novus sulum mane

Not only did I turn fifty-one today, but my cat Snicker turned nine. She and I have the same birthday.

In truth, we can't be sure of that. Snicker was a rescued animal, so we don't know for sure what day she was born. But we knew when she was rescued and knew how long she was fostered before she became ours. When we took her to her first vet visit they estimated how many weeks old she was and started to write her birthdate as July 15. I asked if they could write it as July 16 to match mine. Since it was only a guess anyway they recorded it per my request.

So it would be more accurate to say that she and I have the same "official" birthday.

When I refer to her as my precious birthday present, Pearl can't help but tease me by alluding to Gollum's relationship with the ring of power in The Lord of the Rings.

© 2009 EAH

Tomorrow is my 51st birthday. It doesn't feel like anything.

I was laid-off from my job almost six months ago. There is no work out there. Fortunately, Pearl is still working (she always made more money than me anyway) and our health insurance is through her so we are doing okay.

It would seem that after 39 weeks of silence I'd have a lot to say... but such is not the case.

I've been able to spend a lot of good quality time with Pearl - she and I take long walks in the many wooded parks in Northeast Ohio and we have taken up the hobby of identifying and photographing wildflowers.

I have also been able to bless my dad but assisting him for whole days at a time with yard work projects. I am enjoying my time with him a lot.

Plus, I've been giving free art lessons to the nine-year-old daughter of a good friend of mine. She loves to draw animals. She is better than I was at her age (and I was pretty good).

That's about it!

-Dolce

© 2009 EAH

Whether or not I ever get my time and energy back to a state where I can be able to blog again is yet to be seen, but today is special, so I'll make this one post.

Today is my spiritual birthday.

Thirty-four years ago today, which was Sunday, October 13, 1974, I was at a Church of Christ in the city next to the one in which I now live. I'd been attending there for about half a year. We were having some sort of big weekend event and had a guest speaker.

I'd been having a slightly rough time, especially during the Saturday activities for youth the day before. Something happened that made me feel as if I didn't fit in.

On Sunday morning I finally realized that it wasn't the youth group that kept bringing me back; it was the Gospel that was preached. So during the altar call I stepped forward and publicly professed Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. Fifteen minutes later I was baptized.

Along with my wedding day to Pearl, this is one of the greatest milestone dates of my life.

© 2008 EAH

Within the eighteen members of our group few knew anything more than a smattering of Spanish. I had attempted to learn some Spanish before I left but I only knew enough to demonstrate that I didn't know anything. One of the younger sector of our team, Jamie, had a few semesters of high school Spanish but attempting to apply her learning in a Spanish-speaking country proved awkward. Our best speakers were Tara and Katie. Both of them had lived in Bolivia for six months as volunteer educators.

We had been forced to lean on our Lord Jesus to handle weather patterns and airline schedules; now we were forced to lean on Him for our lack of the needed language skills.

Since La Paz was our first Bolivian port we had to pass through a number of lines and inspections. Our passports, visas, immigration forms and personal affects were all checked. We collected of luggage and proceeded to pass through another series of security checks. Everybody made it through except Amy and me. With all of our team gone around the corner we were required to answer questions while our bags were searched. None of the security officers spoke any English.

Although the airlines allowed each of us two pieces of luggage at up to fifty pounds each, we were limited by the mission to only one piece of personal luggage. The second part of our load was a pre-packed duffel bag of donated and purchased supplies for the Vargas family and their ministries. Mail sent to Bolivia is subject to governmental searches and anything of value usually gets confiscated and never delivered. The Vargas family relies heavily on our annual flights into the country to receive many items they can't import.

It was our duffel bags that gave Amy and I trouble. In between layers of donated clothing, there were also food items like cake mixes, cooking oil, etc.. We were particularly concerned when a bag of flour burst open and white powder flew into the air. But the guards only laughed at that -- they knew cocaine when they saw it and knew at once it wasn't drugs.

Eventually Pastor Tim came back to learn what had happened to us. Somehow he got them to understand that we were part of a big group and her was in charge of us. It took some time but Amy and I were allowed to pass through and Tim was taken to back room for questioning.

It turns out that we were suspected of attempting to smuggle large amounts of food into Bolivia with the intent of commercial profit. Why else would we try to hide it between layers of clothing? Tim was told he had to pay $100 in U,S, funds to cover import taxes -- which he paid but was never given a receipt for -- basically it was a bribe of sorts. With that cleared we were now safely on alien soil.

© 2008 EAH

On the day our missions team departed for Bolivia, our team leader, Tara, was wearing a t-shirt that read "I'm confused. No Wait... Maybe I'm not." That shirt proved to be prophetic. The trip almost ended before it had begun.

Our flight from Cleveland to Chicago left on time without incident. But our flight from Chicago to Miami was seriously delayed. Airport officials came over the PA system and apologized for the inconvenience then added that all connecting flights were going to be missed.

We made some phone calls and learned that if we missed our flight from Miami to Cochabamba we were in big trouble. That particular route only left once a day and all flights for the next three days were booked solid. Getting all eighteen of us to Bolivia in a timely fashion would be impossible.

We were in a strange state of panic. We prayed but found it hard to trust God that it would all work out okay. But we also knew that with all control taken away from us we could do nothing but leave it in His hands. We came very close to giving up and deciding to go home.

Moments later, the airport official came back on the PA system with new news. Some of Miami's flights were also experiencing slight delays. Then the official added, "I am not saying that you will make your connecting flights! What I'm saying is that if you do, it will be a miracle!"

At those words we knew that all would be well - our flight was confirmed. Our God is a God of miracles; so if that's all we needed it was a cinch.

We landed in Miami with less that ten minutes to exit our plane and run to the next terminal. But our gate turned out to be right across the terminal walkway, we made it onto the next plane with no time to spare.

Eight hours later we were in La Paz facing a whole new set of problems. But our faith had been greatly increased.

© 2008 EAH

Today I turn fifty.

A few weeks back a friend told me that turning fifty wasn't the end of the world... but you can see it from there!

Well, I'm back home in North America. My trip was wonderful. I will start sharing my Bolivian stories soon.

© 2008 EAH

Pearl and I started packing my luggage last night.

She has tomorrow night off work so we are going out to an upscale restaurant to enjoy some quality time alone. This trip will be the longest Pearl and I have been apart since the day we met.

The team is gathering at 10:00 Wednesday morning and driving together out to the airport. Our flight doesn't leave until about 3:00 but we have a lot of security to pass through so we need a good buffer.

We arrive in La Paz at 5:30 the next morning (Bolivia and Cleveland are in the same time zone). Then we catch a local flight to Cochabamba.

I'll be keeping a hand-written journal, but I won't be blogging again until I return to the States.

¡2 días hasta mi viaje a Bolivia!

© 2008 EAH

Getting riches brings care; keeping them brings trouble; abusing them brings guilt; and losing them brings sorrow. It is a great mistake to make so much of riches as we do.

-Dwight L. Moody

Asking for funding for my missions trip was a bit humbling. But actually receiving the funding has proved more so. Some funding came from family; those funds felt natural and served to strengthen our bonds. Other funding came from friends; I was apprehensive about asking from them. Where I did get funding from them I was surprised that instead of feeling joy in getting closer to my goal, I felt somehow unworthy. Some funding came from people I'd helped in one way or another. When I got those checks I felt warm and appreciated. Still other checks astounded me. One very large sum came from a near stranger; other checks (not as large) came from families that I know are struggling financially. Some people gave because they loved me. Others gave because they love Jesus. Still others gave because they loved goodness and charity. I even got some funding from people who hardly knew me but loved someone else who wanted to help me. Through many people God has been gracious to supply the monies for this trip.

If I'd paid my own way, it would be MY trip. If I'd won this trip it would be MY vacation. But now that God has supplied a way, I am humbled. I've never felt so profound about responsibility before. I thought I knew what it meant to called to this, now I'm having to face what it means to be sent.

¡12 días hasta mi viaje a Bolivia!

© 2008 EAH

The Bolivia trip is coming up fast -- less than two weeks away. I am getting nervous.

This past weekend we got our passports back from the Bolivian Embassy along with our travel visas. That just about wraps up the logistics and legalities of the trip.

You know, I don't really have much to write right now. I'm all emotions and no words.

¡13 días hasta mi viaje a Bolivia!

© 2008 EAH

This is a set of links to all the entries in my recent "elementary school memories" series:
School Pictures
Melancholy Recall
Having a Ball
Promise (part one)
Promise (part two)
The Day We Fell to Earth
Summer School
The Quest for "Muffles"
Reading (part one)
Reading (part two)

And here is the conclusion:

I had one last story to share before ending this series of memories. But I've decided against it. Writing these out has changed my perspective. My early childhood was not a cheerful one but I've come to the conclusion that it was pretty good in some ways.

My last story was a sad, lonely recollection similar the story about taking a ball to the playground in first grade. Except that it happened in third grade after Mich moved away.

Telling that tale would leave a false impression.

Within three months after Mich moved, my family also moved away. We moved into a new, bigger house in a neighborhood on the other side of our suburb town.

It was a hard move but it offered me a new start. My parents took advantage of our being near different schools and signed me up to repeat third grade. It took a long while but I made new friends and actually began to grow more mature and secure.

So, I guess that wraps up my earliest elementary school memories -- at least for now.

© 2008 EAH

Third Grade:

One weekend Mich and I were wandering around our neighborhood with no real idea of what we wanted to do. We were standing next to an old truck tire that someone had laid on its side, filled with dirt and used as a small garden. The garden was dead. I was remembering how this same tire had represented a great volcano in our now defunct Lost in Space play games.

There was a fair-sized tool shed in the back corner of this undeveloped plot that we'd always ignored. The tool shed door flew open and out walked a group of about four girls. "Why are you two trespassing on our property?" One of them shouted. It turns out that what we'd always thought was an empty lot was actually someone's side yard.

We had played there so often that we hardly considered it trespassing. We just gave the girls a defiant look. After all, these weren't adults -- the girls were all our age and younger.

Another girl added, "You can play here if you like but you have to play our way, not yours!"

Mich and I had nothing else to do so we made the unorthodox choice to join the group of girls. They lead us into the tool shed and we were surprised to find a small but comfortable club house inside. Mich asked, "So what are we playing?"

The first girl answered, "We're playing school and I'm the teacher. Sit on those pillows and start reading!"

There we a lot of books in a nearby box and we were require to select one. They weren't typical children's books but actual school readers -- the type that should have been returned to the local schools. I didn't like this game but I was not bold enough to leave. I picked a book at random, opened it up and just stared at the page. I did not read because this was a weekend and the idea of pretending to be in school was plain stupid.

The second girl was flirting with Mich and he was trying very hard to ignore her. But I knew Mich well and I was puzzled by the fact that I could tell he rather liked the attention. He never said anything to me but based on his actions then and later, I figured out that he thought she was cute.

I was a little irked by being trapped in this tool shed school room. I felt a little betrayed by Mich for showing interest in a girl instead of his best friend. But there was nothing I could do except stare at my book while I avoided reading.

Suddenly one of the youngest girls, perhaps six years old, pointed her finger at me and yelled, "Teacher! Teacher! He's not reading!" I was shocked to be discovered and got scared.

The first girl questioned the young one, "What do you mean? Why would you say that?

"He's not moving his lips!" the little girl exclaimed.

Our pretend teacher just giggled, "You silly girl, he's still reading. When you get older like me and him you don't have to move your lips anymore, you can read in your head." Then she turned to me and said, "Don't mind my little sister, just read your book, its okay."

Eventually Mich and I escaped but I don't remember how and I don't remember ever going to that tool shed school again (Although I could tell that Mich wanted to).

Mich never get the chance to know his little girl friend better. Nor did I get much more time with my last friend. During late winter, Mich's family moved away. My clique was gone and I was alone.


¡15 días hasta mi viaje a Bolivia!

© 2008 EAH

Third Grade:

Our teacher in third grade was Miss B. Like many grade school teachers, she divided the classroom into three groups based on their reading skills. She would give the whole class an assignment to keep us busy and while she met with each reading group in turn the other two groups worked on their assignment. I was in the slowest reading group.

One day Miss B was out sick and a substitute teacher came in to give us our lessons. When my reading group got together the sub kept things short. She looked over the worksheet we'd done from yesterday and handed out a new one for the next day. The worksheets were simple things like "circle this", "cross out that", "fill in this" and "match that".

As the sub started explaining what we were supposed to do, I read the instructions and noticed she was explaining it wrong. I wasn't about to contradict her but I also wasn't going to listen to her. I followed the instructions.

The next day Miss B was back. When she called my group forward she was puzzled as she looked at our work. "I don't understand." she said, "Everyone did this wrong except Dolce!"

The other kids explained that they were only doing what the sub told us to do.

"That can't be true. The substitute teacher would have read the instructions. Besides, why wouldn't Dolce do what she said?"

I just sat quiet -- acting dumb and feeling proud.

Then Miss B looked at me and beamed. "Well done, Dolce. Maybe I'll have to move you up to the middle group."

It felt good to hear it but it never did happen.


¡21 días hasta mi viaje a Bolivia! -- EEK! ONLY THREE WEEKS!

© 2008 EAH

The following memories deal with potty humor and childhood gender curiosity. On the outside chance it might be seen as risque, I'm placing it behind an lj cut...

( Read more... )

I really didn't understand school at all. I daydreamed all the time and the whole idea of paying attention was completely beyond me. Of course, now I know that I suffered from Attention Deficit Disorder, an unheard of condition back then. And years later, when society became aware of ADHD, it was only the hyper-activity that was recognized. Today we know that hypo-activity and distractability can also be attributed to the disorder. Today we also know that not all kids grow out of it -- adults can suffer from it too. I know I had it back then and as an adult I was finally diagnosed.

After second grade, Mom and Dad signed me up for summer school. I suppose it would have helped me to catch up with other kids if schooling could help me at all. Unfortunately, I just daydreamed through summer school as much as I had in regular classes.

I was so oblivious to what was going on, that when the last day of summer classes was canceled and I was given a note to inform my folks, I lost the note and didn't even know what it was about. Mom dropped me off at the school that day and I found it empty. I sat outside the school for a while until the janitor let me inside to sit on a bench. It was he who explained to me that classes were canceled. I heard it that time!

I sat for a couple or few hours all alone and bored. I was afraid to do anything like use the playground. I was afraid to even leave the bench. An eternity passed before Mom came back. She might have been upset with me if she hadn't been so concerned.

There was one event of the summer, however, that I was painfully aware of -- Jerry and his family moved away. Both Mich and I were crushed.

¡27 días hasta mi viaje a Bolivia!

© 2008 EAH

This is me, the little boy I'm writing about:

THIS JUST IN!

I just learned that I have raised more than 100% of the funding I need to go to Bolivia. I was so uncertain that I'd be able to meet the goal, but God has been faithful. So much so that I was actually the first of the team to reach full funding.

All funds that come in after this point, including the proceeds of my father's Garfield Show, will go toward assisting my teammates. Praise Jesus!

I extend deep thanks to kiji_kat, theycallmeboy, mermaldad and all my friends, family and colleagues for their support and sponsorships.

I know I've been called to this mission and this seems to confirm it. I'm very excited.

I find it amazing to look back to my first few years in school and realize that they really were only a few years. Time passed so differently for me then -- time passed more slowly. I felt like I was friends with Jerry and Mich for so long, but our friendship began, developed and ended in the stretch of maybe eighteen months.

Toward the end of second grade, for a very brief time, I became buddy-buddy with one of the cooler kids (I'll call him JP). His family went to church with my family but that was about the only common ground we had between us. I wanted to get to know him better so I invited him to come play with Jerry, Mich and I after school one day. He accepted and came to join us.

We started playing the same Lost in Space pretend game we always played. JP tried to follow along but got bored quickly and complained, "What is this? Don't you guys do anything real!"

I asked him what was wrong with space adventures. He muttered something like "nothing." Then he added, "Don't you ever play softball or football? Don't you climb trees, ride bikes, have races? All you do is pretend stuff!"

I thought he might feel better if he got to lead the adventure and Jerry agreed it would be okay. JP tried, but he soon got sarcastic about it all. "Okay, how about if we go to Saturn... gee, we can use the rings like a giant slide... No, no we could go the asteroid belt and play hide-and-seek!... No, that's no fun... wait, I know, we'll go to Pluto, where everyone looks like big silly cartoon dogs... No, that would be silly, wouldn't it?... but then its all just silly, right?... I'm sick of all this. I'm going home."

He left.

The three of us sat on Jerry's swing set which had only moments earlier been the Jupiter II. Our game was stupid. We always knew that at some level, but that day we felt it. Within a few minutes, for lack of anything real to do, Jerry went into his house and Mich and I walked away to our own homes.

Summer was coming and things were about to change for all of us. JP was quickly forgotten but his criticisms foreshadowed that we wouldn't be little boys forever.

¡28 días hasta mi viaje a Bolivia!

© 2008 EAH

This story, archived from Mole End, must have taken place while I was in second grade. So I might as well insert it here with other primary school memories.

The Chase

I have told several stories at the expense of my sister Becky, but although Becky and I have never been close, we don't dislike each other, we just think very differently.

One evening when I was about six or seven years old when Becky and I took a walk down the street to see a neighbor who was showing off his new pet puppy. It was a beagle, I think, and perhaps nine months old, so it wasn't a tiny thing anymore.

Several of us were standing in a circle laughing and playing with the puppy when the neighbor made some sort of wise crack at Becky. The sense of big brother protectiveness over took me and I walked up to the neighbor and loudly stated, "You leave my sister alone!"

All the kids gave a gasp, but it wasn't because of me. The puppy saw me as a threat to his master and was jumping up to bite my arm. I turned away from the teeth and started to run as fast as I could. The dog came running after me. I heard all the kids laughing and call out names as I fled in fear. I distinctly recall the neighbor calling, "My dog will protect me... go get him, boy!"

This might have bothered me but I was much more concerned with getting away than I was with their taunts. I had a small head start but the dog was faster than me. I ran straight for a hedge of bushes that were between two to three feet tall and jumped them hoping the dog would not follow. The dog did not jump the hedge but rather decided to run around it. This gave me a better lead.

I headed straight for the front door of my house, which was two front yards away. But the screen door was locked and I couldn't get inside. I screamed and pounded on the door in hopes that Mom or Dad would open it from inside. They were too slow; the dog caught up with me looking as vicious as ever. All I could do was keep running.

Two front yards further down the street I saw another group of kids playing. When I saw that their was a dog with them I developed a plan. If I lead my pursuer in that direction, maybe the two dogs would get into a territory fight and forget all about me. The plan worked, I ran toward the group of kids but dodged to hide along the side of their house at the last second. I heard barking from around the corner and the dog chasing me changed course to meet his new challenge. I heard the other kids yelling, "Where did that dog come from? I don't know. Hey, break those two up!..."

I hid on the side of the house until I caught my breath again and then walked back home trying not to be noticed. I was safe, I was tired and I had a clever true story to share with my friends.

I did indeed share this story with my friend, Jerry. He thought it was pretty cool, but his Mom overheard me and told me I was just being silly when I ran. She claimed that if I'd just commanded "Down!" in a stern voice that the dog would simply obey and sit down.

I was a bit hurt. What did she know, it wasn't her dog; she wasn't even there! Jerry saw how I felt and said, "Ignore her, she does that to me sometimes too."

© 2006/2008 EAH

With only 30 days left before I climb onto a plane heading to Bolivia, I will doubtless be making more missions trip prep entries soon. And I'll be heading into third grade stories a little later this week. But today I am writing about this past weekend.

Two weekends back, NASA held an open house at their Glenn Research Center in Cleveland, Pearl and I met mermaldad there and had a very good time. (I will refer to mermaldad as "Walt" for the rest of this entry.) This past weekend NASA held an open house at their Plum Brook Station in Sandusky, Ohio. My father-in-law (Howard) and I drove out to Walt's house, then the three of us drove out to Sandusky together. Walt works for NASA Glenn but had never seen Plum Brook.

Pearl packed us all a big picnic lunch which we ate tail-gate style before we got into the long line to board a bus that would take us from the parking lot to NASA. It actually took us to another parking lot where another long line was passing through security before waiting in line for a second bus (which really would take us to NASA)

We needed a picture ID to get past security. Howard had known he wouldn't be driving so he left his wallet at home. We prayed and hoped that we could talk our way in. Walt showed his NASA ID and explained that Howard was with him but had no ID. The gaurd looked over Walt's ID, then looked at Howard and me. He smiled and said, "Okay, He's alright, go on in." It helps to know the right people.

I bought a "NASA 50 Years" t-shirt because I thought it was cool that NASA and I were the same age. I also bought a shirt for Chuck, the leader of our Wednesday night Bible Study - he also turns 50 this year.



The tour was pleasant and informative but it was also crowded. But in spite of lots of long lines, long waits and repeated bus trips, I'm very glad I went. Walt invited Howard and I to dinner before we headed home. We accepted and had a good visit.

It was a long, busy day and a late night by the time we got home. Howard was pretty worn out but we both agreed we'd do it again if we got the chance.

¡30 días hasta mi viaje a Bolivia!

© 2008 EAH

Second Grade:

Although I learned to be unhappy and a bit ashamed during classroom activities, things changed for me on the playground. I was part of a small friendship group, I wasn't alone anymore. I met two boys, Jerry and Mich, who became my buddies during recess. When I learned that they were next door neighbors and only lived one street over from me, we began to hang out after school too.

More often than not, we would pretend we were the characters from the 1960's TV show Lost in Space (it was a very popular show with kids at the time). Jerry was our leader, of sorts, and always wanted to be Don West, the young, wild and adventuresome member of the Jupiter II mission. I always took the role of John Robinson, the actual leader of the mission, but much more conservative and practical. Mich took on three roles at once: Will Robinson, the troublesome Dr. Smith and the Robot. We completely ignored that there were three main female characters in the show. We could spend hours, day after day, pretending to have great adventures in space.

One day Jerry announced a new twist to our play. He wanted to add some suspense so he decided that we should end each session of Lost in Space with a cliff-hanger. We would get ourselves into an imaginary impossible scenario as recess ended. We were not allowed to discuss or even think about how to get out of it until we met again after school. It added a lot.

One time, Dr. Smith forgot to warn Don, John and Will about a bad storm front that was coming into the region of a planet we were about to explore. It came down on us fast and while we tried to outrun it we fell into quicksand. The more we tried to escape the deeper we sank. Then the bell rang.

An idea came to me and I forgot the new rule. I blurted out, "What if a tornado inside the storm pulls us out of the quicksand at the last second?"

Mich was upset with me because he liked the idea -- but the rule was clear that we couldn't use it if it was stated. But Jerry said, "No, that's too good to skip, that's how we'll do it this afternoon." That pleased me. I wasn't the leader of our little group but my imagination kept making me an important addition.

I had found a niche. Even if I hated school, some things held promise.

¡33 días hasta mi viaje a Bolivia!

© 2008 EAH