It's a varied life that I've led (and lead). The wealthy people I've known, the poor people I've known. The grand places I've been, the shacks that I've been in. It seems strange. It also seems strange that I can't share my Part 1 with my Part 3. Read on to understand:
Part 1:
Last weekend a group of us journeyed all the way to South Bend, IN for an Avett Brothers concert. It was a 6-7 hour car ride and my car spent the majority of the time playing Twinkie and counting the number of mustaches we saw on other drivers. We also saw a woman air-drumming her steering wheel with a toothbrush in hand, and a female truck driver wearing a hijab. We drove through Peru and Kokomo ("We'll get there fast, then we'll take it slow") and saw a big red arrow that said "MEXICO - 1/2 MILE"
We were lucky enough to stay at Annie's relatives for free that night. The house was much grander than what we are accustomed to. We explored the house, and called out to each other as we got lost. As our Notre Dame connection, Trevor Monster gave us a tour of campus and fun facts before Mass at the Basilica (such as: There is more French stained glass in Notre Dame's basilica than in all of France). We then picked our way through the bookstore (after first marveling at a very well constructed igloo outside of a dorm), trying to find the most ridiculous item boasting the Notre Dame logo. Top picks: spatula, golf tees, and a dog's chew toy and bone.
Part 2:
This week was orientation for the new volunteers. On Thursday I rode out east with the McCreary house for commissioning. The ceremony was nice, and much shorter than mine since there were only seven volunteers this time around as opposed to our near-30 group. After the service there's always pizza and coke and brownies and we had ourselves a nice little feast while catching up with everyone. I don't often get to see people from the east side, so it was great to see some of my friends and talk with them. We ended up staying way later than we'd planned, because we had to swing by Johnson house to pick something up and that turned into a two-hour chat fest. We didn't leave til 8 or so, and we still had a two and a half hour drive back. It'd been months since I'd seen most of the east side, and being with them unearthed these old buried feelings of being a part of the greater CAP community. Of course I see people from other west side houses nearly every weekend, but it is rare for both sides to be together, so it's always special when it happens.
Today (Friday) a couple interesting things happened. A man brought in a powder blue toilet "as payback." (His idea, not mine). It is currently sitting in the lobby of my office, waiting for a home. Secondly, I was putting out donated books on this bookshelf we got recently, and I came across a Scientology book. It had a creepy looking sketch of an old man's face and at the bottom said, "SCIENTOLOGY IS HERE TO RESCUE YOU". I felt weird displaying it, so I threw it in the recycle bin for paper. I always have the weirdest things happen to me on Fridays.
Part 3:
Today I was planning on visiting five people, but they all fell through except for one. Still, it was a nice visit, though a little strange. I wasn't invited inside, because the children would be all over me, according to the lady of the house. I caught glimpses of them often, peering at us while we sat at the picnic table in the backyard. They all appeared to be shirtless and their hair was all over the place.
I've helped this family once before. I knew they had seven children and that the babies, twins, had been born prematurely this fall. The mother informed me today that they have a rare genetic disease, and one of the young ones has been diagnosed with Autism, and by the way, they didn't used to live like this. That's really the thing about it: You tend to get in the mindset that all these people were born and raised in poverty because most of them are, and it's just a cycle. But there have been a good number who used to have good jobs and didn't used to be living hand to mouth. Like the woman said today, "It's hard to go from giving charity to receiving it." While we talked a long-haired, tortoise shell, neighborhood cat continued to rub all over us and lick my hand. She reminded me of my cat. By the fence, on the property line, the neighbors' horses came right up, looking to be petted. Next time I will remember to bring some carrots.
Another one of my participants came in today. I hadn't seen her in forever, and now I've been seeing her a lot lately. She's been filling me in on her life like we're old friends. In reality, we've really only had three conversations or so. I like her a lot. She's only three years older than me, but she's raising like five kids, with a baby on the way, plus her two younger brothers, and her husband's young daughter (from a previous marriage) may be moving in soon. She told me that she lived in foster care after her grandmother died. Her social worker didn't look in on her, and she claims to have been beaten by her foster parents if she did try to contact anyone. She got pregnant her senior year and dropped out in April without graduating because she couldn't stand the social stigma. She just got her GED a few days ago. Now she and her husband (who also just got his GED) are attending Somerset Community College. She says she wants to help people, and is currently pursuing a career as a probation officer.
A couple weeks ago I had another visit that I wanted to blog about and never did. This was an elderly lady who claims to have raised half the county because she took in so many children who didn't have anywhere else to go. She lost three of her sons within two years. Two were murdered, and the third committed suicide because he was so depressed over the loss of his brothers.
Something I've noticed: the elderly seem to handle poverty with a certain grace that the younger generations lack. Perhaps because they grew up with it; perhaps because the rich-poor divide was not as great back then; I don't know.
All three of these women are signed up for our Small Farms and Gardens program which is new this year. We're partnering with the local high school to grow transplants. I will provide support through home visits, and hopefully we'll have some canning classes after harvest. I've been making my rounds to see people and get them signed up, and I love it, because home visits are when you really get to know a person. There aren't many guards up and you get to see how people live. I'm really looking forward to continuing to get to know my Gardening participants. We've got a really good group so far!
But as much as I love talking to these participants, particularly the younger lady and the elderly lady, how can I tell them about my weekend in Notre Dame? It seems wrong somehow. What opportunity will they ever have to go there? For many, it's hard enough to get gas money to see me in town. How would they make the six hour journey? I think I've always compartmentalized myself, but it is even more apparent in Appalachia.
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