I Left My Heart in San Francisco”. That was the name of a popular song from the middle and late 1960’s…..in the midst of the war in Vietnam. It was particularly beloved by American soldiers who were serving in South Vietnam during those years. It was almost impossible to go into a bar in Saigon and not hear that song being performed…..either on a juke box or by a live entertainer. San Francisco, of course, was the city from which most soldiers departed to make their long journey to the Southeast Asian war zone…..and it was there to which they counted the days until their return. But,,,,me? I didn’t leave my heart in San Francisco. I left my heart in…..Saigon.

Considering how much I did NOT want to go to South Vietnam when I received my orders in 1962….and how nervous and apprehensive I was when I arrived at Tan Son Nhut Airport, I look back with amazement how quickly I adapted to the city…..and how quickly I learned to love it.

My initial introduction to Saigon was a ride in an Army bus, whose windows were covered with a heavy mesh screen…..just in case somebody tried to throw a grenade in the window, I suppose. I stepped off the airplane into sweltering heat….into a place that was like nothing I had ever seen before. Soldiers were everywhere. Maybe that was because we were at war. The buildings looked different; the people looked different; the landscape looked different; the traffic was unbelievable.

We took a short ride to our military compound…..my new home for the next year. The bus was deathly quiet. I am not sure exactly what I had expected. Maybe something similar to the army posts at Ft. Leonard Wood? Or Ft. Benjamin Harrison? Where I had previously been stationed. Maybe an orderly collection of barracks, office buildings, parade grounds and mess halls? When we pulled into the front gate of our compound, I got my answer. Mostly there was a collection of barracks, offices, and mess halls. But, they looked nothing like those of my two former army bases.

All the “barracks” were really nothing more than glorified tents….canvas buildings…..almost completely surrounded by sandbags which extended up to the windows. And…the windows? They extended completely around the building, too. They were covered with screen, in an attempt to keep out the mosquitoes. They were build with long, over-extending eves…..an attempt to keep out the rain…..which there was a lot of. On the inside of the barracks….or sleeping quarters is probably a better name for them….. or as we called them: huts…..there were shades or awnings, made of bamboo. These shades could be rolled down when the rain was so heavy and driving that even the overhanging eve couldn’t keep out the water.

The office where I was ultimately assigned, the Adjutant’s General’s office…..was of similar construction and design. It was almost like camping out!

No doubt about it. If I would had have a choice, I would have climbed on an airplane and headed back to the U.S.A. But, of course, I didn’t have that choice. And, looking back, I am happy and almost thankful that I didn’t. I would have missed out on some of the greatest and most memorable years of my life.

I really don’t remember how long it was before I was brave enough to venture into downtown Saigon…..about three or four miles from the airbase. Probably not very long. I met another soldier who worked in another of the sections….and we became friends almost immediately. Armed with an ally, it was much easier to be brave….and strike out to discover what downtown Saigon was all about.

In the military, the only way to get downtown was to take a cab….little blue and yellow Volkswagens…..or a human powered cyclo…..or a motorized, open air petti-cab. No matter which one we chose…..we could be assured of an exciting, hair-raising ride. Taxi drivers were fearless. It is amazing that half the population wasn’t killed off as a result of wildly careening taxis.

Our first visit to downtown Saigon was an awesome experience. A tapestry of sights and sounds and smells that almost overwhelmed our senses. The streets were packed with wall-to-wall traffic…..with every kind of transportation imaginable: cars, army trucks, taxis, delivery vans; jeeps, cyclos, petti cabs, carts pulled by water buffalo, motor scooters and bicycles. Oh….those motor scooters and those bicycles! They were ubiquitous…..everywhere. Most Vietnamese couldn’t afford to own an automobile. The motor scooter was the family transportation….the family car. Entire families could manage to ride on one motor scooter. For those who couldn’t afford a motor scooter, a bicycle would take its place.

Just as the streets were crowed with a jumble of diverse and disparate vehicles, the sidewalks were packed with an equally dense mass of varied humanity…..sometimes shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow. People dressed in the traditional Vietnamese garb were intermixed with soldiers in their uniforms, Westerners, assorted foreigners in their native dress…..and always the children, many small ones who were naked or only scantily dressed.

The street scenes were something that I had never seen before: colorful, exotic, sensual. The streets are lined with open front stores and shops, selling…..well, almost anything you would want to buy. The sidewalks were a jumble of little kiosks…or tables….or simply with merchandise which was laid out on the sidewalk. The vendors were calling out to the passers-by, imploring and enticing them to buy their wares. We were always puzzled at the amount of American-made goods which were available for sale. Merchandise which had obviously been stolen…..which was one of the common economic endeavor of some Vietnamese people.

There were streets devoted to selling flowers…..a beautiful sight. Streets devoted to selling food…chickens, ducks, pigs hanging from hooks. Other streets specialized in selling live animals. Or cloth. Or clothing.

The first few times my friend and I went into downtown, it was strange and exciting. And, there was also the ever-present, underlying feeling of uneasiness…..the need to be cautious. The need to always be aware. We always kept our money and wallet in our front pocket. It was far too easy to lose these to a pickpocket….and never know it until it was too late.

Underneath all the hustle and bustle, all of the seeming confusion….Saigon was really a very relaxed, laid-back city. Actually, contrary to outward appearances, nobody was really in a hurry. Sooner or later, everything would get done…..maybe. Saigon shut down during the early afternoon hours…..sort of a siesta time. Shops and offices closed and the people disappeared from the streets for two or three hours during the hottest part of the day, only to come back to life again….like lifting a flood gate.

After a while, the newness wore off, and everything started to take on an air of familiarity. The newness wore off…..the excitement diminished. But the charm of the city became stronger…..like a magnetic field that never weakened.

When my enlistment time came to an end….yes, I have to admit, I was somewhat eager to return home. Not because I wanted to leave Saigon…..or even that I was tired of being in the Army. A former boss of mine, who was now the military attache in Turkey offered me a job….a good job. I turned it down, too. I looked forward to going back home again to reunite with family and friends.

No sooner had I gotten home….and I started to become restless. I enrolled in Sterling College in order to become certified as an elementary teacher. It was during my student teaching days….a complete joke because I had already taught for two and a half years…..I was sitting in the back of the classroom thumbing through a magazine to relieve the boredom…..a magazine called “Redbook”, I think. As I was casually flipping through the pages, I came upon a story about the International Voluntary Services….how it was made up of young volunteers who were committed to working in under developed places like South Vietnam to raise their standard of living.

Ah, ha! I knew immediately that this would be the way I could….and would….return to South Vietnam.

And I did return….and spent the next three years living in South Vietnam….first in the coastal town of Phan Rang…..and then in Saigon. I was appointed as the Associate Chief of Party for Education, a position that placed me in nominal charge of about 72 teachers who were scattered about the country teaching English.

It was during these three years that I really became to know and love Saigon….and indeed, South Vietnam. After an unpleasant bout of hepatitis, I settled into what would become a familiar and comfortable pattern of living. Five days a week,,,,,during the day time…..I worked in my office in downtown Saigon. But….at night and on the weekend, I was free to roam about the city….and to become a part of it.

I know it probably sounds bad….but I spent almost every night in a bar. Yeah….it sounds bad, but aside from staying in my room, where there was no air-conditioning and where the electric power was sporadic, it was more comfortable to simply go sit in a comfortable, air-conditioned bar. There was a constant stream of volunteers who came through Saigon…..each of whom expected to be entertained. And, about the only constant source of entertainment was going to a bar.

Contrary to the culture of many people here in the U.S.A……Yes, you can go into a bar, sit all evening…..and leave the bar sober! And, that is basically what we did. The bars of Saigon….at least the ones we frequented….were safe, friendly places. Well…..for the most part. We took special care to stay out of bars where Australian soldiers or South Vietnamese soldiers were likely to be found. They were crazy…..or could be…..after they had had a few too many drinks. They obviously were fond of fighting….brawls. Chairs would be broken; mirrors smashed; tables overturned; lips bloodied; eyes blackened. The MP’s would be called…..they would arrive and break up the fight. I really have no idea what happened to these soldiers. I know that the South Korean MP’s….or whatever they were called….could be vicious. It was simply better to avoid places like this.

By the time I had returned to Saigon, I was already familiar with a few bars that we had discovered while I was there in the Army. We chose our bars mostly based on the kind of music that was being played. For example, one bar….our main bar….had an awesome guitar player….and also a terrific drummer. Not to mention an American singer who performed there almost every night. She worked in a government office somewhere in Saigon. Another bar….our second main bar…..had a clarinet player who could easily have played for a major symphony orchestra.

We visited these bars so often that we became acquainted with most of the musicians and waitresses. Why shouldn’t we know them? We were there almost every night of the week. It wasn’t long before we had a “reserved” table in both of these bars…..and right up close to the stage. As soon as we would walk into the door, a waitress usually spotted us, and it wasn’t very long before we had a gin and tonic sitting in front of us.

Another of our “traditions” was to sit and sip coffee on the veranda of the Continental Palace Hotel on Sunday morning. Here we could sit in the relative coolness of the veranda with ceiling fans turning leisurely above us, stirring the air just enough to keep it comfortable. From our table we could relax and watch the Sunday morning traffic as it converged on two of the fashionable Saigon avenues….To Do Street and Nyugen Hue Street. Immediately in front of us was the old Opera House, which was used for a variety of purposes….National Assembly Building (when this was allowed), or as an art gallery. Or an exhibition space. It was not at all unusual for the purpose of buildings to change almost overnight. Straight ahead of us, across the wide plaza, was the Rex Hotel….home of many of the news gathering and reporting organizations.

Actual “culture” was hard to find in this city in the midst of a war taking place in the countryside. And, this was true especially for Americans. There were no English-speaking movie theaters. No symphony orchestra. No live theater performances. No performances by popular rock bands. No educational opportunities. No lectures or forums.

Yes….there were art galleries…..most of which featured Vietnamese artists…..and most of the subject matter centered around paintings of Saigon….or the immediate area around Saigon…..or of the war. Looking back, I wish that I had bought some of the paintings to bring home with me. But, somehow I never thought of that at the time. And….yes, there was always live music to be found in the bars. But this was local talent….some good and some not so good. Then, there was the local, exclusive tennis club and the house racing track. I never went to either of these places, so I don’t if they were frequented by American or not…..although I suspect that they were both hangouts for the more affluent.

The major American attraction that we could count on every year was the Bob Hope Christmas Show. Every Christmas season, Hope and his entourage of popular American singers, dancers and comedians would perform at several military installations around South Vietnam. These shows were carried out under tight security….and were always popular with the troops…..and civilians, too. I saw all of them….all four years that I was in South Vietnam….and I enjoyed them. They were a touch of home…..a touch of the familiar. (Even though I found out later that for Bob Hope, they were mainly a lucrative source of revenue because they were filmed and always aired on TV back in the U.S.A. at a handsome profit for him. Oh well…..)

I remember one day we found out that an American ballet company was coming to Saigon for a performance. It was hyped as a major cultural event. And, tickets were difficult to obtain. Somehow our organization was able to come up with eight or ten of these coveted tickets. The ballet was being performed in the late afternoon in one of the downtown (Vietnamese) movie theaters. We all took off work early, got dressed up in our best clothing….and set out for the theater….ready to welcome a bit of American culture to our lives. Wow! What a shock. What a let down. The ballet troop consisted of several overweight women along with some middle age men dressed in tight fitting leotards…..that they should not have been wearing! The entire performance was almost comical. Looking back….maybe it was supposed to be. No….I don’t think so. We left the theater feeling let down, dismayed, bewildered……and very annoyed. I am sure their intentions were good and noble. But, if they had day jobs……they should have stuck with them.

Being a guest in the home of a Vietnamese family was a pure delight. The Vietnamese people have a special capacity for making a guest…..in my case, an American guest…..feel welcome. They possess a certain flair for making a person feel special….the center of the universe at that particular time and place. There is much bowing and gesturing….never-ending smiles….and much scurrying around to assure the comfort of the guest. And….there is always tea! You can count on it. You can set your watch by it. And, not big glasses of ice team with a slice of lemon. Oh, horrors! No…..you will always be served hot tea, poured out of a tea pot into delicate little tea cups. And…..it is polite….almost mandatory…..for the guest to sip the tea. Not to take at least one little sip of tea would be a serious social mistake….and mark you as somebody who does not appreciate their hospitality….or their home….or maybe even them. It would be a great disappointment to the Vietnamese host or hostess…..and maybe even an insult. But, be forewarned: As long as you empty the tea cup…..another cup will be poured immediately. Your cup will never remain empty for very long. So…..unless you are really thirsty…..and you really want to keep drinking tea…..always leave some tea in the cup. That will indicate to your host that you are satisfied…..and no more tea will be offered. Actually, the same is true of food, if you are invited for a meal.

I am not the only person who found the allure and charm of Saigon and its people to be appealing and magnetic. Hundreds of American military and civilian personnel stayed behind in Saigon….or returned to Saigon (just like I did) after their tour of service had ended or after their civilian contracts had expired. Hundreds of them married Vietnamese girls and either brought them to the U.S.A. to live or stayed behind to try and make a life for themselves in South Vietnam…..mostly in Saigon. When the South Vietnamese government collapsed and the communists took over, their dream of staying in Saigon also collapsed when they were forced to flee the country…..which most of them did, along with their wife….and most of their wife’s family. But….who knows how many opted to stay behind and take their chances with the newly victorious communist regime.

Saigon has a way of seducing a person…..of working its beguiling magic on those who have lived there….always enticing them to return. For me, it a feeling that never seems to go away.

 

 

I have only had four permanent homes in my entire life.

To me that does not seem like very many….but it probably three more than many people I know have had. Yes….I have lived in several different places. When I first started teaching; when I was in the Army; when I lived in South Vietnam. But, they were temporary…..and I knew that at the time. I knew that soon I would be leaving there and going “home”.

To me, a “permanent” home is a place where you know you are going to live….settle down….put roots. It is a place that you have no intention of leaving….at least, not at any time in the foreseeable future.

My four permanent homes have been in Lyons, KS; in Sterling, KS; in Saigon, South Vietnam; and in Valley Falls, KS. Yeah…I am a Kansas boy. Born and raised here, as they say. I have travelled around the world….but somehow I have always managed to end up here in Kansas. I am not sure why that was. Maybe it was fate; maybe it was the only place that I “was sure of”; maybe it was because most of my family and friends lived here; or because I found jobs here; or maybe it was just meant to be. Whatever the reason, for all practical purposes, Kansas has been home for most of my life.

I have never been ashamed about being from Kansas…..even though people have looked at me incredulously, and said, “You live in Kansas?” …..like maybe there is something wrong with it. But, it doesn’t bother me. I would rather live in the land of Dorothy and Oz….and take my chances with a tornado, as awful and destructive as they can be, rather than live under the constant threat of hurricanes and earthquakes. At least, you can take cover from a tornado.

I would rather wake up to the peace and quiet of a Kansas countryside, and look out over the expanses of “flat” land…..rather than wake up to smog, pollution, traffic jams, high cost of living and a high crime rate. We may not have mountains…..but we have endless wheat fields that furnishes the bread for Southern California. We do not have ocean beaches….but we produce the beef that keeps McDonald’s in business.

So….what about these places where I have lived “permanently” during varying periods of my life? The first place was in Lyons, KS. Actually, do not remember as much about it as I would like to remember. It has been a long time ago. The house where we lived is no longer there…..the house and land has been the victim of “urban sprawl”……Lyons, KS style. What used to be a dirt road is now paved. What used to be open fields is now a residential area.

The summer before I entered the 8^th grade, we moved to Sterling. This is the first home that I can remember well. Sterling was a conservative little town. It was the home of Sterling College, sponsored by the United Presbyterian Church. There were no liquor stores in Sterling….and maybe there still aren’t. The only place one could by beer was in a pool hall. And….yes, it really was a pool hall….complete with pool tables. I worked for Dillon’s during high school and college. Today, almost every grocery store in the state sells 3.2 beer. But….we didn’t. If you wanted to buy beer….beer to take home….you had to drive to Lyons or maybe Nickerson. I am not really sure, because I didn’t buy beer to take home!

Since I worked for Dillon’s….and worked there for eight years…..I think I knew almost everybody in town. There were only two grocery stores and most people in town shopped in both stores. And, since I carried groceries to customer’s cars, I also knew almost every car in town.

Sterling is my hometown. It is the town I remember the best. It is where I went to junior high school, high school and college….those growing up and coming of age years.

While I was living there, I loved that town. I liked going to school. I liked working at Dillons. I liked my friends. I liked the people who lived in the town. It was a place where I fit in and felt comfortable. I thought I never wanted to leave.

One Saturday morning when I was in college, I was sitting in a booth in one of our local drug stores drinking a Coke with some friends who happened to be hanging out there at the time, too. (And, Yes….it is true. Both our drug stores had soda fountains where you could buy cherry or chocolate or vanilla Cokes…..or cherry limeades….or a chocolate sundae. And, yes…..the high school kids actually would go there to hang out after school or on weekend. It was a place to meet your friends.) Getting back to the story: We were sitting with one of our former high school classmates. She had joined the Navy and had been away for a couple years. She was now a nurse in the Navy. I remember her telling us about all the places she had been……and then she said she never could….and never would….come back to Sterling to live. It was “too boring.”

I…..the other too….was shocked. What? Never come back to this town? The town that I loved….and never wanted to leave! What a snob! She goes away for a couple years….and then comes back and thinks she is better than we are. Wow….I couldn’t believe she was saying all this stuff.

But, as I look back, that is probably the same as it is everywhere….in all small, close-knit towns. That is their world…..until something forces them into reality…..out into the “real” world. Most likely this would be something like going away to college….military service….a job…..getting married. Something that takes you out of your comfort zone…..and into a world that perhaps you never knew existed. For me, it was the military…..but that is a story for later on.

No…..I spent my formative years in Sterling. Living a happy and contented life. Sterling is a small town with a population of 2295 people in the 2010 census……the 7050 biggest city in the USA. Sterling, like most small towns, is gradually losing population, as people move from small towns to more urban areas.

Many scenes from the 1955 movie, Picnic, were filmed in Sterling. Stars such as Bill Holden, Rosalind Russel, and Kim Novak spent several hot summer days in town filming scenes at Sterling Lake. We couldn’t wait until the movie was released to see if we could spot ourself or somebody we knew in the beach scenes. For the record: I didn’t see myself…..although I was there.

Sterling was my home from about 1952 until the latter part of 1962, Basically, I lived at home….except for an experiment in a couple short-term apartments in Hutchinson, where I was teaching at the time.

My only other permanent home in Kansas is where I live now: Valley Falls, KS. At least, that is my mailing address. Technically, I live in Ozawkie Township…..where I vote and where my fire and ambulance protection come from. I lived in the city of Valley Falls for a few years….a few years that I try  to forget about. Not because of the town…..but because of where I lived. That is an unrelated story, however.

What can I say about Valley Falls…..keeping in mind that I still live here….or near it, at least. Before I moved to Valley Falls, I was living and teaching in Kansas City, MO. When I made the decision to find a job in Kansas….where I had a regular teaching license….the first thing I did was to turn to the placement bureau of Sterling College, where I had obtained my undergraduate degree. I saw that Valley Falls needed a high school history and government teacher. I looked at a map and found that Valley Falls was actually almost on my way home from Kansas City to Sterling. I set up and appointment for a Saturday morning. After touring the school…..construction on the new addition of the “old gym”, the library, band room, lunch room, etc. was just getting underway…..I was offered the job on the spot. And, I accepted on the spot.

I continued on “home” to my mother’s house in Lyons. At the time, she was living next door to my aunt and uncle.   When I arrived, she was at their house….all of them sitting in the back yard. I announced that I had just accepted a new job. “Where?” they all asked.

“In Valley Falls,” I told them.

My aunt looked at me suspiciously and said, “There isn’t any such place as Valley Falls.” But she was wrong. There, indeed, is a place called Valley Falls.

To put it simply…..there is not much here. (Take a look at the pictures on the side.) And, there is becoming less and less as time goes by.  It has been sad to watch the decline of Valley Falls over the years……gradually…..little by little….as the years pass by.   When I first moved here in 1969, it was a semi-thriving community. There were three grocery stores.

Now there is one. There was a clothing store. Now there is none. There were three or four service stations. Now there is one. There was a small manufacturing company. Now it is gone. There was a car dealership. Ancient history. There was an appliance store….a jewelry store…..a drug store….a feed mill…..a shoe shop….a movie theater. They have all closed. There were two banks. At least three bars. Two or three eating places. Today the downtown area is basically empty.

In Valley Falls…..and I suppose most small towns…..life centers around the school. In fact, the school IS the town. Take away the school…..and you have nothing. Take away the football field, the gym and the baseball field…..and nothing else is left. These places are the center of social life. For all practical purposes, there is no cultural or intellectual life in Valley Falls…..and probably not in most small towns.

Both Topeka and Lawrence are a half hour away. Both of these cities have a variety of cultural and intellectual opportunities….concerts, live theater, lectures, art galleries, museums, exhibitions. For most people, however, these places may as well be a half a continent away. Don’t misunderstand now. I think parents should be involved in the lives of their children. And, I think they should support them. But….I think there is more, though. There should also be a cultural side of life. There should also be an artistic side of life. There should be a spiritual side of life. There should be a side of life that makes people aware of different people, different ways of living, different problems that other people face. And, there should be side that understands and reaches out to these difference. But, again, this approach to life is not unique to Valley Falls. It is no doubt the prevailing attitude in almost every small town.

Even though I have lived here for forty-five years, I am still an “outsider”. And, this is mostly a result of my own choice. My interests have never been centered around a steady and solitary diet of hometown basketball, baseball and football. I don’t know….maybe it is because I came from a town where people….including the young people…..had a more diversified and eclectic interests and leisure time pursuits. Maybe it was because I had already lived in three or four large cities and found the life here to be narrow and limited. Maybe it was because I had already experienced the thrill of travelling abroad and had my eyes opened to new and different worlds and cultures and peoples. There is little doubt in my mind that I would have the same problem if I had stayed in Sterling all my life. The only difference would have been that in Sterling I was an “insider”……whether I liked it or not. A local yokel….a “native”…..or whatever you want to call it…..merely because I was raised there…..went to school there…..went to college there…..had a job there…..had all my friends there….knew everybody there.

But….be that as it may. The fact is that I have lived here for more than forty-five years well over half my lifetime…..and here I am. I am still here….alive and kicking. And, actually, Valley Falls has been very good both to me and for me.

I worked in the public school system for 34 years. And, I like to think that I did a reasonably good job…..that I taught most of my students something important. Things that they would use   later on in their life. Things that would make their life more fruitful, more productive, more complete. I think….and hope….that most of my students left my classroom at the end of the year better prepared to advance to the next level of their education…..that I gave them something to build on.

Today, many of my friends are my former students. They are mature adults now, and we find that we enjoy spending time together….that we have many of the same interests….and same values. We accept each other as equals; most of them call me by my first name. And, that is the way I like it. We talk to each other, and interact with each other as mature, responsible adults. To me….this is great. It means that I had a part….maybe just a small part….in helping them mature from children into adults. And now they are productive, respected, contributing members of the community….and of the world. 

They are caring, responsible parents. What more could a former educator ask for? My job….and the jobs of other educators….has been carried out successfully…..and now we are truly seeing and enjoying the fruit of our labor.

Valley Falls offered other advantages, too…..one of which is its location. Even though it is a small town, it is located within easy driving distance of both Topeka and Lawrence. Both of these  cities offers a wide variety of cultural, educational, recreational and entertainment opportunities…..as much as you can get in a rural Mid-Western setting. What is lacking in a small town can usually be found in a nearby city…..if such a city is convenient. And, lucky for me…..I had two nearby cities. 

Kansas City, slightly further away, has the huge asset of an international airport. From here, I could easily fly to any part of the world. Having an international airport in such close proximity also made it possible for me to have a wide variety of visitors from around the world,,,,,something that has become an important part of my life.

And….I dare not forget to mention the fact that living in Valley Falls made it possible to take full advantage of everything that Lawrence and the University of Kansas has to offer. Which shall I say was the most important? The masters degree that I obtained from the University of Kansas? Or the season tickets to K.U. basketball games that I had for thirty years?

That would a difficult call to make. But….I will say that being able to attend every home game for thirty years was incredibly special. And, of course, this would not have been possible if I lived in….let’s say, my hometown of Sterling. So score another point for Valley Falls.

Who knows how it may have turned out…..but it is entirely likely that if I had been living somewhere else besides here in Valley Falls, I may never have had my eight foreign exchange students. It was a couple of Valley Falls residents who suggested the idea to me. They had hosted foreign exchange students for a number of years…..and they were convinced that it would be something I would enjoy. It took some convincing…..but I agreed to try it. And, guess what? It turned out to be one of the most rewarding, enjoyable and interesting things I have ever done.

Not only did I have the opportunity to host some great students for a year….but we have stayed in touch with each other throughout the many years since they have gone back to their native countries and started families of their own. Knowing them opened up an entirely new era in my life…..the excitement and pleasure of foreign travel. Maybe this would have happened if I had lived somewhere else…..but I tend to doubt it. It only happened because I was in the right place at the right time.

Another thing that I will always remember about Valley Falls was the opportunity to work with young people in the area of track and field….in cross country….and in long distance running. It was because of this that I also made many life-long friends. Even though my attempt to introduce running as a lifetime leisure activity more or less failed….and failed miserably……running is still an active part of some of these runner’s lives. Some of them have passed on their love of running to their children…..and the tradition continues.

I could also talk about becoming a home owner during the time I have lived here…..and the joy of paying real estate taxes.   I could talk about the opportunity to be elected to a public office. Who knows? Perhaps all of these things could have….and would have….happened somewhere else, too. But….they didn’t. They all took place while I have been living here. So….I am not complaining. Life has been good. And, even as an “outsider”, I still feel that this is where I “live”. And, when someone asks where I live, I always answer, “Valley Falls.” Although when they ask, “Where is your home?”   I almost always  say, “Sterling.”

The only other place where I have lived with any sense of permanency was Saigon….in South Vietnam. If there is one place where I look back and wish that I had stayed there….it is Saigon.

I lived in Saigon for one year while I was in the Army……and three years while I was working for the International Voluntary Services…..a total of four years.

Saigon has a certain charm that may escape people with no sense of adventure, of imagination, of appreciation for the left-over life of a French colonial city. Underneath the outward hustle and bustle of the traffic clogged avenues and the equally crowded sidewalks, teeming with stalls, kiosks and shops selling everything imaginable to the curious and unsuspecting….and gullible….shopper, Saigon is very much a laid-back city. A city that takes its time. A city that is really in no hurry. Things will get done….eventually….maybe.

Saigon was a city of the incredibly poor….people who lived in makeshift shacks…..and of more affluent people who lived in the old walled French villas, left over from colonial days. Of people who spent their leisure time play tennis at the exclusive sports club….and of people desperately trying to live….even if they had to resort to committing a crime to do it.

My  home wasn’t luxurious….and neither was it an impromptu shack pieced together with scrap material. We lived on the outskirts of the city, no far from Tan Son Nhut Airbase….and not far from the horse racing track. We lived in two villas which, I suppose, were also at one time owned by a wealthy Frenchman. The two buildings were connected by a covered walkway. One of the buildings served as the dining hall and kitchen….as well as the dormitory for the female employees. The second building was used as the main office and as thecommunal sleeping quarters for the male volunteers.

Only the members of the administration had private rooms. I lived in one of these rooms, on the second floor of the building. Outside the door to my second floor living quarters was a large rooftop patio, which overlooked the busy, smoked-filled street in front of the house. It was really a pleasant place to sit, especially in the cool early morning before the sun was high enough to create furnace-like temperatures. And, it was a pleasant place to sit at night, after the sun had gone down…..when the searing temperatures had cooled down to a low simmer. However, I really don’t remember anybody sitting out there. Neither did I….at least very often.

My office was downtown. I had a driver who would dutifully and cheerfully drive me to work each morning. Take me back home for lunch. Take me back to the office in mid-afternoon, and bring me back home after I had finished work.

Obviously, my work was not part of the charm of Saigon. The charm lay in the lifestyle, in the Vietnamese culture. It lay in all those long leisure nights sitting in a Saigon bar; in the Saturday and Sunday mornings sipping coffee on the veranda of the Continental Hotel; in the visits to the market places where we wandered aimlessly, looking at the unbelievable variety of colorful and exotic merchandise for sale….but never buying any of it. It lay in the friendly visits to Vietnamese friends’ house, drinking the little cups of tea and eating tiny pastries….always being treated like somebody special. It lay in our visits to little Vietnamese restaurants….away from the downtown area….where we savored bowls of Pho…..the traditional Vietnamese soup made of noodles and chicken or beef. It lay in the excitement of navigating the confused Saigon traffic in my Jeep….playing the constant game of “chicken” and testing the quality of my nervous system.

Aside from the ever-present tensions of a war that was taking place; aside from the constant threat of a random terrorist attack; aside from the perpetual need to be vigilant no matter where I was or what I was doing……living in Saigon was a unique, life-changing experience. It was an experience that will remain in my heart and mind forever…..one that I would gladly do again.

So….that’s it. Those are the four places that I have called home…..and places where I have felt “at home”. There are other places….temporary places: Indianapolis, San Francisco, Hutchinson, Kansas City…..even good old Ft. Leonard Wood! But they were not….and never could be…..”home”. They were merely places to live until I went home.

 

Help! I am snowed in today…..and probably tomorrow. I am stuck here. Stranded. Trapped. Being held hostage here in my house…..by a relentless snow storm which has given us a gift of more than a foot of snow. Outside it is a Winter Wonderland created by Mother Nature….or a mean Mother-in-Law Nature, gleefully chuckling over her wicked work.

If you live out in the country like I do, most of what I have to say is going to sound familiar. You have experienced it….lived through it…..and hopefully, survived. However, if you live in a city or a town, maybe you will think I am complaining (which I suppose I am) or exaggerating. Or maybe you will think I am some sort of wimp or sissy who can’t cope with life. If you think this….man, you are wrong.

We people who live in rural areas…on hilly, gravel roads….miles from a paved road…..well….we’re tough….and we are adaptable. Because we have to be. We can’t put on our snow boots and walk a couple blocks to the grocery store….or the post office….or the gym to mess around for the afternoon. In town, most people have cable TV. It is largely not affected by the tribulations of weather…..such as snow and rain and clouds. Those things do not prevent the signal from flowing through the cable directly to the TV.  No….you do not have to climb up a ladder with a broom to sweep the snow off the satellite dish.

If we are lucky, the electricity does not go out and the water pipes do not freeze. But…something like this is going to happen, you can bet that it will happen first to us hardy people who live in the country. That is why many of us have wood stoves….and portable electric generators. We would make good Boy Scouts. You know: Be Prepared!

If I had a horse, I could ride it into town. Although let’s face it: I am probably too kind to make the poor horse get out into the cold weather. A snow mobile would come in handy at times like these. But, alas….I do not have a snow mobile. Even a small Caterpillar, my own snow plow….or any tracked vehicle would probably get me into town….and I could make a little money on the side. With 10 or 12 inches of snow on the ground…..and I am not counting the 3 and 4 feet drifts….I doubt if even a good red-neck four-wheeler would do much good. Although I would probably get an argument on this point from some of my slightly red-neck friends.

OK. We have established the fact. I am trapped inside…..and I am not going any where until the snow plow comes past…..and my neighbor boy comes and cleans out my driveway.

The question becomes: What am I going to do for 48 hours….alone in my solitude….with nobody around to talk to? It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. It has. Many times. But, that doesn’t change the question: What am I going to do to pass the time of day?

Back when I was still working at the school, I welcomed these days: Blessed Snow Days! I, along with most other teachers, would keep our eyes glued to the TV, watching for the name of our school to scroll across the bottom of the screen. Looking back, I am not really sure why we did this. The employees were always the first to be informed by a sort of calling network. When the telephone rang, we answered it eagerly, hoping it would be our contact person tell us that school has been canceled for the day. And, then we would still sit in front of the TV, watching for the notification, just to confirm the good news.

On those days, it was a welcome day of rest…..and unexpected day of relaxation. And…let’s face it. Many of those days, we weren’t really snowed in all day long. It was merely too risky and dangerous to have the school buses out on the snow covered roads early in the morning before the snow plows had cleared the roads. Usually the snow had stopped during the night….the snow plows would soon come past….and by the early afternoon, everything was pretty much back to normal, with all the kids driving around town.

But snow storms like the one we had today are different. It snowed all day….and it is still snowing tonight. The snow just keeps getting deeper and deeper. The trap keeps getting tighter and tighter.

So….what do I do on days like this? How do I….and how can I…..pass the time. And we are talking about at least 48 hours. Forty eight hours of aloneness and solitude. Forty eight hours of being trapped here in my house.

Well…..as long as I have the Big Three: TV, Internet and books, I can probably somehow manage. I can’t speed up time….but I can disguise it and make it seem to go faster.

Thanks Heavens for the Internet. What did we ever do without it? I know that I spent more than three-fourth of my life without it. Although looking back, I am exactly sure how I did it. What did I do without e-mail? Without Facebook? Without Skype? I know I once lived without them, but they are surely good things to have when you are “home alone”. At the very least, they can provide some virtual companionship….the illusion that you are not entirely by yourself. It provides a window to the outside world that I would not ordinarily have. So….score a point for the Internet.

I am going to rank television in the Number 2 place. Back in the days before the Internet, it was definitely Number One….with no close rival…..even in the days when there were only four or five local channels to choose from. We didn’t know any better. That was all there were…..and we happily accepted the fact. What you don’t know doesn’t hurt you….or something like that. Television is not very interactive….but it is a good source of entertainment….something to pass time (more or less like it does even when it it not snowing). It fills the vacuum of silence….if one is bothered by that. There are voices in the background….people on the screen. And, don’t rule out the fact that there are probably many programs that a person really wants to watch….but with a busy schedule, don’t have the time. Well, now you have all the time in the world to satisfy your viewing pleasure. And, while I am on the subject……TV is an excellent source of news, weather….and all sorts of valuable information that one might need in times like this.

For me, at least……a good book ranks third on my list of favorite ways to pass time when I am trapped at home by myself. I am not kidding myself. I know that for most people, reading a book ranks quite far down the list….after wandering bare foot outside in the snow for 2 or 3 hours. Even I was tempted to rank it 4^th……after taking a nap. But, I didn’t. Becoming engrossed in a good book is an excellent way to pass time, no matter if you are snowed in or not. For me, time begins to fly when I start reading a good book. It is easy to lose track of time…..and suddenly realize that two or three or four hours have passed. I have gotten so interested in reading a book that I have let the fire in the wood stove die out. And, the stove is only eight feet in front of me. I have started reading a good at night….and suddenly realized that it is middle of the night….and I need to go to bed. So…..don’t rule out settling down with a good book.

And….yes…..I will have to admit that taking a nap ranks somewhere around number four on my list of things to do when I am snowed in. So….let’s change Big 3 to Big 4. All I have to do is turn on one of my favorite music CD’s, sit down in the recliner…..and I am out like a light, as they say. I am puzzled by all these people who say, “Oh, I don’t take naps because if I do I can’t sleep at night.” I have never had that problem. I can sleep almost any time, any place. What does that tell you? Maybe I am lazy. Or maybe I am over-worked and need the rest. (Be quiet….I can hear you chuckling!). Or maybe I have sleeping sickness….the non-medical type. Or maybe I just like to take naps. But, I can assure you of one thing: When you wake up……some time has passed by….. Time that you otherwise do not have to fill.

Those are the Big Four. But there are other ways and other things that have to be done, too. I would like to sit in my recliner and rest or read or watch TV or sleep all day….but it usually doesn’t turn out that way.

I find for some reason, I am prone to eat more when I am involuntarily confined to my house. Sometimes I may even cook. Not very often….but it does happen. Normally, I don’t advertise the fact, because I have most people convinced that I know nothing about cooking. What the heck…..I have even convinced myself. But, there are times….when I have guests…..or when I am supremely bored….or when I get the irrational urge…..that I actually do some cooking. Simple cooking…..but yet it is cooking. It isn’t the cooking that I object to. Sometimes that can be fun. The problem is: Doing the dishes! I simply do not like to do dishes. I never have…..and I think it is safe to say….I never will. Most people just pop the dirty dishes into the dish washer…..and forget about it. But, my dish washer(s) comes in the form of two hands! I still cannot understand the logic of spending an hour preparing food…..for one person…..eating the food in 5 minutes…..and spending 20 minutes doing dishes. And, if there is one thing I do not like….in my own house…..it is dirty dishes stacked up waiting to be washed and put away. There is never a dirty dish in my house. As soon as I use it…..it wash it and put it away. One may find a lot of things wrong with my house…..but dirty dishes it not one of them.

Snow days are good days for getting in touch with other family members…..and my former exchange students and guests. In the “old days”, I did this by using the telephone. Now, I prefer to use Skype. It is more personal, less expensive…..”free” is pretty cheap…..and vastly more pleasant and rewarding when I can see the person I am talking to. It is the next best thing to having the person sitting in a chair next to you.

In former days…..back when I was younger……I had to spend part of the day shoveling the snow out of my driveway and off the front porch. At one time, I had a snow plow, which made the task easier and quicker. But….it turned out to be a piece of junk…..and after a couple or three seasons, it broke down and never worked again. I had it repaired once by a local mechanic. It cost almost as much to repair it as it cost when I bought it. So much for being ripped off. Nowadays, I have to hire somebody to do this work….largely because of my heart. It gives some my neighbor boy or some high school kid a job…..it stimulates the economy…..and it definitely cuts down on the wear and tear on my old worn out body.

OK….. You are probably saying, “What is the problem? You have lots of things you can do while you are snowed in.”

Yes…..that may be true. In fact, it probably is true. But, all these things still do not make up for human contact. Sitting in my recliner relaxing is just not the same as being able to talk to somebody face to face. Talking to somebody on Skype is not as satisfying as sitting and talking in a quiet bar.

But, on the other hand, I am glad that I have some interesting things to do to pass the time when I am home alone……being held hostage by a snow storm.