- Is it art?
- Sprocket doesn't think so.
- I call this one "study in noodles"
- We went to the PepsiCo Gardens with Jim's family.
- I like this sculpture of a bear crawling out of the pond.
- I also like the filagree pattern this tree casts on the ground.
- Wow, look at the pooch on me. Not the dog, the belly.
- Lillies! I like!
- big fat tadpoles were on every stalk of the lily pads.
- Love this angular tree trunk. Dunno what happened to it.
- I went to Philadelphia last Wednesday. Nice city. Great clients.
- The sky over White Plains on Friday evening was wonderfully Hudson-River-School-like.
- I caught Jim mooning over this deluxe edition of Stratego.
- We took our friend Anna, her soon-to-be stepsons, and her fiance on a hike in Harriman. Here are the stepsons.
- Here's crazy dog Sassafras, Joe, Anna, me, El Jefe, and Sprocket,
- Sprocket got wet.
- I went into the city yesterday to meet my friend Alexandra for lunch. She was in from Chicago. We had a picnic on the High Line and I got a burnt nose.
- The MTA set up a TV in Grand Central so everyone could watch The World Cup finals. Beat sitting in a sweaty bar.
- Perfect clouds again over White Plains
- Look! The Ritz-Carlton building is the same color as the sky! Or maybe it's just a reflection.
Tags: Anna, friends, happy, Harriman, Jim, PepsiCo Gardens, Sprocket, the High Line, white plains
Category art, Geekdom, Life, the weather, The Weekend, Training and General Outdoors Stuff, Visitors |
- I like this photo of Alison.
Alison and I went to the New York Botanical Gardens last weekend. We had a terrific time despite hot and sticky climes, and I took some photos. So nice to see some new plants and immerse myself in greenery.
- Gorgeous trees greeted us at the Botanical Gardens.
- This plant looks like it was inspired by a roller coaster.
- This one was reminiscent of a waterfall, but felt much pricklier.
- This one, called, appropriately, Lamb's Ear, was very comforting to the touch.
- Not a copper sculpture, a cabbage. Gorgeous.
- I have left the NYBG and entered Whoville.
- Alison and me. We are spotted because we stood under a sprinkler for a bit; it was that hot.
- Not a leather bookbinding, tree bark. Warm and lovely.
- Not a stencil in the sky; a breed of maple leaf.
- love these colors. the tonality is so soothing.
- butt-cactus. yuck.
Tags: Bronx, friends, happy, libraries, New York Botanical Gardens, New York stories, photos, plants
Category art, Geekdom, Life, the weather, The Weekend |
I still remember the first time I ever saw Aileen outside of our usual haunts. We were both on the Upper West Side. She had a plastic carrier bag in one hand and was standing in front of a plate-glass window looking at some clothing items. The shop was Clothingline, when they used to have a brick-and-mortar, and I remember standing just near her, wondering if it was the same girl that…
Yep, it was. We exchanged hellos, and then some random platitudes. I can’t remember when we started hanging out after that, or if we actually did. I do know that when we did actually start shooting the shit together, it was in ways that were so far removed from the way we actually met that you might consider it lucky that we met at all.
So enough dancing around the shrubbery–how did we actually meet?
Answer: On bikes, both strong as can be, both confident, both just discovering, I think, what kind of a person extreme competency makes you.
Aileen and I met in 1997, during training for the 1997 Boston-New York AIDS Ride. I did it with my then-boyfriend, who lived in Boston. I was living in New York, and I trained for the thing largely in my living room, on a hydraulic trainer. But I did go on one or two training rides, and it was there that I met Aileen. We would both go on to complete the 1998 AIDS Ride together. Aileen would ride in support of an AIDS Vaccine across Alaska later, and I would ride across Montana in support of the same cause the year following.
Like I say, I’d never seen her in anything other than spandex before the day I saw her standing in front of Clothingline, but I do remember thinking that this woman of bright smile and open demeanor was one to keep track of.
We floated in and out of each others’ lives for years; and then we lost track of each other. Later, we floated back into each others’ orbits, and have known each other through a fair number of birthdays. I have spent two New Years with Aileen. One was a year in the height of my social life, when I had to hit five New Year’s parties, dragging along a boyfriend who wasn’t too keen on all of the shuffling. It was just before Aileen moved to Colorado.
Aileen was, at the time, the coolest person in my immediate circle. She was the quintessential New York girl, the one I wanted to be, with a terrific apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, two cats, her bike stored neatly away. She had a bar at which everyone knew her name. She knew the firemen and the guys who rode Harleys; her hairstylist was her best friend; she introduced me to lots of different people. She played the guitar. Her friends were vastly different from her. She picked up and moved to Colorado, a couple years after I was considering, and eventually not ready to, move to Montana.
Later, she would be a rock in what might be the absolute most confusing time in my life. But I had no way of knowing this. In fact, Aileen has been there through the Married Man, the Cocaine Addict, the Ego-Maniac, and countless friend rotations. (Why do we give our ex-boyfriends capitalized nicknames, but not our ex-friends? Maybe I should start. Well, there’s Dead-to-Me, but that’s about it…)
I also didn’t know, at the time, that Aileen can write. And if now I am eternally frustrated that she doesn’t do more with her writing, I also know that our relationship is indicative of the way I’d like to approach life, and my fragile wish that more of the world will eventually know Aileen’s writing: what’s meant to be eventually will be.
Aileen’s bike is in a corner now, and has been for a little while. It’s a lovely hat-rack. But it’s kept free of dust, and Aileen knows it’s a beautiful machine. She also knows that she’d like to get back on it. Wouldn’t it be nice if, one day, Aileen and I got to ride our bicycles again together?
Tags: AAVR, AIDS Ride, bicycle, Boston-to-New York, friends, MAVR, New York stories, Pallotta TeamWorks, The People in My Neighborhood, writing
Category Life, The Weekend, Things I'm Working On |
Almost at the bottom of my second cup of coffee. In accordance with my self-imposed rule of posting more than once a month on this thing, here’s a series of posts about the past week and the people in it. But really, it’s about the varied people in my life, and how they got there.
On Wednesday I went down to my friend Alan’s school, Bronx Science, to talk about ShelterBox. Alan and I have been trying to put this together for a long time. He managed to squeeze me into his Comparative Government class, all seniors, all two and a half weeks from graduating.
- The awesome mural at the entrance of BxSci HS (photo: BXSci)
People, can I just say how incredible it is to watch a friend teach? Even if it’s just taking brief command of a class and then turning it over to you; there is something remarkably moving about the process of watching someone you know and love; someone who’s lived a long and storied life, part of which you’ve been there for; stand in front of a class of students who could be unruly, but aren’t, in his presence.
Alan’s students are thoughtful and kind; smart and curious; loving and giving. They are reflections of Alan. Anyone who’s ever doubted the influence teachers have on their charges should witness something like this.
Later Alan took me to lunch. We had mac and cheese in the school caf. I love school cafs. We were in the teacher’s cafeteria, but whatever: same food. I only wish there were fish sticks and tater tots. Alan looks unimpressed here.
I, however, was impressed by the milk cartons:
Hello! “El Moo!”
Would you like to know how Alan and I met? It is a classic New York story. It was early summer, 2001. Maybe even late spring. I was working in advertising sales, and living in Astoria, Queens.
I liked it there. On this particular late-spring day, I dashed down the subway stairs at 59th and Lex, eager to get home, and ran into a wall of people. This is always a bad sign; it means the trains are bogged down someplace and we will all get home a little later, after a sticky subway ride all the way back.
I breathed out, “Ugh,” and looked at the guy next to me, doing a crossword puzzle. “Wow. How long has it been like this?”
He looked up from his puzzle and shrugged. “Dunno. Just got here.”
“Oh, okay.”
I opened my book (Carl Hiasson, but I can’t remember which), and he went back to his crossword puzzle. Not long after, our train arrived, and I looked at him. “Not bad after all,” I said, and he nodded.
We got on the train and I promptly fell asleep, which I did often in those days. You get to knowing where your stop is and your body figures out pretty quickly how long you can nap for, but the crossword-puzzle guy had no way of knowing that. So he watched, nervous for me, as stop after stop went by and I slept.
At the last stop, he got up and reached for my foot to shake me awake, but I snapped awake just in time.
“Oh. I was just about to wake you,” he said, and I grinned.
“This is my stop!”
We walked out together, and he asked about the book I was reading. We made small talk until I got to my corner. He lived only a block beyond, and it seemed we’d been living in that small radius for the past two years or so.
We didn’t exchange information.
But we ran into each other steadily for the next few days, weirdly enough, returning books and videos; picking up stuff; things like that.
We never once exchanged information, and then there came a stretch where I didn’t see him. And then came moving day.
I was moving into Manhattan, and I took the day off to do so. I tried to pack up and then, at around 10:30, realized that I still had dry-cleaning to pick up. I locked up my apartment one last time and went down the street. I turned the corner, and bumped right into Crossword-Puzzle-Carl-Hiasson-Book-Video-Library-Train guy.
“I’m moving today!” I squawked, or something like that.
“I’m late to work!” he returned.
“Okay, we have to do something about this,” I said, and finally, finally, we exchanged information.
We’ve been friends ever since. Alan was with me in the days after 9-11. He’s seen me through breakups and worse; several job changes; he’s been a constant shining star in my life.
I know his students feel the same.
- yes, the only photo i have of us together. so lame!
Tags: Bronx Science, friends, happy, New York stories, The People in My Neighborhood
Category art, Life, ShelterBox, Things I'm Working On |
What is there to survive, you want to know? None of it was bad. It was all very good. But it was completely and totally draining. If I were the type to keep scrapbooks, I’d now be staring at a pile of ticket stubs, napkins, photos and things to paste into said imaginary scrapbook. But I’m not, so here’s a digital photo dump.
Monday the 10th our good friend Audrey came into New York for the evening, and Jim and I went down to see her by train. At the Hawthorne station, I spotted these awesome steelworks. There’s a whole series of them, from hobos to women waiting at the station for people to come in on the train.
We had some lovely sushi in midtown. It was so nice to see her.
I miss Audrey. We used to see her a lot, and w are only lucky that she comes into New York quite a bit for business. Otherwise, the distance between Chicago and New York would seem a lot bigger.
The following Thursday morning, I went for my first jog with a group in forever. But the group didn’t show up. So I slogged around on the Bronx River pathway for a little half an hour, and then I went home and prepped for my morning meeting in Irvington, New York, where I was reminded of how much I like the river towns and their sharp slope downwards to the Hudson River.
You can just see the Tappan Zee bridge in this photo. I liked living there, back in the mid-90s.
Later that day, my friend Nic, another ShelterBox Response Team member, came to visit me. It was Nic’s first time in New York, and after being stuck in traffic for sometime, we finally got back to my place and hot-footed it down to the Big Bad in time for Nic’s hair appointment with an acquaintance of mine. I had a pedicure in the meantime. (I am shocked, by the way, to realize that almost a month later, they still look pretty good.)
Spotted this building advert on the way over.
Later we went to see a friend of Nic’s art exhibit. It is art of the type I call stupid good: You don’t have to know anything about art to know it’s just damned good work. Damien Hirst bought two of the ones on exhibit, and although I’m not one for picked cows, I do trust the man has good taste in art.
We’d met Robert and his girlfriend Sarah at the exhibit, and then we went off to get Nic some good old-fashioned eats at Katz’s Deli. Yum.
Good haircut, right?
Nic was with us for a week. It was really nice, and pretty whirlwind, but it was immediately comfortable–Nic just sort of fit into our daily routines. She could have stayed for months and we’d not have cared one iota.
We took her to part of the Appalachian trail and the woods by us and in general had a great time. The day after Nic left, my parents dropped in.
We took them all over, too, and Dad took a bunch of pictures, but I’m convinced they’re all still on his camera. He still has photos on there from my brother’s wedding. That was at the end of January. Storage cards are a bad thing for some people.
My mom wanted to go to Bergdorf’s. I took her. We saw these. I want some.
They are salt and pepper shakers. More important, they are eggs with legs on them. Most important, they are hilarious.
We took them to Rhode Island. They liked it. I liked that my mom has always wanted to go there and never has been, and now she can say she did that.
My parents were in town for a week. Two days after they left we drove to Rhode Island again, for a wedding. But this trip was far more casual. We spent Sunday at Bluff Point, which is probably one of the prettiest places int he world. I could totally live there, maybe in this house:
Sprocket was happy, too:
And we saw lots of gorgeous flora:
Actually, all of these photos were taken at Hadley Farm, neighboring Bluff Point.
And then later we did actually go over to Bluff Point, which is a state park and at which you can mountain bike, ride horseback, stroll and swim if you’d like.
And fish, obviously. I like this picture. It has a Winslow Homer quality to it. But of course I flatter myself.
I love the fractal quality of these ferns. So pretty!
If you’re wondering why I’m taking photos of what looks like a plain old gnarly root system, it’s because not three minutes earlier I watched a little girl, no more than 8 years old and wearing Crocs, kick ass down this section of trail. She just rode it, like it was nothing. So cool.
Here we are at Bluff Point. It was a nice day.
Later on that evening we went back to Narragansett, not far from where we’d taken my parents to see the Newport mansions, for my friend Tom’s wedding.
As usual, my head is enormous. But the dress, which I bought at a second-hand store in Pittsburgh, actually turned out OK. I had it taken up a bit. For $45 plus the $25 for the alteration, it was a steal. And I’ve always wanted a vintage cocktail dress…this one is from the 50s and has these stiff sized panels at the hips to give me more shape.
It was a really awesome wedding. Tom is Jewish and Sabrina is Brazilian, so their huppah was constructed of branches Tom had found after a windstorm in Central Park and a beautiful tropical cloth. It was adorned with tropical flowers. Gorgeous. Their declaration of intent was Buddhist, we recited a Shinto prayer of happiness, and their song choice was “Time After Time,” performed by two of their friends. Way cool. And we met some really nice people.
We drove home the next day and plowed through the workweek, and then we went to York, PA yesterday for one more wedding.
York is an interesting place. It clearly had had its boom time, but it’s a little downtrodden now. We stayed at the Lafayette Club, and that was interesting.
The portraits you see lining the walls are all of presidents.
The building itself is awesome. Definitely a little run down, but the historical details were fabulous. The price was right and the location–across the street from the reception site–was terrific.
Perhaps the best detail of all, though, was the old communication system.
It looks very muppet-like.
See?
Anyway. That is why I am tired. Now I am sitting here in my living room, realizing that I really must commit to more blog posts so things like this photo dump don’t happen again. My fingers are tired. I have bored you for 1150 words. I must stop.
‘Til next time,
Your friendly local airhead
Category Uncategorized |
Hi there.
Coherency will now fly out the window as I update my life to my three followers.
First, some photos and a small comment on friendship:
I have known Kelsey since October 2008, when we went through our ShelterBox 3-day assessment together. Our paths diverged from there, but we stayed friends, mostly because we have the same sense of humor. Kelsey has since lived in Texas, Hanoi, Budapest. This September she will be studying in London; this summer she will be stateside again, in Boston, I think. I am lucky to have such friends through such a tenuous connection. Kelsey came to visit just before I left for Haiti.
When I returned, spring had happened. All of the trees were green and budding, and the flowering trees and shrubs were in full bloom. The park across the street from us has these gorgeous flowering cherry trees. They make lovely carpets of soft pink petals all over the ground.
Here is a gratuitous Sprocket photo.
There are lots of other pretty flowering plants in this park, including this purple one.
I wish I knew what it was. Is it wisteria? I don’t think so; somewhere my visual memory tells me that wisteria is much more delicate-looking.
Elsewhere in the park, there is a dogwood. The blooms were hanging too high for me to get a good photo. There are also dandelions.
Shortly after I got home from Haiti (and after my meander through the park, taking photos that I have to explain because they are too bad to be explicit), I realized that I needed to write a column for the newspaper, and that my credit card bill needed to be paid, and that I had missed the deadline for registration for the MFA program I’ve enrolled in (yes, yes, more on that later), and also that…oh, God, I have to drive to Pittsburgh.
Kara got her doctorate recently, and her family and I went to see her walk. We almost missed her; there were many many students. But before that we had a day to mellow out in Pittsburgh. I bought a vintage dress to wear to a wedding later this year; and we had lunch at Enrico’s on Ellsworth, where I took this photo:
I liked the light. It didn’t seem to come through in the photo, though. Kara’s had this camera bag for awhile, and it just gets prettier with age.
Also there was this:
I really like these metal flames. There is something very primeval about it (I know, duh), and I just like the idea of an Italian joint with wood-fired pizza having an oven covered in flames.
I also liked this:
This is probably the best-tasting BLT I’ve ever had. It was very, very messy, but the taste made up for it. Alas, it was too big for me to eat all at once.
We also saw this curious substitute for a guard-dog. Hey, if you could have a dinosaur guarding your home, wouldn’t you?
The next day we putzed around the house, and we went to see the marathon go by, which has inspired me to Do Another. I love race day. I get all teary.
Then there was this:
And then there was this:
and that is the end of Kara’s long journey to her doctorate degree. V. V. exciting. Our Pittsburgh journey would take me 18 hours of driving altogether. It was not pleasant. But I got to eat Cracker Barrel meatloaf, and I also managed to leave only one peg remaining in that idiot game they have at every table. It is the first time I have ever done that (I am usually a two or three or even four-pegger), and here is the proof:
I can never duplicate this, because I was listening to Kara saying something and I wasn’t really paying attention to what I did. [Insert left-brain/right-brain commentary here.]
Ohoh. Also in Pittsburgh we saw an awesome exhibit featuring artists’ renditions of teapots. Yes, teapots, that wonderful form that instantly evokes comfort and prettiness. No, not beauty. Teapots are not beautiful. They are pretty to within inches of beauty. But they are not usually striking. These, however, were:
Tea set made entirely of cockle-burrs. Called “Tea for Sudan.” Owtch.
And I like this one. Total polar opposite of “Tea for Sudan,” it is comforting and very very easy on the eyes.
Er. I think that might be it, except ohOH on the way home I received this e-mail, as a comment on a book review I’d done earlier:
Hello, I’m [Txx Nxxxxx] and I’m a Student i need some information about Elijah of Buxton , i need background information, conflict, Rising action, falling action, climax and the Resolution. (THEME)! Thanks
First of all, student, you are lucky I am kind and am not revealing your name and e-mail address here. Second of all, you need lots of help with your capitalization. Second of all, hell, call me old-fashioned and whatever, but dude. Read The Book. And then sit and have a good think about it.
Third, man, I really have no idea what you’re asking me for here.
So here’s a neat little segue: I am not going to get my MFA because I want to teach students like Txx. I am going back to school so I can be a better writer, specifically in long-form fiction. Eventually I am sure I will teach, but I would like to publish first. And when I do teach, I would like it to be older students, who have lived a little and who need a little push. I will probably end up engaging in some kind of writing coaching, if there is such a thing.
So I’ve chosen the Whidbey Island Writer’s Association for my school of choice. After much waffling and back-and-forth, I am happy to report that I am very very excited about this. Learning things is always good. Learning things that will help you to become what you have wanted to become for years is incredibly exciting.
It is going to cost me an arm and a leg. I am a little bit worried about that. But life has been busy lately and I see no reason to slow down, really.
Tags: Pittsburgh, Sprocket, teapots, Whidbey Island, white plains
Category art, Book reviews, Food, Life, Uncategorized |
No photos, no brain dump. Just a plea to those who want to help Hait.
I know your hearts are in the right place. And while this note isn’t intended to reflect the views of the wonderful organization I volunteer for, I’d like for you to know that it comes from good experience on the ground. For those who are late to the game, I’m a volunteer for a disaster-relief organization. We’ve been in Haiti since January 14th, and I’ve just recently returned from three weeks on the ground with my team.
I know everyone wants to do good. Giving is never wrong. But please, please consider the following:
1. HOW you can give.
When you demand that an organization earmark your money for Haiti, it doesn’t help the organization. In fact, it might hinder it, and your funds might never get used if that organization has done what it can in the field. Please consider that the organization you’re giving to likely has been operating in the field for some time, if you’ve done your research, and that they’ll know best how to use your generous donation. There is an interesting movement afoot to pool all funds earmarked for Haiti, and I’m for this cause.
2. WHAT you can give.
Folks, if you’re thinking of going to Haiti to offer emotional succor and nothing else, please consider that there is a lot of real, tangible work to be done. I’m not saying that religious services and prayer aren’t needed, it’s just that there are a lot of well meaning people on the ground already. This is not the place to clog up with wandering missionaries.
Also, if you are taking up a collection, please ensure that you have someone on the ground to receive and distribute the materials. A box of random FA goods addressed “To the People of Haiti” is not going to go anywhere. It is going to sit in the airport warehouse, blocking the way to the goods that can be delivered to actual populations that professional organizations have targeted. Likewise, the pros have the means to distribute.
Haiti’s airport and its shipping warehouses are stretched to the limit. They are not used to managing this much stuff. Part of the backlog has to do with inexperience and simple lack of space. Please don’t let my goods sit out on the tarmac because yours are going to be in the warehouse forever.
Likewise, if you are on the ground on behalf of an organization and planning to “beg and borrow” from organizations already on the ground, please don’t. Please come with either your own aid, ready to operate, or don’t come unless you can get all of your ducks lined up before you come. Orgs already on the ground are also likely already stretched to their limits.
3. WHO you can give.
This sounds weird, but it’s not. Folks with celebrity status: Please stay at home, unless you are planning to come WITHOUT your entourage of 5,000 people. If you really want to do good, please do so from the comfort of your homes, where you can host fundraisers for the organizations that are already cleaning out their coffers and closets for aid. You can do a massive PR push just as well from your couch or from your favorite restaurant.
Your PR people are in the way. Often, they make curious demands of organizations that we are just not in a position to fulfill while we are in the field.
If you are coming quietly, by yourself, and want to just get dirty and help, welcome. No one will recognize you anyway, and your hard work will be appreciated.
That’s it for now.
Thanks,
Your friendly local humanitarian volunteer
Category Uncategorized |
No, not really. There were some beautiful things going on in Haiti, though, and I think I’ll just post them here. There’s a lot going on here in our little household, not the least of which is the fact that, while I was gone in Haiti, my registration form for the MFA program I got accepted into was due. Oops. I think they’ll let me slip by; they’ve also generously given me a scholarship, so I’m hoping that they’ll excuse the fact that I was gone for a good reason.
I have some other thoughts about Haiti. I will post them tomorrow, if I haven’t ripped out unseemly clumps of my hair in one or two stressful movements.
Almost every wall in Haiti is painted in some way, shape, or form. Much of it is made for advertisements sake (more on that later) but this was on the side of a voudou church in Leogane. I thought it was beautiful, and although I don’t quite understand the connection between voudou and Christianity, I found this a beautiful example of native artwork.
I also found this eagle in Leogane, not far from a bar we went to called Masaye. I don’t know what it was for, but I liked the fierceness of the eagle and the aggressive way the wing and tail feathers are spread. I especially like the remnants of the lettering around the eagle.
One of the most beautiful things about Haiti is its coastline. Aside from the gorgeous beaches both sandy and rocky, the water is this deep, deep blue. From the sky you could see a boat that had been sunk. Its ribs were clearly visible and its mast stuck out of the water. I missed that photo. So you’ll have to settle for this one.
I was lucky enough to catch this girl on her mobile phone in front of a partly demolished National Palace. Aside from the fact that the palace itself is beautiful, I found everything about this particular composition to be interesting.
This is the Marron Inconnu, the tomb of the Unknown Slave. It was commissioned to commemorate the years that Haiti’s past as a slave nation, and future as the first black republic. Do you see the stuff behind it around it? Le Marron Inconnu sits in the midst of a shantytown, and an old woman lives underneath him now, having lost her home in an earthquake. Yes, my knees went wobbly when I realized, when she popped out to ask for help while I was pointing with my idiotic camera.
Oh. This is the National Palace without the bars and bits in front. With crane and big U.N. truck in front.
Open suitcase. Child’s toy. Rubble. ‘Nuff said.
I said before that everything is art here. It’s true, but I don’t think, based on these paintings, that I’d want to get my hair done here. Or my dentistry. Or any plastic surgery.
All of the public buses here are painted by hand. They are beautiful. This one happens to have an airplane hanging off the side of it.
Finally, there were a number of wooden buildings that were still standing. I thought this ornate Victorian-like building to be absolutely gorgeous.
Tomorrow, some more coherent thoughts, I hope. For tonight, I hope that these photos convey, somewhat, just how beautiful Haiti is. I thought it was, anyway.
Tags: Haiti
Category art, Geekdom, Life, ShelterBox |
ShelterBox deployments are funny. You might talk to your team lead once or twice before you arrive at your destination, but really, you don’t have any idea who the rest of your teammates are or what they’re like unless you’ve deployed with them before. Fortunately, you know a little bit about who they are already. You know that they went through the same training you did, so you have at least that in common.
I was very lucky. On this deployment, I had quite a few friends. John and Bill and I had done our 3-day courses together, and I’d done my 9-day with John. I’d deployed once before with Phil. When Bill rotated out, my friend Nicola, with whom I’d done the 9-day, rotated in from her post as logistics coordinator in Santo Domingo. With her came our team lead, Jens, who had such a mop of hair that he went quickly from being “Fearless” (my moniker) to “Phyllis” (Nic’s apt modification). I arrived as a fifth wheel, between rotations, and quickly became Mutty, the stray dog, following folks around and filling in where needed (and, obviously, yammering and yapping). When Steven rotated in mid-way through my trip to Leogane, he discovered my newly acquired taste for Malta H, and I became Malta Mutty. Steven himself will always be The Cabana Boy, mostly because he kindly undertook the task of washing Nic’s skivvies.
But all of that is the nice part of camp life.
- nice, but not quotidien: "Phyllis" reverts back to "Fearless" with Nic's help
I arrived at noon on a muggy and lazy Easter Sunday, and, after a small miscommunique, got picked up by John, Bill, and Phil (“Billip!”) at the airport. I got there expecting to be accosted on all sides by folks wanting something from me, but I didn’t expect the random guy who pointed at the logo on my shirt and said, “ShelterBox. Does good things for Haiti. Gives a lot.” It was a nice way to start the trip.
We went to a very long lunch and I got marginally briefed on the situation, and then the team drove me around town to get my bearings. Camp was due east of the main airport.
Medishare camp, University of Miami
Fearless was on a much-needed break in SD with his girlfriend. Dinner that night and almost every night was at The Deck, on the Ministry of the UN in Haiti’s logistics base. Predictable and good, and I spotted this on the wall.
- We've made our mark, apparently.
The following days were pretty good, and busy. I was John’s partner for awhile, and it was great to have someone who takes such meticulous notes fill me in on the situation. We were so busy taking a good hard look at sites and ensuring they were ready for tent occupation (a population truly in need of shelter; good community leadership; adequate planning for decent water and sanitation; clear sites for tents) that the days flew by. Often, John and I didn’t have time for lunch. We ate ration packs between sites and visits to our angel of a warehouse, the awesome space called Cluster 1 by everyone else and called Mathilda’s house by me. Mathilda works for an organization called Handicap International, and she is the queen of organization. She keeps meticulous track of all of our stuff and helps all that she can to distribute and ensure that our stuff makes it safely from airport warehouse to Cluster 1 warehouse and out again to our partners in a truly expeditious fashion. She and her staff are amazing.
I spent part of day 3 with Fearless, mucking around trying to figure out customs and get our stuff delivered and loaded, and I think, before I realized it, I was feeling a little bit like an old hand and slipping back quite easily into my French. We saw a lot of destruction, and a lot of good stuff, too, by the end of my first week:
- In many cases, homes were flattened like this. I'm not sure if the chair and table were placed here after or before, but it was an eerie sight.
- Kids are resilient. Everywhere we found them playing soccer, and they made kites out of plastic garbage bags.
Among my favorites, though, was this little place:
We were alerted to Eden Village early in the week, and John had fielded the call to go out and take a look at the place. When we got there, it was covered in temporary shelters and not nearly ready for tents, but we were able to get the message across in the next few days, and, with new teammate Mark Butcher, we were able to set them up with four tents on Sunday, the one-week mark of my deployment. By the time I returned after a week-long sojourn to Leogane, Eden’s residents and their charismatic leader, Pierre, who really did bloom as a leader right in front of our eyes, had swelled to house most of the 150 families living there in tents donated by ShelterBox. It was a really good thing to watch them grow. I got to go back to see them either Monday or Tuesday (I can’t remember now), and it was great to see Pierre–he’d changed so much, even in the short week I’d been gone. Funny what leadership does to a body.
I was shipped off to Leogane with Phil 2 on Monday morning, and we met a lot of great people and cemented some good partnerships. One of my absolute favorites is with a group called Hands On Disaster Response. This group invites volunteers tow work in disasters all around the world. While I was there I met people from all over. Two of my favorites are Ashley and Simon.
We teamed up with Hands On to distribute and build 79 tents that were being given on a provisional basis to the congregation of a small parish (Pastor Septimus!) in Gressier, a small town between Leogane and Port-au-Prince. (Provisional just means that if all of the tents were up and erected in a short period after they were distributed, the pastor would get enough to help the rest of his congregation, the people who had been designated as not among the most needy, but still in need of help.) The volunteers were incredible. Hands On collated all of the information taken down by the Pastor (how many in his congregation needed help; what priority they were based on how vulnerable; the numbers of people in their families, so on), and then they provided the volunteers to go out into the parish and help to distribute the tents.
Simon and I had a particularly bad start to the day: After setting up a few tents (23 of the 79 were going to be set u on church grounds), he, Phil, Ashley and I went out to go get snacks for the volunteers. Eventually left to ourselves, Simon and I got fleeced by some vendors and stalked back to the church grounds, feeling cranky, Simon giving apt voice to my foul mood by muttering eff-bombs and worse in his strong Scottish brogue. Later in the day, though, as we got near the end of our day and put up and distributed the last of the tents, Simon found me and flung an arm over my shoulders. “I tell you what, mate, this is the best thing I’ve experienced so far,” he said, grinning big. He noted that he’d been thanked profusely by so many people. Providing a tangible good has so much to do with how much good a volunteer can feel like he’s doing. For this I’ll always be grateful.
- Hands On Disaster Response gives a demo at Pastor Septimus' church
- One of the first families to receive a tent at Pastor Septimus'
The ride back to Hands On’s compound, with over 20 of us hanging off the back of a tap tap (one of Haiti’s home-made public buses), was hairy, but Ashley took both hands off the railing and lit a cigarette. Leave it to a girl from Halifax to look glam even at her grubbiest.
The Hands On compound, by the way, neighbored some open land. On the open land live a deranged bunch of 20 or roosters. How do I know they are deranged? I know this because they somehow found fit to start crowing, all together, at around 2:30 in the morning. They continued until around 4:30, when a late-comer to the party realized that he was missing out and decided to go bigger and louder than all the others. This sickness went on every night. I don’t know how the Hands On guys did it, but our first night there may account for the reason that Chris (with us for one night) looks like he’s about to shoot something here, and not with his camera.
Anyway, here’s a nice photo of the sun rising over Hands On. We think the building was meant to be a nightclub before the quake hit. The bar next door survived, though.
Phil and I stayed on in Leogane for the week, meeting with ACTED and staying on for four nights. If I thought life in the ACTED compound would be an any easier (“We have roosters,” they said, “but they don’t go off until 5:30 in the morning.”), I was sadly mistaken. There were five roosters for four hens. They are in the yard. Imagine having a rooster crowing in your ear at 5AM, because they are right outside your tent. Mmmhmmm. Lovely.
Here are the roosters. They are the reason I will never again pass up the chance to eat capon.
We also visited the lovely Camp Laska, which is the tent city that I hope all tent cities become. It’s sponsored by Bridge 2 Haiti with help from us. People here have made their camps into real homes here.
- Inside this tent is another set of potted plants and some nice curtains. Home, indeed.
In some cases, a tent will do as a garage for some valuable equipment.
- Don't worry, the other two rooms in this tent actually are living quarters.
If you’re wondering why there are so many different types of ShelterBox tents in this camp, it’s because we are really clearing out our stock on this deployment. We’re doing everything we can to get people housed.
We also met with some kind folks who had emptied their bank accounts to come to Haiti to help. They’ve done a remarkable amount in a very short period of time. Melanie and Josh took us on a tour of some of the areas that they’ve marked.
In our time in Leogane we also worked with Terre des Hommes, a group looking primarily after the needs and risks of children. We also went into the mountains to ensure that the work we’d done distributing to Pastor Septimus’ group was being followed up on. It was on this day that we got a glimpse of the real Haiti outside of cities and Port-au-Prince.
I remember driving by a particularly good stretch of ocean on our first day with Hands On, and remarking ont he beauty of the scenery. Berlin, one of Hands On’s Creole translators, said, grinning to beat the sun, “Of course it’s beautiful! This is Haiti!”
On that note, I’ll end by saying that my last few days in Haiti were taken up with customs, customs, and lots of loading of tents. My last day was remarkably busy and very very annoying. But it looks like I’m still smiling here.
Also, here’s what we got to see every night from our tent office. Not bad, as far as offices go:
Tomorrow, the art all over the streets of Haiti.
Tags: Haiti
Category ShelterBox |
Jim and I spent the weekend at the Trues’. I had a ridiculously busy Friday that involved a ton of networking (which, it seems, could be a full-time job even if you’re not actually following up on any of the networking with anything concrete); took some time off for lunch with a friend here in White Plains; and then bolted home to throw some final few things in a bag and drive up to Boston to squeeze in an overdue visit to an old friend before heading out to Melrose via the convoluted-but-beautiful Route 1. (Evans: Are you reading this? You are next.)
(Only in Boston would a relatively straight course end up looking like a misguided bowl of noodles.)
This route goes over the Tobin Bridge, by the way, which is stunning, to say the least.
- photo: Estrip.org
Anyhow. We went to visit my friend Sarah, who had her baby boy, Jesus Jr., back in late December. I don’t know why there is only this photo of me, Jim and JJ and none of Sarah, me, Jim, and Jesus Sr. It seems people disappear when there are babies involved.
Baby Jesus is cute. He is just like the teddy bear he looks to be, warm and squashy and round.
Jesus and Sarah took us to the really great Village BBQ, where I had beef brisket, and Jim had…something I can’t remember. Jesus had hot wings whose flames could only be quenched by tequila, and Sarah had an entire rack of ribs. Have I mentioned that Sarah is but a mere waif? I never understood where she put the food. For that matter, I’m not sure where she put Jesus Jr.
Then it was off to the True household for a promised weekend of mountain biking.
That didn’t really happen. I mean, Jim and Colin went, and came back suitably muddy. The story is that Jim executed an awesome endo, but there were no photographs. However, as these were the photos that happened that night, I think it’s obvious that everyone had a good time. Indeed, Jim look properly relieved to have gotten out of the afternoon with nothing more than a good endo story to tell:
We girls went to hot yoga instead. It was very, very hot, although I know it wasn’t the 100 degrees on the thermostat. It was aggressive and I had some sort of aggressive woman next to me who flexed her hands wide open when she was doing Warrior and jumped back and forth with an annoying plip plopping noise whenever our instructor said to “jump or step back into upward facing dog.” You could see her tendons and she seemed to be very competitive. Anyway, Carli lost the lid to her WaterBox and it went rolling in a lopsided confused way underneath me before she caught it, which sent me into fits of snorting laughter that, thankfully, no one but Carli heard, I don’t think. This must be why Carli and I look so composed in this photo, because all of the giggling snorts had been sweated out of us.
Lily is a right proper angel.
Most days Carli is, too. I said most days.
Later on that night there was watching of the most ridiculously gleeful movie ever, The Hangover. Bradley Cooper has incredible hair in that movie. And that’s all I’ma say about that.
- Photo: David Gabber, TopNews.in
Er. What happened just now? I got distracted. Oh, right, the weekend.
Perhaps one of the most cliché-and-yet-not moments of the weekend was when Colin dragged out his home videos, made back when he was, oh, I can’t remember, eight or so. People. You’ve never seen home videos like this. To be fair, they were shot by someone I think was an aspiring filmmaker (not Colin, but a childhood friend of his). There are sound effects and visual effects and great costumes and fake fighting and everything. They are from “Peter/Paul Productions,” with a proper nameplate, and they. are. hilarious. Seriously. I think I might have liked watching clips of those better than I liked.
Bradley.
Cooper’s.
Hair.
What? Ahem.
Okay, so we knocked off to bed shortly after that, as Jim had to get up the next morning to ride in the King of Burlingame time trial race. People. Watch the video. Sometimes I cannot believe Jim rides this stuff. Sometimes I am sick with envy.
King of Burlingame Time Trial
Other times I look at that and go, “Agh, mud, trail erosion…eeeEEEeee…bridges!” In this case, I was not around to see the actual race; I was inside the car, trying to get a head start on editing the newspaper. We left shortly afterwards, and stopped on the way home to consume what would eventually be The Bane of Our Existence.
Doesn’t it look benign? And lovely?
It was, at the time. And then, four hours later, it was not, as Jim and I were rapidly overtaken with horrible food poisoning. I still haven’t decided if I can write up a Yelp review of this restaurant. Jim has fond memories of it from his days working in Groton, CT at Pfizer, but…oh, le sigh.
Anyway. So our wonderful weekend fizzled to a stop, as we both, in separate rooms, moaned our ways through the night (we didn’t know if it was flu and didn’t feel like passing it back and forth to each other). Jim gamely went to work Monday morning and I moaned my way through all of Monday and into Tuesday morning and now finally feel 100%. I am convinced that the hot yoga which made me sweat out all of the water in my system contributed to a slower recovery time for me.
Anyhow, we’re already halfway through the week, and I ahve a ton of work to do, because I have a houseguest coming Friday and things to do in the city tomorrow evening, I think, and then I am going to Haiti on Sunday.
Yes, I’m going to Haiti on Sunday. More on that later.
Bradley Cooper’s hair!
What?
P.S. Carli made this thing out of WikkiStix. I have never heard of them until this past weekend, but I was suitably impressed:
Tags: ARGH, friends, happy, Jim, ShelterBox, WaterBox
Category Food, Life, ShelterBox, The Weekend, Training and General Outdoors Stuff |
