Happy New Year!

An Ault Christmas in Tennessee

This Christmas Jeremy and I went down to Tennessee to spend the holiday with his parents, grandma and triplet brothers. I expected to have a good time, however nothing could have prepared me for the giggle-fest which ensued! On Friday, after everyone had arrived, Jeremy's parents decide to give Jeremy and his brothers their main present. With the boys stilling out the couch, out came three identical bags and Jeremy's dad ran to get the video camera. What was so special about these gifts that they did not want to wait two days until Christmas day? All three of them reached into their gift bag at the same time and pulled out a large, black CD case. With confusion on their faces they unzipped their CD cases and instantly a huge grin spread across each triplet's face and a laugh escaped. Inside were DVDs of home videos, not just from their childhood, but also their parents. Needless to say, the entire four days in Tennessee were spent watching these videos, laughing together, and remembering the good times they have had together. Occasionally they would get a call from their younger brother, who was unable to make it but was also watching his own set of home videos. These are the moments that make the holiday season special, and I would like to wish all out family and friends and Merry Christmas, where ever you may be!

Rustic Cabin Weekend

Nothing says Wisconsin better than renting a rustic cabin for the weekend. This past weekend Jeremy, me and a few friends from Jeremy's graduate program pulled out our long-johns and sleeping bags and loaded up our cars with as much food, games and beverages as possible and headed an hour and a half north for a weekend of rustic cabin fun.

Rustic meaning no running water, no electricity and no heat except a wood burning stove which we kept burning all weekend. We cooked over a fire, sang songs, played games and hiked. The weather was beautiful and we even got a few snow flakes to make the weekend even more Wisconsin-esk.

There was only one thing that put a damper on the atmosphere - the boy scouts. Normally I have nothing against boy scouts: they learn survival skills, build fires and cook outside, and do good things in there communities (I was a girl scout myself when I was younger), however these scouts rented the cabin next to use and the scout leaders brought a gas powered generator with them. Yes, you read correctly, the boy scouts brought a generator on a weekend trip to a rustic cabin. So for 2.5 days we listened to a generator humming away, didn't see any smoke coming from their cabin's chimney and not one boy scout playing outside.

holiday marketbasket

45 Degrees and Sunny

It's mid December but you would never know simply by looking outside: No snow,maybe some morning frost and little critters still out and about. Yesterday Jeremy and I decided we would go for a walk since it was so nice outside. Nice meaning 45 degrees and sunny...there weren't many of those days in Western PA, or Policka...two weeks before Christmas that is. Anyway, we're walking down the sidewalk next to campus (but on the other side of campus where there are never many people) and what do we see? Robins. 9 of them. They must have been migrating a little late and happened to fly into Milwaukee just in time for this lovely day. Sadly they flew only the fringe of a college campus and found french fries instead of worms. Needless to say that was a nice little surprise for two bird lovers who went from backyard bird paradise to a busy street and volleyball court.

Yay! Fresh Fruit and Veggies!

It's been two weeks since my last market basket...

Roll call:

carrots, broccoli, potatoes, onions, collard greens, zucchini, pears, apples, bananas.

Cranberry Sauce

Ballet at 26

I'm not really sure when I decided that I wanted to learn ballet if ever presented with the chance - probably sometime during college. I feel like for most of my life I have had people ask me if I do ballet or gymnastics because I "had the legs for it". I would always reply that I was a runner and swimmer.

I haven't been doing much running or swimming lately, mostly walking, hiking and biking (however I should find a pool....the running I can do without). When we lived in Policka, CZ we had a number of friends who took ballet and other forms of dance, so it was probably there that my goal of taking ballet was solidified. Studios in Erie, PA offered a number of dance classes for children, or adults who already have a background, but none for absolute beginner - which would be me.

After talking a a few people here in Milwaukee I heard rumors of beginner dance classes being offered by the school district and other cultural centers, so the search began. That's when I found Danceworks; a nonprofit that offers a wide range of classes for both children and adults! Perfect!

I'm registered for the full 12 week class, bought a pair of ballet slippers and a pair of tights. I've never taken a dance class and I have a limited sense of rhythm -here goes nothing!

The Market Basket: Health Food Made Afforable

This week we got a super pimped out market basket for the upcoming holiday. Here's what we got for $9: huge head of cabbage (grown local by GP), carrots (again local by GP), peppers (grown local), apples (local), pears (local), onions (local), sweat potato (local), bananas, tangerine, celery and cranberries. As you can see, not all of the basket it grown locally in Milwaukee, however it is still fresh, healthy food being made affordable to everyone.

Let's go for a Walk!

Jamie: Do you wanna go for a walk?
Jeremy: Sure, where go you wanna go?
Jamie: I don't know, do you want to walk down by the lake?
Jeremy: We always walk down there.
Jamie: So where should we go?
Jeremy: I don't know.

This is normally what our conversation look like when it comes to going for a walk or bike ride. Normally we end up downtown or along the lake, but this weekend we found our selves on a section of the Hank Aaron trail,tucked away next to the Menomonee river.

What a gem! This section of the trail wasn't very long, only about a mile, however it was just what we were looking for. The path was was bordered by milkweed, golden rod, bergamot and other fall wild flowers and plants, as well as murals painted by children from a local elementary school. So of course Jeremy and I played with the milkweed pods (doing our part to spread the seeds so more would grow next year) and enjoyed the sunny afternoon. When we thought it couldn't get any nicer, we heard this squeaking and looked up. Right above our head a Downy woodpecker was in the tree hoping from branch to branch, squeaking each time it landed. Fascinated by the adorable little bird, we must have stood and watched it for a good 10-12 minutes before it flew off. What a great way to spead a warm November afternoon!

Spinach Salad (brought to you by our market basket!)

It's Friday! (you know what that means!)

Spinach, corn on the cob, carrots, apples, pears, lemon, oranges, onion, acorn squash, green beans, potatoes and bananas (yum!).

Kale chips.

Kale Chips!
- kale (tons, it shrinks!)
- olive oil
- lemon juice
- salt
- oven

Pre heat your oven to 350 degrees. Wash and rip kale into pieces. Put olive oil, lemon juice and salt onto the kale (I used a big bowl with a lid and shook it up). Place seasoned kale onto cookie sheet and bake until crisp(between 10-20 mins). Enjoy!

Ok, enough about food.

I'm sure that those of you who read our blog are a bit tired of all the market basket posts...sorry about that. I guess I just really enjoy taking a picture of it every week and tel you about the new things I learn how to cook, BUT we need to make sure that there are other things being written about.

It's now November which means we have lived in Milwaukee for just about two and a half months (wow - it feels a lot longer than that). Jeremy is up to his ears in school work and I am learning new things everyday at my job.

Yesterday I worked painting our logo on the side of our building, which made me really happy. I feel that the management staff at Growing Power have a good sense of what people are good at and how they can use those talents to enhance the organization. There are so many unbelievably talented and passionate people working there.

After painting I went to the Urban Ecology Center: Washington Park. Our first week in Milwaukee Jeremy and I rode over there and signed up to be volunteers. Jeremy has been going to the Urban Ecology: Riverside Park every Friday and being a volunteer teacher. This was my first time back to volunteer and I'm really glad I did. It took me back to the root of what I love to do, which is to learn about our natural environment and teach others about it. Every Saturday before the young scientists club starts the staff feeds the animals with the kids (and parents) that come. They have turtles (box, painted, musk, mud), fish (yellow perch, blue gills), an american toad and bull frog, and two different snake (which I can't remember their types). One for the moms next to me verbally expressed her love for turtles, which turned into a conversation about why water and land turtles are shaped different, but also the similarities that all turtles have, and the variety of things different turtles will eat in the wild. Then I answered other questions about snakes. It was so fun!

After watching the animals be fed by the staff, kids and volunteers went into the park and picked up litter. It was so fun watching the them really get into cleaning up the park, but also having teachable moments at the same time. The little girl I was partnered with kept picking up fallen tomatoes when we were cleaning up around the raised beds, but after a few minutes and getting asked where tomatoes come from she figured out that tomatoes on the ground were not trash, but would turn back into soil and we should put them in the compost pile, not our black trash bag.

Then just when I thought the day couldn't get any better the staff took the kids to the rain garden to collect seeds to be planted next spring. After being taught which seeds to collect we split into groups. Never in my life would I have thought that we would collect seeds for 20+ minutes and have kids be so into it that they didn't want to go home! My group collected bergamot, which is a type of mint which is used in making earl grey tea. The stem of the plant is square rather then circular, which is characteristic of mints, and the seeds a found in tiny little tubes which were once the flower. Cool huh?

Another week, another market basket

Another week another market basket! This week we got (drum roll please) carrots, broccoli, apples, pears, bananas, potatoes, hot peppers, oranges, a lemon, an acron squash and mustard greens!

Wait...mustard greens?! What the crap do you do with them? Actually, that was my second question...the first being, what the heck is this? So can you can see I was told the greens we got were mustard greens and that you can steam or saute them.


So I looked online for a recipe and this is what I found. I kinda liked them, but Jeremy didn't really care for them. They were too strong tasting (like mustard!). But hey, I learned how to cook something new!






Mustard Greens Recipe

1/2 cup thinly sliced onions (I used leak)
2 cloves garlic, minced (I used garlic powder)
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 pound mustard greens, washed and torn into large pieces
2 to 3 Tbsp chicken broth or vegetable broth (didn't have any...)
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1/4 teaspoon dark sesame oil (didn't have this...so I threw on some red wine vinegar)

1 In a large sauté pan, sauté onions in olive oil over medium heat until the onions begin to brown and caramelize, about 5 to 10 minutes. Add the minced garlic and cook a minute more, until fragrant.

2 Add the mustard greens and broth and cook until the mustard greens are just barely wilted. Toss with sesame oil. Season with salt and pepper.

Serves 4.

Nordic Trail (10 mile day hike)

Yet another market basket.

This week features butternut squash, broccoli, carrots, onions, potatoes, apples, pears, salad mix and bananas!

You might notice that the carrot are larger than normal. But actually they are rather small compared to the others that got harvested this week! There was one that looked like a zucchini, I kid you not - the power of worm poop :)

Mid-semester

This week's Market Basket!

How fun is this week's market basket?!

We've got carrots, apples, acorn squash, pears, bananas, potatoes, purple onions, salad mix, broccoli and brussel spouts (yes, the sprouts are on that long stick thing - learn something new everyday!).

So for dinner I found a recipe for brussel sprouts and added some of the potatoes, carrots and onions that we got as well and grilled up some chicken. I never thought I would say it, but those brussel sprouts were great! Nothing like cooking with fresh, local veggies!

Brussel Sprout recipe

(for those of you who hate boiled brussel sprouts as much as I do!)

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 pounds Brussels sprouts, ends trimmed and yellow leaves removed
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (205 degrees C).
2. Place trimmed Brussels sprouts, olive oil, kosher salt, and pepper in a large resealable plastic bag. Seal tightly, and shake to coat. Pour onto a baking sheet, and place on center oven rack.
3. Roast in the preheated oven for 30 to 45 minutes, shaking pan every 5 to 7 minutes for even browning. Reduce heat when necessary to prevent burning. Brussels sprouts should be darkest brown, almost black, when done. Adjust seasoning with kosher salt, if necessary. Serve immediately.

Spaghetti Squash

Two weeks ago we got a spaghetti squash in our market basket..... and my first instinct was, "what the crap is a spaghetti squash and how do you cook it?" So I asked asked my co-worker, who looked at me like a was dumb as bricks and made a little joke, then she realized I really had no clue and filled me in on how to cook and prepare this odd squash (smile). So tonight I invited over a few friends to try it out. I hope it's good. Cross your fingers and your toes!

Market Basket update!

Market Basket!

So...my camera broke, so I sent to back so I sent it back to get new one, which is why I haven't been posting much the last month. However, I just discovered that we can take pictures with our web camera...yeah, I know....so sorry about that, I'll make sure to take more pictures!

Anyway, back to our market basket. The picture is a little hard to see, but we got potatoes, carrots, bananas, acorn squash, apples, pears, leak, dinosaur kale, green cabbage, purples onions and hot peppers - not too shabby.

Wisconsin plate G60-13T is a litter bug

Why someone would ever throw trash out their window is beyond me. But I saw it happen first hand this afternoon on my ride home from work.

The light was red at W. Fond Du Lac and North Avenue and I couldn't help but look at the car in front of me seeing it was orange and pink (couldn't tell you for the life of me what kind it was). And then, right in front of me, the front passenger drops a pop can out the window. The driver is smoking a cigarette and the passenger in the back seat hands the front seat passenger a big drink cup and he drops that one out the window as well. By this time I'm both shocked and ticked, so I loudly state "Hey, you dropped somethin". The drive looked as me in his rear view mirror, with a look on his face that read, "yeah, and your point?" and drove away. But then why would he care about his buddy dropping a couple of things out his window when there was already trash everywhere. Plus, he wouldn't wanna get his new car all dirty.

Another week, another market basket.

Bike shop

Farm Markets and Market baskets

It's been two weeks since I started working at Growing Power and man, what a cool job. Mind you, the majority of the time I am in a little office with the accountant, on my computer entering things into quickbooks, but every so often there is a little surprise change up. For instance, on Wednesday I was told I would be going to the farmer's market at Marquette University because the person who would normal would go had to do something else. So my co-worker and I loaded into a van with our produce and headed down to Marquette. This farmers market has been in the works for years and is the second annual, however bigger and better. This fall there are three farmers markets planned where students will be able to buy fresh, local produce, dairy, baked goods and more. Ands the best part about it is that the sustainability program at Marquette is sponsoring it, so students are able to use their meal plan and MU cash to pay for they food they purchase. The market lasted from 11am-3pm and what do you know, I get my picture in the newspaper!



One of the perks of working on a farm is access to fresh fruits and veggies. Market baskets are available every Friday, so I thought I would give you a little taste of what is in one. The great thing is they change every week, and you'll never know what you're gonna get!

Sailing

School and Such

Well, it's been quite some time since I was last able to post anything of substance on this blog, but I'm glad to see that Jamie has really taken it upon herself to keep the site updated and interesting! My first few weeks in school have been a cloud of honest confusion with fleeting periods of happiness and contentment. To say that I enjoy being back at school would be quite the overstatement, as I find myself more and more drawn to the life outside of the campus boundaries: I yearn to camp with friends, drink beers in bars, explore the state of Wisconsin and read literature as opposed to the ponderous works of historians I don't even know. Yet, having said that, I do thoroughly enjoy the intellectual challenge that history affords me, even if I'm not so keen on the insular politics of academe; the classes that I've been taking this semester have been fascinating and challenging all at once. The student with whom I study with are a great mix of ages and expertise. Many are older than myself, and all of them are passionate about their specific topic of historical inquiry, which always leads to heated and enthralling conversations in the class room. The professors themselves are nurturing and VERY personable; I guess it might be time for me to throw out my old preconceived notion that the large university professor as a man or woman of cold countenance and condescending arrogance.

The social life in Milwaukee is great, and I've been finding it much harder to balance my studies with all the options I have upon the end of work or class. I can go to numerous restaurants, lay on the beach or walk to the art museum. I've enjoyed getting to know many of the students in my Trinity Fellowship, and all of them are wonderful, interesting and open-minded.

Work has also been great, as I've been slowly learning my role within the Adult Learning Center. My relationship with the students has gotten off to a great start, and each day I have more and more visitors. I help them write their resumes, talk about their problems, and even do some basic job searching for them. This job, in all honestly, is a major demotion from what I was doing last year in Erie, but I like the fact that my job now carries less stress and affords me more time to study and read--two activies I'll be doing a lot over the course of these next twenty months.

Due to the fact that I don't work on Friday, I've decided to pick a volunteer teaching job at a local nonprofit known as the "Urban Ecology Center." The center functions almost as a YMCA camp within the city limits and offers classes on biology, ecology, rock climbing, canoeing and botany to inner-city youths and schools. Just yesterday I helped lead a class on bees, which was great fun; I felt like I was back in Ohio working as an Environmental Educator again. The image of children running through a natural prairie, swinging bug nets and chasing Monarch Butterflies amidst the shadows of two skyscrapers was energizing for me. Next week I'll be wading with a group of 5th graders in the Milwaukee River as we look for Macroinvertebrates! Should be fun!

I guess that this all I must update you on. through the semester I hope to write a little bit more about my personal experiences and challenges here at Marquette, as I attempt to learn how to be student again.

Cau!

I work on an urban farm

Never in a million years did I think that I would be working for a farm - an urban one at that. But here I am, two days into my new job at Growing Power, as an a assistant to the accountant. So you see, I'm not really a farmer...well, or an accountant for that matter, but I heard about Growing Power and their mission from a bunch of different people and they had an opening for a position, and here I am.

Growing Power is a 501c3 nonprofit and land trust that was founded in 1993 by a man named Will Allen. Will's parents were farmers, but he is quoted as saying that he never thought that he would be a farmer as well. But it's a good thing he changed his mind because this man has been an influential piece in the good food movement (or revolution as he calls it)

Simply said, the mission of Will Allen, and of Growing Power, is the make healthy food affordable to everyone (everyone meaning every human being on earth). And his thoughts, as well as the U.N.'s Food and Agricultural Organization, is that the only way to make health food affordable is for it to be produced and distributed at a local level. One of ways that Growing Power does this is through it's market basket program and farmers markets. Cool huh? I could go on forever, but I suggest you check our their website instead! (www.growingpower.org)

Kettle Moraine State Forest - Lapham Peak

Parking tickets

All around Milwaukee these little white and blue jeeps can be seen scanning the parked cars. They are the ones making sure that cars are only parked in certain places for no more than two hours and that meters have money in them. And it all is not in order out comes the clipboard and scanning gun to hand out a ticket.

All of the streets that we have seen so far have signs on that stating when and where you can and cannot park. This is normal for any city. However Milwaukee has a little trick up it's sleeve. On "main" roads, such as Wisconsin or Wells there are signs that tell you that there is no over night parking on those roads...what the signs don't tell you is there is no over night parking on any roads within the city (without a permit that is...). How you are supposed to know that is beyond me.

On Wednesday our friend Jake from Pittsburgh stopped for a visit on his way to Tacoma. He got into Milwaukee around 5pm, so we figured he would be okay to park this car on our street until the morning. But we were wrong. At 4:29am Jake was given a ticket because he was parked overnight without a permit. What we learned from this is that you can get a permit to park over night by calling the parking authority and paying a fee, but the question remains, how do you know to call them if you don't know that you need a permit to park overnight?

Dear Milwaukee, Why Do You Smell Like Wet Dog?

Dear Milwaukee,

My husband and I have enjoyed getting to know you and we like you very much; however we have one question: why do you smell like wet dog? It is a rather odd aroma seeing that we don't live so close of the lake that we would be able to smell the dogs that jump into it, plus I would be expecting to smell fish if that were the case. To my knowledge none of the apartments in our area allow pets, and every pup I have seen since coming to the city has been dry as a bone. So where is this smell coming from?!? Here is my theory, please correct me if I an wrong.

There is a large, wet, uncatchable pooch wandering about. His name is Roger and he likes to fetch things out of the water and return them to their rightful owner. Everyday Roger trots down to the waterfront and searches for something to pull out: a pop can, cigarette butt, flip-flop, etc. Then once he has the item, he runs all over the city until he finds the owner of the discarded item. This of course would explain two things. First, and wet dog smell. And secondly, the clean waterfront.

Milwaukee, I'm not sure if I would like you to catch Roger since he is doing a great service to Lake Michigan; however, if you do see him, please give him a bath.

Thank you and please correct me if I am wrong about the smell.

Sincerely, Jamie

Skyline

Snow-flaked?

There is always a learning curve when moving to an new place. You have to relearn where the good places to eat are, what there is to do on the weekends, where all the different stores are, etc. Plus there are always little oddities that catch you off guard.

The first one were the bike lanes. Coming from Erie I didn't expect there to be so many. And I also didn't expect them to appear and disappear like they do. Jeremy and I were biking around our second full day in Milwaukee, getting a little lost mind you, and decided that we wanted to turn right onto some road. Instantly I had an "oh crap" moment as I realized we were about to go over an interstate look bridge, but much to my surprise a bike lane appeared. It's like the city put them in areas where bikers really need them and the rest of the time they assume a biker and hold their own.

The second oddity we encountered happened today while at the grocery store. Nothing new or exciting, just buying food. We went up to the deli to buy some lunch meat and I asked the guy behind the counter for a pound of shaved smoked turkey. He then reached into the case and pulled some out - clearly not shaved. After placing it on the scale I asked if we could get it cut any thinner and he replied, "oh, do you want it snow-flaked?" and put the "shaved" lunch meat back into the case and proceeded to cut us some "snow-flaked smoked turkey". It ended up being exactly what we wanted, but how would we have ever guessed that "snow-flaked" in Milwaukee means "shaved". Weird. I think we might have to ask around to verify that this is an actual term that is used.

Impressions of Milwaukee

After driving over 550 miles where I traversed through three major cities full of innumerable 'potential hazards', I decided to save my 'accident' for the last five feet of the journey: I backed our moving truck into our neighbor's parked car. Thankfully she wasn't in the automobile (because she was in Georgia) and no one was injured. I was all alone when it happened and initially concluded that I had 'roofed' the truck on a low-lying branch, as the sounds of "CRUUUNCH" and "CRAAACK" were more like that of a stressed out tree than of a car; however, much to my horror, I was not parked under a tree, nor were there any falling leaves to be accounted for. Instead, there was a 2008 black Ford Focus with newly-formed scratches and a gigantic hole in the bumper. My stomach churned and my excitement at finally having arrived at our new destination was as ephemeral as the taste on some cheap gum. I didn't want to move. I didn't want to speak. And I sure as hell didn't want to call a girl--whom I had never met in my life--to tell her that I had just wrecked my 16' moving truck into the front of her sporty, cute college-girl car. I had to, and I did. Thankfully she was in Georgia at the time of the 'disaster' and was unable to slug me in the face upon listening to my wavering, completely embarrassed voice inform her that she will (most likely) need a new bumper upon her arrival back from summer break.

So, there it was. The first impression I made on Milwaukee was indeed a damaged up bumper and an insurance claim. Awesome.

After the initial 'bang' of our arrival in the city, Jamie and I have attempted to get to know the city on a more intimate level by riding around it on our bikes. Half expecting the roads to be as treacherous, if not more treacherous, than in Erie, I was initially a little timid to take my bike out on Wisconsin Ave. (the main thoroughfare) with buses and cars whizzing past my ear. Yet, to my astonishment, no one honked at me; no one verbally accosted me through their window; no one felt the need to rev their engine behind me. In fact, I was even given space on the road on which to ride, which was supplemented by real BIKE LANES that extend all over the downtown area of the city. Numerous times while riding my bike yesterday, I had a slight panic attack, as I turned down a concrete-paved road that looked more like a freeway than a road, and thought to myself, "Uh-oh, THIS road is surely not made for bikes.", only to find that just as I'm about to turn around and go another way, a bike lane appears. It seemed to me that I could ride literally over the ENTIRE city without ever having to be on a road that wasn't meant for bikes. It is such a refreshing change from the danger and complete ignorance of what I had found last year through my travels down Parade St. and State St. in Erie.

My cell phone has been ringing nonstop since my arrival, and I must admit that it's driving me absolutely insane. I really do believe that I've received more calls this past week than I would in a month in Erie. It wouldn't be so bad if those calls were coming from friends and family, but they aren't, they are the product of numerous confused tennents who live in the apartment building that I manage: "Um, could you let me in (at 12:00am)? I seem to have forgotten my key.", "The Internet man is coming to install cable into my room this morning at 10:30. Could you be there for me?", "Sorry for the inconvenience, however, I'm not going to be moving in today. How about tomorrow? Time!?! Oh, sorry, I don't know exactly when I'll be in." So is the life....

The last thing I'll mention is that I've recently become very aware of my own insecurities about going back to graduate school. I must admit that I'm not so sure I made the right decision, and I'm also not sure that what I'm about to study is REALLY what I'm interested in. I'm reading book after book just to get through them, as I have twenty-four of them total. It's been a hard battle to keep the 'Institution' in perspective, and I'm thankful for the Fellowship and the job at the Adult Learning Center for that reason: I can only read so many books that talk quite arrogantly about the problems of academe that make one believe that actually not getting your paper published in a journal is an ACTUAL problem; I know that what I'll be seeing at the Adult Learning Center will put "academic problems" into a crucible where they are to be ridiculed. I know that my worth doesn't come from being the best student or having an excellent seminar paper. I just have to keep reminding myself this as the year progresses. Ugh, I wish I had some stronger self confidence.....

New Place, New Name

Yes, we are on the move again. Off on another adventure, so we are closing the chapter of "Life on the 'e'" and opening a new one: "Milwaukee's Best". Enjoy.

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!

just for fun

Helping and Hurting

Surrounding my place of work are rows of low-income projects. Many of the clientele and children I deal with on a daily basis eek out a living in the small, four room apartments that make up a 'block'. Most of them never work, so they live a quiet, listless life of porch-reclining and aimless walking--or if they are younger, “child rearing." And even though I can talk at great length (or write a well-articulated grant piece) about the factors and underlying reasons for their plight and poverty, I have spent very little time actually tangibly experiencing it. What at first started out as fear of the poorer, darker populace in close proximity to my workplace, has now turned into a rather accepted line of demarcation between my world and theirs; I rarely walk the 200 yards it takes to reach the main street that bisects the project compound. I am comfortable having them come into MY place of comfort. I can dictate to them what needs to be done, and I can express frustrations to them about their lack of 'drive' or 'focus' in regards to helping themselves out of the dehumanizing circumstance they find themselves in. I ride my bike each morning and evening past their houses, only passing by with a casual acknowledgement that in those dilapidated frames and behind those streaked windows live the children of my afterschool program, or the adults of our GED classes. I see their houses as blurs of gray through the corners of my eyes as I attempt to steer my bicycle around the gaping pot holes and cracks in the pavement. Even when I hear the startled voice of a familiar child scream out my name, do I rarely acknowledge the admonition with more than just a half-hearted wave. Yet, yesterday was a different circumstance.

I had only ridden about twenty-five feet when I looked into one of the many courtyards that make up the 'green space' between the apartment complexes to see a mass of children sprawled out lying on the grass. I knew that many of the children were East Africans by their dress and the daintily-decorated Hijhabs with sparkling rhinestones and golden thread that they were wearing over their heads. The girls , for their part, were running (barefoot, as is customary) around the enclosed yard as the boys of the family--many of them my students--busied themselves attempting to make repairs on some bikes. They all saw me ride past. I heard them yell. I hesitated, and turned around at the end of the corner. In my mind I now knew that I was on the verge of crossing over a boundary that to me had seemed unbreakable for nearly nine months. I slowly pulled my bike up to the curb and saw the kids surround my bike, imploring me to help them fix the back tire and brakes on a well-worn, cheap BMX bike. Getting down from my seat, I had a few of the youngest girls pulling on my shorts and tugging at my shirt as they led me through an iron gate which opened up into the courtyard. I saw immediately the hulking, round body of their mother sitting on the steps. She was adorned in a most beautiful full-length dress of red flowers and bright yellow suns, and also had hear head covered. We both greeted each other through the distant nodding of our heads, yet we both were mutually leery and embarrassed for each other: She ashamed of the life possessions, ownership, cleanliness and respect that she didn't have; me, for my sorry attempt at trying to portray genuine empathy and care--which is not exactly easy to come by from a white child of privilege.

Aden and James, the two oldest boys in the group, were both attempting to generate more tightness in a worn, stretched out, and by all reasonable measure, rusty chain that had a bad habit of slipping off of the smallest cog. The drive train was not only worn out and neglected, the entire bike itself, through its cheap metal and shiny decals, never had much of a chance at lasting anyway--it was a cheap bike, and would most likely have a cheap death on the trash-strewn lawn of four low-income apartments. I looked at the chain and informed the boys that they should attempt to move the back wheel as far down the frame as they could. They began working on that aspect of the job with a screwdriver and a wrench--one of which is only conducive to the job. I laughed on the inside at their lack of knowledge and innocence; reflecting later at my own callousness by not realizing that their mother, who clearly had no interest in helping her children fix the bike, had not the money to buy proper tools. Some how, after twenty minutes of us prying and pulling, we got the wheel to move and adjusted it so as to create a small amount of tension on the chain, just enough so that it wouldn’t pop off. We then moved onto the tires, both of which were dry-rotted and flat. I pulled out my newly-purchased hand pump and began to push some life back into the deflated tubes. All the while I was working, I had a swarm of about five to ten children going through my pants pockets and my book bag attempting to find candy and money; distracting my focus as I attempted to come to terms with the fact that I had light hands constantly pressing and perusing through the more 'sacred' parts, or should I say, "crevices", of my body. Eventually the tires rose up and I felt relieved that eventually I would be able to leave. But, it was not to be, as two more tires and a few more girls appeared in the doorway. They pleaded with me to fix them; I went right to work. The children began attempting to depart tire from tube by using a spoon, which had the unfortunate habit of bending on every attempt. The rim itself was all rust, which did not exactly help the situation, as even with the tools, the tire was reluctant to let go of is grip. Eventually we were able to pry the tire off enough of the oxidized rim enough to pull out the tube, which was surprisingly in fairly good condition. Aden, their brother, instantly took up the tire that looked to be about 21 inches in circumference, and earnestly began shoving it onto the rim of a children’s bike. Looking befuddled, I told Aden that the tire looks way too big for that tire and that maybe he should try a smaller tube." Upon hearing this, Aden responded, "You-- Jeremy--we know how to do more than you. See, I can put this tire on this wheel. I'll just fold it up into sections and it'll work just fine. We do this all the time. I don't have money to buy a new tube like you." (Little did he know that last week I did do just as he said: two flat tires = two newly-purchased tubes). Not saying a word, I let Aden get back to his task at hand, and five minutes later, when the tire had been placed on top of the over-sized tube, I began to pump it up. I let some of the little girls have a chance at actually pumping the air, and many of them seemed genuinely ecstatic at such an opportunity.

Upon getting up to leave, I turned around and saw a few more children bringing their bikes out of their homes. It was a parade of popped tires, broken chains and rusted out drive trains. I felt overwhelmed, and as I debated about what to do, I quickly stood up and decided to leave before I got in over my head. I turned around to say good-bye to the mother sitting on the steps. She sat there, in the same position, with the same expression that she had worn an hour earlier upon my arrival. And I realized that she did not care for my act of good-will for her children; she did not need my help. I then suddenly felt out of place. I could see that all around her laid the broken remnants of tea mugs, and I saw into the home, which was vacant aside for a few pieces of blocky, dirty furniture and a lone, spindly wire running up a wall.