The days have been long and devoid of much rest. Monterrey is a city of smog and pedestrians, tight streets winding up hills and barking dogs in the night. I asked my host if the perros were dangerous. He said, "Algunos si, otros no." I just hope I don't come across one of the "algunos si" dogs who thinks gringos should stay where they belong--north of the dreadfully missnamed Rio Grande. Because the casa has no airconditioning, the poisonous air fills my brain at night and strikes me with a storm of itching sinuses and tormentuous sneezing at about 2 am. I've decided to just quit my vegan ways and take some antihistiamine before I go to bed.
Los ninos at the orphanage are full of energy and devoid of dicipline. At least that's the way it seems. Now that I have been here a couple days and the barrier of blank stares and "mas despacio por favor" is falling like Hadrian's Wall, I can see more respect in their eyes, not to mention less kicking and biting when I make them come inside for lunch.
Some phrases I have learned excedingly well from them are; "Do it again," "Give it to me," and "Not on your life you stinking gringo, greener than a ripe avocado." At least, that's what I think the kid was saying. I'm still not sure if it was good or bad but he didn't exactly sound like the welcoming comitee at church when he said it. I made the mistake of teaching one girl how to say, "Under doggy." Now I hear her at all hours, whether we're in the park or five miles from anything resembling a swing set. She wanted me to give her an under doggy this morning when I arrived at the house where there are no swings and again when she was jumping on a trampoline. How in the world I'm supposed to give her an under doggy on a trampoline is beyond me. So I've just gotten into the habit of screaming, "No, No, no more under doggies!" whenever I see her, before she has a chance to say anything. It makes things much simpler.
They call me tio, which means uncle. All the women are tia. To hear, "Tio, mira," (which is "Uncle, watch,") or to actually have a little boy understand what I say and pick up his shoes with a smile helps me to see one reason why I am here. They need a male in there lives (I almost said man) and I can act in that role for the short time that I am here. I can show them the side of Christ's love that is masculine and picks two or three of them up in the courtyard while they scream as loud as I can run. A lot of these kids have parents but either the parents are poor or the homes are not safe. So the casa hogar takes them in with motherly tenderness. While I am here, I can try to support them with fatherly love.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
The Alamo
Now we're going to have to work backwords because I haven't been able to update in several days.
The trip down was long but we took long breaks and made the trip as enjoyable as possible. The best stop we made was in San Antonio Texas: home of a shrine to American fortitude--the Alamo. Several places I have visited have struck a certain cord in my heart that resounded with patriotism and tenacity, but the Alamo tops them all. To know that every soldier within that chaple died fighting makes me wonder how I would fare under in such a struggle. Once it had begun, I know it would take little effort to fight to the finish, knowing that no quarter would be given. But the point of no return would come earlier, when the soldiers were on their way and I still had the chance to run. Would I stay with Travis to beat the Mexican army? In the presence of such men as Travis, Crockett, and Bowie, I think I would have the courage.
The chapel still stands and part of the baracks. They have such relics as rifles owned by Crockett, a knife owned by Bowie, and a lock of Davy's brown hair. They even have a knife carried by the adventurer-statesman when he was hunting bear--perhaps he used it to legendary good use on those journeys. The only drawback of my visit was the location of the fabled fort. No longer does it rise up out of the desert, blocking the path of the oncoming Mexicans. Now it blocks traffic in downtown San Antonio. A lot of people pass through every day on their way down to the river. I tried my best to imagine everything gone and dust on my boots from the long ride I had just finished in order to help in the defence of what I knew was a doomed enterprise, like the 32 men from Gonzales. They were the only troops who responded to the passionate cries from the indominable Travis who will forever be considered a patriot of this great nation.
The trip down was long but we took long breaks and made the trip as enjoyable as possible. The best stop we made was in San Antonio Texas: home of a shrine to American fortitude--the Alamo. Several places I have visited have struck a certain cord in my heart that resounded with patriotism and tenacity, but the Alamo tops them all. To know that every soldier within that chaple died fighting makes me wonder how I would fare under in such a struggle. Once it had begun, I know it would take little effort to fight to the finish, knowing that no quarter would be given. But the point of no return would come earlier, when the soldiers were on their way and I still had the chance to run. Would I stay with Travis to beat the Mexican army? In the presence of such men as Travis, Crockett, and Bowie, I think I would have the courage.
The chapel still stands and part of the baracks. They have such relics as rifles owned by Crockett, a knife owned by Bowie, and a lock of Davy's brown hair. They even have a knife carried by the adventurer-statesman when he was hunting bear--perhaps he used it to legendary good use on those journeys. The only drawback of my visit was the location of the fabled fort. No longer does it rise up out of the desert, blocking the path of the oncoming Mexicans. Now it blocks traffic in downtown San Antonio. A lot of people pass through every day on their way down to the river. I tried my best to imagine everything gone and dust on my boots from the long ride I had just finished in order to help in the defence of what I knew was a doomed enterprise, like the 32 men from Gonzales. They were the only troops who responded to the passionate cries from the indominable Travis who will forever be considered a patriot of this great nation.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Yesterday all of McPherson flooded. My friend Willie had to sleep at our house because his car couldn't make it through the water. By morning, the waters reached the highest my Grandfather had ever seen in the several decades he had lived on Iron Horse road. Willie and I found a mighty barque (a piece of flotsam washed against the edge of a submerged field) and named it the Innavagable. Jumping aboard, we set out for several hours exploring the new world of eddies and insects driven from their homes. Our ship was built of someone's styrofoam hot tub cover that was actually better suited to be a craft of exploration. After we learned how to pilot our ship, my sister Lindsey jumped on. She sat on one end, Willie sat on the other, and I stood in the middle with my 15 foot pole, propelling us through trees, over invisible roads, and across submerged wheat fields. My shipmates used smaller poles to guide us through many trials. When we reached the far northern edge of the wheatfield to the west, we sat back and let the currents sweep us along. When we entered the quagmire of Turkey Creek, we fought to break through the tangled mess of soggy branches, floating logs, and exiled creatures. At long last, our trusty craft lodged upon the shore of our home and we left it to dry in the breeze until another storm might come and again cover the world in water that we might explore the depths of our own latent explorers' hearts
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
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