This spring, I got to take a class that I did not ask for…..that I did not enroll in. Let’s call it Blindness -.500. Notice the decimal point. It was definitely a lower level course…..but I experienced enough of it to know that I never, never want to take the full course. In fact, I would never want to see (no pun intended) anybody have to take this class. It is no fun…..and there is a chance that one may never get out of the class. Who is the teacher? Well….I am not even going to speculate on that question.

Once in a while, things just happen. And happen unexpectedly. They come from nowhere….and are contrary to everything that has happened in the past. Think about it… that is usually how we form our expectations: from past experiences…..and from the experiences of others. That is how insurance companies set their premiums; that is how gamblers determine odds of winning and losing. Most of the times, the odds work in your favor…..but sometimes they don’t. With me…..this time they didn’t.

But this is not a story of gloom and doom. It is a story of a partially salvaged Spring Break. It is also a story of a loyal, unselfish friendship…..an opportunity to set aside adversity and uncertainty……and to see (Yes….the pun is intended.) the bright side of life. 

This is why I call this blog “I See Said the (almost) Blind Man…..and Other Spring Break Fun.

Yes…..it started out with high hopes. Fayez Alruwaili was coming to spend Spring Break…..at his “home away from home”. I am always glad to see Fayez, because he seems to brighten up my life….and the lives of everyone…..when he is around. 

Friday afternoon I left the front door unlocked, because I knew that I would probably be asleep in my recliner when he arrived. And, of course…..I was. I don’t know how long he had been standing there, but I awoke suddenly….and there he was. I knew he would be there, but yet I am sure I let out a little exclamation of surprise. It is sort of like what happens when you are suddenly and unexpectedly awakened from a deep sleep.

There was some uncertainty about our plans. My great-nephew was stopping at my house on his way to his mother’s….my niece…..house in Hutchinson. Not having been told of when he would arrive, we quickly reviewed the potential sleeping arrangements for the night. I in my recliner; Fayez on the couch; my great-nephew could have the bed in the spare room….Fayez’s room…..and others could sleep in the bunk bed in my bedroom and in sleeping bags on the floor. And, we could always pitch a tent in the front yard. It would all work out.

But, we never had to use this plan of action, because my great-nephew called and said they would be spending the night at his sister’s house in Kansas City…..and would come to our house the next morning on their way to Hutchinson. 

This left us free to mobilize Plan B…..except we really didn’t have a Plan B. However, it didn’t take long to come up with a Plan B. We would go to Topeka to Weller’s Bar and Grill to eat supper and watch K. U. play in the semi-finals of the Big 12 Basketball Tournament. Quite frankly, I didn’t hold very high hopes for K. U……and they didn’t disappoint me. They lost to Iowa State….the result of….probably….lack of desire and motivation. Oh well……they were already assured of a spot in the NCAA tournament…..probably as a Number 3 or 4 seed, I thought…..but never as a Number 2 seed as it ended up. After we had finished our supper….and two or three large beers…..Diet Pepsi for Fayez…..it was getting late. And, we knew that we would not have to watch basketball again for another week. Neither of us really cared who won the Big 12 Tournament after K.U. was so ingloriously knocked out of it.

My great-nephew, Tim Darrah, was scheduled to arrive fairly early……8:30 or 9:00. And, he did.

Tim is the son of my niece, Wanita. I had been in contact with him for several years through Facebook and through e-mail. I had seen pictures of him at my brother’s (his grandfather) house; I had seen pictures of him on Facebook; and I had old baby pictures that my mother (his great-grandmother) had left in her collection of family pictures. But…..I had never met him in person. Oh, it is entirely possible…and very probable… that I saw him when he was a toddler…..but certainly never when he was a “real person”. 

From the Facebook messages and from the e-mail messages that he had written over the years, I already knew that he was a bright….and very literate and articulate….person. And, I was looking forward very much to his arrival.

Around 9:00, there was a knock at the door. There he was. And, he looked pretty much like his pictures…..maybe a little taller than I had envisioned, and maybe his hair was a little longer than some of the pictures that I had seen. And, of course…..the beard. He had been in the military…..and most of the pictures I had seen were taken during that period. But….nevertheless, it was a happy and welcome meeting. I had finally met Tim….or Timmy, as I always heard him referred as.

With him were two of his kids…..Kaeli, probably around 3 years old, and Tristan, a junior in high school. Kaeli was amazingly literate for her age….and smart, too. While initially restless, after I gave her something to eat and drink…..and after Tim got her interested in a cartoon on his smart phone….she became absorbed in it.

Fayez, who was still asleep when they arrived, woke up and joined us…..rather sleepy eyed…..but yet, seemingly awake! 

Tim is developing software for an automatic door opener. Wow! Finally…..maybe another Einstein in our family. Another Bill Gates….maybe. As he demonstrated the software he had developed up that point, I am sure that Fayez had a much better understanding and grasp of what he was saying. My mind simply does not process scientific information very well. Well….I do know what an automatic door opener is. But….how is works? That is better left to people with a more scientific mind than mine.

Tristan, Tim’s son, who had been asleep in the car woke up and came inside the house. That is probably what he and Fayez have in common…..both like to sleep. Nevertheless, after taking some pictures, Tim left to travel on to Hutchinson…..a course Fayez and I would soon be following.

It is a rather strange feeling to meet somebody so close in relationship after such a long period of time. Somebody who was a stranger…..but yet a blood relative. A person who shares the same last name, the same relatives, the same heritage…..but somebody whom I felt I met twenty-six years too late. But, it was also an easy, happy meeting. It was a good way to start off the Spring Break activities.

Shortly after Tim and his family left, we, also, were on the road heading toward Hutchinson. This was the first trip Fayez had made through the Flint Hills and finally onto the pancake flat land of Central Kansas that I call home. 

We arrived in Hutchinson in mid-afternoon….and drove straight to my niece’s house. There again, we met up with Tim…..and also with my great-niece, Trina….who were staying at my niece’s house. For Fayez and me, time was starting to run down….the clock was ticking toward 7:00, when we had tickets to attend “Fiddler on the Roof”. After Fayez took some pictures……pictures with four generations of Darrah’s represented…..we left to find our motel. That task really did not require a PhD in geography…….because, after all, Hutchinson was my “big city” until I was twenty-two years old.

After eating dinner at a Chinese buffet across the Highway 61, we headed to Hutchinson Community College to attend a performance of “Fiddler on the Roof”…..our official reason for being in Hutch in the first place.

Before the performance began, I had cautioned Fayez that this was a student performance…..not a professional performance. It was being presented by the students of Hutch Community College….basically a bunch of kids. And, probably a majority of them were not even music or theater majors. Having sat through a myriad of student plays and student musical programs in my life time as a teacher and counselor, my expectations were already fairly low. No disrespect intended…..but I am quite familiar with the quality of work displayed by students of this age.

Fayez, on the other hand, had much higher expectations. He had attended performances at Wichita State University, which were performed by upper class theater and music majors…..or actors and musicians from the professional world. Believe me….there is a vast difference between watching a 13^th grader and a Broadway cast member. Sort of like comparing a Little League baseball game to the Kansas City Royals.

At any rate, I was pretty well prepared as the curtain went up and the performance started. Yes……for a group of inexperienced kids, they did a creditable job. They knew their lines….they knew the music….they spoke in reasonably audible voice….they didn’t appear to be overly nervous….. Yes….it wasn’t so bad, looking at it from this perspective. 

But, Fayez……

He simply didn’t like it. Actually, I think he was expecting too much. But, at the end of the first act, which seemed to go on interminably, we both agreed that it was time to go. And, it was intermission….a natural, normal time. Most of the people left their seats to go into the lobby to stretch their legs. Some went outside to smoke. We went outside….not to smoke….but to get into our car and leave.

Well….OK. Actually, I really didn’t like the play very well, either. But….the reason I didn’t like it was…..I simply don’t care for Broadway musicals…..even if is one of the most popular, longest-running musicals of all time. And, at least, Fayez was able to keep his eyes open during the first act. That was more than I could do. Set me in a room…..turn the lights down….and I am out like a light. I don’t think I fell asleep this time, though. I merely closed my eyes and listened…..contrary to what Fayez may think.

Having accomplished the main objective of the trip….making sure Fayez had a ticket and a program to take back with him…..we spent the remainder of the evening sitting in the Grand Slam Sports Bar at the Ramada Inn. Every TV in the bar was tuned to the Big 12 Championship game between Iowa State and Baylor. And, in the background was the loudest, most annoying music that can be found in any bar in Hutchinson. Well….I assume that is a true statement….but I have only been in one bar in Hutch….and this is it. The last time I was there, we asked one of the waitresses if she could turn down the music a decibel or two. She apologetically and politely told us that she had no control over the music. I think I have figured out the reason for the excessively loud music…..This must be a bar that caters to deaf people…..or at least, people who are hard of hearing. But….most definitely…..it was far better than sitting through the second act of “Fiddler on the Roof”.

The next day…..Sunday…..we had intended to drive back home and go watch one of my friends in a bicycle race at Lake Perry. I think we already knew on Saturday night that this was not going to happen. When we came out of the sports bar to go to our car, the temperature had already dropped several degrees….and the wind was blowing furiously. Neither of us had brought a warm, winter jacket with us. When we left my house on Saturday, the weather was sunny and beautiful. When we got back to the motel room, I checked the weather forecast for Topeka. Temperatures in the 30’s and chance of snow. Not very conducive to standing outside to watch anything! In fact, we assumed that the race would be canceled….or at least postponed to another day. Wow….racing a bicycle in barely above freezing temperatures….with wind….and snow? To go ahead and race in that kind of weather? That would take some real dedication….or the skin of a polar bear.

So…..Sunday morning we decided to drive directly to Lawrence and eat lunch at the Aladdin Restaurant…..a Lebanese place that serves a buffet for Sunday lunch. If Lebanese food is an acquired taste…..then I have acquired it. The food is exotic, spicy, and highly delicious. It was well worth the drive to Lawrence. A nice walk up and down Massachusetts Avenue would have been welcome…..and beneficial. But, because of the weather, that possibility was immediately ruled out. Instead, we went to a Middle East food store to buy some desert for a cook out we were planning for later in the coming week.

The weekend was a perfect start to what we hoped would be a pleasant, fun-filled week ahead.

Then came Monday.

It was a day like any other day…… Except this was the day I had surgery on my right eye to remove a cataract and to replace the lens. I was prepared for it. Fayez had put three different eye drops….at $125 a bottle… into my eye the required three times on Sunday. Actually, I was sort of looking forward to it. I had gone through it before. The hardest part of the procedure was to lie still for the thirty or forty minutes that it took to complete the process. But, after it was over, I was looking forward to seeing clearly again.

About two months previously, I had the same surgery performed on my left eye. Everything went well. The surgery was virtually painless. For about eight or ten hours following the surgery, my eye felt like it had an eye lash in it….or maybe a tiny grain of sand. Not really “pain”…..but enough of an annoyance to want to rub it or scratch it. That is why I wore a plastic protective covering over it. By sometime that evening, even this feeling had disappeared. My eye was terribly bloodshot….almost bright red….but that was a cosmetic distraction…..not a painful one. I could see out of the eye. Not well, of course….but I could definitely see, even though things were blurry and indistinct. 

Thus…..when Monday morning dawned, bright and sunny, I approached the day with very little nervousness or apprehension. Fayez put the eye drops into my right eye….and we set off for Topeka and the Stormont-Vail Single Day Surgery Unit. This would be the last time I would drive a car for the next week.

The surgery was scheduled for 7:45 A.M. The entire process was estimated to take about three hours. There was no need for Fayez to wait around, so he took off for the North YMCA to work out. The nurse had his cell phone number so she could call him when I was ready to be released.

Things went wrong from the very beginning. The operating table was broken. It needed a new part before they could begin any surgery. The part had been ordered out of Kansas City…..and it was in transit from Kansas City to Topeka. In the meantime, I was sort of in limbo. I was already checked in….and they didn’t want me to leave. On the other hand…..there was nothing they could do….or that I could do….except wait. The nurses and doctors seemed to be agitated. I could hear them talking in the background. I am quite sure they weren’t very concerned about me……but I am sure they were concerned about running behind and possibly having to postpone surgeries that would follow mine. You know……Money, money, money!

The nurses were thoughtful enough to take me into a rather quiet room….away from the hustle and bustle of the main holding area…..where there was a chair that reclined. That, in itself, was a major blessing. Now…I can hardly wait to see how much they billed my insurance for the use of the chair. Anyway, I almost immediately fell asleep…..and that is a great way to make time pass quickly! In the meantime, assorted doctors, nurses and technicians would drop by periodically to ask how I was doing and to assure me that “It won’t be much longer.”

More than two hours late, they finally took me into the surgery room and proceeded with the surgery. Since I had already been through this procedure once before, I had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen. After they had isolated my entire body, except for the right eye, the doctor began with the surgery. Again, he told me that it would be painless….and all I would feel would be some pressure as he made three incisions, extracted the old lens, and inserted the new lens. First of all, somebody applied some eye drops……and some thick jelly-like substance to my eye. These were, I think, the preliminary anesthetic….to deaden the eye so I wouldn’t feel the needle as they injected the final pain killer.

There was a problem, though. I felt the needle as he stuck it into my eye. It wasn’t exactly excruciating…..but, believe me…..it was still pain. I thought, “Oh well….that will kill the pain, and I won’t feel it any longer.” This is where I began to suspect that something had gone wrong. Not only could I feel “pressure”, but I could also feel pain. And…..this is the point where I was pretty sure something had gone wrong! I told the doctor that I could feel pain. “Oh…don’t worry. The pain will go away in a minute or two.” A few minutes later, I told him again…..”I can still feel pain.” Again….”That’s normal. It will stop in just a minute.”

Unfortunately, it didn’t stop. But, again, it wasn’t unbearable pain. So, I didn’t mention it again…..although I was pretty sure that this was not a good sign.

They finished….put the protective plastic cover on my eye….sent me to the recovery room…..and it was over. 

They called Fayez on his cell phone. Fortunately, he was across the street in the parking lot….or somewhere very near. He picked me up at the front door…..and this is where Fayez more or less took over. This is where I am sure I unintentionally started to ruin his Spring Break!

I put on my dark glasses…..my Mafia glasses…..and we went home……straight home. When we arrived home, actually, I didn’t feel so badly. I posed for a couple pictures….of course. And, for the lack of anything else to do, I went inside and sat in my recliner. The eye still hurt….but it was a different kind of “hurt”. After the surgery on my left eye…..like I said…..the eye felt irritated, like there was an eye lash caught in the eye….or a piece of dust….or something similar….in my eye. But, this time, it was real pain. Again, it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

As he did for the next three days, Fayez fixed something to eat. We sat and talked. He put the eye drops into my eye……eye drops that cost $125 for a little bottle less than one inch tall……and there were three of them! I want to buy some stock in that company! And…..then while he was studying, I took my usual eighty-minute nap. That is the length of the music CDs that I “listen” to as I sleep.

When I awoke, there was still some pain. But…..no problem. It will go away soon. We decided to go to Terry’s Bar and Grill in Topeka….probably our favorite bar because it is a neighborhood bar….relatively quiet and very friendly…..and safe. Of course, Fayez drove….. And, of course, I wore my dark Secret Service glasses. We sat and talked until about midnight and then went back home. All in all….not such a bad day. Yes….my eye was still hurting….but surely it would stop hurting soon……just like it did last time. I covered my left eye to see how well I could see out of my right eye. I couldn’t. There was nothing. The only things I could “see” was a solid yellow-tanish color….much like the color of a manila envelop. Oh well….tomorrow morning, things would start getting back to normal again.

Fayez put the three eye drops into my eye….three different kinds at $125.00 a bottle, remember? I taped the protective plastic covering on eye….and went to bed.

Tuesday morning, I woke up, took the protective plastic covering off my eye…..and washed it gently with a wash cloth. The doctor had told me not to take a shower and get the eye wet for five days…..but that I could wash it with a warm, damp cloth.

I proceeded to make a cup of coffee, and went to my office to check my e-mail…..a major chore all by itself. Needless to say, my vision was not very good…..looking out of my left eye only….and with somewhat blurry vision in that eye. I went back to front room, sat down in my recliner…..and thought, “OK. I will do another test on my right eye to see how well I can see this morning.

Nothing. Not even a shadow. Just the same yellowish color. And, my eye was still hurting a little. “Come on now,” I thought. “I was already seeing things last time. What’s the problem now?”

At that point, I was more annoyed than alarmed. Fayez got up…..put more eye drops into my eye. And, I closed my eyes, thinking that I would take a short nap and let my eye rest some more. However, I started to feel nauseated…..sick….very sick! 

Oh wow…..It must have been something I ate last night…..probably a touch of food poisoning. But…..why isn’t Fayez sick? We ate chips and cheese dip out of the same bowl. What did I do? Get the only bad chip in the bowl? And, who ever heard of getting food poisoning from tortilla chips? I felt miserable. I tried to vomit…..but (fortunately for me!) I couldn’t. Fayez started to get worried…..and so did I…..just a little bit. I checked my vision again. There was still not a trace of vision in my right eye.

Upon Fayez’s urging….and it didn’t take much…..I called the doctor’s office and told the nurse what was happening. The doctor wasn’t there at the time, but a few minutes later, he called on his cell phone and told me to come to his office as soon as possible. I didn’t feel like going…..but, again, with Fayez driving, we went down to his office.

He examined my eye and said that a lot of pressure had built up behind my eye…..maybe from swelling, I am not sure……and that there was a small blood clot. That was what was causing me to feel so badly. I had no idea that something like this could happen: That swelling or pressure on an eye could cause such a radical effect on my digestive system. He put some different drops into my eye…..and gave me the bottle to take home….for free this time….Another drop for Fayez to put into my eye. It was sort of like watering flowers.

Unfortunately, I felt like….. Well, I still didn’t feel very well the rest of the afternoon. Again Fayez fixed lunch…..and put some drops into my eye. Again, I zonked out in my recliner. I wasn’t very entertaining company that afternoon. And, Fayez was more or less left to his own devices. I think he drove down to Paradise Point to run. I am really starting to feel like a really great host!

Fayez prepared some delicious Saudi Arabian food for supper. That made me feel somewhat better……raised my spirits a little bit. We stayed at home that night. There was no use in even pretending that I felt like going anywhere.

I decided to test my vision again. Nothing. Zip. Not even a shadow. I began to get a little nervous. Maybe I would be walking around with a patch over my right eye for the rest of my life. More eye drops……back to bed again.

Wednesday. This was the last full day that Fayez would be here. Let me test my vision. Again…..nothing. Just like staring at a manila envelop. My spirits were starting to sink. It was the third day with no sight in my right eye.

Fayez took me back to the doctor again. More magic eye drops. No explanations.

On the way home we took a time out so Fayez could run on the Ferguson Road for four miles. I wanted him to get something beneficial out of his Spring Break! As for me…..I was the one who benefited beyond words from him during Spring Break. But…..that is not what Spring Breaks are for. 

The remainder of the day we…..well, we did nothing. I still did not feel well. I could see only out of one eye…..and even that eye was not clear. We had to cancel a cookout that afternoon….something that was supposed to be a highlight of the week. Man, I hope Fayez is having more fun than I am having! 

Noon…..more of the magic drops. Still no sight in my right eye. And, I paid $125 a bottle for those eye drops!? I am starting to mentally design the patch I will wear over my eye. Maybe….one for around the house; another one to wear in casual outings; maybe another one to wear to church and other dress-up occasions. No…..wait. Maybe I will just wear dark glasses. People won’t be able to see my eye….and they will never know. It will be my “new look”. I have always thought it would be neat to get a flat top and have my hair dyed deep black. But, this might be even better.

In the early evening, we decided to get out of the house and go somewhere. After all, this was the last night of Fayez’s exciting, enjoyable and fun-filled stay at my house.   I was still not feeling at all well….in fact, I was still feeling miserable, but I could be miserable almost anywhere. And, at least one of us should be having a good time…..that should be Fayez. So, why not go somewhere? We decided to spend it at Terry’s Bar and Grill again. 

Upon returning home….somewhere after midnight…..I did the “sight test” again.

Wow…..I could see shadows! I could see the light of the lamps. I could see the shadow of my hand in front of my face. I could even see the flickering light of the TV. If I had not know beforehand what each of these objects was…..they would have remained a mystery. But…..at least, I was starting to see again!

Good old Magic Eye Drops! Maybe the $125 per bottle is starting to pay off.

Fayez had to leave and go back to college on Thursday morning. I hated to see him go….and I was just a little bit apprehensive about staying by myself. However, we had already gone shopping, and I had enough food to last about ten days. I had no doctor appointments until the following Tuesday. And, I felt that IF I had to drive, I could probably do it. The vision in my left eye had gradually improved…..but only to about 80% to 85% of what it was before the surgery. Not good enough. On Tuesday, the doctor looked at it, examined it, put eye drops in it…..and more or less proclaimed it was healed. Of course….it wasn’t his eye.

Probably the most helpful advice came from my cousin. She had been a surgical nurse for an ophthalmologist for more than twenty years. She told me that it was probably the various eye drops that were preventing the vision from improving. As soon as I stopped using eye drops, she thought, the vision would improve quickly. And…..she was right. Send your bill to Medicare! Your advice was worth it.

So…..here I am one month later. I can see again. Not any better than I could before all the surgery…..but, nevertheless, I can see. And, thank Heavens for that. I strongly suspect that I never needed any of the surgery in the first place. If I did, my results turned out much differently than all the other people I talked to who had cataracts removed. Their stories…..one hundred percent of them….were glowing testimonials of how wonderful the surgery had been…..how much better they could see in the aftermath of the surgery. For me, it simply didn’t turn out that way. My eyesight is back to where I started the entire process. Certainly no better than that…..and I think I can honestly say….no worse.

What did I learn from all this misery…..and for over a week, it was misery? I learned very few medical lessons. Maybe to always get a second opinion before plunging into such a serious procedure. I also learned that just because something goes smoothly the first time….it doesn’t necessarily mean it will go smoothly the second time. And, I learned that I am glad that I have only two eyes.

However, I think the memory I will probably have of both of the surgeries is that I have a friend who cheerfully….and without complaint…..sacrificed his Spring Break to help me…..to act as driver, cook, doctor, friend…..and made life infinitely easier at a time when I needed it.

Looking back….I was probably never in danger of losing eyesight in my right eye. I am sure the doctor had dealt with situations like this before. But, that was a little bit difficult to understand while going 3 long days with not a hint of vision. We made the best of a bad situation….and it ended happily ever after. And there were other things to be thankful for, too…..During the last surgery, we had a lot of snow. Fayez “entertained” me by treating me to a snowball fight. Now it was March. No snow like the last time. No more snowball fights. No more being pushed to the ground and being bombarded mercilessly with snow, as I lay helplessly in a foot of snow…..by a Saudia Arabian desert dweller, of all people. Yes…..it ended happily ever after.

Yeah…..I can see, said the (almost) blind man…..and what a fun Spring Break it was!

And my next step is to buy stock in the company that manufactures and sells those eye drops.

 

Back in 1993, suddenly my household was no longer a single person household. One day in mid-August, it became a two person household…..and it stayed that way until 2001. And, then just as suddenly…..it became a one person household again.

Those eight years were some of the most satisfying years of my life. And, when it came to an end, it most certainly left an empty spot in my life. Those were the years that I had a foreign exchange student living with me…..except for a couple unhappy exceptions, that I constantly try to forget even happened.

Let me tell you how all of this happened. It definitely was not by design….it was not planned. In fact, it came about purely by accident……and maybe by lucky coincidence…..maybe by fate. Who know? But….it did happen. And I am a better person because of it. My association with eight—-again, give or take one or two…..outstanding young men enriched and enlightened my life in ways that I had never anticipated. And, the experience keeps on giving, even until today.

After I retired in 2003, it was no longer practical for me to host high school students. While I was still working at the school, it was a perfect situation. They could ride to school with me in the morning…..and ride back home with me after school. I may be generous and benevolent…..but, I am also practical…..and a little bit selfish, too. For eight years I woke up at 5:30 A.M…..got myself ready to go to work…..and then about 6:30 A.M., it was time to wake up the exchange student so he could get ready in time to leave for school about 7:15 A.M. And….let’s just say that waking up a sleeping 17 or 18 year old boy is not the easiest job in the world. It takes persistence….and sometimes a very loud voice.

When I finally retired….after sticking it out until the bitter end…..I was no longer in the mood to rouse myself out of bed at 5:30…..especially not for the sole purpose of driving a kid to school. Call me selfish…..but…well….just call me selfish. And….add to that….I would have to be at the school at 3:30 to pick him up and take him back home again. No…..that didn’t sound like a lot of fun. Oh, yes…..of course, they could have ridden the school bus. The school bus goes right past my home. But, while I may be just a little bit selfish…..I am not a mean person. To make a senior in high school ride the school bus every day with a bunch of kindergarten kids…..and first, second, third graders. Well, that is just being mean! No self-respecting high school kid rides the school bus any longer. It would be humiliating…..and I didn’t want to humiliate my exchange student.

And, of course, there was also the problem of what to do with them when I happened to be out of town for a couple days……or when I spent the month of April in Germany. (That’s sort of ironic, isn’t it? Most of my exchange students were German.)

No…..it just made more sense not to host exchange students any longer. For years, I had exchange student organizations calling me….sending e-mails….almost begging me to take an exchange student. There is an almost desperate need for host parents. A dozen or more exchange student organizations are all competing to place students. And, instead of accepting only those for whom they have found a home……they accept almost anybody who can pay the small fortune it costs to become an exchange student. Consequently, there is often a real glut of unplaced students for whom the organizations are frantically looking to place in a home.

OK. But…..back to my story.

How did I happen to become a host parent? As I said, it was almost by accident….or fate.

One summer afternoon I was in town, and I was walking out of the post office when I ran into a couple friends of mine. They had hosted several foreign exchange students in the past. Actually, I knew a couple of them fairly well. One of them had been a volunteer basketball coach on Saturday morning when I was in charge of the grade school intramural program. He was a good kid….somewhat more mature and serious than some of our high school students….at that time in history. Another of their foreign exchange students was on the high school cross-country team which I coached. He was a good kid….somewhat more mature and serious than some of our high school students….at that time in history. I liked both of these kids….and both of them did a good job and took their roles seriously.

Anyway…..the friend said to me….literally out of no where, “Why don’t you host a foreign exchange student this fall?”

I was taken by surprise. I had never thought of it before…..never even considered it. I am sure that I hesitated….really not knowing what to say. Actually, at that time, I had no idea what was involved in hosting a foreign exchange student….or even how to go about getting one. I had no idea what impact it would have on my life….whether I would like it or not…..whether I was suited to such a role or not…… But, he plowed on….telling me all the advantages: companionship, great learning experience, become familiar with another culture, promoting international understanding…….all of that kind of stuff.

Actually, I think he was merely trying to help out his area coordinator….who I am sure was being pressured from above to place students. After several minutes of discussion, he finally said, “Well, just talk to the area coordinator….and then you can make up your mind.” He promised to give her my telephone number so she could contact me…….and she did! Almost immediately.

We set up an appointment for an evening two or three days later…..after I had given her detailed instructions on how to find my house. This was in the days before the rural roads were numbered and each house had an address. In the meantime, she had sent me an application form to fill out.

Not knowing what to expect…..I spent the next day or two thoroughly cleaning the house. It was immaculate. On the appointed evening, the area coordinator and a friend (I think she was afraid she would get lost.) showed up. After she explained the program and showed me a lot of propaganda, I asked her if she would like to see the rest of the house. If I hadn’t volunteered…..somehow I don’t think she would have asked. Anyway, she said, Yes….she would take a look at the room where the student would be sleeping. After a casual glance……she said now I could choose the student that I wanted.

Somehow…..and I still do not understand why…..she showed me only TWO students. Those, apparently, were my choices…..the ones I had to choose from. Maybe those were the only two students left….or maybe they were the only ones who seem to fit with the information on my application form. But….I looked at them. I didn’t know…..they looked pretty similar…..six of one; half a dozen of the other, as my mother used to say. They were both from Germany. I ended up choosing one of them…..and that was it. She told me that she would be in touch on a specific day about two or three days later……and they left.

There was a problem, though. I was leaving for a vacation in Colorado the next day. No problem….. She gave me her telephone number and told me to call her.

On the appointed evening, I called her from my motel room. “You have a new son!” she told me. And, that is how I got into the business of hosting foreign exchange students.

Luckily for me, the choice was a good one. No….an excellent one. And, except for a couple notable bad experience, my choices were excellent for the next ten years.

But……hold on….. the story doesn’t end there. I went to Kansas City International Airport to pick up my student. I had seen only one rather bad picture of him. (This was long before we had Internet.) The plane landed….the passengers all started filing through the gate into the waiting area. I kept looking and looking for my student. All the passengers had gotten off the airplane…..and I was standing there wondering where my student was….what had happened to him. I was starting to get a mild feeling of panic. Had he missed his connection? Had he changed his mind and decided not to come? Had he had some sort of problems with Immigration Services? Had he seen me….and decided that he was going to go back home?

As I was standing there trying to figure out my next move, somebody tapped me on the shoulder from behind. I turned to see a young man standing there….obviously about as nervous as I was. “Are you Beryl?” he asked. (Actually he said, “Are you “barrel”…which is how all of my students pronounced my name when they first arrived.)

“Yes……”

“I am Sebastian.”

No wonder I didn’t recognize him. In all of the pictures I saw of him…..he had long hair….down almost to his shoulders. And, here, standing before me was a clean-cut young man with short, well-trimmed hair. I would never have guessed! No doubt, he had been advised by the exchange student agency to trim him hair……and look a little neater.

Another coincidence: As Sebastian continued to live with me throughout the 1993 school year, he often talked about his friends. And he often talked to one of his friends who was also an exchange student somewhere in the U.S.A. Over time….and after listening to several of these discussions and telephone calls…..I began to put two and two together. One day I asked him about his friend…..What is his name? Where is he from? Then I found the two student profiles that the area coordinator had given to me as my two choices. And…..Yes, you have probably guessed it: The other choice I had to choose from was his best friend.

I later met the “other” kid on one of my trips to Germany. He, too, was a super kid. But, I have never questioned my choice…..which was the right one.

So……that is how it all got started……and it has never ended. Although I no longer host foreign exchange student, for the reasons that I detailed earlier, I have branched out into a similar….and equally satisfying….endeavor. Instead of hosting high school students, who are almost totally dependent up on me for transportation, support, and supervision, I now open my home to adult travelers. These are paying guests….although I rarely ask for anything except that they buy some food now and then. They are adults, and they are expected to take care of themselves…..although most of them do not have their own transportation and I end up driving them. I am not responsible for them in any way……although I gladly give advice and counsel….when asked….and sometimes, even if I am not asked.

But…..back to the exchange students. I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed my first experience. When the ten months were finished….I hated to see him go…..and I think he hated to leave. (At least, I would like to think so.) As usually happens….with him and with most of the others….we had formed a bond of lifelong friendship. When my first exchange student left…..he didn’t want me to get another student. He wanted to be the only one. The one I would remember forever.

But, it didn’t happen that way. Over the years, I had several more students…..each of whom I will remember forever.

More about them later. In the meantime, I will enjoy being their American Dad…..and their kids’ gray headed American grandfather.

 

Oh, Wow!  I can feel it coming on.  I am seeing visions;  I am am having flashbacks; I am being transported into strange, but wonderful and exciting land.  I seem to have an affliction. I think is can safely be diagnosed as “Travel Fever”.

Traveling….anywhere….here in the U.S.A. or around the world…..has long been one of the things that I like to do most. If I were rich, I am sure that I would probably be sitting in some strange, exotic, foreign land almost all of the time……and for the most part, I really don’t care where it is……just somewhere else. It is rather strange how I got caught up in this desire to travel. Back in the “old days”, I really didn’t go anywhere. I had no desire to……until one night in May, 1962. I was living in Hutchinson in a cramped two room apartment. The school year had ended, and one night one of my friends from my home town of Sterling came down to my apartment. We were sitting around talking. The subject turned to the World’s Fair which was currently underway in Seattle, Washington. Somehow, suddenly…..spontaneously…..we thought it would be a great idea if could go see it. No….we were both perfectly sober. And….No…..those who know me are aware that I am not a “spontaneous” person! It is just not my nature to do things on the spur of the moment…..without thinking about it…..and especially without making almost minute by minute plans. But…..Yes….I was still very young then…..still almost a puppy…..although an almost grown puppy. I did stupid things back then….did things sometimes without thinking of the consequences….sometimes without even knowing what I was really doing. Maybe that is why I have changed so much today…..driving friends insane with my constant need to plan every event in my life with great care and in great detail. Not that taking a trip to the West Coast was stupid. It is just that this was the first major solo trip of my life……and it came about almost by accident…..without prior warning. Within a few hours….literally…. we had packed my little red Volkswagen Bug…..and we were on our way. On our way to the West Coast…..on our way to Seattle…..where ever that was! We had no plan. How could we? It was only a few hours earlier that we had decided to make the trip. But, obviously, we headed in the right direction…..because we did eventually end up in Seattle…..and at the World’s Fair. I would say that details of the trip are sketchy……but that wouldn’t be quite true. Most of the details are simply non-existent! We picked up maps from service stations…..they were free back then, believe it or not…..and we must have planned our trip on an almost minute by minute basis. We had no tent. When evening came, we found a comfortable spot off the highway…..almost always near a stream or a creek or a lake…..unrolled our sleeping bags…..started a small fire where ever we could…..and went to sleep under the stars. Many mornings we would wake up covered with dew, our sleeping bags almost drenched from the nighttime condensation. I often wonder how many times we trespassed on private property. But….nobody seemed to care…..certainly not us. We took a bath in streams or creeks…..ate sandwiches…..carried a cooler with some ice and water…..took enough clothing to last for two weeks…..listened to the car radio. We thought….and felt like….we were big dogs. Two or three nights we slept on the beach…..something that is illegal today…..and maybe was back then, too. We gathered some drift wood, started a fire, and enjoyed the sound of the crashing waves as they lulled us to sleep. Offer me a million dollars to reconstruct the route we took as we traveled both to and from Kansas on that trip. Go ahead…..offer! You are safe. You are not going to lose any money. I have no idea how we got there…..and I have no idea how we got back. But…..I do know we made it. I have pictures to prove it. Speaking of pictures. They are the only reference I have to indicate where we went….the territory we covered. Although I have no clear recollection of the places…..we visited Mt. Rushmore, Yellowstone National Park, the Pacific Coast….both in Washington and in Oregon…..Reno, Salt Lake City and Rocky Mountain National Park. Like I said…..I know this only because of the black and white pictures that I took.. We spent two or three days visiting a cousin in south central Washington. He had a dairy farm at the time…..and he raised hops. We spent most of our days moving irrigation pipes, feeding hay to the cattle….whatever else needed to be done. And….we had a blast doing it. Only three places come to mind when I try to recall this trip: The Space Needle, the Pacific Coast, Salt Lake City…..and my cousin’s farm, of course. All of these were a “first”, of course. And, two of them I never forgot! The Pacific Coast….and Salt Lake City. This was a great trip….even if I can’t remember the details. It probably was the event that turned me on to travel! And….I liked it! Then….one day I got a letter from my local selective service board inviting me to become a part of the U.S. Army. To say that I did not want to go to the Army is vastly understating the situation. But….this was one of those “command performance” sort of deals. So….I went. And….I liked it! While I was stationed at Ft. Benjamin Harrison, Indiana, I had a very desirable job. I was administrative assistant to the commander. I was happy there….and my boss was happy……and I was also good at my job. Then one day, I got another invitation…..an invitation to give up my desirable job on the outskirts of Indianapolis and go to South Vietnam. I wanted to decline the “invitation”, but Uncle Sam insisted that I honor the invitation. So…..I went to South Vietnam. And…..again…..I liked it. Again I had a very desirable job. I was secretary to the Adjutant General of the U. S. Army in Vietnam. A very good job. I liked my job…..my boss liked me….and I did a very good job. While I was in South Vietnam, I was given the opportunity to take several short trips in Southeast Asia…..Hong Kong, Manila, Bangkok…..while some of our airplanes were receiving maintenance. These places were exciting and fascinating….a world that I had never known before. And, I liked it. When I left the Army, I had a wonderful opportunity to return to South Vietnam with an organization called the International Voluntary Services. After a year of teaching English in a provincial capital called Phan Rang…..I was promoted to the position of Chief of Education. In this position, I had as many as 72 teachers working under me. Part of my job was to visit them in their local town and give them support. I spent three years in this position….and during this three years, I was able to travel to many of the countries in Southeast Asia….Hong Kong, Philippines, Japan, Cambodia, Malaysia, Singapore, Laos, Taiwan. There may have been others, but those are the ones that come to mind. I had been bitten by the Travel bug….I had contracted Travel Fever……and I never recovered from it. It was these experiences that hooked me on travel. I recall that very first trip to the Pacific Coast with a great deal of fondness, nostalgia….and wistfulness…….and for several years, I limited my travel to places in the U.S.A……mostly the Oregon Coast…..and points in-between. During these trips, I became much more modern and sophisticated in my travels. I now owned a tent…..and I added a camper shell and a foam rubber mattress to the back of my pickup. Now I could travel in style and comfort. Well…..relatively. It was better than sleeping on the ground under the stars…..sort of. In fact, I have been to every state west of the Mississippi River……and most of them to the east, too. The next major event in my life was hosting my first foreign exchange student…..a student from Germany. I made my first trip to Europe in 1995….and I have returned there….mostly to Germany….almost every year since then. Sometimes more than one time a year. My first “grand tour” of Europe was in 1995…..in the summer time. Although I have made return visits to Europe three or four times in the summer, I quickly discovered that traveling in the “off season” is much cheaper. And for a not-too-well-paid school teacher, that was very important. For the next several years, most of my trips were made during whatever vacation time we had in the school year…..most of the time during cold months….but with a few summer trips thrown in now and then when I could afford it. After I retired, I discovered that the month of April is the most ideal month for me to travel. After a rather long string of rather unsatisfactory “house sitters”……I had a dog….and I also burned wood, at the time…..I almost became reluctant to leave home. Would these house sitters take adequate care of my dog? Would I come back home to find that my house had burned down…..reduced to a pile of ashes? My last wonderful dog, Abby, died in 2004. And while it was a wrenching experience for me….it left me free to travel almost any time I wanted. By April, it was warm enough to simply lock the house and take off. So far, I have visited eleven countries in Europe…..with several more on my “bucket list”. I spent the summer of 1989 working in Yellowstone National Park…..and the summer of 2006 working in Big Bend National Park. Both of these jobs were interesting and rewarding experiences…..although in vastly different ways. During my travels, I have seen sites, experienced things and met people that I never even dreamed of before I served in the U.S. Army. It is one of those blessings in disguise that people talk about, I suppose. You never know what you are missing until you try it….and I am glad that I tried it. It is a lot better to be hooked on travel than a lot of other things that I can think of. An extra added benefit of my travel experiences has been the decision to host a wide variety of foreign travelers, that I met through a couple international hospitality organizations. Some stay for a couple days…..some for a couple months. I have hosted a strange and exotic bunch of people: Europeans, Asians, Africans, Americans. Christians, Buddhists, Jews, Muslims. And also a couple of communists from China….thrown in to make the mix more diverse…..and to add an element of political intrigue….although neither of these guys could have cared less about such stuff. Not were these guests interesting people from whom I have learn much….although I rarely agree with them….but hopefully, they have learned equally as much from me……and I have made some life long friend. And now I also have a place to stay (for free) in my future travels. Until now, I have visited twenty-one different countries…..and I hope that I can visit at least that many more in the future. In my way of looking at things….travel is never time spent unwisely….and is a good investment for the money spent. So why do I travel? I don’t know. Maybe it is because I feel that it enriches my life. Makes me more aware that there is somewhere else besides Kansas. Maybe it makes me appreciate coming back home to Kansas after spending time in places so vastly different from the life I lead here in my rural Kansas setting…..and, I always do. But, more than anything else, I think it broadens my life. It gives me a perspective of the world that I would not and could not have if I had not traveled to these places. Now I have a “feel” about how these people live….what kind of life they live…..what kind of problems they face. I have learned not to stereotype all the people of different nationalities, races, cultures, religions, and ethnic backgrounds. Just like here in the U.S.A……here in Kansas….there are “good” people, and there are “bad” people. We have mostly law-abiding citizens…..but we also have criminals; we have those people who spread love…..and we also have people who spread hate; we have people who practice the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do to you.”…..but we also have our share of bigoted people who preach love and peace……but in their daily life are intolerant, vindictive, dogmatic, hateful and racist…..mostly in the name of religion or politics. As I have traveled in the U.S.A. and around the world, I have found that the vast majority of people are dedicated to providing a good life for their children and family. They go to work in the morning, do their job, and come back home to rest and to enjoy their family. And, I have found that they…..just like us…..want to live in peace. But…..on a more personal level: I doubt if all the traveling I have done has made me a “better” person than anybody else in the true sense of the word. After all, we are all about the same, no matter where we have been or what we have done. But…..to me, at least, it has vastly enriched my life. I know there is life beyond the boundaries of my township or even my state. And, I have a much better understanding of how people live and what they are like because I have been there….I have seen it…..I have walked among them…..I have experienced the culture and the life style. I have met the people. I have observed their behavior. When I say that I have eaten Chinese food….or Italian food…..or Mexican food…..or German food. I really have. Not in a Chinese buffet…or a Pizza Hut….or a Taco Bell….or an Olive Garden…… But, I have sat down in native eating places…..far off the beaten paths of tourists….and have eaten food prepared by natives…for natives. I have stood in front of….taken pictures of…..explored…..buildings and monuments that most people only see in pictures or on TV travel shows. I have walked the avenues of great cities. I have sat in the neighborhood bars with the local people. I have lived in their homes. I have watched their TV programs (although somebody had to tell me what they were saying). I have traveled for miles on city buses, crossed countries riding second or third class on trains. I have taken automobile trips through the countryside….through the small villages and towns where foreigners seldom venture. I have witnessed local and national celebrations and holidays. I have been present during political unrest and revolt….as well as riots and demonstrations. It is more of a personal thing, I suppose. I found out long ago that nobody is really very interested in where I have been…..and certainly not looking at the 12,000 pictures that I have taken. I think my life is richer, more fulfilled….and that I am more empathetic and sympathetic to the lives, feelings, cultures, and ways of living of people in our rapidly shrinking global village. Yes…..long ago I contracted Travel Fever……and I don’t know what the cure is. And, I don’t want to know. It is the best kind of affliction that I can imagine. In fact, I would like to pass it on to everybody I know.And I do not want to be cured. Because….I like it.

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.

 

 

 

 

I am going to write a little bit about the University of Kansas…..and more specifically, about the K. U. basketball team. Usually, I more or less shy away from writing about a subject like this because everything I have to say is pretty subjective…..and I know it has a tendency to annoy some people….my friends….or to rub them in the wrong direction.

But, then I stop to think. When they talk about their own favorite team….yes, sometimes it annoys me; sometimes it rubs me in he wrong direction….but I know they are in the same position that I am in: they have a favorite team; they are proud of it; they are loyal to it; and they show their pride and loyalty by saying good things about it….and bad things about other teams, such as K. U.

 

 All of this back and forth banter and trash talk is done in “fun”…..and I haven’t lost any good friends over this issue….at least, not very many. There was one rather close call, and I will tell you about it later….if I think of it. Mostly, it is done in fun. I enjoy it….and they enjoy it. It’s just one of those things that friends do.

People pick their “favorite” team(s) in different ways and for different reason. A lot of my friends choose their favorite team because that was the college they graduated from…..or that their children or their parents graduated from. That makes sense. Some people simply jump on the band wagon…..and become “fans” of whatever team happens to be doing well at the time. They always want to be on the winning side, with no really long-lasting loyalties. They change team loyalty like they change their clothes. You have heard the expression: “He must have a clean mind, because he changes it so often.” And, some people cheer for teams for…..well, who knows what reason?: perhaps they like one of their player; or they like the color of their uniforms; or their friend likes that team. And…..some people…..well, they couldn’t care less.

As for me….yes, I do have strong loyalties. And, I do have some good reasons. It is no secret to anybody who knows me that I am a loyal and devoted fan of the University of Kansas. And, I always have been. I can remember lying on my bed in my room back when I was in junior high school listening to the play-by-play of K. U. games on my ancient radio….the kind with electric tubes that had to heat up before you could listen to it.

Now….if you would ask me why I chose K. U. back in those days….and, let’s face it….that was a long time ago….I am not really sure that I could give you a reason. Although one reason might have been…..they were famous. They were being coached by Phog Allen and Dick Harp…..two of the most prominent names in basketball coaching at that time. And, they were good! They won the NCAA title in 1952. Also….they were accessible. Their games were being broadcast on a radio station that we could get out in Sterling, Kansas.

And, the fact is: I have not changed my loyalty in all these many years. But, there is another reason, too. Maybe just as important. After I returned from South Vietnam and started teaching in Valley Falls in 1969, I decided to go back to college to work on a Masters Degree in school counseling. Of course, I chose K. U. I was lucky. My favorite university was within easy driving distance. I took classes every summer and every night after I finished teaching…..for three years! That’s a lot of time. A lot of effort. And a lot of money!

Yeah…..I go back a long ways with the University of Kansas. My loyalty runs deep. I am proud to be a Jayhawk.

I had season tickets for K. U. football games for four years…..up until we started building my house…..and my help was needed on the weekends. But, for those four years, I never missed a game….come heat or sleet, rain or snow. And, we had all four of them. I first started going to K. U. football games with Gene Hanson, who was our P.E. teacher at the time. We finished construction on the house later that year…..but I never did get back into the habit of going to all the football games. I was a home owner….and there were too many other things to do on weekends.

But….K. U. basketball. That is a different story. I went to my first basketball game in winter of 1970. I went with Bill Barnes, who was our high school basketball coach. We parked the car, walked into Allen Field House, walked up to the ticket window…..and bought two tickets! Just like that. The field house was only about half full….and maybe not even that much. We, for all practical purposes, could simply chose own seats. I don’t remember who K. U. played…..but I am pretty sure they won.

What I remember most about that first game was: Wow….here I am in the famous Allen Field House….watching players whose names I had heard only on the radio…..sitting in the same place where Phog Allen had coached and Wilt Chamberlain had played….seeing Max Falkenstein sitting behind a table calling the play-by-play….seeing the old “Beware the Phog” sign for the first time. Allen Field House was the largest building I had been in up to that time…..more than 16,300 seats. Even if the building was only about half occupied. I can remember going to the National Junior College Basketball Tournament in Hutchinson when I was in high school and college. It was held in the Hutchinson Sports Arena, in Hutchinson, KS. It seats 7,600 people. Man….I thought is was huge! We used to go to the top row and look down. We were sitting on top of the world! But it is small compared to Allen Field house…..and when I go to the Sports Arena today…..it still seems small in comparison.

Another of my earliest memories of K. U. basketball was in 1971 when I went with a friend of mine to the one and only Final Four that I have attended. We hopped into my 1970 orange VW Carmen Ghia on a Friday morning and drove to the Houston Astrodome where K U. was playing the following day. It is an all-day trip to Houston…..probably nine or ten hours. We arrived in the late afternoon….not having any idea where The Astrodome was located. By some turn of luck we found it pretty easily, probably by following the Interstate until we finally saw it. We parked the car in the parking lot and went inside to buy our tickets. We stepped up to ticket window, which was still open, and asked for two tickets. No questions asked…..the woman handed me two tickets: Aisle 221, Mezzanine Box D, Seats 2 & 3. Each ticket cost $8.00! (I know because I still have the ticket stub.) Can you believe it? Stepping up to the ticket window at a Final Four game the day before a game and buying a ticket for $8.00? Just for a laugh, try that today. Get into your car, drive 761 miles, walk up to the ticket window, ask for two tickets…..and see what happens! They are either going to laugh at you….or call for somebody to bring a strait jacket and take you away. Things have changed a lot. Back then….in 1971…..college basketball was a game. Now it is big business.

The first few years I attended K. U. basketball games, I bought individual tickets. I would choose the games that I wanted to attend and call the ticket office and order the tickets. There was never any problem. And, again, even after we got there, the place was seldom full…..and again, we could pretty much sit wherever we wanted. It was probably about the third year that I had been going to K U. games, that the woman in the ticket office finally asked me, “Why don’t you go ahead and buy season tickets?” By that time, she already knew me because she had talked to me so many times on the telephone. Actually, I had really never thought about buying season tickets. But, it seemed like a good idea….a practical idea, at least. So….I bought two season tickets. This must have been in 1972 or 1973. And……I kept them for the next thirty years…..until I retired in 2003.

The first ticket I bought to a K. U. basketball game cost $5.00. The ticket was for a specific seat…..specific row and seat. But, almost literally, I had the pick of the house in where I wanted to sit. Allen Field House was usually about only half full back in those early days. Except, of course, for games like K. State or Missouri, for example. I don’t remember how much it cost to park, but it probably wasn’t much more than a dollar or two. And, more than likely, it was free. Ticket prices stayed relatively inexpensive, and attendance stayed rather sparse until around 1984 or so. That was when Danny Manning enrolled at K. U. The story changed from that point on. Things were never the same again. A new era in Kansas University basketball had begun.

Starting somewhere in that era, attendance suddenly picked up. And certainly from 1988 forward, Allen Field House has been sold out for every game. That is quite a record. It is now 2014….so that is already more than 25 years. And, along with the increased attendance came an increase in ticket prices. A steady increase. The last year that I bought season tickets, in 2003, the price of a single ticket was $40.00. There are approximately 20 home games a year. A season ticket cost $800.00…..and I had two of them. Let me say a bit about season tickets. Many people are under the impression that if a person buys a season ticket, he gets a discount or lower price. Not true! The only advantage or value in having a season ticket is that a person is assured of a seat…..an assigned seat.

Back in the “old days”, you could almost be assured that when you entered Allen Field House, you were going to receive some sort of souvenir…..a sign to wave, a foam rubber finger, a picture, a magnet….something. Those days area also over. Believe me….nothing is free at K. U. any longer.

It is said….and by a lot of people who have been around….that Allen Field House undoubtedly is one of the best….if not THE best….venues to play basketball in the entire nation. It is loud….and it is raucous. And, it is loud and raucous because of the K. U. fans who fill its 16,300 seats game after game. K. U. fans are basketball-savy fans. They know the game. And, they are demanding fans. They expect their team to win. Winning is a tradition at K. U. Unlike fans of some other universities, K. U. fans do not show up to cheer “against” their opponent. They show up to cheer FOR their Jayhawks.

“Pay Heed, All Who Enter: Beware of “The Phog!” When a person attends a game at Allen Field House, they are attending truly big-time basketball. The atmosphere is electric and alive and dynamic. And, it is steeped with a long history of tradition. Of course, this, for all practical purposes, is where college basketball started. James Naismith, the man who invented the game, was the first coach at K. U. And, there was the long-time coach, the dean of basketball coaches, Phog Allen…..after whom the field house is named.

Allen Field House was dedicated in 1955…..and it has stood the test of time. The field house has been renovated, modernized and updated…..but is has never been basically changed. It is still the Allen Field House that is was in 1955….and probably will always remain that way. Other universities tear down their old field house and replace them with new, sleek, sterile buildings. But Allen Field House retains its history and its tradition…..the tradition that has developed over the years and has made the Kansas University basketball team the 2^nd most winning team in the history of the NCAA.

Kansas University is not a college that constantly changes its basketball coach….unlike the K. U. football team. Since I have been old enough to be aware of….and follow….K.U. basketball, and that is back in the early 50’s….there have been only six head coaches: Phog Allen, Dick Harp, Ted Owens, Larry Brown, Roy Williams, and Bill Self. And, before that….James Naismith, who, ironically, had the only overall losing record of any K. U. basketball coach. Not a bad lineup.

K. U. assistant coaches have gone on to stellar, important, high profile coaching and management position throughout the nation and the world….Bob Hill, John Calipari, and R.C. Buford, just to mention a few of them. And…..former K.U. Players? Wow….the complete list is too extensive to include here. But….how about these, just for examples? Tad Boyle, University of Colorado; Kevin Prichard, Indiana Pacers; Mark Turgeon, most lately at the University of Maryland; Danny Manning, University of Tulsa.

This has been a brief explanation of why I, along with thousands of others, are devoted Jayhawk fans. We know that we are a part of a team and a tradition that we can be genuinely proud of. Of course, I am very much aware that other people are also devoted to their teams….and are also proud of them. That is great. That is the way it should be. Many of my friends support other college programs…..mostly our main in-state rival. My adult professional friends support this “other” team mostly because they attended that university…..no matter how misguided that choice was!

The rivalry that takes place…..all the trash talk….is fun. Sometimes, fierce….but fun. We K. U. fans readily concede they have a better football team. But, we hold a vast superiority in the game of basketball. Jokes fly back and forth….along with friendly insults. Of course, we K. U. fans have a distinct advantage in the area of poking fun and making jokes. What did you major in? Cow milking? What did you get your Masters in? Hay baling? Where did you sleep when you were a student there? In a barn? What did they feed you for lunch? Hay? How do you get to class? On horseback? What is your major sport? Cow chip throwing? Or maybe pig racing? You get the idea…..and have probably even figured out which university I am talking about.

The most insulting thing they can say to us is that we are “snobs”……that we graduated from Snob U. If that is all they have to offer….I can deal with it. After all, we feel we have the right to be just a little bit “snobbish”…..considering that we graduated from K. U.

Like I say…..all this trash talk is fun…..and it goes on all the time. But, over all the years, I don’t think I ever lost a friend because of it. And, I doubt if we will ever stop doing it.

Well….I say that I have never lost a friend. That it is all done in good fun. But, there was one time….the only time…..that somebody took it seriously. One morning when I was still a classroom teacher, I was sitting at my desk when another teacher came into my room.

He/she said, “K. U. is playing Emporia State tonight.”

“Yeah,” I replied, “and they are going to get slaughtered.” Which, to anybody who knows anything about basketball, was merely a truthful observation. I didn’t think any more about it. Why should I?

But, at lunch time, this teacher came into my room…..crying and very upset.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“You’re a mean, hateful person,” she/he said.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, rather shocked…..and also somewhat mystified.

“You said some mean, hateful things about my college,” she/he said.

Wow…..I was speechless. I didn’t know how to respond. This had never happened to me before. I mumbled something about it being a joke…..this happens all the time….it’s all done as fun….while thinking to myself, “What a narrow minded person. They can’t even take a joke.”

Thank Heavens, this was an exception….the only exception that I can think of….to the rule.

What else can I say? It’s great to be part of the Jayhawk Nation. It is great to be a part of such a rich and time-honored tradition…..and to be associated with not only a great basketball program…..but also an equally great university.

In parting….Let me say, “Pay Heed, All Who Enter: Beware of “The Phog!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Are you a slave to traditional conventions? Do you do things the way everybody else does them? Would you like to try something different…..just a little bit out of the ordinary?

If all of the above are true…..try having a picnic in the winter. Who made the rule that picnics must take place in the summertime? It was probably some sissy who is afraid to try something a little bit out of the ordinary.

So…..rebel. Show your independence. Start the fire….a big one. Buy some hot dogs or hamburger or chicken or steak…..or anything else you like….and get ready to enjoy one of the great adventures of your life. Well….it probably doesn’t compare to getting married, having children, graduating from college or winning Power Ball. But, it is fun.

When Fayez Alruwaili…..my friend and recurring, semi-permanent guest from Saudi Arabia….was at my house during the Thanksgiving break, we bought a new fire ring, which we placed on the covered patio. In our sense of adventure, we couldn’t wait to try it out….and see if it really worked. I mean…..what is there to work? All you have to do is put some wood in it….light it….and let is burn. Anyway, we tried it….and it worked. But….we tried it at night….in the middle of the winter.

We bundled up in our warmest clothing….coat, stocking cap, scarf, gloves…..and set about having our night time cook out. Our first endeavor was rather unimaginative. We roasted hot dogs. But, a person has to start somewhere. We also bought some potato salad, some chips….the scoop kind….and some dip. That sounds like a picnic to me.

What you eat is up to you. Almost anything you can fix in the summer can also be fixed in the winter. We chose to start “simple”. But, we eventually worked our way up to more creative menus.

We sat in front of the fire, trying to keep warm, while holding the two prong hot dog “stick”, with a hot dog on each prong, over the fire. Fayez had never roasted hot dogs before. But, he caught on quickly. I mean…..it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to roast hot dogs.

The fire was burning brightly….flames leaping into the air….as we sat warming our hands….trying to keep warm (and for the most part succeeding)….and eating our hot dogs. It was a calm night, and the lack of wind helped in keeping us warm.

I am sure that our neighbors….and also passers by…..wondered what was going on. Two crazy people sitting on the patio in front of a roaring fire. We we were probably lucky they didn’t call the fire department to come put the fire out. Or a mental institution to come and take us away.

The food tasted good, though. And, the fire was cheery as we sat, ate, talked, and listened to the sounds of the night….the coyotes howl, the neighbors’ dogs bark (mostly at us), and the rustle of the trees as they swayed in the gentle breeze.

This was only a practice run….a warm up drill…..for our trip to the Missouri and Arkansas Ozarks during the Christmas holiday. We could have stayed in a motel. That would have cost at least twice as much as staying in a campground, though. And, the experience would not have been a fraction as exciting as staying in a campground.

 As we expected, we were the only campers in both of the campgrounds where we stayed. Several people in large RV’s were already well established at the KOA campground in Springfield, MO. We assumed that there were people living in them. We never actually saw anybody….but lights were on inside the RV’s. Aside from the RV’s, we pretty much had the campground to ourselves. We didn’t have to worry about disturbing other people….and we didn’t have to worry about other people disturbing us. A brave motorcyclist pitched a tent a couple hundred feet from us. But, we never saw him again after he went into his tent.

We bought three bundles of wood at the campground store. At first we bought only two bundles….but added another bundle as an after thought. And, it is a good thing we did. By the time we went into our cabin around midnight…..we had burned all the wood.

We could have stayed in a motel…..but it would have cost more twice as much. We could have gone to a restaurant to eat…..but that would have cost more than three or four times what we paid for our delicious fire-grilled Saudi Arabian meal. In a restaurant, all you do is order your food, eat it….and there is only a limited amount of it…..pay for it, and leave. Here in our campground, we had the joy of preparing our meal. Well, Fayez prepared it….but I had the joy of watching him. And, we had the joy of watching the food cook slowly over an open campfire. And…..most of all…..we had the joy of eating the delicious, tender, tasty food when it had cooked to perfection.

And, one of the greatest joys for me was the dishes…..or NOT having to wash a bunch of dishes. What did we have to wash? Really nothing. We used large plastic forks and knives; we used double strength paper plates; we drank pop from the can; we used used the “scoop chips” for the guacamole. When we were finished eating, we stuffed all of the trash into a bag…..and the dishes were done! Now we could kick back, relax, and enjoy the camp fire….and the cold, crisp night……and secretly laugh at all those people sitting in their RV’s who had not had nearly as much fun as we experienced.

 NO…..I am pretty sure we wouldn’t choose to do this every night. But, on a calm, not-so-frigid night, it is a fun, relaxing thing to do. Something just a little out of the ordinary….something to make other people wonder what is going on…..and something that breaks up the every day routine…..and a way to do some different every once in a while.

Don’t kid yourself. You need to have a big, warm fire. You need to be dressed warmly. And, you need a fairly calm, windless night. After some experimentation, we found that it is preferable to start the fire with charcoal….especially if you are going to prepare food. The charcoal starts more quickly; it gets hotter faster….and stay hotter longer. And, when you are ready to add wood to the fire…the wood starts burning quickly with a minimum of effort.

So….you think we are crazy? That’s OK. But, you will never know until you give it a try. And…..who knows? Maybe you will find out that you are actually adventurous enough….and tough enough….to enjoy it. Like Fayez and me.

 

 

Christmas 2013 has come and gone.  Another glorious season of Peace and Good Will…..celebrating the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ.  To me, Christmas is a special time of the year when “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”  We give because we were given the most important gift that we could possibly receive….the birth of our Savior and of eternal life.  Nothing we give can begin to match this priceless gift.  We give….but all of our gifts are merely symbolic.

This Christmas season was special for me.  I definitely received more than I gave.  I received only two “gifts” this Christmas…..two dozen cookies from my neighbor…..and a coffee mug from Fayez Alruwaili, my special friend from Saudi Arabia.  Each of these gifts were especially meaningful to me, because both of them were given out of a sense of love…..and not out of a sense of obligation or to meet any expectations.  The cookies?  They are long sense devoured.  Only the plastic tray remain.  The coffee mug?  It is sitting on a shelf….where it will remain forever.

 My Christmas season was brightened this year by Fayez, who came to spend the Christmas holiday.  I first met Fayez as a guest who found my name of one of the international hospitality sites that I belong to.  He came and spent last Christmas vacation….the season of 2012…..and ever since, I like to think that my home has been his “home away from home” ever since.

Fayez is from Saudi Arabia…..and of course, he is Muslim  But, this in no way prevented us from enjoying and embracing all the traditions and customs that go with the Christmas Season.  Our first real Christmas experience was attending the program presented by our local elementary school.  Back in the days when I was a classroom teacher, I came to know this Christmas tradition all too well.  And…..I have to admit:  It was not one of my favorite activities.  In fact, it was a pain in the ass….something to be endured….a feeling of relief when it was over.  This could have been the first grade school Christmas program I had attended since I stopped teaching 6th grade back around 1990.  Somehow I just couldn’t summon the proper feeling of nostalgia for the program.  The memories still hadn’t evolved from “something I had to do….to something that I wanted to do”.  But….this year we went.  The program is free, of course……and we certainly got our money’s worth!  The program stretched into a marathon performance, as class after class was herded to the stage so sing their obligatory two songs.  I am not sure exactly what went wrong.  Christmas programs never lasted this long when I was teaching.  But….nevertheless, as I said…..We got our money’s worth.  And, it is a common cultural ritual that schools across the nation go through each year.  And….Fayez got to experience it.

The next actual tradition that Fayez got to witness was the Christmas Eve Service at my church.  It is a beautiful service of lessons and carols, which are performed not only by the congregation, but also by the sanctuary choir and talented soloists.  The service always ends with lighting of candles while the choir and congregation sings Silent Night…..followed by a rousing, joyous rendition of Joy to the World on the church organ.  As we walked out of church, the clock turned to midnight…..Christmas Day.  Before returning home, however, we just couldn’t resist taking a drive down Wanamaker Road….probably the busiest street in Topeka. It is always a treat to see the almost surreal scene that takes place there on each Christmas Eve…….the busiest street in Topeka almost devoid of any traffic.

Christmas morning, after Fayez finally roused himself from his bed and took his four and a half mile Christmas run, we exchanged Christmas gifts….and then prepared to go to Topeka to eat lunch with our friend Sam.  It is becoming sort of a tradition to eat both Thanksgiving and Christmas lunch with Sam at his apartment.  Perhaps the best things about Sam’s meals is that they are not the traditional meals…..the kind you would find in most other households.  They are unique and prepared with great care and attention.  And…..also important…..they are super delicious….and plentiful.  We always leave Sam’s house full and satisfied.

Our next stop was my brothers’ house.  Usually there is a crowd of people there…..their good friends…..buy only passing acquaintances to me.  This year, however; it was just a little more special. Several of my cousins…..second, third and fourth cousins…were there.  Some of them, I had never met before.  It turned out to be a pleasant experience.  After a brief walk at Lake Shawnee, we returned home…..another Christmas Day in the books……history, as they say.

There were other customs, as well.  We put up the two little Christmas trees….our only decorations.  We listened to Christmas carol that I had recorded onto CD’s.  Christmas music is among my very favorite music.  I could listen to it all  year round. Here I am talking about good Christmas music:  Christmas carols and Christmas standards…performed by artists, choirs and orchestras who are worthy of singing them.  I am not talking about the cheap holiday songs that are constantly butchered by untalented artists, seeking only to make a fast buck for capitalizing on the holy season.

For the first time this year, we toured the Winter Wonderland display of lights…..a short but beautiful drive through an elaborate display of lights at Lake Shawnee….and sponsored by TARC for the benefit of its clients.

Aside from the Christmas activities, we had other fun, too. Let’s consider our New Year’s celebration, for example. The New Year, 2014, sort of came in quietly with a soft whimper….but not as much of a whimper as last year.

 Last year…..the New Year of 2013….we were at home. Last year, I had two guests for the long Christmas break. Besides Fayez, there was also a Chinese student staying here for the holiday season. It was snowing outside…..a bona fide snow storm, as a matter of fact. At the last minute, we decided to drive into town and buy a couple bottles of champagne. We slowly made our way through the blowing snow into town…..and to the town’s only liquor store. Luckily enough, there were exactly two bottles of champagne left! And, they were ours! Unluckily, the owner of the liquor store was a former student and runner of mine…..and we had not seen each other for several years. He seemed glad to see me again…..and I spent the next 30 minutes talking to him….while Fayez and my Chinese guest sat in the car…..freezing, I suppose….and wondering where I was.

 Back home, at Midnight, we each poured a glass of champagne and raised our glasses in a toast to the New Year. Almost immediately, our Chinese guest’s face began to turn bright red….and his eyes began to swell shut! I was alarmed…to say the least. What was going on? Would I have to call 9-1-1 and tell them to come pick up a minor….under the age of 21….and take him to the hospital? The Chinese guest….who would turn 21 his next birthday…..told us that he was allergic to alcohol…..and this was what happened when he took a drink. I immediately told him to put down his glass…..and go to bed. I had never seen anybody react to alcohol in this way before….nor have I since.

This year, however, Fayez and I went to my favorite bar in Topeka around 8:00….ate supper….and sat and drank (beer for me….Pepsi for Fayez) until the New Year arrived. We had planned in advance and had each made a list of questions and topics which we could talk about….just in case the conversation started to stall out.

The evening could have been ruined, though. When we first entered the bar, we took a table near the back. Unfortunately, we didn’t know that we had sat down near three rather ill-dressed, ignorant…..and rather loud middle age bums….two men and one woman. I suspect they were residents in some sort of home for the mentally challenged…..although we didn’t ask them.

The first bad sign came when one of the men snapped his fingers at the waitress…..and said something like, “Hey!” The waitress, whom I admired, immediately told the man that he was rude….and that was not the way to get her attention……and that if he wanted her to help him, he could ask in a civilized manner. That more or less set the tone for the rest of the evening. They apparently had $40.00 to spend…..and they spent the rest of the evening quarreling among themselves….sometimes loudly….and drinking beer.

We asked the waitress if we could move to another table. She lost no time agreeing….and even helped us carry our plates and glasses to booth sufficiently removed from the quarrelsome trio. Looking back, I doubt if they even realized how uncouth, unpleasant and disturbing their behavior was. And…..I can also imagine that  perhaps they do not go out in public very often.

Fayez and I sat in our new booth…..and spent the next four hours discussing the questions we had bought with us…..often questions of a controversial nature…..because both of love to argue….or have friendly discussion, as we prefer to call itl. The time passed quickly. Shortly before Midnight, the waitress gave each customer a glass of champagne. Except for poor litle Fayez. He had to drink pop. We watched the super-exciting, drama-filled ball drop….or was it a cow or a pig or something….in Manhattan to ring in the New Year. Of course, we had to count fast….because, let’s face it…..there are no skyscrapers in Manhattan, KS, like there are in Manhattan, New York. Even the tallest barn or silo is really not very tall!

Around 12:30 or 1:00, we left the bar to come back home…..to a New Year. We had a happy beginning to our celebration….and a happy ending…..hopefully setting the mood for the remainder of the year.

And, the quarrelsome trio were still at the bar…..and still had things to quarrel about. Probably setting the tone for their New Year, too.

But….I am happy and thankful that our way is the best way.

 

 

On Wednesday, December 18, Fayez  Alruwaili and I started our little four day adventure down into the heart of the Ozarks….Hillbilly country. With the car already loaded, we drove out of the driveway at exactly 7:00 A.M…..this may have been a “first” for being on time. And….maybe it was a good omen, too. The trip was great…..from the start to the scary finish.

Maybe one way to enjoy a successful trip is to plan carefully….but have low expectations. And, that is what we did. Before we left….and for a few weeks in advance….everything was planned out in fairly great detail. And…..if you know me…..I am an obsessive planner. But…..and I think this is true….we had rather low expectations. Low expectations in every area except for one: To have a good time and enjoy our rip. This proved to be a good combination.

Fayez and I have an on-going battle or disagreement…..a (mostly) friendly one however….about the value and usefulness of a GPS unit. This on-going discussion would keep thing lively the entire trip. I grew up depending on….and knowing how to use….a map. Fayez puts his faith in the GPS unit. And….I have to admit, the GPS unit did prove to be useful at times….especially in urban areas where it is sometimes difficult and confusing to anticipate….or to read….street signs. For highway driving…..may way….the good old map is the best.

Nevertheless, we managed to find our way to the farm of a friend….Sam Delap…..near Pleasanton, in east central Kansas. Did you ever get a picture of something in your mind, even before you see it? And that pictures sort of becomes reality? And then your “reality” is shattered when you actually see the real thing? This is what happened to Fayez and me in regards to Sam’s farm.

Sam primarily grows nuts….chestnuts, pecans, etc….on his land….along with some persimmons and other various trees. Both Fayez and I had pictured the farm as 50 acres of flat, tillable land. We were surprised….very surprised….but pleasantly surprised….when we actually arrived at his farm. It was a beautiful combination of flat land and rolling hills; of mature trees and tillable soil. It even had a pond and a creek running through it. If it looked this good in the middle of the winter….we can only imagine what it looks like in the spring and summer when the leaves are green and the flowers are blooming.

Fayez and I immediately decided that Sam had gone into the wrong business. This would be the perfect setting for a golf course or some sort of resort. And, I am sure plenty of “nuts” would show up and pay big bucks to stay there!

After checking out a nearby Civil War Monument, we headed to our final destination of the day……Springfield, Missouri. It was here that the GPS played one of its few useful functions. Springfield is bigger than I had remembered to to be. But….the trusty little GPS unit led us to our campground destination.

Actually, we were the only real campers…..along with several permanent or semi-permanent RV dwellers. And, even we “camped” in the most comfortable style possible. We had rented a camping cabin where we slept at night…..complete with a very efficient heater and wi-fi…..and showers across the driveway. But….we were still camping….by out standards, at least. If you have a campfire….and if you cook your food….and sit in front of your campfire at night…..you are camping. Right?

We did all of these things. Before we left home, Fayez had in advance prepared our evening meal…..a typical Saudi Arabian meal. At least, that is what he told me. It was delicious, to say the least….cooked to perfection in the fire. And, along with some good old American potato salad and some chips and dip, we enjoyed a filling satisfying meal. We sat in front of our fire…..trying to keep it burning….and trying to keep the brisk south wind off our necks. It was fun….and that is how we ended a good start to our little vacation.

Early the second day…..Thursday…..we headed down to Branson. It was on this day that it pays to do some planning…..but to have low expectations. To simply enjoy the moment and not worry about “what might have been”. My Number One desire in Branson was to visit the National Tiger Refuge. But a person can only see it as part of a guided tour….something we did not know in advance. Anyways, by the time we got there, the first tour had already started. The two other tours were in the afternoon….too late for us to even consider, if we wanted to arrive in Hot Springs before dark.

Having eliminated seeing the tigers as a possibility, we moved on to Option 2…..visiting a complex called “Hollywood”. It wasn’t quite what I had expected…..but usually nothing is quite what I expect. It is a large complex of various entertainment gimmicks. We turned down a tour of the wax museum in favor of a “mirror maze” and a sort of simulated video game….where the participants were strapped into their chairs on a revolving platform…..and fired a laser gun at creatures as they appeared on the wall.

The two “attractions” cost about $28.00 each…..and lasted approximately 20 minutes….and that is probably being generous. The mirror maze might have been challenging for a grade school kid…..or individual with an IQ of less than 100. But since both Fayez and I have IQ’s slightly above the 100 make…..at least, between us, we do…..the maze did not prove to be very demanding. And….what can I say about the simulated video game? It was more suitable for those people who sit at home all day in a dark room with a video game remote control in their hand.

So much for the city of Branson…..the playground of redneck sophistication and pleasure. We had talked of parking the car and walking down part of the “strip”….just to absorb the atmosphere and to check out up close that opportunities were available. But….alas….we had to move on to our next destination…..Hot Springs, Arkansas.

Depending on the trusty little GPS unit….instead of my more experienced and logical mind…..we took to the open Ozark highways again. Sometime in the mid-afternoon we approached Little Rock…..a place that definitely was not on our agenda…..but instead was a place mandated by the GPS. I am almost sure that it was neither the best route…or the shortest route. But…..there we were….too late to do anything but be a slave to the GPS unit.

Actually, the GPS unit did serve a useful purpose. Once we were within in a hoop and a holler from Hot Springs, the GPS directed us to our campground with surprising ease. As we had been told by the campground owner, we were met at the entrance by a semi-permanent resident, who directed us to our little camping cabin.

The semi-permanent resident who directed us to our camping cabins was, I thought, a rather sinister looking man…..covered with tattoos…..and, I thought, an evil glint in this eyes. Our cabins….the only one in the campground…..was more or less isolated from the remainder of the camping spaces. “The wood is free. Take as much as you want.” the guy told us. Free, indeed. All of the wood was probably 24 inches in diameter…..very ill-suited for starting a fire….of any sort. Fortunately, we had a bundle of wood left over for the previous night…..and we brought it with us. Otherwise, we would have been sitting in the cold and dark.

After fixing our supper…..which consisted of hot dogs and more potato salad and chips and dip…..we retired to the cabin for a game or two of rummy. There was a picnic table inside the cabin….another first for me. It was quite convenient….perfect for playing cards…..since there was literally nothing else to do. With no Internet, no TV…..no nothing….we went to bed early that night. The front door to our cabin had no lock. This was at least a slight concern to me: Remember the sinister looking man with the tattoos?

Obviously nothing happened to us……look! Here I am! And the next morning when I checked in with the camp owner, he assured me that the man and his wife….a woman with even more tattoos and with red bushed-out hair…..were “one of the sweetest couples who we could hope to meet.” And….all of that worrying for nothing. This cabin, although similar to other camping cabins, was probably the best one I have stayed in. It had the standard double bed and a bunk bed…..but it was more spacious and there was more room to move around. And, of course, the picnic table inside he cabin. The heater was very warm….almost too warm. I slept without cover all night…..and was still too warm. But….better too warm than too cold. If there had been Internet reception…..it would have been hillbilly heaven.

Hot Springs is an old tourist town with a series of hot baths which make use of natural hot springs which bubble from the earth. Supposedly they have some sort of medical or therapeutic powers…..along with the power to power to make each person about $50.00 poorer. That is what is costs to sit in one of these baths. Of course, there are other things thrown in….a massage and a couple towels, for example.

We didn’t take advantage of these springs. We did buy a cup of coffee in a coffee house located in one of the bath houses….which we drank on the front veranda while we watched other tourists stroll by. The coffee had its own therapeutic or restorative powers, since it was our first cup of the morning.

All of the large ornate bath house are located on a block called Bath House Row. Back in the “olden days” all of these bath houses did a thriving business. This was probably before modern medicine has sort of ruled out the possibilities of any magic benefits to be derived from these waters. Today, only two of the bath houses are active and used for commercial use. The others are tourists offices or other public or semi-public buildings.

If I had to pick out a highlight of our stop in Hot Springs, it would probably be having my pictures taken in front of “The Home of Bill Clinton” sign. The city is quaint, with lots of good bars….and probably a lot of summer time entertainment…..but it was not a major destination for us…..and we moved on town our final destination of Fayetteville, Arkansas.

After an afternoon of driving though some more hills and trees…..and don’t get me wrong….they are pretty, especially in the spring and summer…..we arrived in Fayetteville around the time the sun was setting. We found our motel, located just off the Interstate, easily. We got checked in, found our room…..and I immediately set up my laptop so I could check my e-mail after a two day absence.

Since the motel had no restaurant or bar, we left in search of one. We first found the University of Arkansas….where Fayez had to take a language proficiency test the next day. Satisfied of its location, we moved on to find a place to eat. Fayez had already checked on the various Arab restaurants in the city. We settled on a Lebanese restaurant. On the surface, it seemed like a good choice. The first bad omen….although we didn’t know it at the time….was that it hadn’t opened yet and we had to wait several minutes in a steady rain. It was only after we got inside….had ordered and eaten our food…..that the bad news showed itself…..in the form of the bill.

The food is ordered as individual items…..and not as a meal. Fayez ordered a variety of different foods….all separate items. The meal was over very quickly. And it was far from satisfying. And…..so was the bill! We paid $48.00 for what I considered to be about $12.00 worth of food. What we had anticipated to be a delicious and memorable meal turned out to be a rip off. But….what could we do? Just chalk it up as a learning experience and move on with out lives! And move on we did……to downtown Fayetteville, which was lively with people that rainy night. It is hard to tell after only one visit…..but it seemed that Fayetteville has something in common with Lawrence: a downtown that is the center of activity. A place where people go to walk, to drink, and to socialize. Even with a steady rain coming down, the sidewalk were crowded with people….and the streets with cruising cars. We ducked into what appeared to be a popular bar……ordered a couple drinks….beer for me and a soft drink for 19 years old Fayez. And, of course, some snack food…..because we were still hungry.

The next day…..Saturday….our final day before returning home…..was devoted to the English proficiency test that Fayez had come to take….the IELTS test. Although we started for the university early enough to arrive in plenty of time for Fayez to take his test……we got caught up in a rather monumental traffic jam. It seems that hundred of people were arriving for some sort of event…..although we never did find out what it was…..nor did we care. When it was apparent that we were not going to arrive at the testing center on time…..Fayez jumped out of the car and started running toward the building……only a few hundred feet from where we were stranded. No….we didn’t just leave the car abandoned in the middle of the road. I drove to the testing center….finding Fayez standing in the parking lot waiting for me.

I had intended to spend the morning walking around the campus of the University of Arkansas. But a steady moderate rain had descended upon the city…..and the temperature had fallen during the night. It was, quite frankly, cold and miserable outside. As as an alternative plan, I put the seat back into the full reclining position…..and went to sleep! I found this to be preferable to walking in the rain and getting soaked to the bone. Have you ever heard the expression, “He is too dumb to come in out of the rain.”? Well…..I am not one of those people. I never even went out into the rain.

Dire weather warnings were posited all over the Internet…..freezing rain, sleet, snow. None of it sounded good. Between naps, I called our neighbor twice to check on the weather conditions here at home. The first call was encouraging…..everything was normal; nothing was falling from the sky. But….an hour later, she called to tell me that it had begin to sleet….maybe mixed with a little bit of freezing rain. Not the news I wanted to hear.

The test lasted longer than I had anticipated….quite a bit longer, in fact. At one point, I had considered going to look for Fayez. I was just a little bit concerned…..although I had no reason to be concerned. It was hardly likely they were going to kidnap him or use him as a sex slave. But, I was concerned, nevertheless. I decided that if he had returned by 2:00/……I would go ask about him. But, as I should have expected, here he came…..with a smile on his face. He felt he had done well on the test…..and he was feeling pretty good about himself. And, I was happy for him, too. I know how hard he was worked to improve him English…..and I have witnessed the steady improvement throughout the year.

But, the celebration mood quickly ended as we made plans to return home. We knew that the weather was not good….lousy, in fact….all the way from Fayetteville to our home. We briefly entertained the idea of staying in Fayetteville overnight to see what the weather would be like the next day, Well, at least, I entertained the idea! Having driven on icy and snow-packed highways for decades…..and knowing how dangerous it is to drive on icy highways……I usually tend to be very cautious. It is better to get there late…..than not to get there at all.

We made the decision, however, to go ahead and start driving. If the highways became too dangerous to derive on, we could always stop at a motel along the way.

A couple sentences does not describe…..or do justice….to our trip home. Sleet and/or freezing rain fell almost constantly the entire trip. Although ice was freezing on trees and utility poles, the highways remained in very good shape for most of the trip. As we drove along, we kept wondering at what point the highways would become slick and icy. Actually, aside from a few rough patches in southeast Kansas, there was no problem until we turned onto the Ferguson Road at Perry. At this point it was apparent that no maintenance crew had touched them……and it was also apparent that few, if anybody, had actually driven on the road.

But….to digress a bit. We stopped in Nevada, Missouri, at Kentucky Fried Chicken….KFC. This KFC is the only KFC that I know of that has an all-you-can-eat buffet. Robert and I had stopped at this restaurant several years before…..and I wasn’t sure it still existed. But, when Robert reminded me about it…..it became an almost major destination. We found it…..we ate until we were satisfied…..and we hit the road again.

We arrived back at our house around 8:30…..only about an hour later than it would normally have taken….and this included our stop at KFC for supper. We had done well….and we were happy and relieve….and thankful….to be back home again.

Instead of staying “we” did well…..I must say that Fayez did well. He drove the entire distance between Fayetteville and our house. And, he did a remarkable job. I was proud of him…..and he gained some valuable life experience. Experience that will serve him well the longer he stays in Kansas.

We started our trip on a happy note….and we ended our trip on a happy note.