Nearing the End

Update from our little cozy spot in Moroceli, Honduras: Steve and I are doing really well. The teacher strikes ended (the kids have lost a total of forty days of classes due to the teacher strikes, but finally the government and the teachers have come to an agreement). I will share with you my daily routine.. Every morning, I get up around five thirty or so. I use the latrine, put my contacts in and greet the granny that lives next door and is always making her corn tortillas. I leave and go running by the corn farms for about an hour. I like to see all the men on their donkeys leaving to work on their farms and greet all of them as I run past. Sometimes I get stopped by the herds of cows that run past... I run up a huge gravel hill and enjoy the early sun shining down on Moroceli in the distance. I run all the way to a small stream and sometimes I see parakeets near the stream in the trees. I turn around at the stream and run back. I run past the house of the other volunteer (Timothy) who lives in Moroceli and usually catch him watering his garden. We sometimes have a cup of organic coffee together and I head back to my house. Steve is a sweetie and helps me fill up the big orange bucket so I can bathe and then we usually eat breakfast together...oatmeal, milk and a little sugar with bananas... Sometimes my other neighbor, Sagrario comes over in the morning to greet us with her little adorable daughter. Today she started teaching me how to embroider. At 8 or so, I leave to go to one of the schools in the nearby poorer villages or in Moroceli and I teach classes about the environment. I talk a lot about the difference between Organic and inorganic garbage, how to take care of the water. Why Moroceli`s water is SOOOO contaminated and WHY NOT to drink the water that comes from the faucet... (amebas, worms...) I also get to talk about SEX, positive communication.. condoms, natural birth control... the importance of birth control.. Currently, I am working more with fifth and sixth graders with environmental issues.. but each week it changes and I work with a different curriculum. So I give classes about these topics and then during recess sometimes I go with the kids and we pick strange fruits (Guayabas, Lemons, Passion fruits, Bananas)... I read stories to them and then I go home around 12:30 or 1:00 in the afternoon.. In the afternoon it gets really hot usually. Steve and I make lunch together -- usually bean stew with veggies and he makes spaghetti or whatever.. We check email in the computer center and go around visiting people. I feel famous in my town. I leave my house and EVERYBODY knows me and yells at me like I am somebody important, like a movie star. I am the only white girl in my town. If Steve and I spend the day apart and I am looking for him all I have to do is ask anybody in the street where he is and everybody knows. At five o`clock, I yell to everyone that we are going for a walk and sometimes up to fifteen people come with us. Yesterday, several little girls came with us and they walked the entire hour walk BAREFOOT! I guess since they have never really had shoes, their feet are accustomed to it. We sing songs together in Spanish and read stories afterwards. For dinner, we sometimes eat at a lady’s house named Paula. She makes really good corn tortillas, beans, and tomato, cucumber, cabbage salad. It sometimes takes us an hour to walk the five minute walk home because we have to greet everyone and say good night... So as you see, I have my daily routine here and I feel really important and well respected. As our departure date of October 28 nears, I feel really worried about the change from humble community life to materialistic big town American life. I feel like I might become lost in the large mass of metropolis, consumerist society. I thank all of you that put your greatest efforts forth to come and know my life here in our quiet dusty town of Moroceli. On the other hand, there are some days when I miss you all so much I could cry..I do cry. I miss supermarkets and eight hour work days where I know exactly what I have to do. So I have rambled on a lot about random thoughts and feelings.. I am excited, worried, nervous, anxious to come home.. a little of everything.. SO please, please help me readjust and not feel lost between two different worlds and cultures. We will arrive in Kalamazoo airport on October 28… I do not know the time or the exact flight yet. But I will let you know when I find out… Lots of love and peace, Teresa and Steve

GRINGO RICHES and CONFITES

Hola Friends and Fam! I am posting a couple of articles that I wrote for the Peace Corps Honduras Newspaper. Unfortunately, you will need to use a Spanish dictionary to understand the entire article, but it will be a fun challenge~! Love T and Steve

Gringo Treasure

My mother thrusts a box of chex mix into my arms. “I also bought you a super size jar of peanut butter. Oh, and you can have these spoons, forks, and our old set of plates and dishware. You might need them.”
My first apartment, my third year of college… “Oh, just one more thing, dear, a matching towel, rug, and shower curtain set for your bathroom that I picked up on sale at Target.” I was a “HAVE NOT” and accepted all the hand-me-downs and help that I could get. Then as if with a flick of a magic wand over night, somewhere in the clouds, in my travels between the U.S.A. and Honduras, I became a “HAVE.” Instead of a lowly, struggling, college student with hand-me-downs, I am a GRINGA with GRINGA TREASURE AND RICHES! Everyday, I am reminded, just in case I have forgotten. Big-eyed curious children point and exclaim, “Gringa!”-- not hola or como esta, just Gringa! People of all ages come over not just to visit me, but to visit my GRINGO TREASURE.
My sixth grade neighbor girl noted my Lady Speed Stick deodorant and commented on how beautiful it was (the container and top are purple.) I had just bought a second one at the Colonia supermarket in Tegucigalpa as a replacement as I was about to run out. Tania, my neighbor girl, was now holding one deodorant in each fist. “Regalame!” she shouted.
I gave her a fijese que type excuse and she moved to the kitchen in search of more gringo treasure. I admit that every time I go to Tegucigalpa, I sneak into the Espresso Americano to get a drug up on those oh so yummy iced coffees and each and every time they hand me an extra packet of sugar as if the granitas weren’t sweet enough already. Tania had now discovered the espresso Americano packet of sugar on the kitchen shelf and while petting it gently , she informed me, “This is what the rich people use.” I explained to her that the sugar in the packet was the same sugar that we buy from the pulperia but she was convinced that the packaged sugar had a much richer flavor.
Finally, she found my biggest gringo treasure of all while I was pouring my afternoon cup of coffee. I had just returned from the colegio from giving AIDS charlas and had left my box of materials on the table. Her quick little fingers reached inside the box and pulled out a shiny silver packet (a condom). “This is the type of confites that the rich people eat,” she informed me, “Me encantan los confites! Regalame uno, Teresa, vaya!”
Speechless, and red tomato faced, I sipped my coffee in an elegant gringo fashion to give me a chance to think and then replied in another fijese que manner, “I need those for a charla and wont have any extra to give you.”
The question is, What gringo treasures do you have?










The Fight with the Confite Wrapper

I Step into the hot morning sun and the first thing I see are the ten or maybe even fifteen or twenty disgusting little churro bags color coating my little patch of lawn. There are exactly eight plastic coca cola bottles tossed in with the churro bags and one rumpled up dirty disposable diaper. (Churro means potato chip) All together mixed in with the grass clippings, I suppose it could make a great salad if you look at it with blurred sleepy morning eyes. Every night, the high school students leave their classes and discard their bags, bottles and packaging of their unhealthy food habits onto my front patch of lawn and all along the main street headed up to the park. Even on the winding dirt roads that lead out of town to the aldeas are flooded with garbage. I feel anger and bitter with disgust. I change this negative urge to spit or make revenge into energy to make change.
I arm myself with the all mighty charla paper, markers, and dinamicas and head to the elementary school. I start with an introductory, break the ice type activity where each student stands up and states their name (only their first name since the long bumble jumble of their four names confuses me) and their favorite food. In an attempt to integrate environmental education with literacy and creativity, I have the students write poems individually in the same format. With the title, AMBIENTE, spelled vertically, the students have to think of at least three words starting with each of the corresponding letters to fill in the poem.
A agua, aire, árboles, aguacates
M mariposas, maravillas, mangos, y monos
B bosques bonitos, belleza
I islas, iguanas, insectos, interesantes
E ecología, enorme, excelente
N nubes, nances, naranjas
T tigres, toronjas, tormentas, tomates
E estrellas, elegantes, elefantes

(Ambiente means environment)

I am proud of their creativity as each student comes up with unique words for their poems. I then continue the charla with a drama and ask help to arrange all the chairs in an isle to form a bus. I tell them that I am the ayudante and tell the teacher to sit in the first chair and act as the conductor. I stuff all the kids into the chairs and some standing in the middle to act as standing passengers. When I have all the kids stuffed in the relajo of the pretend bus, I whip out the bag of trash that I collected in my front patch of lawn and pretend to sell churros and soda. “Quien quiere comprar churros, agua, agua, agua…Cómpreme fresco, fresco, fresco.” By the time I am done screaming and mimicking an obnoxious vender, each student is holding a piece of trash. I tell them that many people are uneducated and don’t know the damage of hurting the environment and that they often throw the trash out the window. I tell the kids that on the count of three, everybody should toss the garbage on the floor of the classroom as if they are throwing the trash out the window of the bus. “One…Two…Three…:” and the kids are laughing hysterically as the bags of churros and bottles of soda fly over the scattered desks onto the floor. I comment on how ugly the classroom is and how many of the streets in our town and on the road are littered and full of trash… I ask them what they think they can do instead of littering outside the window or on the ground.. We talk about the importance of burying garbage and how garbage sitting on the surface can collect rain water and be a home for more sancudos and more dengue and more sickness. Finally, we make a list of organic and inorganic garbage and how long each type of garbage takes to decompose. The students are astonished to learn that a plastic bottle can last up to five hundred years!

I feel good about the interaction of the students in my environmental charlas and walk away from the week feeling like a successful volunteer.. Just maybe, just maybe I am creating change. On Friday, I feel the urge to escape my small tranquil town and I hop on the 8:30 morning bus to Tegucigalpa. I even shove a couple extra plastic bags into my backpack in order to reuse them in the supermarket. We turn off the desvio and onto the Pan Americana and the bus picks up speed. I smile at the fresh breeze coming in from the window, the lush green life of the rainy season and then glance forward and notice the director of the elementary school sitting by the window three seats in front of me. Nonchalantly, he unwraps a confite from its shiny wrapper and pops it into his mouth. My heart cringes as he tosses the wrapper out the window and ironically in crushes my mood as it comes back into the bus through my window and hits me in the face.

Two Lives Colide

I almost feel like my life in Kalamazoo was a separate book altogether. Different characters, different scenes, different daily routines, an entirely different soap-oprah. And then one of the main characters in my Kalamazoo life escapes his usually routine and flies into my small town life here. I cant believe that our college buddy, Joe will be landing in Tegucigalpa airport in about an hour. In an hour, a true good friend will be with us to make our friendship grow even stronger. Joe, we are so excited to see you -- you have no idea. Your visit means so so so much to us. You are a true friend. I cant wait to see you and hug you at the airport. Love to everyone! Teresa and Steve

Happy Travels and Evil Amebas

I feel like I am in the middle of a game of fifty-two pick-up. The cards are scattered all over the floor. While I want to organize them and pick them up, I dont know where to start. Like the fifty-two cards, the details of my life are scattered over the span of the last month and a half and I dont know where to begin. I suppose if I start with one single detail, they will stack on top of one another until I reach the current moment...

I left you last with our departure for Panama City. We left the polluted, nausiating city of Tegucigalpa on an afternoon flight. Arriving late in Panama City made me a bit nervous. However, walking out of the airport, we found efficient safe public buses in a modern style city with plenty of night life and twenty-four hour supermarkets and cafes. We made a temorary nesting spot at the International Voyager Hostal which included use of the kitchen and internet for cheap prices. We enjoyed a couple of days wandering around the old part of the city, walking along the Pacific Ocean boardwalk, and watching big cargo ships pass through the locks of the Panama Canal. We took an overnight bus all the way through Panama to the Northeast corner of the country where we took a mini boat to the well known beatiful Carribean Islands-- Bocas del Torro. As you can imagine, we roamed every nook and corner of the island and also took a day to investigate the scenes underneath the water, snorkeling. The bright purple, neon blue, pink, orange, and yellow fishes that look like cartoons really do exist in the secret world below the sea. After three full days of the Carribean, I had not yet had my fill. We crossed the border without any problems into Costa Rica and stayed in Puerto Viejo for a night. There we enjoyed a long bike ride along along the ocean front road. The road was surrounded with jungle. The white sands reached out to be carressed by the waves of the sea. Steve suggested that we stop for a water break. I glanced up and was surprised to see a group of monkies staring down at us.

On the first day of the big mundial soccer game, we took a LONG all day bus ride through the capital, San Jose, and up into the LUSH GREEN DRESSED mountains. Did you note that detail?? LUSH GREEN DRESSED mountains!!! I would like to point out that Coast Ricans really take care of their environment. From what we observed, the streets were clean without garbage and the mountains are NOT NAKED and BARE as in Honduras. At one point in the long bus ride, the bus driver pulled into a supermarket for a break. We noted that all the employees in the supermarket were glued to the soccer game on the television in the electronics section!

In the Monte Verde Reserve, we spent two days hiking. The expanse of bright colored insects, hummingbirds, and plant life was AMAZING! We even got aught in a down pour. I suppose that the rainforest is called the RAINforest for a reason. We stayed in a hostal just outside of the reserve in the nearest town of Santa Elena. It was owned by a very hospitible brother and sister team from Texas. All along the journey, I always use our lonely planet guidebook and exchange travel suggestions with fellow travelers that we meet along the way to make and change travel destinations. We had heard and read in the guidebook that the active Volcano Arenal in La Fortuna was a spectacular site, especially at night when you can see the red glow of the lava shooting out. We took a jeep-boat-jeep tour to La Fortuna from Monte Verde. From the boat, crossing the Lake, we had a wonderful view of the base of the volcano. However, the tip of the volcano was suffocated with clouds. And the clouds were relentless and stole away any possibility of seeing lava shooting from the top during our entire visit. We did hear rocks falling in the distance. A highlight that made up for our disappointment of not seeing the lava was spotting a family of toucans flying over head on our hike to a beautiful ribbon of a waterfall. I could have easily spent an extra day, and then another day, and multiple more days in Costa Rica as I fell in love with the lush green nature of the country. However, time is not always considerate of my desires and takes me with it whether I am ready or not. We continued North and crossed into Nicaragua. Unfortunately after a LONG all day of traveling, we arrived at the border at six o'clock only to discover that the last public bus to our destination had already departed. We had to pay fifteen dollars for a private taxi to take us to the nearby tranquil ocean side town of San Juan del Sur. The town suprised us with a calm clean atmosphere. We enjoyed overlooking the ocean waves sipping drinks (me coffee and Steve beer). In the morning, we planned on just taking a quick walk along the shoreline before catching a quick bus to a nearby real destination-- Isla Ometepe via Rivas. However, as we walked hand in hand along the coast, I glanced up and saw a white cross clinging way up high to a towering cliff. As all of you close friends and family know me well, the image of a possible great view gave me the desire to climb up the twisting winding road to the top. To Steve's sweaty dismay, he was begged to accompany me. The view was expansive and well worth the hot sweaty sticky hike (according to me).
We spent our third year anniversary at our next destination of Isla Ometepe via Rivas. Isla Ometepe is in the Lake Nicaragua and was created by volcanoes years ago. Of course, the volcanoes are currently unactive. We had a really romantic and adventurous anniversary hiking up the volcano and seeing LOTS of howler monkies. (Keep in mind that this is romantic in my definition and Steve too really is beginning to find a love for hiking and nature)... We spent all day hiking and came back to our hotel just in time to watch the stars over the lake.

Our last night before heading back to our country of Honduras was spent in the colonial town of Granada, Nicaragua-- Granada was actually a bit disappointing.. A bit smelly, some litter, and most disappointing, sewer draining right into the Lake.

Crossing into Honduras, it made me really angry to see people, children, adults, and even teachers I know throw garbage out the window of the bus. I think that Honduras would really have a better chance at more tourism if the people would just put a little more effort into taking care of their environment. This motivates me to work more on environmental education in my last few months here in Honduras.


When we re-entered our little pueblo of Moroceli we were happy to see that everything had turned green and the rainy season had started. However, when the rainy season starts, all the poop from the cows and humans drains into the river which then becomes our drinking water. And as you can predict, it didnt take long before the little ameba devils payed me a visit and decided to throw a party in my belly.

The party (I hope) is now coming to an end and the amebas have been chased away by a troop of medications.

I hope that I have made the distance between us less by sharing a few details of our past month with you. I think it is time to go and enjoy a plate of beans, avocado, and tortillas at Paula`s comedor. We send you lots of love and hugs from our little valley town of Moroceli..

Spontaneous Plane Tickets

Some ideas are born over a hot cup of coffee in deep conversations, while others burst quickly into the mind on the toilet seat. Some ideas slowly grow like tree seedlings until they finally become something well formed and beautiful. Others come like the big bang like a big crash of lightening without warning. The idea of traveling to Panama came to me while we were walking from the supermarket to the bus stop in the stinky capital of Tegucigalpa. "I am tired of dust and projects," I told Steve. "We just finished the huge world map in the high school and it is a perfect time for a break now than ever."
"What are you trying to say?" Steve questioned, warily. "I am saying we should just escape.. we should just buy a plane ticket this week and go! Imagine, we could be in Panama city by the Panama Canal by the end of the week!"

And just imagine, today a week later, here we are in Tegucigalpa waiting to leave on a flight at 3 p.m. I can't believe that in just a few hours, we will be in Panama City looking for a hotel, exploring a different corner of the world!

Aliens with metal instruments

I hardly ever look in the mirror. In the matter of fact, I do not own a mirror. The strange thing is that if I had to recognize my face, legs, or hands in a line up, I would likely select wrongly. If I took a picture of your hand and placed it with pictures of ten other hands, would you be ale to recognize your own? What about recognizing your own nose, eyes, legs, or entire profile? I guess these are random thoughts. But the only thing to do on the two hour bus ride from Tegucigalpa to Moroceli is to gaze out the window, note the changes from large banks, Pizza Huts, and Burger Kings to slouching slums to pine forested hills to dry barren land...

Leaving the Grand supermarket after splurging on grapes, apples, and brocoli, I feel the weight of heavy eyes staring at me as I cross the street to go the bus station. I look around me-- they all have arms, legs, one head, knees and two feet like I do. I wonder why I am so interesting to stare at. I supose since I do not look in the mirror, I forget how different my apprearance is in comparison to them. I cant see the light color of my hair that rests on my head and bounces on my back.

One day, I am sitting in the park in front of the Catholic Church. A mini van followed by a pick up truck pull up randomly in front of the church. Ten white americans hop out talking English. As if aliens from Mars had arrived in a space ship, my jaw dropped and I stared and stared at them some more! The father of the church greeted them with a firm handshake, "Buenas Tardes, Bienvenidos." The aliens from mars were actually dentists from Oregon donating a week of their time to have a dental brigade for children. Timothy, Steve, and I were excited to have visitors and to help out with translating throughout the week. I never realized the depth and existance of my own United States culture until I had the opportunity to live outside of it. I have discovered that while I feel a great deal of respect and care from Hondurans it really takes time for a stronger friendship to form. Simply stated, there is a strong wall of cultural difference that has to be broken. Otherwise, they view me as "other," somebody outside of themselves almost too different to feel comfortable with. However, within minutes, there was a strong sense of trust and understanding between us and the dentists. We immediately felt comfortable together and helped them unpack all their toothpastes, anestesia, needles, tooth puller, toothbrushes, and flashlights.

The secretary in the mayor`s office had invited fifty school children from Moroceli to come on Monday. For Tuesday thru Friday, children from all the surrounding villages were invited. On Monday morning, an elementary school teacher came with twenty-five children. All twenty-five of them entered teh church yard and we started by giving a talk about the importance of tooth-brushing. It was a beautiful moment-- everybody brushing their teeth together and then spitting on the Lord`s land all at once!

The thing I hadnt yet realized was that for many of them, teeth-brushing was a rare and foreign event. The dentists inspections revealed mouths full of black rotten teeth and lots of bacterial mouth infections which resulted in lots of wailing as the doctor yanked out many teeth. I sat beside the nervous students and held hands, explaining the different tools. Just the sight of the tooth-picker and the other bright shiney tools brought many kids to tears. Imagine sitting in a dentist chair for the first time with a stranger foreigner leaning over you blabbering in an alien language poking inside your mouth with large metal instruments.
The teacher heard the whimpering of her scared students and entered to assist. She yelled in fast Spanish, "If you dont sit and behave for the dentist, you will not be allowed to return to school. I will get you with the belt!"

"What did the teacher say? Translate it for me, " the dentist asked. Just as I had stared at the dentists initial arrival, she stared back at me big eyed in disbelief at my truthful translation. Since then, I have made a point to lecture on positive communicacion techniques.

On Tuesday morning, children, youth, fathers, mothers, cousins, grandmothers, uncles, grandfathers, teachers and farmers bombarded the church courtyard. The word of the dental brigade had spread and turned into chaos. I translated to the crowd from English to Spanish the dentists regrets.

"We are sorry, but we are only attending children from the poorer surrounding villages."

"Teresa," somebody yelled from the crowd, "I just have a molar that hurts"
"I just want my teeth cleaned. "
"Can I have a free tooth-brush?"
"Are you giving out toys?"
"But I have a tooth that hurts."
"Teresa, you are my friend. Get me in."
Some students even skipped their high school clases to watch the dentists work from outside the window.

The dentists worked non-stop from eight a.m. to seven p.m. with only a quick break for lunch inbetween. We wanted to help everybody. We wish we could have.
I have realized that our job in this world is not to change it. One cant change the world. One can only change his own corner, his own piece of the puzzle. But if we all do our part and touch just a few people, everyone is touched in some way and the puzzle pieces put together create a beautiful picture.

Hot, Dry, Deep thoughts

It is a hot day today. I feel like I am being cooked for a lavish feast. Instead of spices, I am being cooked in dust. I had plans to visit the school today and also work on a world map painting project in the high school until I looked out my window this morning and saw kids still playing football and running by barefoot at nine o´clock. There is no school today. It turns out that the teachers are on a country wide strike because some have not been paid by the government. So for me that means an overly relaxing day. As most of you know I LOVE to be busy and RELAXING is something that I DO NOT enjoy… So I find myself finishing up my latest reading adventure—The Gringo Trail, by Mark Mann. The book focuses on the travels of three friends through South America (Ecuador, Peru, and Colombia). While at first, I didn’t like the novel because the travelers heavily used drugs and I found it to be a hippie tale, it ended up having a lot of perspectives on life that I appreciate and will share with you.

While hiking in the rainforest, the main character reveals his thoughts… “There could be a million different life-forms within a mile of us—all fighting, competing, living off each other, living in symbiosis with others. You name it, and it’s probably out there somewhere, close by. Every conceivable evolutionary strategy—there’s a plant or animal or insect doing it around us now.” Standing in the middle of the cloud forest over Easter weekend, I had the same feeling that everything around me was so full of conscience, consciously watching me.

Imagine the world mapped according to consciousness. Every life source registers a point brighter or weaker depending on how complex it is. People, animals, insects. Even a plant is conscious, in a sense. It reacts to its environment, and that’s all consciousness is, at a basic level. The capacity to absorb and respond to stimuli. All around us—millions of little points of consciousness. There can hardly be a single spot on the planet more conscious than here. (149)

…”But to my mind, what the animist world-view expresses—with its multitude of spirits and the magical parallel reality—is a sense of the sacredness of Nature itself. The crucial thing is that it’s not just humans who have souls, but everything. To animists, the whole natural world around us is charged with a magical, divine life-energy. The sacred is located within Nature, not somehow outside it, as with our own God. It’s a crucial difference. The Western conception of God reflects the Western belief that humans are intrinsically superior to the rest of Creation: that the natural world has been given to us by God purely for our benefit. If you ask me, it’s this belief that sowed the seeds of today’s environmental crisis.” (160) The Mormons feel that they have it all right, the only true way to God. The evangelic people feel that their faith is the only path to God. The Catholics feel that they are the only ones with the truth. The Muslims feel that Christianity is backwards and that their faith is the only one that leads forward to the realm of their God, Allah. Maybe everybody has a little part of it right. I feel that we are all droplets from a big pool. We leave that big pool when we are born and become vulnerable to sadness, loneliness, frustration, and anger because we are away from the whole. We spend our lives looking for connection, love, closeness to others. During our lives our meaning is to help the other soul pieces along their journey and finally in the end death breaks us away from our individuality and back to our whole spirit once again. I think we are all one, all in the same struggle of life battling the same negativity of feelings and that there is no reason for fighting within religions. The environment, animals, and plants are also part of the whole and a part of life that we need to respect and not waste out of carelessness.

Instead of a usual job path, I chose to escape. I chose peace corps. Many times I feel that our culture is overly centered on the success of a full time job, year round with only two weeks a year of vacation. What about family, love, children, experiences? The main character reflects on his friend who wasn’t the most responsible, nor productive in his life, but he had a few things figured out… “Mark and I hadn’t always seen eye to eye, especially on this trip. But he’d remained a special person for me. Perhaps it was because, almost alone among my friends, he’d rejected all that hypocritical, poisonous career shit. To most people, it looked like apathy and idleness, but I saw it differently. Mark had refused to sell his mind—his soul—to some bland, evil, world-fucking corporation just so he could swarm and backstab his way to self-important middle-management middle-age. I’d seen the vitality sucked out of too many other friends as they signed that Faustian pact. But Mark remained free. Alive. He’d refused to let a System’s projects and values become his projects and values. To Mark, music and drugs and having the time to think always came before money and respectability and a career. And he was right. They do. They should. I respected him for it. I respected him for not caring about things that were not worth caring about.” (283)

Sometimes there are events that you feel you knew were going to happen, somehow you felt them coming. Sometimes there are moments that you feel that you´ve done before. Is it all just coincidence or is there something to it? “Were these just coincidences, only invested with significance by a tragic accident? Probably. Or was there some strange magic here? Maybe all events have presentiments, like ripples in time stretching backwards as well as forwards, so faint that only a few tuned-in people can detect them. Maybe something as powerful as a death sent ripples big enough for even me to detect…” (284)


I am done with deep thinking for now. I am going to bake in the sun and cook in dust on my attempt to walk home and eat beans and tortillas for lunch. I hope you all find a piece of inner-happiness and feel that I am thinking about you today.