Having trouble with googlepages. This journal is continued through a new journal page and a new home page.

5/1 - A letter to a Marine's mother

Dear Libby,

That's quite a letter from you. I'm glad you wrote and very glad Owen is home, safe. The good news is way beyond the bad. 

I'll be completely honest here and maybe a little hard. These are just my thoughts - I'm no expert (and looking back over these thoughts, I'll bet there is nothing new here). Fighting in a war is like having advanced cancer or being in prison - it is almost impossible to communicate to those who haven't been there what there is like and the ways that there lives on inside - in ways even the warrior cannot explain or even understand. But we all, on some level, understand that it is essential to be loved.

If you ask Owen what leads him to hard drinking I doubt he could answer in a way that would satisfy him or you. From my perspective, even so long past those days, it's like what (tf) kind of question is that? I don't know if you're asking why - there's no reason why, it just is. Your son is a warrior and that's what warriors do. I know I did and many others do. I mean, what else would you do?

If someone had suggested to me when I came home from VN that I was suffering I wouldn't have had a clue how to respond. Feelings and war don't go together very well, do they. Later I understood. But not then. 

If you were to show this to Owen he would likely say something like, Yeah, whatever. Because it's all fresh to him and a lot more real than anything he's encountering here and certainly more real than anything an old veteran like me would have to say. No, we aren't the same when we come home and some day he'll understand that neither are you. Someday he'll have an understanding of what you've been through (but no help to try to get him to understand now). Someday he'll snap to the fact that you would sign a letter, Libby ____, mother of Sgt. Owen ______, USMC. He may even think that it's no big deal to be a Sergeant in the Marine Corps. But it is. 

You may have been naive - likely he was too - when I get home everything will be ... (I really did believe that, like the song says, we're gonna talk and laugh our time away). Well, he's home now and he's lucky to have a family that understands with such insight and clarity. 

I wish I could do a better job writing to you. But, here it is - with pride in Owen and a humbled heart where you are concerned,

Charles 

4/27 - A Marine in Iraq

From Jake's Life, a blog:

Welcome to my life. That's what this blog is all about. Being young. Being a Marine. Partying like a rockstar. Trying to save the world. Trying to find my way through life. Alot of friends and family read this, but I get a lot of emails from random people as well. The way I see it, if my life is not worth reading about, then I'm not really living it. So here it is, say what you will.

4/25 - Here is something one of my students wrote ...

Megan, week 5: I think we were able to form/recognize a spiritual connection this week.  Stephani was sitting on something that looked like a blanket, and I asked Nabila what it was – she told me they were their prayer mats.  So, we started talking about prayer – how we pray, things we pray for – and then, there was a warm pause – not an awkward, uncomfortable silence, but one that communicated something.  I smiled and was comforted that Maryam and Nabila have this source of power and encouragement.  I like to think that we pray to the same God.  Even though we may sometimes pray and practice in different ways, we are still able to share our burdens and find peace in a spiritual being – what a comfort to know that Maryam and Nabila can experience this.  We went to the Arboretum and had a wonderful time.  Maryam said she loved the fresh air (they were pushing her in a wheelchair).  She forced us to get ice cream – I think it’s funny (not in an ethnocentric way mind you) that in their culture that it is considered polite to forcedly insist that your guest eat – the more pushy you are the more polite you are (that just makes me laugh).  I will miss them.  I would love to keep in touch, but understand that I can’t make promises that I may not be able to keep.  They have changed my life…really…this is one of the first times that I have really formed a relationship with a hurting person, who is not in my usual circle, and not been on a mission trip.  This habit, this choice (to choose to love people in this way) can be a part of my daily life – a reality that I want so bad.  And, I have been blessed.  I think about them all the time, and hope that I will not just think but do.

4/25 - Here is something one of my students wrote ...

Stephani, week 4: This week with Maryam was very emotional and deep.  On Wednesday we were able to really talk to her about how discovering she had cancer made her feel.  She actually almost started to cry and it took all I had to hold back the tears.  It's amazing how much she is opening up to us as we spend more time with her.  I am so glad that we got an opportunity to talk about important issues like what she expects out of life these next few weeks.  I'm not sure if she truly comprehends what is going to happen as the days go by.  I didn't feel it was the right time to attempt to explain the path of her cancer and that it will lead to death.  I think everyone has the right to embrace illness and death at their own pace and I think Maryam will come to that in time.  So Wednesday was a very emotional day for me because we talked about the "valley of the shadow of death" and that is never easy.  Thursday was a much easier day and we talked about some fun things.  I am amazed at how universal conversations are for girls and how much fun it is sitting with Maryam, Nabila, and Megan laughing and sharing our lives together.  Next week we plan on going to lunch with Maryam and Nabila and we are all looking forward to that!

4/22 - Don't worry, Blowin' in the Wind

"Don't worry." That's what the passport man said last Tuesday when I left my birth certificate, etc. papers with him to get a new (expedited) passport. He called Friday to say that my passport was ready to pick up at his office! When I got there I also had papers for the Burmese visa (to replace the one in my old passport). What!? The State Department sent back my old passport stamped CANCELLED, so I have my new passport and the old one with the visa intact (unlikely that Burmese - or Myanmar, as they like to be called - immigration will snap to the cancelled part). The passport man said don't worry about that either. We'll see, but for now at least, we are set. Oh, and the Mother Land Inn wrote to say that our reservations are confirmed. Their website says they have electricity 24 hours/day - Nothing but the very best for me! Dark grainy photo above: Leslie on the Chungking Mansions stairs. Very few westerners walk those stairs and my guess for >60 years old women would be one or less/year. That's my girl! On the road again. Photo below: Taken by David on outreach in Ratanakiri Province 

We have a place to stay in Phnom Penh! The family, headed by Mr. Samnang, that has so graciously taken David into their lives is giving us a bedroom (with private bathroom) in their house. This is great news. We'll be in a real neighborhood vs. the sterile high-walled expat area. The Tsar Toul Tom Pong or "Russian Market" is a block away, internet cafés 1.5 blocks, and a big wat about three blocks further. The family has a cool little café downstairs - it's a very little café, with one or two tables - rice & pork for breakfast every day. I'm seeing myself hanging out down there, writing, reading, listening. Oh man. We just have to remember to not walk up the street where the meat market is - offal in the sun. 

__________________________

Along the road yesterday I was listening to Blowin' in the Wind: How many times can a man turn his head and pretend he just doesn't see ... How many years must a man have before he can hear people cry ... the answer my friend, is blowin' in the wind, the answer is blowin' in the wind.

And I'm realizing that Leslie is an answer to that song. She doesn't turn her head and she does hear people cry and she has been seeing and hearing and responding for many years, deep in the world. Today after church I went by Maryam's with a bowl of roses fragrant from the garden. One of her feet is swollen (3+ edema to her knee, which is a lot). Her cousin Nabila is wondering if this is a sign that the end is close, and I told her no, the edema is not a surprise and it's not a good thing, but it's not a sign. Nabila and Leslie have been talking every day and one of the things they talk about is talking about dying with Maryam - who does not want to talk about it. Someone is paying for funeral and burial and wants to discuss this with Maryam and Nabila, but Maryam doesn't want to deal directly with her terminal state so there is a little conflict. Leslie is saying there is no need to push the issue. Let it be. So the other person, Leslie, and Nabila are meeting next week away from the apartment to discuss all of this.

While I was there today the hospice nurse came by and figured out immediately that the pain meds need to be changed. That's a good thing. The whole time the nurse and I were there, Maryam's brother was lying on the (too short) couch with a blanket over his head. And Maryam continues to lose weight.  

4/18 - The fragrance is enchanting, Shirin, post from David

Walking out on the front porch this evening I'm greeted by the fragrance of many roses, the beginning of the Confederate jasmine blooming, and the iris. The deep purple iris is my favorite - they smell like they look - ahhh. One of the most fragrant roses is the amazingly thorny Autumn Damask - dating from (probably) the middle ages. The flowers are in clusters and last a day, but then others in the clusters bloom. Zephirine Drouhin and Maggie are by the porch and are in full bloom, as are Buff Beauty and Old Blush on the other side of the porch. Along the walk are Perle d' Or, American Beauty, Archduke Charles, Hermosa, Autumn Damask, and arching over the walk is New Dawn. Are you kidding me!? In a pot on the porch is Iceberg. All have a wonderful scent. This is the best year ever for me where roses are concerned. 

We have a friend, Shirin, who we met when David and Shirin's son, Chris started kindergarten. She is a true friend to Leslie, especially, and also to me. Her character and nature were revealed last Christmas when Leslie and I were in Asia. Chris was staying in our house and taking care of the redoubtable Buddy. Buddy, being an aging dog, has become fairly sensitive (actually, being a mistreated dog before he took up with us, he's always been a little sensitive). The first few nights when Chris was here, Buddy was anxiously wandering the house and was basically inconsolable. Shirin came up with the idea of Buddy spending the night at her house. He did the same thing there until she laid down on the floor with him for a few hours. Then he was fine. And that is the look into Shirin's basic lovely nature.

David spent two days of Khmer New Year with the family that has taken him in and one day with his birth parents. This from his blog: The first rains of the New Year started tonight, shortly before I began this entry. My AC is off, and my windows are all open. I love the rain, and this is a fantastic beginning to a new year. I went outside and sat for a while to just listen to the rain falling against the metal roof covering my balcony. The air is fresh and new and clean – just how a new year should begin.

4/16, 4/17 - Grace unfolding and the trip begins

Leslie got a check and more today from a Muslim women's organization. The check will go to the dentists who volunteered their time to help Maryam. But there is more. The same organization got enough money together to cover all costs of funeral and burial when Maryam dies. Grace unfolding ...

When the secrets all are told

And the petals all unfold

Maryam's cousin - I keep calling her that because I won't use her real name here and didn't know another name to call her here - will see our psychiatrist this week. Ahh, but now I have a name: Nabila (meaning noble - yes, that works). She is there (in a small 1 bedroom apartment) 24/7, and not just with her dying cousin, but also her very mentally ill other cousin. Nabila lives in another state, been married for just a few months and now this. What an extraordinary person! Strong and sweet - an honor and blessing to know her.

Maryam is a refugee because she was a leader of a women's rights group in bleeding Sudan. Sudan, whose government sponsors the slaughter of 100s of thousands in Darfur. Sudan, where the value of a life is zero. What a price people pay for freedom and dignity. Women's rights - we should all feel humbled - well, I do anyway.

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I guess this next will be the first entry in my 2007 travelogue. Sheesh, what a day. My story ... a month ago I realized I was running out of passport pages. So after we got our Burma visas last week I was trying to figure out how to send it to the State Department for added pages and it was looking like a passport service on the internet. Then, when we took Maryam to the dentist I saw a passport agency was in the same building as the dentist. I talked to the (Eritrean) man at the agency, arranged to get new pages through him, and gave him my passport. He called today to say that the State Department had confiscated my passport because it had been damaged (when I washed it. Dooh!) and I would have to apply for a new one. Well, we have 4 weeks until we leave and it takes several months to get a new passport. BUT, there is a way to get a new one expedited via the passport agency, so, following the Eritrean man's directions to Leslie (who happened to be at the dentist a few doors from the passport man), I filled out the application for a new passport on-line, printed it, took it to the Government services office, (where I lost my billfold - and a woman said, "You dropped your billfold" - thank you!), was told by the clerk that my photos were the wrong size - she let me stew for a minute or so and then said she could take the right size photos (Oh, she was a piece of work, alright) and I finally walked out with what I needed and went back to the passport man and gave it all to him. The trip has has begun. He says, "Don't worry." hahahaha 

Sent reservation request today (4/16) to the Mother Land Inn in Rangoon (Yangon). Many people have very good things to say about it. The link came from Joachin (Jo), a man I met on a travel message board, who maintains a very good Burma site, among other things. 

4/12 - Circling, repeating, flashing

I wrote yesterday about a Burmese child with significant health problems completely ignored by the refugee agency that is supposed to provide services to the child and her family. Caroline brought the child, her two siblings, and her mother to the clinic today. All the children have worms "like rice" in their stool as well as other problems. So, our plan was to document the problems and get the children to the East Dallas Health Center (EDHC) for treatment and into the system (currently they go to a refugee clinic about 8 miles from their home - when they can get there, which is seldom). 

As an aside, I brought the mother home a month or so ago from an appointment at Parkland re the breast mass she has - which turns out to be encysted worms (we're following up on that). When we got to her apartment, her two girls, ages 6 and 8 were standing outside on this misty day, wet, and there were three or four Anglo and Hispanic children on their bikes, a few feet from the girls, just sitting there looking at them. The life of refugees.

So anyway, today we got the children worked up and Leslie was on the phone moving heaven and earth to get an appointment (Thank you Mrs. Camacho, God Bless you). Caroline, meanwhile, was on the bus to another Burmese family's home to bring another sick mother and child in. All the pieces were in place except how the mother and children would get to EDHC and just then, in walk Vanida and Julie and they're saying, "Oh sure, we can do that." !!!! Unbelievable! Who says the days of miracles are over? So off they go to the health center. In a little while Caroline comes in with the other family and just as we were finishing up with them, we get a call from health center saying they need a translator. So, Caroline, the other mom and son, and I pile into the car and head to EDHC. 

Walking in it's a flashback: I'm with a lost refugee woman wearing a bright sarong with a child in very heavy winter cover-alls on a warm day, and of course, Caroline, steadfast and kind, calm and sorrowful. How many refugees have I taken to Parkland, Children's, EDHC? Actually, the EDHC was our idea in the first place (back in 1982 - it started as a refugee clinic) and I wrote many a grant to get the funding to make it happen. Upstairs, I see Consuelo and Suzy - both of whom I worked with in the the past (both when they were in high school - Suzy, when she was less than a year in the U.S. She gave our son a stuffed pink mouse that we named Pinky Mouse - David carried the mouse a lot for several years, his teeth clamped on the mouse's nose). Suzy says to me today, "Well, Charles, you're still at it" and we laughed our heads off. I see Mrs. Camacho and Sabrina, the RN. And when we walk into the exam room, there (along with the mother, 3 children, Julie, and Vanida) is Cesar T., a young pediatrician who worked with us several years ago and who said, the last time I saw him, "Prayer is of the utmost importance." 

I'm circling, Julie and Vanida circling, Leslie, Caroline, we're all ... What joy to see all these people and especially, in the exam room, to see Vanida and Julie.

4/11 - To Maryam

Lying in the bed,

A little smaller each day

Slender once, thinner now

Mocha framing numinous eyes

 

Quick mind, quick speech

Clear thin voice

Following each thought

Through this strange land

Where everyone everywhere every time

Has gone each time like the first time

 

Fearful

Smiling in the face of fear

We’ll not speak of this now

Now that we’re here

Here like all before

Here like never before

 

Last week seeing your sister

With drawn face

Open to her sadness and pain

When I came unexpected

Around the corner

Before she could cover her soul

 

We are flesh, blood, bone, skin

The carriages of our souls

Rolling through

These streets this life

This pain, this joy

This longing

 

You know and I know

What’s real (and what's not)

But we can wait for awhile

No need to rush to where we are going

4/11 - Burmese child

Caroline brought a Burmese (Karen) mother and her 8 year-old girl to the clinic today. The child has a life-long history of low-grade fever, her stools are clay-colored, and the stools have visible worms according to the mother. The family has been in the U.S. for 5 months. Nice work, refugee agency. For more than 25 years I've pulled people out of the depths of your inabilty to provide decent services for those unfortunate enough to be your so-called "clients." I cannot express the extent of my contempt and loathing for you. 

By the way, Maryam is another of this refugee agency's "clients." Leslie asked someone there if anyone from the agency had been to see her. No.

4/11 - No Mas

Mexican girls

Dark-eyes, sad-eyes, sloe-eyes, slow-eyes

Fiesta Mart perfume on

Skin so beautiful it takes my breath away.

Mexican girls

Walking arm in arm in lives

Arcing, peaking in the 10th grade

In love affairs bringing baby girls and boys

Sweet brown babies

Jessica, Junior, Araceley, Raymond

Riding in strollers with young mothers

Heads high in tattered pride

Knowing in this life there are no second chances and that

The 10th grade peak was it.

 

4/10

I was driving up Bryan Street one day, fiery hot dry summer day and just a half a block ahead of me a car slammed through the fence next to the Quiky Mart where Mexican and Honduran men stand waiting for someone to drive by offering work and by noon, some drunk (I've seen men washing up in the muddy water in the gutter there) and the car explodes the fence and I'm thinking uh-oh, but by the time I got there the passenger and driver both fell out of the car, laughing, drunk or high and then the cops were right there and I drove on. A few blocks up there was a whore of my acquaintance, also hoping someone would drive by and offer her some work, some money for her poor, AIDS-wasted crack-head body (she was kind of okay when it was just heroin - we taught her how to clean her works with bleach). We did one of those lift your head momentarily things by way of hello and I drove on and there's a man kneeling on the median, praying to the sun with arms stretched out like psychotic Jesus crucified on the cross of his insanity and his face just broiling red because I guess he's been there awhile ...

4/9 - Martyrs, Jihad in Africa, A Cottage Garden, "helloing and turning on the microwave"

A few days ago someone (whom I respect) said, "We're not called on to be martyrs." My sense is maybe not the group being spoken to at that time, but we are not exempt. Christians are being martyred with horrible regularity across the world (in Indonesia, Iraq, Philippines, Darfur, Nigeria, etc., etc.) while the priviliged in the U.S. sit comfortably having opinions. Our time will surely come again - at least, that's the plan of the jihadis.

I asked my friend, Ron, "Would you be a martyr?" He said, "Yes." I think it's good to pay attention to someone who has put their life on the line over and over again. Well, me too. I mean, not for a statement of faith, but for more than words? Yes.

When we were in the "Arab store" the other day there was an East African couple shopping who could star in a movie, Jihad in Africa: seriously serious, seriously hostile, and the woman was carrying a beautiful baby girl. I cannot imagine that the girl has not been or will not be cut. From the refugee health site: "The average age of girls who undergo female genital cutting is about three years of age, although ages range from seven days to fourteen years. The age varies based on the type of cutting to be done and the customs of the area in which the procedure is to be performed." 98% of Somali women and 89% of Sudanese women have been cut (type III, extreme). I guess jihad begins at home, with little girls.

______________________

Just a couple of days ago I wrote that I would eventually have to move my web pages that remain on Baylor's server. Got a call last week from a person who monitors faculty web pages. We have a phone appointment tomorrow - and in the meantime, I've moved some more material. Here is A Cottage Garden. I like this version better than the old. Then yesterday I got a call from someone representing the Master Gardener's Association - requesting permission to use photos from the cottage garden site in a presentation. Okay.

______________________

"Helloing and turning on the microwave" - what on earth could that mean? A few minutes ago I walked to the back of the house to fix an espresso, and said, "Hello." Leslie was in the bathroom, on the phone and didn't answer. Then I fixed the coffee and went about my business. Next she comes to the front of the house, accusing me of (that's right), "helloing and turning on the microwave." Can this marriage be saved? I mean, how much "helloing and turning on the microwave" can any marriage endure? Hello! Hello!

4/3 - Hallelujah

The other day I was looking at a photo of Maryam's cousin and Hallelujah was playing and I was thinking, truly, Hallelujah.

 

Maryam got to the dentist today, after several days delay. Leslie had to find a dentist (see 4/3), get medical records, wait on people and she's going, "grrrr, slow people drive me crazy." So today, Good Friday, about 7:20am it all came together and at 12:30 away we all went to a different dentist (slight change in plans - thank you Debbie!). Though Maryam did not want to lose her tooth, out it had to come. There was a slight complication with the extraction and the original dentist (see below) got involved. So now the dental problem is out of the way and now a Jewish dentist is part of this amazing grace. After the dentist we went to "the Arab store" for some food. Leslie and I ended up with some good olives and some flat bread. It's been a great day. Leslie's world circling, unfolding ...

 

My sense is more and more people coming to see Maryam, like the Ethiopian woman who works at the 7-11 on Gaston and a young Sudanese man we met today. Next week the plan is for Megan, Stephani, Maryam, her cousin, and Leslie to go to the little Pakistani cafe next to the Indo-Pak Market. Leslie and I went there about a year ago - it's a happening place, oh, no doubt about it.

 

4/4 - Waiting

 

The red dirt cemetery is dry under the Texas sun

Monuments stand straight, tilt in red dirt

In the center, Confederate battle flags still fly

Honoring the men who fought for their country

 

My Grandmother is buried next to those flags

My Grandfather, uncles, aunts, others

Are next to those flags

A little concrete border runs around the plot

 

Someday we’ll put my mother’s ashes there

But for now, they’re in our dining room

In a box, with an old-fashioned knitted cover draped

18 years there, waiting for me to be ready

4/3 - Who would have thought?

This weekend Maryam told Leslie she was having dental pain. Leslie and I made some calls and today (Tuesday), Leslie talked with a dentist who agreed to take care of Maryam. The dentist is talking with the palliative care doctor and we are ready to go. So now, we also have a Catholic Arab (the dentist) who grew up in Israel working with a Jewish doctor, a Presbyterian great heart, et al. to help a Muslim woman. As Mother Teresa said, it's something beautiful for God

I don't mean to go on and on and on about this, but truly, my wife is amazing. Sometimes, like today, when I found out about the dentist I was thinking, it's almost like she isn't real. How could anyone do what she does? I thought about her face, and how she is, and was just overwhelmed. Something beautiful, truly.

4/3 - We have a hostage situation

On 12/6 an organization was supposed to send the clinic 100 cases of an important medication (free). It finally got here on 3/26 and by then was a few weeks out of date. So they said, we can send it back and they'll try to replace it. Leslie says, "No, send the replacement and then you can have it back." So we're holding the medicine hostage - and giving it away while we wait for a replacement that may or may not come.

4/1 - Other things

Looking back over this journal I realize I tend to focus on just a few things. As I wrote yesterday, writing this is its own journey, but I also have the idea that if I get old (or older, as opposed to dying in the next few years), someone may read it to me - wouldn't that be nice! With that in mind, I thought I would write a little about other things I do.

Internet, of course. I spend most of my surfing time on the Lonely Planet travel discussion board, Thorn Tree Forum. I am a voracious consumer of the news (CNN, NYT, SFGate, Fox, Jersusalem Post, Al Jaz, etc.). I read Victor Davis HansonLittle Green Footballs, National Review, and other neo-con sites. I enjoy travel blogs and photos such as on Travelpod, Worldisround, Asiaphoto.de, etc. I also enjoy creating web pages and sites. I have two primary home pages, with some overlap: chaskemp's homepage and CK's Gateway Page, a more work-related site. I think I need to get the latter onto a different server, because when I leave Baylor, they will eventually delete my sites. 

Gardening is something I used to enjoy a lot. Over the past few years I have done less, as it has seemed more a burden than a pleasure, and now, with cutting back on work, I am again enjoying it. We have fresh flowers from our garden from early March until October or November. We have about 50 rose bushes, mostly old garden roses such as Old Blush, Felicia, Zepherine Drouhin, Katy Road Pink, Lady Banks, and so on. My site, A Cottage Garden covers this in some detail.

Working - I teach community health, palliative care, and other courses at Baylor. It's been good to work there and good to teach young people how to provide quality care for individuals, families, and the community. I work especially hard to teach people that dreams can be realized. I think my job is important. Writing and work are related ...

Writing - I have felt compelled to write because I have something to say. I have written three books, 50+ articles, a number of papers, and several websites - mostly on hospice and palliative care, cross-cultural healthcare, community health, and spiritual care. Several people have said to me something like, "... well, non-tenured faculty are not expected to publish, so ..." So? So what? Am I supposed to respect that kind of (what passes for) thinking? Sure, about like I respect the tenure system. I write for the patients and community, not for some old dinosaur academics. Except for this journal and a few other things, my race is about run where writing is concerned.

More on work (though I've tried to keep work out of this personal journal) - For a long time I've been able to integrate my teaching and my practice, first as a community health nurse and in recent years as a family nurse practitioner. I am deeply grateful for this. I have been at the Agape Clinic for the past six years. More to be grateful for.

Church and Bible study are very important in my life. Church is usually only Sunday school, where Dan F., my teacher is just that: my teacher (not a title lightly given!). Bible study meets Wednesdays 7-8am. The founders of our group are Jim C. and Chuck H. Together, church and Bible study take about two hours/week, but I've noticed they are critical reference points for my life. Maybe on another day, I'll write a statement of faith - suffice it to say here: I try to live my faith. 

Cooking (along with gardening) is as close as I think I get to a hobby. Recently I have triumphed (if I do say so myself) with tom kha (Thai coconut shrimp & chicken soup), bun cha (Vietnamese pork and noodles), several different crostinis (Italian - toast with various toppings), and some Mediterranean delights.

Socially, Leslie is my best friend and I love spending time with her. Jeff is also my best friend, though we have not been together since summer 2005 (he has been in Canada and his usual haunts in the Oklahoma woodlands). I get together with Ron C. about once a week - and sometimes Ron & Melinda & Leslie and I go out. My brother, John and I go to El Taquito now and then, and Chuck M. and I spend time together. Bible study is social in some respects, as is la clinica.

Traveling was on hold for most of the magic years - the best years of our life, when David was with us. I've written at length about those years, but not in this journal. Before David, Leslie and I traveled every few years for several months at a time. David and Leslie traveled some, as did David and I (major good times in San Francisco and Boston). Then, a couple of years ago, Leslie suggested that David, Jeff, and I go to Southeast Asia. We did and it was grand. Then David got a fellowship to go to Cambodia for a year. Leslie and I spent last Christmas with him with the three of us "piled up like puppies" as Leslie put it. Now we're getting ready to go again this summer 2007: two months, most of it working at the hospital where David works. I spend a lot of time planning and dreaming about this. My Asia travelogues, Budget Guide to Hong Kong, and Budget Guide to Southeast Asia.

Music is part of what keeps me going: Bach, Beethoven, U2, REM, Robert Earl Keen, Grateful Dead, 10,000 Maniacs, Bob Dylan, Statler Brothers, Neil Young, Incredible String Band, Airplane, Van Morrison. Will Oldham, Mozart, Chopin, Radiohead, and many many others.

3/31 - Dear Jeff,