so I probably shouldn't be late.” He winked at me once then turned away to disappear into the crowd.
That was years ago. I’m still here watching all these people walk by. I can’t tell you what I’m waiting for. Because I don’t know. But if I follow my compass like Mifflin told me to, I won‘t get lost. A plane or train or car or carriage will arrive eventually and if it’s for me, I’ll just know. I hope something arrives for me. I have to be patient. I have to have faith. I’ll sit here in the dark, on this bench, watching the people walk by. I’ll just wait. Because this is the Waiting Place.
January 1, 2011
Pictures Last Longer
Today I found myself on a hotel room floor wrapped in blankets. I woke up not just wondering where the night went but where the year went as well. The girls were sleeping soundlessly around me and I felt so content. Cold. Freezing actually. But content. But then the girls started waking up one by one and getting dressed and I knew there was no preserving the moment, it was time to go.
I work with these girls.
Bo only stayed last night until 3am. She’s our Cambodian mother-figure, always warning us about germs and how unhealthy our food choices are. Bo is nice, attentive and over-bearing to the point you just want to wring her neck. But we all can’t help but love her.
Alida is our sweet-toothed Repunzel with waist-length thick blonde hair. I loved Alida before I had ever met her because I had asked her (via email) to cover a shift for me her first week so I could go see John Mayer. She did. Alida is very mild mannered. She covered our office walls with pages from her Hello Kitty coloring book, and the collage seems to grow larger every week.
Lindsay is the funny one. She’s bold and honest, even when the truth is hysterically inappropriate.
Sarah, the one who wanted to turn the heat off last night. She has what we call a “big girl job”. It’s a dependable nine to five whereas our boat hours fluctuate. She’s still as crazy as the rest of us though. Sarah catches every single one of my Harry Potter references and I love that.
Rachel is the heart if we were a body. Not just because she’s our boss and she runs things with a soft iron fist, but because she’s our friend. She is the youngest of all of us. Rachel makes sure we enjoy what we do, so that we keep coming back to do it. I’ve had so many jobs throughout my life and have never worked for someone who genuinely cared about their employees. I didn’t realize until I met Rachel how nice that is. She is our Michigan wildflower. She moved to Chicago after high school, lived there for more than a year and now lives in Philly. Rachel has lived more than most 50 year olds that I know. She is so spunky she’ll give you a headache. When I went for an interview in the rain last June I only needed a job. So I thought. Now, looking back I realize what I needed were the friends I made. Wednesday nights at the bar, someone to talk to about things I’m unsure of, laughing until my sides hurt; that’s what I needed, not so much another job. But I didn’t know that’s what I needed until I felt myself emerging from a shell I climbed into years ago. I kind of owe that to Rachel.
We are photographers, the girls and I. We work on the Spirit of Philadelphia, a boat that cruises along the Delaware River. People spend the most important days of their lives on our boat. Birthdays, anniversaries and even weddings. Our job is to capture these days in frames because pictures last longer than cakes, dresses and even feelings. For months now The Spirit has been planning renovations, scheduled for right after the new year. It’ll be a two-month long project so New Years Eve for us felt like the last day of school until the new school year. Last night, for the first time, I brought my own personal camera along with me on the cruise. I got some pictures of us goofing off with some of the servers outside on the deck right before the midnight fireworks. The big countdown, the lights, the hugs and cheers. That was a moment I wish I could have kept forever. But moments are just that, momentary. Pictures last longer. And I got some good ones.
After the cruise the girls and I went to Wawa because we were all starving. Then we walked to our hotel where we cracked open some bottles, ate, played a few drinking games, exchanged secret Santa gifts and talked until we passed out sometime around 4:30 am. The entire time I’m thinking about all these months I’ve spent with these girls. All the fun we had.
It was a melancholy checkout this morning. Rachel, Alida and Lindsay stood in line to checkout and Sarah & I stood by the front door. On Monday, Sarah will go back to her full time job. Lindsay will be starting classes in another week or two, as well as student teaching. Bo has school too. Rachel will be headed to Texas soon to start up a new location while our boat is being renovated. Working on the boat was the highlight of my weeks, the perfect parallel to the useless depressing feeling I get at my other job at CVS. Nothing but CVS. That’s what’s awaiting me on the other side of today.
“Wouldn’t it be weird if someone doesn’t come back?” Sarah asked. I faked a worried look and felt guilty. I nodded. “Yeah.” I answered, "That would be weird."
.
I work with these girls.
Bo only stayed last night until 3am. She’s our Cambodian mother-figure, always warning us about germs and how unhealthy our food choices are. Bo is nice, attentive and over-bearing to the point you just want to wring her neck. But we all can’t help but love her.
Alida is our sweet-toothed Repunzel with waist-length thick blonde hair. I loved Alida before I had ever met her because I had asked her (via email) to cover a shift for me her first week so I could go see John Mayer. She did. Alida is very mild mannered. She covered our office walls with pages from her Hello Kitty coloring book, and the collage seems to grow larger every week.
Lindsay is the funny one. She’s bold and honest, even when the truth is hysterically inappropriate.
Sarah, the one who wanted to turn the heat off last night. She has what we call a “big girl job”. It’s a dependable nine to five whereas our boat hours fluctuate. She’s still as crazy as the rest of us though. Sarah catches every single one of my Harry Potter references and I love that.
Rachel is the heart if we were a body. Not just because she’s our boss and she runs things with a soft iron fist, but because she’s our friend. She is the youngest of all of us. Rachel makes sure we enjoy what we do, so that we keep coming back to do it. I’ve had so many jobs throughout my life and have never worked for someone who genuinely cared about their employees. I didn’t realize until I met Rachel how nice that is. She is our Michigan wildflower. She moved to Chicago after high school, lived there for more than a year and now lives in Philly. Rachel has lived more than most 50 year olds that I know. She is so spunky she’ll give you a headache. When I went for an interview in the rain last June I only needed a job. So I thought. Now, looking back I realize what I needed were the friends I made. Wednesday nights at the bar, someone to talk to about things I’m unsure of, laughing until my sides hurt; that’s what I needed, not so much another job. But I didn’t know that’s what I needed until I felt myself emerging from a shell I climbed into years ago. I kind of owe that to Rachel.
We are photographers, the girls and I. We work on the Spirit of Philadelphia, a boat that cruises along the Delaware River. People spend the most important days of their lives on our boat. Birthdays, anniversaries and even weddings. Our job is to capture these days in frames because pictures last longer than cakes, dresses and even feelings. For months now The Spirit has been planning renovations, scheduled for right after the new year. It’ll be a two-month long project so New Years Eve for us felt like the last day of school until the new school year. Last night, for the first time, I brought my own personal camera along with me on the cruise. I got some pictures of us goofing off with some of the servers outside on the deck right before the midnight fireworks. The big countdown, the lights, the hugs and cheers. That was a moment I wish I could have kept forever. But moments are just that, momentary. Pictures last longer. And I got some good ones.
After the cruise the girls and I went to Wawa because we were all starving. Then we walked to our hotel where we cracked open some bottles, ate, played a few drinking games, exchanged secret Santa gifts and talked until we passed out sometime around 4:30 am. The entire time I’m thinking about all these months I’ve spent with these girls. All the fun we had.
It was a melancholy checkout this morning. Rachel, Alida and Lindsay stood in line to checkout and Sarah & I stood by the front door. On Monday, Sarah will go back to her full time job. Lindsay will be starting classes in another week or two, as well as student teaching. Bo has school too. Rachel will be headed to Texas soon to start up a new location while our boat is being renovated. Working on the boat was the highlight of my weeks, the perfect parallel to the useless depressing feeling I get at my other job at CVS. Nothing but CVS. That’s what’s awaiting me on the other side of today.
“Wouldn’t it be weird if someone doesn’t come back?” Sarah asked. I faked a worried look and felt guilty. I nodded. “Yeah.” I answered, "That would be weird."
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