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."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)