Since
I left Rhode Island, I have been thinking about writing a post for this blog
called “15 Beds In 37 Days: How I Got To Nicaragua”. I thought it would be
written much earlier and that it would explain, to myself and others, what I
was doing going to Central America for another two year stint as a Peace Corps
volunteer. Well it hasn’t gotten written yet, but it hasn’t left my mind
either. So, here goes an attempt at getting down on paper an explanation of how
I find myself sitting at a wooden table, covered with a yellow oil cloth,
pecking at my eight year old computer, the one I bought when I got home from my
last Peace Corps service in Honduras in 2007, looking out on my street in
Chinandega, Chinandega, Nicaragua.
Bed #1 – Peace Dale, Rhode Island, Sunday, January 25, 2015
Deb and I left Rhode Island on Monday, January 26,
2015. The news that morning was all about the impending snowstorm. “’Historic'
storm set to slam Northeast; airlines cancel flights… The National Weather Service, which isn't prone to
exaggeration, is using terms like "life-threatening" and
"historic" to describe the weather system taking aim at the
Northeast, with the worst expected to hit Monday night into Tuesday. The first
big storm of the year may drop up to 3 feet of snow on Boston and New York
before it ends Tuesday, with freezing rain and strong wind gusts possibly
reaching 70 mph. Blizzard and winter storm warnings have been issued from
Maryland through Maine and into Canada.” (CNN) Through January, it had been a
mild winter, but this storm would be a turning point and the Northeast would be
snowed in for much of the next three months. I expected to spend the night in
some motel in New Jersey and probably be stuck for a day until the roads were
passable. However, we slipped right under it. There were flurries through
Connecticut and across the George Washington Bridge. They petered out on the
New Jersey Turnpike and about the time we were passing Philadelphia the sun
came out. We made Silver Spring in time for dinner.
Actually,
a small part of what fueled my interest in living in Central America for a
couple of years was the desire to escape winter. I think of myself as fully a
New Englander, but I’m not crazy about New England winters. A couple of years
in a warm climate had appeal. Be careful what you ask for!
Bed #2 – Silver
Spring, Maryland, Monday, January 26, 2015
We
slept on the guest bed in Mark Feldsenthal and Sandy Moore’s basement.
When
Deb and I returned to the USA in 2007, after our Peace Corps service in Honduras,
we had Peace Corps fly us to Portland, Oregon where Deb’s daughter Helen lives
with her family. We spent a month there, bought a car, computers, and cell
phones and made a very leisurely, loopy cross-country drive back to Rhode
Island. We were on the road about six weeks. It was a wonderful way to come
home. The USA is vast and gorgeous and there is nothing like a road trip to see
and understand that. We decided to get to Nicaragua by driving south-southwest
then west then north-northwest across the country from Rhode Island to Portland
then having Peace Corps fly us from there to Managua. I liked the symmetry of
this plan. Also, it would provide for a month long, good-bye visit with the
west coast kids and grandkids. One of our grandsons, Sammy was fifteen and
would be getting his license within the year. We figured the family could use
an extra car and planned to leave the Corolla with them.
From
Silver Springs we drove south through Virginia following the Shenandoah River
just to the west of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Even on the interstate, US-81,
even in the dead of winter, this is an amazingly beautiful valley of rolling
farmland up against old, soft mountains.
Bed #3 – Knoxville,
Tennessee, Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Some
motel on the west side of Knoxville just off the interstate.
Lunch
in Nashville.
On
the third day of the trip that would take me to Nicaragua, while sightseeing in
Nashville, I came upon this sign:
I
have paid attention to Nicaragua since the 70’s as one particularly shameful
chapter in the long shameful history of the USA’s imperialistic interventions
in Central America. Near the beginning of that history there was William Walker
(May 8, 1824 – September 12, 1860), an
idiotic cartoon of a man. He was dead by thirty-six, executed and buried in
Trujillo, Honduras. It’s a wonder he lived that long before somebody took him
out. He raised mercenary armies to invade Mexico, Nicaragua, and Honduras. He
did this to create new slave holding states to bolster the position of the
southern states in the USA. He did it for his own glory and enrichment, and, of
course, because he was crazy. He managed to kill thousands and destroy
beautiful colonial cities before Central America united and got rid of him. Read
Nicaraguan poet, Ernesto Cardenal’s long, beautiful poem “With Walker in
Nicaragua.”
Walker
acted as a renegade mercenary and not as a representative of the US government.
However, his out of control egotism and entitlement were not that different
than official US actions that would follow for the next 150 years. Certainly,
Ronald Reagan seemed to be channeling William Walker.
Also
in Nashville, I got to see The Red Grooms exhibition “The Blue and The Gray” at
The Tennessee State Museum. Grooms has been one of my favorite artists since
New York in the sixties and seventies. I had no idea he was from Nashville, nor
that he had returned to the south. This show consists of fifty wonderfully
varied paintings, prints, and multimedia works through which Grooms meditates
on the Civil War. I found this show inspiring as an example of politically
engaged art that is not didactic. It seemed to me an invitation to think about
or rethink a piece of our history. I’d love to do a similar body of work,
perhaps about our political history with Latin America.
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I
think of Peace Corps service as political engagement. When Deb and I were
invited to be volunteers we were given the choice to serve in Nicaragua, Peru,
or South Africa. In part, I favored Nicaragua because, in some very small way,
it feels like paying down a debt. Sending me there on the US dime is at least
on the other side of the ledger from all the harm that has been done.
Bed #4 – Memphis,
Tennessee, Wednesday, January 28 and Thursday, January 29, 2015
The National Civil Rights Museum in The Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee is a powerful testament that, “The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” However, it is an even more powerful documentation of all the lives lost, blood wasted, tear shed, bones shattered and hearts broken to keep this country on a moral path. Walking through the exhibitions as a privileged white guy I felt full of sadness, rage, and fear for my soul. The museum documents everything that is wonderfully right about America and everything that is desperately wrong. We have not even come close to dealing with the legacy of slavery and racism in this country. We could have ten more black presidents and still not come close unless we get really serious about truth, reconciliation, and reparation for all that has gone before.
Believe
me on this one, you owe it to yourself to visit this museum.
http://civilrightsmuseum.org/
The window from wich Martin Luther King was shot
Also in Memphis, great barbeque, great beer, and a cool air B & B in an artist’s loft downtown.
Bed #5 – New Orleans,
Louisiana, Friday, January 30 through Monday, February 2, 2015
As
I write this, August 29, 2015 the ten year anniversary of the devastation of
New Orleans by Hurricane Katrina has just passed. The New York Times ran an
opinion piece by John Biguenet that said,
“But it
didn’t just happen to us. Our disaster was man-made. As the United
States Army Corps of Engineers finally admitted nearly a year later, its own negligence
and incompetence were responsible for the flooding of the city. Despite that
admission, the corps relied on the legal immunity Congress had provided it to
evade all financial judgments.
That left us at the mercy of bottom-line insurance
companies and the largess of the federal government. Unfortunately, the
government in 2005 was led by individuals who objected to the costs of
rebuilding an entire city and who seemed intent on writing off New Orleans.
Only days after the storm, the Republican speaker of the House, J. Dennis
Hastert, summarized the prevailing attitude of his party: “It looks like a lot
of that place could be bulldozed.”
It
is amazing to me that anyone who witnessed the incompetence with which the Bush
administration dealt with the destruction of a major American city could ever
consider putting Republicans back into power.
I
have been to New Orleans four or five times and love it. There is no place like
it. One of these days, I’m going to move there for a while, but this time we just
met up with Reid, Liz, Birkin, and Tracy for a great four day stay.
On
this trip cross-country, I had a little art project going on. I had some
laminated cards with one of my Buddha prints on one side and a Buddha joke and
my email on the other. I left them places in the hopes of hearing from people
who found them. I had the most fun with this in New Orleans where the Buddhas
met the stenciled koi art of Jeremy Novy. http://verticalgallery.com/collections/jeremy-novy
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| Mercedes found a Buddha on the street car and sent me a selfie. |
So, the combination of Memphis and New Orleans begs
one of the thorniest questions about joining the Peace Corps: why go to another
country when there is so much social justice work that needs doing right here
at home? I think the answer is just selfishness, frankly. There is nothing
inherently more important about work to be done in the developing world as
opposed to work that I could do at home. However, I want the experience of
living in a different culture, learning a new language, and waking up everyday
to something I’ve never experienced before. I know when I get home I’ll stay
engaged as a contributing member of my community. Hopefully, I’ll even up the
ante.
Bed #6 – Austin, Texas
Tuesday, February 3 and Wednesday, February 4, 2015
I
would like to develop an index for rating cities according to their street art,
Mexican food, walking trails, and the residents they attract. Austin would be
in the top ten based on all four criteria. After all, Hannah Bronsnick lives
there! What more do you need to know.
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Bed #7 – Carlsbad, New
Mexico, Thursday, February 5, 2015
There
was a lot of road on this road trip. We made some great stops, but we didn’t
meander between destinations. There were many days when we were in the car for eight
hours, with the only breaks being lunch and dinner and rest areas. We listened
to a lot of pod casts: This American Life, The Moth Story Hour, and New Yorker
Stories. We roamed the radio dial for NPR and oldies stations. We also read Unbroken
by Carolyn Hildebrand aloud to each other. (Many tears were shed.) We looked
out the windshield at 2,000 miles of beautiful country. Coming back, I’d like to do the drive
with no deadline for finishing, go on smaller roads, and be more open to
diversions.
On
Friday morning we were at the doors of the Visitor Center when Carlsbad Caverns
National Park Opened. We had a half hour before we could descend to the
caverns. We cruised the gift shop and bought ourselves replacement wedding
rings for ten dollars apiece. When we first got married, in 1993, we had bought
beautiful braided gold bands. However, in the 22 intervening years they had
been lost. Deb left hers in her scrubs at Westerly Hospital after a birth and
they were carried away by the laundry service. A gang of machete wielding
teenagers robbed me of mine on a beach in Guatemala. (Now that is a good
story!) We both had replacements we wore, but we kept talking about getting
some we really liked. The ones from the Carlsbad Caverns gift shop are plain
stainless steel bands with a simple pattern cut in them. As I write this I’ve
had the ring on my finger for seven months. It is my wedding ring, at least
until a good story comes along to take it away from me. One of the reasons I’m
doing Peace Corps again is because I get to do it with my wife. I am such a
fortunate guy to be closing out my life with this woman.
We
were the first ones on the elevator going down into the caverns. We rode down
with the park ranger who turned on the lights for us. We wandered along the
self-guided trail for half an hour before anyone else showed up. We both took a
ton of photos, none of which came close to what was before our eyes.
Bed #8 – Albuquerque,
New Mexico, Friday, February 6 and Saturday, February 7, 2015
If
I wasn’t a New Englander, I bet I’d live in the Southwest. It is actually the
landscape that resonates with me the most of any I’ve passed through. On the
drive across New Mexico, I think, for maybe the twentieth time, I could live
here. I feel at home. I could live here and paint the landscape. After I got
over trying to be Georgia O’Keefe, I could come up with something good.
I’d
probably live in Albuquerque, too, because it feels like a real place. It is a
good art town as well.
Bed #9 – Needles,
California, Sunday, February 8, 2015
The
only reason to go through Needles, California is to get somewhere else. However
to drive most of the length of California up through the central valley is a
great treat.
Bed #10 – Berkley,
California, Monday, February 9 and Tuesday, February 10, 2015
We
had a good time in Berkley and hung out with some great friends and family.
However, having hit the Pacific, it felt to me like the trip had come to an
end. I was ready to get up to Portland and spend time with the kids and
grandkids.
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| Me and Mike Cellemme in Berkley |
Bed #11 – Crescent
City, California, Wednesday, February 11, 2015
We
stayed at a motel on the beach and took a walk along the shore to watch the
moon rise. We listened to the waves all night long.
Bed #12 – Portland,
Oregon, Thursday, February 12, through Sunday, February 22, 2015
Bed #13 – Sandy,
Oregon, One of the nights between the 12th and the 22nd
of February
Bed #14 – Orcus
Island, Washington, Monday, February 23 through Thursday, February 26, 2015
Back to Bed #12 –
Portland, Oregon, Saturday, February 27 through Monday, March 2, 2015
My
family is bi-coastal. I have a daughter, three step kids, and seven
grandchildren in New England. Deb’s three kids have all settled in the Pacific
Northwest and between them there are five more grandkids. So I go to Portland
an Sandy, Oregon and Orcus Island in Washington at least once a year and
usually two or three times. It is familiar territory, I know my way around, and
I like it a lot.
In
terms of explaining why I am doing Peace Corps again, the hardest thing to
reconcile is why I am willing to step away from the family for an extended
period. Of course I’ll see them during the two years and I’ll have as much
electronic contact as I can manage, but in fact I am choosing to sharply reduce
my presence in their lives and theirs in mine. I feel sad and conflicted about
this. (As I write this six months in, I miss all of them a lot.) I think I am
willing to take this leave of absence as a grandfather because all of my
grandkids have wonderful parents who take very good care of them. My grandkids
love me and have a good time with me, but they are fine without me. I also hope
that I am setting them a good example. Being a role model of how to be
adventuresome, how to get out there in the world, and how to keep living into
old age. I’m betting that they will remember this about me just as they will
remember the fun that we have when we are together.
We
spent three weeks with Deb’s kids and their families. It was all lovely. In
some ways it made it easier to go. In some ways it made it harder.
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| Me and baby James on Orcus Island |
Tuesday
morning, March 3rd, we got on the airplane and flew to Miami for
“staging”, which is Peace Corps talk for doing all the final things that need
to be done to leave the country for two years.
Bed # 15 – Miami,
Florida, Tuesday, March 3 and Wednesday, March 4, 2015
When
you’re in Miami, you’re already in Latin America, but Latin America run on the
American dollar and lots of them. A good jumping off place.
On
Thursday, March 5 we flew to Managua, Nicaragua.
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