Plumbing Musings

Thanks to the plumbers who came padding through our house in booties over their steel-toed shoes in the last 2 days, I am now dangerously competent in the language of snakes, blow bags, P-traps, and cleanouts.  When the culprit of the washer drain line clog was discovered, a hush fell across the room, followed by murmurs of "What the...?"  (Okay, so the audience was just one guy and me.)  How this giant bolt-looking object got in there remains a mystery.  Now comes the almost equally arduous (and costly) task of closing up the big hole.  Aah, the joys of homeownership!

Hot-lanta: Warm in other ways

The last time I was in Atlanta was for my guy's cousin's wedding.  On 7/7/07, to be exact.  This time, it was for environmental justice-related work, the same reason that first brought me there in 2000.  Besides the meaningful nature of the work and the cherished time spent with family, I was struck by one thing:  The kindness of the people I encountered, unexpected in some cases...

• Take the foul-mouthed trio who sat behind me from SFO to ATL.  "F"-this, "nigga"-that; language that normally wouldn't make me flinch, except in the presence of little ones.  There were at least five munchkins in the immediate area.  As we gathered our belongings upon arrival -- and during what seemed to be the height of the f-bombing -- I was pleasantly surprised when, while reaching for my bag in the overhead compartment, a dreadlocked member of the group interrupted himself to ask, "Miss, can I help you with that?"  You had me at "Miss".  As he effortlessly lifted my bag out of the bin, his two homies were helping an elderly couple bring down theirs. 

• Take the odd pair who helped my ride find me in the maze of Clark Atlanta University by patiently taking turns giving him directions over my phone.  A small Shanghainese post-doc, who eagerly approached me upon spotting a fellow Asian (a rare sight in those parts); and a brawny security guard, who alternated between politely greeting co-eds entering the campus and sternly demanding of a rowdy bunch, "Show me your student IDs."

• Take the intimidating 300-pound tough guy in the low-riding Cadillac that blasted a bass rhythm strong enough to cause a brief heart arrythmia, who didn't hesitate to turn down the din and give us detailed instructions when asked how to access the freeway.

Brutal summer humidity aside, I left Atlanta feeling welcome to return.

Right About Now

It's been a month and 2 days since I returned from Ensenada, Mexico, where 14 of us from Sunset Church worked alongside a local Missionary family, the Camachos, to run a week-long camp. The day camp served about 100 children from two colonias, rustic communities on the outskirts of town that lack paved roads, drinking water, and electricity. Snapshots from a day:

6:30 AM

Right about now... The roosters in the farm next door are starting to call us awake, followed by a chorus of barking dogs and squealing pigs. It's not long before those of us on the "ladies' floor" are stretching out from our sleeping bags and squinting at the sunlight streaming in.

7:30 AM

Right about now... I'm piling into a van with five others, bound for Bodega Aurrera (like a Walmart) to buy supplies for tortas (sandwiches) that we made daily for the kids' lunches. By the end of the week, we got really good at ordering "ciento cincuenta pan (150 bread), jamon (ham), y quesos (cheese), por favor!"

9:30 AM

Right about now... We're cleaning up after a tasty breakfast of cereal, torta, or pastries with our teammates. I'm on bus duty today, so I climb into the old black-and-white striped school bus to pick up kids and, most importantly, make sure they don't fall out the back door with the broken hinge.

10:00 AM

Right about now... We're at the colonia! Several of us are assembling tortas in the humble home of a sweet woman with an easy smile, bemused by our weak attempts to engage her in Spanish. The others are outside in the mounting heat, playing jump rope and soccer in a cloud of dust.

12:00 PM

Right about now... It's lunchtime! The tortas look so tantalizing, dripping with melted cheese due to the 100+ degree heat. Tiny hands reach eagerly for jalapenos and drinks. Some of the kids tuck their sandwiches under their shirts and ask for another -- what I thought was an act of mischief, until I learned that for many of them, it's their only meal of the day.

2:00 PM

Right about now... The kids are climbing onto the school bus to head to the park, many still happily clinging on to the crafts that they had just made. With big smiles on their faces, they drag us around the playground, occasionally stopping for a hug, to kiss us on the cheek, or ask us to chocola (give a high-five and fist bump).

4:00 PM

Right about now... We're calling out across the park, "Ninos! Al autobus!" -- "Children! To the bus!" Time to go home. After triple checking the headcount and lots of hugs and chocolas, the rickety school bus pulls away from the curb as we wave and run after it.

Right about now... and so often since our return, my thoughts drift to those children and our blessed time with them. Hasta luego, ninos. Until we meet again. Que Dios los bendiga. May God bless you.

Airtime Musings

First Leg: SFO-PHX

As this A320 levels out and the lead flight attendant grants us permission to use "approved portable electronic devices", most of us are fist-rubbing our eyes like toddlers and relishing a good cat stretch in our seats. Funny how, for many, the period between lift-off and cruising altitude means... naptime.

I'm getting good vibes from this crowd. Starting with the warm greeting at the doorway, then observing how eagerly folks responded to pleas for divided families to be reunited in seats that were closer together. It didn't matter that the seat shuffling caused some who were originally in aisle or window seats to be squeezed into less spacious middles - as long as junior or little missy were within mama and papa's reach.

The pilot announces that Phoenix is already in the 90s...at 10 am. Hace mucho calor! As I tuck into my second breakfast (a chocolate croissant), the cheerful Filipino couple to my left bust open a take-out box of pancit, a tantalizing noodle dish. I inhale deeply to steal a taste, then flip open my book, wink at Bookmark Aragorn, and settle in for the ride.

Second Leg: PHX-ABQ

The window shades must be taking a beating, but they rock. They're all pulled down to keep the cabin cool, and amazingly, despite the 110 degrees outside, conditions in this CRJ200 puddle jumper are rather comfy. Everyone seems to be moving in slow motion and limiting interactions while boarding the aircraft, as if to minimize heat generation.

As pilot Charlie revs the engine at the runway start line, solo flight attendant Chris attempts to recite the entire safety spiel with no pauses, possibly setting the record for the fastest demo with the fewest breaths in the history of safety spieling.

Maybe I should take another nap. To conserve energy.

Epilogue

Here's the scene that welcomed me at my destination: As I stepped off the plane, three law enforcement officers -- two wearing Bernalillo County Sheriff Department patches and one aviation cop -- greeted me with warm smiles... before approaching the man behind me, showing him a mugshot of himself, and slapping handcuffs on him. The young guy in an oversized white t-shirt looked indifferent as he was quietly escorted away. Nothing was said. No fanfare... except in my own racing mind.

I'm Baaaack...

For now. After a >4-month hiatus. Greetings!