World Beginnings

  A few days ago, my dog, Paco, chewed through yet another expensive new leash. I sighed and looked at all of the unusable leashes draped over the railing. Then I realized that I could take it to the little shoe repairman whose shop was nearby. Of course, here in my little village of 11,000, everything is close at hand. When I got to Humberto’s dark, dusty shop, I found him watching something on his phone, with shoes,   belts, and all sorts of leather things stacked up, filling the tiny shop. But the back walls were covered in posters advertising the events where he had performed. Some posters showed a very youthful and handsome man, while others were of a proud older gentleman. Using my broken Spanish, I explained my dog had chewed through yet another leash and could he sew it up? Smiling at me, he answered in English that he could, and I could just wait. His first step was to apply industrial strength glue, and while we waited for the glue to dry, I asked him if he sang? Put...

  One of my favorite activities in the school year was Week Without Walls, WWW. This was a time for students to learn and experience beyond the classroom. Teachers were in charge of planning the trip and there was a learning focus, to most of them. One that will stay with me forever, not my trip, was building bathrooms in Bali. We tend to think of Bali as an exotic vacation but there is extreme poverty off of the glitzy tourist paths and the students came back changed forever. It is important to point out that these students are extremely privileged, living in a rarified world of drivers, maids, cooks and gardeners. They’ve never cleaned anything in their lives.  Unsurprising, to those who know me, I always focussed on local animal shelters. My last year in Beirut our project was to build cat shelters for a woman who was feeding and caring for about thirty cats in a vacant lot across from her house. Students raised money through bake sales to buy all of the supplies, Then alon...

TripAdvisor images of dusty, uneven streets, women in brightly colored long skirts with shawls draped over long black hair. Children playing stickball in empty lots black hair tousled by the sun.  calling out into the clear day. Men, dusty and dirty, pushing wheelbarrows, swinging pickaxes, mixing concrete in shallow wells in earth dry. Yet images can’t  reveal background music from cassettes old or radios battered. Tuba's bellowing, trumpets blaring  and drums cadence. And the singing  from worksites  tiendas  casas busses. Belies soulful power of a beautiful people. Sleepy village sounds call imagination. clopping horses outside my casa. Soft voices passing open doors, “Hola, Buena Dias!” Recording from gas trucks offering tanks full. Junkmen calling for refuse sad. Tamales and fresh fish hawked from wheelbarrows. And the  ice-cream cart singing for children. No need...