Flashback Friday

Today's flashback takes a different form.

I was graciously invited to take part in one of the millions of neighborhood inaugural events that were held this past weekend here in PoliticsMeccaUSA. It was a lovely event hosted by a couple of my students. Not knowing a soul, a girlfriend and I showed up and ended up having one of the nicest nights we have both had in a long time.

I was reminded how magical it is to get to know new people.

As the male counterpart of the couple I teach took my arm and led me around the room, I realized that all these people knew me, and yet I had just begun to learn about them as my students' abilities have grown to the level of speaking in-depth about their groups, hobbies, sports teams and the other two couples they bicycle tour with. It was flattering; the wine helped me overcome feeling overwhelmed.

I met one lady that night who, in 1974, went to the Galápagos Islands. She had a resident visa in Ecuador at that time, so she got a military flight for $70, she and her husband were weighed before getting on the plane, and then crates and crates of beer was loaded on after them. As they took off, everyone madly started doing the sign of the cross (South American military plane, early 1970s...can't say I blame them!) and they landed about an hour or so later in the Galápagos. They had to take a boat to the main residential island of Santa Cruz, and stayed in Puerto Ayora. Tourists are no longer allowed to stay on the islands, I believe.

During her week there, she met a Norwegian family that had lived there for a couple generations and, from what she said, they became quite close by the time she and her husband had to return to the mainland.

Fast forward 18 years, to December 1992 when I, on my resident visa in Ecuador, got a non-tourist rate to fly a small commuter plane out to the newer airport on the island of Santa Cruz and stayed for four nights in Puerto Ayora. My first night there I met a man about my same age who took me each night to show me the "natives only" side of the Galápagos while my companions slept in their hostel. It was a purely amazing and one-of-a-kind experience and part of why the Galápagos are considered my personal paradise.

Upon my departure on my fifth day on the Islands, I was given a book by this man, with a message written on the front cover to me, written by a Joanna Angermeyer: "My Father's Island". He knew the people in the book; the author was a personal family friend and he wanted me to have it to always remember why the Galápagos are such a special place to those few who have decided to make their lives there.

The woman's eyes lit up on Monday night when I related this to her. "Angermeyer..." That was the family she had met in her time in the Galápagos back in 1974, when my friend would have only been about 2 years old. It was a serendipitous conversation as we stood there, relating, remembering, allowing ourselves to fall back into an empathetic zone of experiences shared and people known, albeit separated by almost 20 years.

This conversation was one of the many highlights on Monday night, and showed me how important it is to continue to extend myself beyond my comfort zone; I never know what treasures await me there.

And perhaps I should go back and re-read that book this weekend.

passion

Passion is important in every part of our lives. I am a particularly passionate person, very opinionated with strong points of view regarding how I live my life and what I believe to be good and true for me, my family, my country, and my world.

I am a passionate mother, much like many parents are. I could be a passionate wife and lover when with one who can bring that out in me--challenge that passion and match it.

Part of my fabric, which I have learned to be true in my adult life, is my passion for teaching. I am a language teacher, but the first time I taught was violin. I had a student while I was in high school, then had a few while in university. I thought music was my greatest passion; my violin and choral work would evoke such emotions that would bring me to my knees. I had never known such joy or such melancholy as I did when expressing myself with music.

In the second grade I remember answering that I was going to be a teacher. Teaching was always a part of me; Daddy was a math teacher, Mom was an English teacher, my grandmother had a teaching degree from OSU, my uncle retired relatively recently from teaching in Sacramento. I always held all my teachers in highest regard. Clearly I had my favorites, but I respected all my teachers for all they did for me. I can remember every single teacher I have ever had.

Now I am teaching in my own right. Fifteen years of teaching while affiliated with an institution of some sort has given me the confidence to branch out on my own; my teaching evaluations always came back stellar and I resented old-school professors who wouldn't allow me to teach the way I do (student-centered rather than egocentrically me-centered).

Today an ex-student from the uni contacted me. He is an African man about to finish his Ph.D coursework and embark on his dissertation. He needs Spanish to help him fulfill his doctorate in nationality and ethnicity, but is unwilling to continue with the University's program due to the lack of, in his words, 'qualified professors like you who know what they are doing and can actually teach well.' So now, two years after he first took my course, he would rather study with me than earn any credits through the University.

Tonight I met with two new students, both from Iran. These young men are extremely interested in learning Spanish--and with me. One told me today, "Do you know why I contacted you? Let me tell you. I took two advanced courses at the local uni. The professors could not captivate my interest nor keep my attention. They didn't seem to care. So then I went through Spanish Black Belt. Great website, only native speakers teach. But they offer absolutely no substance to back up their marketing. I was surfing around on CraigsList, ready to give up but then saw your ad. I checked out your website and you know what got me? Your enthusiasm. It comes through in your words and in your testimonials. You obviously love what you do. So I figured I should try you out and see if I can complete my goals through you, and here you are meeting with us, letting us get to know you and ask questions all on your time."

Enthusiasm. Passion.

When creating my website, upon deciding to go independent, I struggled with how to market myself without coming across as a braggart. Tonight's feedback told me that, to at least a couple choosey customers, I have succeeded in that quest.

Now I only hope not to let anybody down.

being blasted from the past

As I have mentioned a couple of times this week, Facebook has completely hooked me.

After a 3 a.m. chat with an old orchestra buddy (she played cello, I violin and we formed a quartet with two others for part of our high school career) the other night, she mentioned trying to dig up some of 'those old photos' from The Past...

Well... I instead decided to beat her to it.

And what fun it has been. I have not had an excuse to go back and look at school pictures in a very long time. I took out a handful I could find with a number of others in them, scanned them in, and then set myself to trying to tag faces and names. Much harder than it looks, especially when there were identical twins in your class. I hated the fact that I went to the same schools and never moved once in 18 years when I was young; now I am thankful as there is a bond between those of us who grew up together that time has not permitted to break.

As I sit in She-ra's dining room, reminiscing and giggling over memories evoked by these pictures, a chat window popped up. Rob. Dude, we went to Kindergarten together! We ran in separate circles back in school, but we were classmates. All the way up to graduation. You can't take that away. Anyhow, he remembers me as the one who beat him up at the bus stop in the 4th grade.

I told him that he must be mistaken; I'm too much of a wimp to have ever beaten anyone up!

We were in the middle of the loveliest reminiscence when, click!, came another chat window. J and I went to Ecuador together back in 1992. We had separate circles in college but respected each other's identities and have actually had more contact now that we are older. However, it's been a good year since we've even emailed (both with young children, time zones, career changes, etc.) and she popped in. So I juggled two different conversations with two different worlds colliding on one computer screen, then managed to keep it up while having to pick bees off my daughter and She-ra's daughter who had walked into a nest of some sort. Yikes.

Fortunately all the action calmed down and I was able to return to task at hand. Overnight there were comments made and lots of blanks filled in on names and faces I just could not remember. It's a group effort. Thanks to technology working in our favor, it is easy to bridge the geographical gap existing between all of us, come together and remember the most basic connections that we share, that make us who we are.

My heart feels light and my existence seems a bit more complete. And that is so important.