Without much ado, I have decided to start this blog as a gateway to my lens of consciousness and mind’s realm. The human mind is such a beautiful, complex instrument – so beautiful that it wholeheartedly impedes any attempts at my own self-improvement. In my experiences, any time the brain is provided evidence that it needs to change, defense mechanisms bombard your psyche against any deviance from the status quo.
Thus, my oft-occurring thoughts that it would be cool to write and thinking that I would be a good writer were only missing one essential element – the part where I actually write things.
So here I am, etching my words into the interwebs via transistors, nodes, and IP addresses.
In today’s consumer-driven, rat race, “techno-soul-snatching” society mostly bereft of creativity and authenticity, I often consider how modern 1st world humans spend the majority of their time consuming things other people made (TV, Taco Bell, websites) versus creating something of their own. This blog is an attempt to fight that trend, find a grip on what is true and real, and document life’s innumerable serendipitous synchronicities.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Eulogy for Lolo
Yesterday would have been my Lolo's 89th birthday. He passed away last August, and below is the eulogy I gave at his funeral mass.
Good morning. Many of you are here to honor the life of a man that you knew as a friend, a father, or a father-in-law. But to us, his 7 grandchildren, Fernando Deblois Delumpa was simply known as Lolo.
Almost 5 years ago, I spoke at my grandmother Rosalie’s funeral. Lolo was here in the second pew of the church, and afterwards, with tears welling up in his eyes, he embraced me and said, “Joshua, thank you for your words – they were beautiful.” What he said has lingered with me, and in the spirit of that remark, I hope that I can commemorate his life in the wake of his own passing.
It is an honor to be here before you. An honor to have the opportunity to give my family words of peace and encouragement, as well as a joy to share with you my stories of this extraordinary man. But it is daunting to frame a life that spanned 88 years in the few minutes I have to speak to you. Do I know enough about the whole of Lolo’s life? Probably not. I can’t tell you what he was like during his youth in the Philippines. I don’t know what he faced during his time in the Navy. I only know a little about his courtship of Lola and their wedding. And I can’t tell you what he was like as a father.
But I, along with my cousins and my brother, have had the greatest luck to be his grandchildren. And we can tell you what it was like to know Fernando Delumpa as a Lolo. And really, is there any better title that can be bestowed upon a man than Lolo?
As one of his grandchildren, I grew up spoiled under a devoted grandfather’s attention. My earliest memories of Lolo are in a one-story brick house at 6900 Adele Drive. When I was a young boy, I would spend weeks at a time with Lolo and Lola. There at the house, Lolo would teach me to play blackjack, let me bang on the piano, and watch me run around the backyard. He showed me the value of “lo-lo prices” during shopping sprees at Big Lots & Dollar Tree, and he had quite the appetite for fried chicken and Chinese buffets. He would teach me Tagalog and tell me numerous times, with glee, how the nurse handed me to him immediately after I was born.
I watched him grow beautiful gardens and dance with Lola at Novenas. I watched him faithfully serve the congregation and the Fil-Am community in this very church. My fondest memory of Lolo occurred when I was 5 or 6 years old. I was sleeping in Lolo’s guest room, and I became frightened from a nightmare. I went into Lolo’s room, and expected him to say that I should return to my room. Yet, instead of sending me back to sleep, Lolo made a little bed for me right next to his bed. As I lay down to sleep, Lolo started to talk with me. He told me stories until I fell asleep. I continued to sleep by his side for years, and was one of many grandchildren to experience Lolo’s love.
No matter which grandchild you were, whether you saw him every day or only saw him once a year, Lolo had the natural ability to make you feel important and loved. You always knew he was silently cheering for each of us to find happiness and success. It was the smallest of moments that Lolo truly made you feel special. I hope I never forget the way he said each of our names when he saw the grandchildren outside on his driveway on Adele Drive, or when he would arrive at the beach house at the Outer Banks. There was a ring to his voice and a smile on his face that left no doubt in your mind that at least for that moment, you were the center of his world.
Lolo’s time in the Navy spanned 30 years. Undoubtedly, it was one of the defining chapters of his life. I don’t know a lot of detail about what he experienced during those years, but surely there were days when he thought his life could end on an ocean battlefield rather than quietly in his bed 50 years later. I’ve often wondered if Lolo had any idea how his future would play out after he returned home from sea. Under the starry night in the Pacific Ocean, did he imagine the birth of 4 beautiful daughters? Daughters who would go on to success in their own lives and raise their own families?
Did he have any idea that he would become a respected leader in the St. Pious community? Could he have imagined that his family would grow to include 7 grandchildren, causing his home to burst at the seams with our laughter and love for each other? I don’t know the answer to any of these questions, but I would venture a guess that the reality of what Lolo called that “great life” is much sweeter than he could have imagined as a handsome, young man in the Philippines so long ago.
At his heart, Lolo was a family man. From day one, he has taught his grandchildren what it means to be family. It was his family that kept him going – this wonderfully crazy, close-knit, loving family. A family that supports each other, that reaches out to help its own and many others. A family that loves being together because it never fails to have a great time and make memories. A family that is not perfect, but is so often recognized by others as something very special. This kind of family doesn’t happen by accident. It starts at the top. It started with Lolo. This family is the best possible testament to the character of Lolo.
As I grow older, I realize that family is more than a common ancestry. It shapes you and colors you and binds you. You can feel the tangible connections between us, linked through time from the past and fading into the future. Lolo was at the center of so many quiet traditions and unspoken ceremonies that have made up the fabric of our family. The memories remain as a constant reminder of who he was, and his impact on all of our lives.
I know that the past few months, and especially this week, have been hard. There has been sadness and tears and we are all feeling the emptiness of a house that will no longer see Lolo watching Dancing with the Stars after dinner.
Henry James said that “Sorrow comes in great waves...but rolls over us, and though it may almost smother us, it leaves us. And we know that if it is strong, we are stronger, inasmuch as it passes and we remain.” Although I am deeply saddened by the loss of Lolo, I find strength and hope in knowing that Lolo’s blood flows in my veins – who he was still lives in me, and will one day, live in my children and grandchildren. To my brother and my cousins, to my parents, my aunts, and my uncles – you only have to look around you right now. Look at what Lolo gave you. It isn’t land. It isn’t money. It is this family. This beautiful family is his legacy and every one of you – are part of it. How did we all get so lucky?
To our Lolo, we have just one last thing to say – Lolo it will be a little while, but we will come back and see you, okay? I know that at this very moment, you are walking in a garden somewhere, stopping to enjoy the flowers and take in the sunshine and fresh air. Send Lola our love, and don’t forget just how much you mean to us. Lolo, we love you and we miss you. Rest peacefully, you deserve it.
Good morning. Many of you are here to honor the life of a man that you knew as a friend, a father, or a father-in-law. But to us, his 7 grandchildren, Fernando Deblois Delumpa was simply known as Lolo.
Almost 5 years ago, I spoke at my grandmother Rosalie’s funeral. Lolo was here in the second pew of the church, and afterwards, with tears welling up in his eyes, he embraced me and said, “Joshua, thank you for your words – they were beautiful.” What he said has lingered with me, and in the spirit of that remark, I hope that I can commemorate his life in the wake of his own passing.
It is an honor to be here before you. An honor to have the opportunity to give my family words of peace and encouragement, as well as a joy to share with you my stories of this extraordinary man. But it is daunting to frame a life that spanned 88 years in the few minutes I have to speak to you. Do I know enough about the whole of Lolo’s life? Probably not. I can’t tell you what he was like during his youth in the Philippines. I don’t know what he faced during his time in the Navy. I only know a little about his courtship of Lola and their wedding. And I can’t tell you what he was like as a father.
But I, along with my cousins and my brother, have had the greatest luck to be his grandchildren. And we can tell you what it was like to know Fernando Delumpa as a Lolo. And really, is there any better title that can be bestowed upon a man than Lolo?
As one of his grandchildren, I grew up spoiled under a devoted grandfather’s attention. My earliest memories of Lolo are in a one-story brick house at 6900 Adele Drive. When I was a young boy, I would spend weeks at a time with Lolo and Lola. There at the house, Lolo would teach me to play blackjack, let me bang on the piano, and watch me run around the backyard. He showed me the value of “lo-lo prices” during shopping sprees at Big Lots & Dollar Tree, and he had quite the appetite for fried chicken and Chinese buffets. He would teach me Tagalog and tell me numerous times, with glee, how the nurse handed me to him immediately after I was born.
I watched him grow beautiful gardens and dance with Lola at Novenas. I watched him faithfully serve the congregation and the Fil-Am community in this very church. My fondest memory of Lolo occurred when I was 5 or 6 years old. I was sleeping in Lolo’s guest room, and I became frightened from a nightmare. I went into Lolo’s room, and expected him to say that I should return to my room. Yet, instead of sending me back to sleep, Lolo made a little bed for me right next to his bed. As I lay down to sleep, Lolo started to talk with me. He told me stories until I fell asleep. I continued to sleep by his side for years, and was one of many grandchildren to experience Lolo’s love.
No matter which grandchild you were, whether you saw him every day or only saw him once a year, Lolo had the natural ability to make you feel important and loved. You always knew he was silently cheering for each of us to find happiness and success. It was the smallest of moments that Lolo truly made you feel special. I hope I never forget the way he said each of our names when he saw the grandchildren outside on his driveway on Adele Drive, or when he would arrive at the beach house at the Outer Banks. There was a ring to his voice and a smile on his face that left no doubt in your mind that at least for that moment, you were the center of his world.
Lolo’s time in the Navy spanned 30 years. Undoubtedly, it was one of the defining chapters of his life. I don’t know a lot of detail about what he experienced during those years, but surely there were days when he thought his life could end on an ocean battlefield rather than quietly in his bed 50 years later. I’ve often wondered if Lolo had any idea how his future would play out after he returned home from sea. Under the starry night in the Pacific Ocean, did he imagine the birth of 4 beautiful daughters? Daughters who would go on to success in their own lives and raise their own families?
Did he have any idea that he would become a respected leader in the St. Pious community? Could he have imagined that his family would grow to include 7 grandchildren, causing his home to burst at the seams with our laughter and love for each other? I don’t know the answer to any of these questions, but I would venture a guess that the reality of what Lolo called that “great life” is much sweeter than he could have imagined as a handsome, young man in the Philippines so long ago.
At his heart, Lolo was a family man. From day one, he has taught his grandchildren what it means to be family. It was his family that kept him going – this wonderfully crazy, close-knit, loving family. A family that supports each other, that reaches out to help its own and many others. A family that loves being together because it never fails to have a great time and make memories. A family that is not perfect, but is so often recognized by others as something very special. This kind of family doesn’t happen by accident. It starts at the top. It started with Lolo. This family is the best possible testament to the character of Lolo.
As I grow older, I realize that family is more than a common ancestry. It shapes you and colors you and binds you. You can feel the tangible connections between us, linked through time from the past and fading into the future. Lolo was at the center of so many quiet traditions and unspoken ceremonies that have made up the fabric of our family. The memories remain as a constant reminder of who he was, and his impact on all of our lives.
I know that the past few months, and especially this week, have been hard. There has been sadness and tears and we are all feeling the emptiness of a house that will no longer see Lolo watching Dancing with the Stars after dinner.
Henry James said that “Sorrow comes in great waves...but rolls over us, and though it may almost smother us, it leaves us. And we know that if it is strong, we are stronger, inasmuch as it passes and we remain.” Although I am deeply saddened by the loss of Lolo, I find strength and hope in knowing that Lolo’s blood flows in my veins – who he was still lives in me, and will one day, live in my children and grandchildren. To my brother and my cousins, to my parents, my aunts, and my uncles – you only have to look around you right now. Look at what Lolo gave you. It isn’t land. It isn’t money. It is this family. This beautiful family is his legacy and every one of you – are part of it. How did we all get so lucky?
To our Lolo, we have just one last thing to say – Lolo it will be a little while, but we will come back and see you, okay? I know that at this very moment, you are walking in a garden somewhere, stopping to enjoy the flowers and take in the sunshine and fresh air. Send Lola our love, and don’t forget just how much you mean to us. Lolo, we love you and we miss you. Rest peacefully, you deserve it.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Reflections on My 4-H Days
On occasional nights, I lie in bed remembering my days as a staff member at Airfield 4-H Educational Center. These times are recounted herein, and they happened three consecutive summers from 2009 to 2011, having originated on the outskirts of my hometown, Wakefield, Virginia. When I wax nostalgic for these times, I implore myself to write it down for posterity. After recently meeting up with some of my former staff members for a reunion, I have finally submitted myself to the greater will of Airfield 4-H and hereby commit the tales to writing.
My staff experience started in May of 2009. Fresh off my first year at the University of Virginia, I was in search of a summer job to avoid ennui and keep my parents off my case. Like most hick towns in southeastern Virginia, employment opportunities are scarce, especially for college students looking for summer income. My mother advised me to start job searching at local eateries such as the Tasty Treat and the Virginia Diner, but I was not thrilled at the prospect of becoming a lackey for beach going tourists, motorcycle clubs, and old Wakefield fogies. Knowing that my job prospects were limited, one of my mother's friends, a local 4-H Extension Agent, told me that the 4-H center just gotten a new Program Director and was hiring lifeguards for the summer. I called the Program Director, Christie Goodman, and scheduled an interview for the same week.
I really had no expectations for working at 4-H camp. My only memory of camp was as a heat exhausted, shy, puberty stricken 13-year-old who didn't really know how to fit in. I thought I would be paid to get a tan, and maybe meet a few cool people my age. When I first walked in the interview, I immediately noticed Christie's charisma and enthusiasm for camp. During the interview, Christie asked me a few background and typical interview questions, as well as about my first year at UVA since she was a Virginia graduate.
I thought Christie would proceed to tell me my starting date as a lifeguard, but instead, she asked me if I would consider being on camp staff. She told me that I would work closely with the campers and staff, sing songs, and stay overnight with the other staff members. Excited from her depiction of camp, but somewhat nervous, as I had virtually no 4-H camp experience working with youth, I accepted the position as Residential Lifeguard. I had been hired on a summer contract to lifeguard at the pool, assist teaching swimming and canoeing to campers, and help lead the day-to-day activities (singing songs, leading line-ups, making sure the kids were safe, preparing the campfires, DJing the dance) throughout each week of camp.
The 4-H camping program went like this: Each week, a different county or county cluster in the 4-H Southeast District would camp at Airfield. The extension agents of each county were in charge of recruiting and registering campers for each week of camp. Airfield staff was responsible for facilitating the activities and managing camp as a whole. The campers were ages 9-13, and counselors/counselors in training were ages 14-18. Campers, CITs, and counselors were divided up into six teams, all representing different animals. These teams would compete for a Spirit Stick to be awarded at the end of the week. Staff was comprised of college aged kids that usually had some experience in the 4-H camping program.
On Sundays of each new camping week, Christie would have an orientation meeting where we would sign up for staff duties, discuss the county and extension agent's expectations for camp, provide feedback on our development as a team, and make adjustments as necessary. Each staff member had a room that he or she would share with another staff member as living quarters for the week.
The day to day activities typically did not vary from week to week. On Mondays, the campers would arrive, get introduced to the staff, sign up for classes, and generally get acquainted to each other and life at camp. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays included the bulk of camp activities. Campers would wake up and get dressed, head towards the Gray Building for line-up, flag ceremonies, song singing, and breakfast. Breakfast would be followed by three classes, and another line-up before lunch time. After lunch, the campers would have a rest period before recreation time. During recreation time, campers were free to swim at the pool, socialize, play sports or board games; and purchase crafts, consumables, and 4-H memorabilia from the canteen. Campers would head to line-up, dinner, and then team meetings. Staff would usually host an evening program (such as field or water olympics, dance, talent show, etc.), and close the day out with a campfire in front of the entire camp.
Although the routine of camp did not change, the character and demographic contrasted greatly each week. Some weeks we would get predominately low-income campers who got three meals a day only at camp, and were not used to being outdoors. Other weeks, we would have campers who were very privileged, and viewed camp more as a form of entertainment. Some weeks were a combination of all types. Each camping cluster demonstrated its 4-H spirit in various ways. The larger counties that camped alone, like Chesapeake, Virginia Beach, and Prince George, competed extremely hard for the Spirit Stick, and demonstrated their excitement through wearing team colors, face paint, and ridiculous outfits. Also, they had very high expectations for staff to lead an outstanding week of camp. The more predominately urban weeks expressed their excitement for camp through stepping, dancing, and performing in the talent show.
One may ask what makes 4-H camp different than other week long, stay over camps. Besides providing children with opportunities for play and interaction with their peers in a safe environment, 4-H promotes life skills such as critical thinking, respect for others, citizenship, care for one's fellow campers, and trust in others, and responsibility for oneself for the betterment of the group. The most rewarding part of each week was seeing campers more positive, thoughtful, engaged, and willing to step outside their comfort zone. Many campers would arrive and dread the fact that they are in the woods. By the end of the week, they didn't want to leave.
I spent three summers working and living at Airfield. My first summer, 2009, I learned the ropes and fell in love with camp. In 2010, I taught canoeing and spent the summer strengthening my friendships from the previous summer, while also burning some bridges as well. 2011 was my favorite summer, and the stars aligned for the most amazing staff ever. I worked as the administrative assistant in the office. Christie had assembled a "dream team" of positive, helpful, and intelligent people that fully bought into her vision of a team-oriented, camper focused staff willing to sacrifice popularity for the greater good of camp.
When I look back, I realize that Christie was an outstanding boss, a superb team builder, and a first-rate administrator. She was the engine that drove camp to greatness. She sacrificed much of her personal life to make camp a better place. She always demanded the best out of staff, and understood that while staff is responsible for making the campers better, she was the driving force that could make each of us on staff reach our full potential.
For me, 4-H staff was the catalyst for vast personal and professional growth . It exposed me to a diverse group of people I would have never met in my relatively sheltered life. It helped me develop a strong work ethic, and was a canvas for my creativity. It enabled me to reinforce my strengths, while also improving my weaknesses. It also allowed me to meet some of the most talented, hilarious, caring, fun-loving people that will be my lifelong friends.
It is difficult to describe the sum of one's time while on Airfield camp staff. Camping at Airfield is the traditions as much as it is the relationships forged and experiences shared with other staff members. It's waking up at 6:30 a.m. to lead a flag ceremony. It's moving chairs and tables together after the dance. It's laying peanuts, chopping down Spirit Sticks, and doing team building activities for an entire week. It's singing your favorite song and not caring how goofy you look doing it. It's sitting on a stump in the dark on a Thursday night, seeing the campfire circle full of campers waiting to sing "I Got That 4-H Spirit" at the top of their lungs. It's eating Freezee pops and hanging out with your fellow staff members until 2 a.m. It's driving to 7-Eleven at 10:30 p.m. on dark back roads. It's operating on four hours of sleep, but still having enough energy to jump on the Moonbounce at the carnival.
There's something about spending long, sweaty 14 hour days together that bring out a person's true character. It wasn't always easy, and not everyone got along, but our experiences together made each of us better. You will never forget the ones that were by your side, through the good days and the bad; during the nights off and the Code Grays, during the trips to SWVA, and the last moments of the summer before school started again.
That’s it. This ends my reflections of the Airfield days. The summer after 2011, I graduated and most of the people who were on staff with me moved on as well. Even though I return from time to time, it's not quite the same. I will always share a bond with the people I spent 10 weeks out of the summer with on staff. And this is the real truth of our lives, what shimmers for us at the deepest level of our being. That happiness is only real when shared. The real revenge of the nerds is the life that goes its own way, has its twists and turns that often take you to exactly where you should be. A peripheral vision, if you will. Yes, my friends, this is goodnight and not goodbye.
My staff experience started in May of 2009. Fresh off my first year at the University of Virginia, I was in search of a summer job to avoid ennui and keep my parents off my case. Like most hick towns in southeastern Virginia, employment opportunities are scarce, especially for college students looking for summer income. My mother advised me to start job searching at local eateries such as the Tasty Treat and the Virginia Diner, but I was not thrilled at the prospect of becoming a lackey for beach going tourists, motorcycle clubs, and old Wakefield fogies. Knowing that my job prospects were limited, one of my mother's friends, a local 4-H Extension Agent, told me that the 4-H center just gotten a new Program Director and was hiring lifeguards for the summer. I called the Program Director, Christie Goodman, and scheduled an interview for the same week.
I really had no expectations for working at 4-H camp. My only memory of camp was as a heat exhausted, shy, puberty stricken 13-year-old who didn't really know how to fit in. I thought I would be paid to get a tan, and maybe meet a few cool people my age. When I first walked in the interview, I immediately noticed Christie's charisma and enthusiasm for camp. During the interview, Christie asked me a few background and typical interview questions, as well as about my first year at UVA since she was a Virginia graduate.
I thought Christie would proceed to tell me my starting date as a lifeguard, but instead, she asked me if I would consider being on camp staff. She told me that I would work closely with the campers and staff, sing songs, and stay overnight with the other staff members. Excited from her depiction of camp, but somewhat nervous, as I had virtually no 4-H camp experience working with youth, I accepted the position as Residential Lifeguard. I had been hired on a summer contract to lifeguard at the pool, assist teaching swimming and canoeing to campers, and help lead the day-to-day activities (singing songs, leading line-ups, making sure the kids were safe, preparing the campfires, DJing the dance) throughout each week of camp.
The 4-H camping program went like this: Each week, a different county or county cluster in the 4-H Southeast District would camp at Airfield. The extension agents of each county were in charge of recruiting and registering campers for each week of camp. Airfield staff was responsible for facilitating the activities and managing camp as a whole. The campers were ages 9-13, and counselors/counselors in training were ages 14-18. Campers, CITs, and counselors were divided up into six teams, all representing different animals. These teams would compete for a Spirit Stick to be awarded at the end of the week. Staff was comprised of college aged kids that usually had some experience in the 4-H camping program.
On Sundays of each new camping week, Christie would have an orientation meeting where we would sign up for staff duties, discuss the county and extension agent's expectations for camp, provide feedback on our development as a team, and make adjustments as necessary. Each staff member had a room that he or she would share with another staff member as living quarters for the week.
The day to day activities typically did not vary from week to week. On Mondays, the campers would arrive, get introduced to the staff, sign up for classes, and generally get acquainted to each other and life at camp. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays included the bulk of camp activities. Campers would wake up and get dressed, head towards the Gray Building for line-up, flag ceremonies, song singing, and breakfast. Breakfast would be followed by three classes, and another line-up before lunch time. After lunch, the campers would have a rest period before recreation time. During recreation time, campers were free to swim at the pool, socialize, play sports or board games; and purchase crafts, consumables, and 4-H memorabilia from the canteen. Campers would head to line-up, dinner, and then team meetings. Staff would usually host an evening program (such as field or water olympics, dance, talent show, etc.), and close the day out with a campfire in front of the entire camp.
Although the routine of camp did not change, the character and demographic contrasted greatly each week. Some weeks we would get predominately low-income campers who got three meals a day only at camp, and were not used to being outdoors. Other weeks, we would have campers who were very privileged, and viewed camp more as a form of entertainment. Some weeks were a combination of all types. Each camping cluster demonstrated its 4-H spirit in various ways. The larger counties that camped alone, like Chesapeake, Virginia Beach, and Prince George, competed extremely hard for the Spirit Stick, and demonstrated their excitement through wearing team colors, face paint, and ridiculous outfits. Also, they had very high expectations for staff to lead an outstanding week of camp. The more predominately urban weeks expressed their excitement for camp through stepping, dancing, and performing in the talent show.
One may ask what makes 4-H camp different than other week long, stay over camps. Besides providing children with opportunities for play and interaction with their peers in a safe environment, 4-H promotes life skills such as critical thinking, respect for others, citizenship, care for one's fellow campers, and trust in others, and responsibility for oneself for the betterment of the group. The most rewarding part of each week was seeing campers more positive, thoughtful, engaged, and willing to step outside their comfort zone. Many campers would arrive and dread the fact that they are in the woods. By the end of the week, they didn't want to leave.
I spent three summers working and living at Airfield. My first summer, 2009, I learned the ropes and fell in love with camp. In 2010, I taught canoeing and spent the summer strengthening my friendships from the previous summer, while also burning some bridges as well. 2011 was my favorite summer, and the stars aligned for the most amazing staff ever. I worked as the administrative assistant in the office. Christie had assembled a "dream team" of positive, helpful, and intelligent people that fully bought into her vision of a team-oriented, camper focused staff willing to sacrifice popularity for the greater good of camp.
When I look back, I realize that Christie was an outstanding boss, a superb team builder, and a first-rate administrator. She was the engine that drove camp to greatness. She sacrificed much of her personal life to make camp a better place. She always demanded the best out of staff, and understood that while staff is responsible for making the campers better, she was the driving force that could make each of us on staff reach our full potential.
For me, 4-H staff was the catalyst for vast personal and professional growth . It exposed me to a diverse group of people I would have never met in my relatively sheltered life. It helped me develop a strong work ethic, and was a canvas for my creativity. It enabled me to reinforce my strengths, while also improving my weaknesses. It also allowed me to meet some of the most talented, hilarious, caring, fun-loving people that will be my lifelong friends.
It is difficult to describe the sum of one's time while on Airfield camp staff. Camping at Airfield is the traditions as much as it is the relationships forged and experiences shared with other staff members. It's waking up at 6:30 a.m. to lead a flag ceremony. It's moving chairs and tables together after the dance. It's laying peanuts, chopping down Spirit Sticks, and doing team building activities for an entire week. It's singing your favorite song and not caring how goofy you look doing it. It's sitting on a stump in the dark on a Thursday night, seeing the campfire circle full of campers waiting to sing "I Got That 4-H Spirit" at the top of their lungs. It's eating Freezee pops and hanging out with your fellow staff members until 2 a.m. It's driving to 7-Eleven at 10:30 p.m. on dark back roads. It's operating on four hours of sleep, but still having enough energy to jump on the Moonbounce at the carnival.
There's something about spending long, sweaty 14 hour days together that bring out a person's true character. It wasn't always easy, and not everyone got along, but our experiences together made each of us better. You will never forget the ones that were by your side, through the good days and the bad; during the nights off and the Code Grays, during the trips to SWVA, and the last moments of the summer before school started again.
That’s it. This ends my reflections of the Airfield days. The summer after 2011, I graduated and most of the people who were on staff with me moved on as well. Even though I return from time to time, it's not quite the same. I will always share a bond with the people I spent 10 weeks out of the summer with on staff. And this is the real truth of our lives, what shimmers for us at the deepest level of our being. That happiness is only real when shared. The real revenge of the nerds is the life that goes its own way, has its twists and turns that often take you to exactly where you should be. A peripheral vision, if you will. Yes, my friends, this is goodnight and not goodbye.
Friday, June 13, 2014
Wanderlust
One month ago, I received an offer to be a court reporter, so I left the cozy cubicle confines of D.C. Government for life on the road (or the Metro, come to find out). Eventually, my boss told me I would be doing a little bit of traveling within the US and abroad, but as of now, I've been training at the company's office in Logan Circle, and court hopping in the metro area. Through my experience, I have found that a job description does not necessarily capture the day-to-day monotony of the job itself. So it goes.
Seeing that I was in between jobs for a week, high on cash, and hungry for adventure, I set out on my long-awaited road trip to see Americana. I would have one week to see the country and tear up the road before returning to working life.
I started my long-awaited adventure from Vienna to Cleveland. I lodged in the Cleveland Hostel, a downtown traveler's haven in the Ohio City Neighborhood that was formerly a Victorian style-hotel. After my trip, I schlepped around the downtown area, and ended up at Market Garden Brewery, a local brewery that specializes in organic brews. Three succulent pork tacos and three hearty beers later (I especially enjoyed the Wahoo Wit), I was back in my hostel bed, worn out, but anxious to travel the following day.
The next day started early, and was a whirlwind. First, I visited the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on Cleveland's Lake Erie shore. The exhibits on the Allman Brothers Band, Beach Boys, Buffalo Springfield, and the British Invasion were fascinating, but I found that there was a disappointing lack of emphasis on roots music, R&B, country, and blues that propelled Rock and Roll to the forefront of American culture.
After eating at the Winking Lizard, a sports bar in close proximity to the Browns, Cavaliers, and Indians' stadiums, I hustled an hour southward to Canton in a driving rain to see the Pro Football Hall of Fame. A friendly staff, coupled with my nostalgia for the past glory days of the Redskins, made for an enjoyable visit.
Four dreary hours later, I found myself in Newport, Kentucky, riding a Queen City Riverboat to the Great American Ballpark of the Cincinnati Reds. Unfortunately, the game was rained out that night, but I was able to stop by the Reds Hall of Fame for a bit. That night, I had no solid plans for lodging, but found a cheap hotel in Blue Ash, a Cincinnati suburb. Hotels Tonight, an iPhone app that finds hotels that peddle their unsold rooms for cheap, saved my hide. I would recommend using it if you're ever in a bind for lodging, and it's a non-peak traveling period.
The next day was my long driving day. Hungover, and somewhat exhausted from my previous excursions, I set out for New Orleans. I drove straight through Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama, and Mississippi (plus a few tornado warnings), until I barreled into my friend Anna's driveway off of South Claiborne Street. She lives a few blocks from Tulane, and teaches at a new charter school closer to the Quarter. We hit the French Quarter, and had a somewhat touristy night, seeing the River and all, but I told her that I wanted more of a local's perspective the next day.
I relished my full day in New Orleans, the fact that I wasn't on the interstate for a change, and that I wasn't having to interact with strangers on a daily basis. She took me to Elizabeth's for brunch right off the Quarter. I got to see the Quarter in the daytime, and we went to a few local dive bars at night.
The next morning, I traveled seven hours to Hot Springs, North Carolina and stayed at Iron Horse Station. I only saw a few hikers (the Appalachian Trail was built through Hot Springs) , but was able to make friends with some through-hikers from West Virginia and Germany. I'd never really seen the Smoky Mountains before, so that was a treat. From there, I headed to my hometown, Wakefield, Virginia, before returning northward to Vienna.
All in all, it was an exciting trip. I enjoyed following my instincts for a change, and not having a fixed schedule. I hadn't really planned what I was going to do until the night before I arrived at each place, and I was able to visit everything I wanted to see. I wish I could've stayed in certain places longer (Hot Springs, New Orleans) so I could get more of a feel for the soul and the local culture of each place, but chalk it up to traveler's inexperience and not really knowing anyone where I visited. One often feels a debilitating sense of isolation in a new place with no contacts. I didn't really stray off the interstate unless I was at my destination, and I understand that there is a plethora of sights and memorable misadventures off the beaten path. Also, I wish I heard more local blues music. Especially in New Orleans.
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