Moving

Boxes are piled high to the ceiling and the dust bunnies that have hidden beneath the bed for the past year, are coming out into the open, only to alight on my skin, making me break out in rashes, hives and unpleasent bouts of sneezing.

For the past few days I've been in a rather reflective mood, as I come to terms with the unknown that is Milwaukee/Marquette University and the realization that I won't be seeing any of my Pittsburgh or Erie friends for quite some time. I wish I could sit back and leave without feeling the slightest hint of remorse or sadness, but I can't. A few years ago I would have relegated my nostalgic and sorrowful tendencies to the realm of "being scared of the unknown"; however, today, I realize it's the fear of being seperated from my established community that has me most at odds with myself.

I received a phone call today from my new 'boss' in Milwaukee and was informed that I must be in the apartment building at exactly 10:00am on Tuesday, August 16th, for the installation of internet into apartment number 11. I informed the woman on the other line that I was still in Pennsylvania and that Tuesday will only be my second day in the apartment, to which she responsded, "Yeah, the manager told me...(silence)...well, I'll expect to see you there on Tuesday for your first job." Looks like work will start RIGHT away.

I spent one of my last nights in Erie riding mountain bikes with my friend Paul. It was quite the fitting way to close my year, as all the way back in September I had met Paul while riding my pervious bike (which was stolen in November) on the trails of Asbury Woods Park. I was quite nervous to pick up mountian biking again, as I myself am more partial to road riding, yet I found the three hours in the woods to be completely enjoyable, challenging and quite dangerous. I was not very confident in regards to my own handling of the bike as I careened down into ravines, attempting to miss the protruding rocks and roots that were in my way, but I decided to hit each hill like it was my last, and I ignored my initial tendancy to be timid and fearful of the obstacle directly in front of me. In a very romantic and cliched way, I viewed my final mountian bike trip like my next life in Milwaukee: I know I'm not confident in my skills, nor am I really ready to proceed head-long into the precipice that is graduate school, but I'm going to do it anyway, and I'm going to hold on tight for the ride. I know that I'll bleed, get scraped up and fall into the mud along the way; however, I know I'll survive the trip to ride home, confident, strong and hungry. Hell, maybe I'll even eat the cream-filled donut I indulged in yesterday upon arriving back from my mountian bike excursion? Who knows.

Reflection

A year has passed since I first stepped foot into my office here at the Quality of Life Learning Center, and I must admit that I've recently become rather introspective and reflective about my VISTA year and the experiences that I've garnered. And what shocks me the most is not so much my nervousness when thinking of my future plans, or the sense that I've reached a kind of closure with my life and friends in Erie, but it's the yearning and heart-ache that I feel when reflecting on the reality that in a month I once again will pick up and leave for a new destination far away from that which I've known as home for most of my life--Western Pennsylvania.

In thinking back to three years ago when Jamie and I were preparing to leave for our life in the Czech Republic, I didn't seem to think much about my family, friends and colleagues who I wouldn't be seeing for quite some time. I guess in a way, I was content in justifying my 'going away' by acknowledging their 'always being there': If I wasn't around, they'd be; If I didn't miss anyone, they'd miss me; If I came home in a year unchanged, so they would be unchanged as well. It was OK for me to be the entity that was always moving, never setting down roots and being transitory in all my life's dealings. However, what Erie has shown me throughout this past year, is that leaving again--for another two years nonetheless--will not be as easy as the first time. Right now I'm at a place where I realize that friendships, relationships and even kin ties are hard to keep and strengthen when one player--more often than not, myself--is not around. I noticed upon my arrival back to the USA that I did have changed friendships: I lost some friends, felt distant from my immediate and extended family, and had a hard time articulating how I myself was a different person. So, in a way, this whole year for me has been a process of healing in regards to rekindling old friendships and re-appreciating my family; in a way, this year was also one of coming to terms with my own self guilt for not being a part of anyone's life for quite a while.

So now, as I patiently count down the days until my departure date to Milwaukee, I can truly say that I'll miss those that I love, and although it seems a little 'new' to feel this way, I can say with confidence that it isn't an unexpected emotion for me, it's just that I have a hard time showing it.

Last night a group of colleagues from work and friends from Erie had a surprise dinner for me at a great Syrian restaurant. And as I sat amongst the ten of them, I was shocked and overwhelmed with how much they--each one being of a different color and race than myself--had accepted me into their social groups and into their lives. They brought me wine, money, cards and purchased a fantastic Kebab dinner. It was a total surprise, and I left the restaurant a little tipsy from Merlot, but full of TRUE genuine joy at knowing that I once again had made a community and that I had once again found great people. Let's just hope that some day I'll be able to stay longer than a year.

Here's to Milwaukee!

Main Street?

An evening stroll down Erie's main strip at any part of the season is a practice in overcoming desolation, be it in the frigid winter where piles of snow impede the walkway; in the much-anticipated spring, where rain, wind and puddles chase would-be 'strollers' under awnings and in houses; in fall where the chilly wind hurts the nose and ears; and--as I experienced tonight--in the summer when nights turn into a depressing parade of society's outcast and mentally deranged.

Deciding to embark on such a journey at 8:00 pm down the heart of State Street leaves one with the feeling that the city itself, and a majority of the patrons seen, have passed their prime many years ago. In fact, I'm often left pondering if anything, ANYONE, in this city still lives, breathes and feels. The backdrop of another pastel sunset over the glinting waves of Erie Bay offers up a rather incongruent canvas upon which the night's actors and actresses waddle,wheel, and haphazardly stumble down the sidewalk.

Tonight there was the ancient woman with bowed-legs, rotten teeth and a sad countenance digging through the trash cans finding scraps of food, tin cans and attempting upon all hope to find a little change.

"Do you have a dollar for me to get home, son?"
"No," I replied. "Where do you live?"
"On the East Side," she answered. "What about 50 cents?"
"No. I'm sorry. I have nothing for you."

I left her behind as I attempted not to make eye-contact with her flinching face. Thank God she was hunched over, and her neck protruded in the opposite direction from gaze, so as to protect me from looking and seeing her painful condition more fully. Yet, I was sure she drug her feet continually down that sidewalk at a literal snail's pace stopping at each can to thoroughly inspect its contents. I heard a women yell from a moving car in the old woman's direction: "Stop digging in the trash you dirty hag!" I whipped my head around only quick enough to see the old woman acknowledge the barb, ignore it, and continue on down the street on her bowed knees.

Less than two blocks down the street, I became aware of a middle-aged man with sorrowful eyes and a worn countenance sitting listlessly in a wheelchair still adorned in his tattered military garb. I'm sure he was a left-over from the Vietnam era.  He made eye contact with me, and for a split second I wanted to look away, but I kept him in my sight--his eyes locked on mine--until I had walked enough to nearly go around the bend. Neither of us spoke to each other.

A little further on, I came across a local hangout for the white, suburban "Erieites"--those that don't actually live in the city center--known as The Plymouth. Many of the patrons were sitting on their iron rod tables and chairs, watching others pass by in complete stupor.


As we turned to make our way back to our apartment, Jamie and I were witness to wide-open roads, robotic stop lights and blowing plastic bags that were caught up on the telephone poles that lined the cracked sidewalk. We picked two up and dumped them in the trash, thus ending our evening stroll.

Monarch butterfly

"Attention Whole-Foods customers, the butterfly at the customer service desk is hatching if you would like to come watch". After hearing the announcement it was like I was back in 4th grade, so of course I abandoned what I was doing and hurried over just in time to see a brand new monarch butterfly pushing out of it's chrysalis. Even though I had seen this happen so many times as a child, I couldn't help but be in awe. Jeremy, our friend Seth and I, as well as about 10 other people, stood and watched the butterfly uncrinkle its wings and flex its probiscus. I felt like if I watched carefully I would be able to see its new wings dry infront of my eyes. How cool. This butterfly used to be an egg, which turned into a caterpiller, who after munching on milkweed, encased itself in a chrysalis and today it finished its transformation into a butterfly. But my question is, what is happening inside the chrysalis to make the caterpillar turn into a butterfly? It can't just be sleeping...

VISTA Epic Poem

I

In the year 2010 A.D., a scare was wrought across that land…
as VISTAs themselves were unsure of their plan…
for the controlling powers that be…
had decided to cut the program, claiming they couldn't pay the fee.

So upon the earth the ground did shake…
with college students lost and leaving only sorrow in their wake…
for no guidance from VISTA workers could be had…
no opportunities to volunteer, no reason to be glad.

The streets were filled with children in despair…
no homework was done, and excuses were brought to bear…
upon desperate teachers who had lost all reason to care…

The flow of money was halted by a dam of inactivity…
as grants and foundations shuttered their doors to
the needs of the community…
as no person was there to write the application…
that would in time cure the affliction.

The nonprofits were burning in fiery torment…
for their lack of capacity building and sustainability…
were considered moot in this unsightly moment…

Executive directors and even bar owners received such a scare...
"Oh! Why? Oh! Why?" they lamented…
were the VISTAs not there?!

II

Yet upon the northern land of Erie, where a frigid wind blows…
were aroused a chosen seven from their oft hung-over repose…
A near impossible task was laid upon their plate…
to ease the suffering of poverty stricken children…
whose lives were controlled by the clocks ticking fate.

So upon foot, cylinder and cycle did the seven go to chosen sites…
Whereupon the grip of poverty would meet its fight…

Two damsels, beautiful of face and full of heart…
were sent to colleges to rouse up a throng…
of student legions youthful and strong.

where with hand and mind did he find line and sail…
in which to build a vessel…
that was sure not to fail.


One was sent to care for the ground…
teaching children of trees and plants that grew all around…
who even spoke to them about birds that abound.

And yet still another was fetched to ease the suffering…
of mothers and children who were told they were nothing.

And to help the newcomers lost and confused…
a chosen VISTA was sent to spread the news…
of hope and a better life…
far away from their countries…
full of suffering a strife.

But Alas! Arose a foreboding cloud in the East…
that held captive the people in gloomy unease…
luckily two other VISTAs were sent with pencil and dodge ball firmly in hand…
with the task of empowering youth all across the land.


III

And so it came to pass in the year 2011…
when the people sang praises of VISTAs up to the heavens.

With trumpet and song and beer and wine…
did all the people have a mighty fine time.

And as the year wore down, the party grew quicker…
when in came Sam Rigotti with a bottle of liquor.

"Hark!" He exclaimed. "To the Villa we will ride…
to dine with the knights of Meadville…
within whom we abide.”
And to celebrate the success of a year done through…
gave one last toast to the VISTA crew.

The End.

New Year, New Hobbies

Reflecting back on the experiences of this year, I can say with confidence that this has indeed been a year of learning. I seem to have gotten myself into many new hobbies and interests since my arrival back to the United States in July, and I'd like to just spell out a few of them for you here:

1. Backyard Ornithology: Jamie and I have a quaint garden that is full of perennial flowers and oak trees, which makes a nice stage upon which our avian friends can flutter and strut--especially in the early spring mating season. I saw the swooning dances of humble House Sparrows, the nest-building skills of a minute House Wren, the rearing toughness of a mother Blue Jay, and the be speckled breast of fledgling Robins, Sparrows and a few bright Orioles. Each day I am attracted to the chatter and effusive life that permeates through the hedge bushes, our bean garden and the tallest oak. It's a shame that in years previous I myself was quite oblivious to the perpetuation of life that was growing around me, which takes its more endearing form in that of a fledgling. As they leave their nest I have come to appreciate their absolute helplessness in fending for themselves, as they wait for their mother to bring them morsels of seeds or worms to deposit into their gullet. They are horrible flyers and often times end up running head-first into the shed or our wooden fence that surrounds the yard. They are clumsy, physically manifesting the fact that even the creature MADE to fly, still has to learn the art through falling.

2. This year marks the third upon which I have been without a car. I rely almost solely on my commuter bike--and if the weather turns nasty, public transportation. I became accustomed to riding a bike in the Czech Republic; however, at the time, I wasn't aware of the nuances that enable one to truly depend on this wonderfully simple form of locomotion: I was clueless as to how a chain was suppose to be properly oiled and cleaned, I didn't know the difference between a cassette or a chain ring--all of them to me were just "sprockets", I had no true experience in changing out tires, and I was completely clueless about what to look for when a grind or a crunch began to radiate through the steel frame. Deciding that it was time for me to become "more one" with the bike, I called upon the help of a local bike-mechanic friend to give me a crash course in basic maintenance, in which he showed me tools, proper techniques and the names of parts--often times interspersing lessons with a great conversation and beer. The lessons have been a success; I've slowly begun to hear and feel my bike as I ride. I'm more attuned to the way the peddles feel on my feet and the overall working health of the derailleurs, the forks and the all-important bottom bracket. If a problem does arise, which is quite often, due to the fact that my bike is more than 20 years old and has easily over 25,000 miles on it, I am apt to pinpoint the cause and have my hand at an attempt to correct it.

3. Through work I've become what you might call an 'amateur expert' in the ancient science of "Aquaponics"--a hybrid form of agriculture that seeks to fuse both hydro culture--the act of raising plants only through mineral-enriched water--and fishery science. The basic practical application looks like this: A large tank of water is filled with fish. The fish proceed to eat, swim, grow and poop. The 'poop water' is then run through troughs. The troughs are covered by floating rafts that have plants placed on them--the rafts have a series of circular holes cut so that the plants' roots can reach down into the 'poop water' in the trough. The plants in turn suck up the nutrients from the 'poop water', using the nitrogen in the fecal matter to grow. The root systems of the plants filter the water, so that once the water has run the gauntlet of the suspended roots, it is clean enough to be pumped back up into the fish tank as pure, lovely H2o. The fish subsequently eat, grow, swim and poop, repeating the cycle. Aquaponics is a system that was designed in ancient China and is also believed to have been used by the Mayans of Central America (I think). At work we’ve been working tirelessly for the past two years to start up an aquaponics cooperative—which we have named "Hothouse Harvest"—that seeks to unite a worker-owner cooperative business model with that of an aquaponics greenhouse. We have ambitions of selling to local grocers in the Erie region by harvesting vegetables and mixed greens. Once Hothouse Harvest has a fairly robust harvesting cycle and we are pleased with the progress and functionality of our own aquaponics system, we'll begin to expand the cooperative by hiring on employees-- most of whom will come from the refugee/immigrant/low-income population on the East Side of Erie. We're viewing the project as a synthesized land-reclamation-economic-development-food-sustainability model, which we anticipate might be copied and applied in many other post-industrial settings around the United States. Needless to say, I've been reading about, talking about and visiting many aquaponics systems as of late. Dare I say, I think I have enough basic knowledge to set up my own!

A process of learning.

Reflecting back on the experiences of this year, I can say with confidence that this has indeed been a year of learning. I seem to have gotten myself into many new hobbies and interests since my arrival back to the United States in July, and I'd like to just spell out a few of them for you here:

1. Backyard Ornithology: Jamie and I have a quaint garden that is full of perennial flowers and oak trees, which makes a nice stage upon which our avian friends can flutter and strut--especially in the early spring mating season. I saw the swooning dances of humble House Sparrows, the nest-building skills of a minute House Wren, the rearing toughness of a mother Blue Jay, and the be speckled breast of fledgling Robins, Sparrows and a few bright Orioles. Each day I am attracted to the chatter and effusive life that permeates through the hedge bushes, our bean garden and the tallest oak. It's a shame that in years previous I myself was quite oblivious to the perpetuation of life that was growing around me, which takes its more endearing form in that of a fledgling. As they leave their nest I have come to appreciate their absolute helplessness in fending for themselves, as they wait for their mother to bring them morsels of seeds or worms to deposit into their gullet. They are horrible flyers and often times end up running head-first into the shed or our wooden fence that surrounds the yard. They are clumsy, physically manifesting the fact that even the creature MADE to fly, still has to learn the art through falling.

2. This year marks the third upon which I have been without a car. I rely almost solely on my commuter bike--and if the weather turns nasty, public transportation. I became accustomed to riding a bike in the Czech Republic; however, at the time, I wasn't aware of the nuances that enable one to truly depend on this wonderfully simple form of locomotion: I was clueless as to how a chain was suppose to be properly oiled and cleaned, I didn't know the difference between a cassette or a chain ring--all of them to me were just "sprockets", I had no true experience in changing out tires, and I was completely clueless about what to look for when a grind or a crunch began to radiate through the steel frame. Deciding that it was time for me to become "more one" with the bike, I called upon the help of a local bike-mechanic friend to give me a crash course in basic maintenance, in which he showed me tools, proper techniques and the names of parts--often times interspersing lessons with a great conversation and beer. And t lessons have been a success, as I've slowly begun to hear and feel my bike as I ride. I'm more attuned to the way the peddles feel on my feet and the overall working health of the derailleurs, the forks and the all-important bottom bracket. If a problem does arise, which is quite often, due to the fact that my bike is more than 20 years old and has easily over 25,000 miles on it, I am apt to pinpoint the cause and have my hand at an attempt to correct it.

3. Through work I've become what you might call an 'amateur expert' in the ancient science of "Aquaponics", a hybrid form of agriculture that seeks to fuse both hydro culture--the act of raising plants only through mineral-enriched water--and fishery science. The basic practical application looks like this: A large tank of water is filled with fish. The fish proceed to eat, swim, grow and poop. The 'poop water' is then run through troughs. The troughs are covered by floating rafts that have plants placed on them--the rafts have a series of circular holes cut so that the plants' roots can reach down into the 'poop water' in the trough. The plants in turn suck up the nutrients from the 'poop water', using the nitrogen in the fecal matter to grow. The root systems of the plants filter the water, so that once the water has run the gauntlet of the suspended roots, it is clean enough to be pumped back up into the fish tank as pure, lovely H2o. The fish subsequently eat, grow, swim and poop, repeating the cycle. Aquaponics is a system that was designed in ancient China and is also believed to have been used by the Ancient Mayans of Central America (I think). At work we’ve been working tirelessly for the past two years to start up an aquaponics cooperative—which we have named "Hothouse Harvest"—that seeks to unite a worker-owner cooperative business model with that of an aquaponics greenhouse. We have ambitions of selling to local grocers in the Erie region by harvesting vegetables and mixed greens. Once Hothouse Harvest has a fairly robust harvesting cycle and we are pleased with the progress and functionality of our own aquaponics system, we'll begin to expand the cooperative by hiring on employees-- most of whom will come from the refugee/immigrant/low-income population on the East Side of Erie. We're viewing the project as a synthesized land-reclamation-economic-development-food-sustainability model, which we anticipate might be copied and applied in many other post-industrial settings around the United States. Needless to say, I've been reading about, talking about and visiting many aquaponics systems as of late. Dare I say, I think I have enough basic knowledge to set up my own!