Fast Forward [insert apology for not blogging in many months here]

I have long loved Minnesota Public Radio's A Prairie Home Companion. Though I haven't listened to it very religiously, I occasionally happen upon it by chance on a road trip or at home, while aimlessly searching the frequencies. I particularly enjoy the segment News from Lake Wobegon, in which Garrison Keillor recounts recent events from a small, fictional Minnesota town full of Lutherans, hot dish, and plain & simple everyday life. Like Steinbeck (one of my favorite authors), Keillor has a knack for turning even the most mundane happenings into an emotionally-charged story. I love that. It helps me realize that all of life - especially all the stuff between "major events" - is truly an adventure and worthwhile story, full of interesting character development and surprise plot twists.

As it happened, I was driving a car yesterday evening when a particularly crappy pop song led me by chance to the middle of the News from Lake Wobegon. Keillor was telling the story of a man who was lovestruck, complained of chest pains and was mistakenly rushed to the nearest hospital - in St. Cloud, MN. I had just left St. Cloud. And I got this warm, fuzzy feeling of inclusion. Now I was a denizen of central Minnesota too! Who knows, maybe I was passing Lake Wobegon that very moment!

I continued to listen to the rest of the program, chuckling at the segment griping about "snow emergencies," a condition I am now familiar with, and the towing of vehicles failing to park off of the paths of the coming snow plows. I listened on as "Guy Noir" narrated his movements, down University Ave (a few blocks from my new apartment) toward downtown St. Paul. So much more context. Minnesota was already beginning to feel more like home...

The reason I was driving from St. Cloud, destined for St. Paul, is one on which I'll have to elaborate more.

The end of December and beginning of January for me was three full weeks of transportation, family Christmas gatherings and moving. In transit, my body moved a total of just over 2,600 miles - all on the road, either bus or car. Most of it was uncomfortable. I attended four family Christmases/gatherings. And I moved myself and about 200 lbs of my stuff from Pittsburgh to St. Paul, where I now reside.

On my second night in town - the same day I had secured an apartment, before I was even feeling settled - Brooke (my girlfriend and the reason I moved to St. Paul) got a call from her brother-in-law. Peter (said brother-in-law and a wonderful guy I had the pleasure of getting to know at their family gathering) works for an organization dedicated to helping out Chinese students - who have come to the Twin Cities to study - in every way possible: taking them shopping, making living arrangements for them, picking them up from the airport...

Peter was enlisting our help. He needed someone to pick up students from the airport and drive them to Saint Cloud State University and he knew I was strapped for cash. Brooke was busy, but I said I could do it. Peter and his wife (Brooke's sister) Ginger had already done so much for me (letting me borrow some essential furniture for my room, among other things) that I was willing to do about anything to help, though since the organization enlisting Peter's organization's help (is this getting confusing?) was offering money anyway, most likely this was just Peter trying to help me out some more. In any event, I said yes to... well I still wasn't quite exactly sure what. Peter is himself Chinese and though his English is excellent I'm still not convinced that we have 100% information transmission in our communications. But one of my life's philosophies (or so I try to make it) is say 'yes' first, ask questions later. I was told I would be emailed more information.

The email was a bit late in coming, but still on Friday morning - the day of the first chauffeuring - I received a forwarded list of places. Pick up students at airport, drive them to Richard's house, take them shopping for essentials at Target, drive them to St. Cloud, meet contact there, drive home. Okay. Sounds like fun... I did some Google-mapping, jotted down some directions in my little memo pad, crossed my fingers, and headed out to pick up the Chevy Astro that was to serve as my transport vehicle.

I suppose - technically speaking - that having done something for money, one becomes a 'professional,' if only for a particular job. That said, I have quite an interesting resume: professional forklift driver, professional finish carpenter, professional meat-grinder, professional wine-maker, professional cow-herder, professional millet-sower, professional deliveryman, envelope stuffer, quiz grader, roofer, vodka-bottler, musician, wilderness guide, ... And now I can add 'professional chauffeur' and 'picker-upper' to my list. I'm sure there is a better word for that latter term, but that was the wording a random dude in the airport chose to use as I was waiting for my students, sign in hand, Chinese transliterations of names printed on it.

"So, are you a professional picker-upper?" the all-too-friendly tall white guy standing next to me asked, thus beginning what became an extended conversation. He was waiting for his wife's (Korean-Chinese) family to arrive. While we stood together, now bound by the bizarre laws of random-stranger-conversationdom, he prattled on, interspersing interesting factoids about China with trying to teach me how to say, "you all come with me" in Mandarin (so as to impress my pick-up-ees). All the while, we were interrupted by frequent calls from his wife (also coming to join the welcoming party) and my newfound Chinese contacts Peter and Richard, asking about my progress.

Finally I got a[nother] call from Richard, telling me that not only were my students arrived through customs, but they were now waiting for one student's luggage at carousel 6. Apparently we had missed each other, despite my diligent holding of my sign. (I had always wanted to be one of those people - standing at the international arrivals gate, professionally displaying a name placard, patiently waiting... too bad I failed at my first real opportunity.) I found them, we waited still longer for the student's bags (Phew! - it was okay that I had missed them. No time lost.), and we finally hit the road, me very professionally loading their luggage and then ushering them into the back seat of the van.

On the way to Richard's house I debated whether to go all out in making these young students first interaction with American culture (on American soil) an exciting one - blasting some country music, honking the horn at every opportunity... but collective fatigue (mostly theirs) led me to keep the radio on some low-key alternative music. Very professional. I guess.

I could keep drawing out this story. The snowstorm, interactions with Richard (a very nice dude), conversation with students ("You like NBA?" "Uh, yes?" "Me too. I like Kobe Bryant. Who is your favorite? [Doh! Caught in a fib...] "Uh... I like... many of them."), snow, accidents, detours, 40 mph on the interstate on the way home... Suffice it to say I arrived home very late, barely wanting to repeat the process over again the next day. Fortunately, this second day was much much better. Less waiting, a delightful passenger (who spoke much better English, resulting in some actual conversation - interesting at that), a gift of good Chinese tea from Richard, sunny skies and clear highways, AND the joy of A Prairie Home Companion. All in all a good experience.

With that, I leave you with...

a picture of Brooke, the very talented ladyfriend/sled-jumper!

Matthew Job-Hunts in Pittsburgh, Episode 1: The Butcher Shop

"Well, should I wear any special clothes? Jeans okay?" I asked.

"I'll give you a red shirt to wear. And as for pants, just wear something you don't mind if a little chicken blood gets on 'em."

"Okay, sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow at 7 then. Thanks a lot."

Let It Be Known...

That I posted another blog for Wilderness Wind. You can read it here.

An Ode to South Dakota Farm Boys [Preceded by Contemplative Ramblings]

Hi. Guess what, I haven't posted in some time. My bad. Life is busy up here in the Northwoods, for me at least. Let's just pretend that I've been constantly blogging though.

I just got back from my most recent trip two days ago, and since my return I've entered and remained in 'zombie mode' - something that has become a post-trip habit. I go out on the water, guiding groups into the wilderness, offering myself as a source of strength, endurance and moral, and we have fun. I love time in the wilderness and time with interesting and fun people. And yet when I am responsible for peoples' well-being a good 16 hours a day (and in the sun about that many hours a day) the inherent stress that comes with that amount of responsibility gradually takes its toll. And I come back and crash. (Thank goodness trip leaders have an automatic day off scheduled in the day after returning from a trip!) Friends at camp ask, do I want to go for a canoeing outing now that I have a day off? Uh, ... no. How 'bout a movie, a cold beer and a dash of leave me alone for awhile. (I like to think that I'm not actually that rude, though...)

In my last post (What? Over a month ago? My apologies.) I mentioned enjoying times of silence and reflection. I also mentioned not missing things like the Daily Show, movies, or YouTube. Here's the latest update: What I have learned about myself this summer is not that I thrive in solitude and in perpetual reflection. I have now grown to realize that I thrive in experiencing contrasts. Coming from working in a middle school and spending lots of time with friends, time spent in solitude and reflection was welcoming and needed. The wilderness provides and excellent source of recreation after spending time in a city. And so it goes. But after making a summer career of nature, solitude and reflection, I've discovered that sometimes I just need to sit in a dark room inside and watch movies; listen to loud music (e.g. Rage Against the Machine) at high volumes; enjoy simple pleasures in life without having to deconstruct them/figure out how I feel about them/wonder where the deeper meaning lies...

I think I've always known this about myself. I have often said that my favorite season is the current season (unless it's been going on for over 2 months, in which case my favorite season is the upcoming season). I love summer because every few weeks a different fruit ripens and thus becomes my new pancake filling/topping of choice. I now have more music in my collection than my 80GB iPod can hold, but it still seems bland without my constant discovering of new recording artists.

Not to say that I need constant change in my life. Despite the ever-expanding music collection, every re-listen to Radiohead's The Bends brings satisfaction and new appreciation... It's more that I find contrast helpful in appreciating the many aspects of life. Summer helps me remember the joy of fresh vegetables and shorts, and winter reminds me that there are times when mosquitoes all die... and that fireplaces are the best things ever. Similarly, prolonged periods of contemplative thought make me long for some darts, some board games and my dude friends. So it goes.

[Begin transition back to Trip Leading/South Dakota Farm Boys. Go.]

I am currently in day two of vacation (due to a particularly crazy week for all staff + various staff families visiting we get 3 days off this time), and I am still a zombie. Yesterday I was even more of a zombie. Why the extra zombiedom? As it happened, I was recovering from not one but two back-to-back canoe trips. Two Thursdays ago I headed out on a family Father-Son trip for four days, returning only to clean up and pack for another early morning departure with a youth group. Stress levels high - danger! System overload! Thankfully both groups were great and made the situation as good as it could have been.

IN FACT, the second group - a group of 5 older guys from a larger visiting South Dakota youth group - was so great that it almost a vacation from trip leading in itself, despite that fact that I was trip leading. Upon further reflection, I decided that my time with them was worth of a blog post. (Actually, I had already begun composing the post the second morning out on the water, as they packed up camp in record time...)

On the morning of our departure I wasn't nervous or apprehensive, but at the same time I had no idea how this trip was going to go. Having just returned with a different group, my guys had been oriented by other staff and I had only briefly met them late the night before. As I drove to the drop off point in the camp pick up truck, Jon - one of my guys - joined me in the cab. We talked of his life [He's now graduated from high school and attending a nearby technical college with ambitions of taking over the family cattle farm.] and of vegetarianism. Here was a young lad on a walk of life very different from mine, yet on many levels similar to me (note camping activities about to be described), with a good head on his shoulders, a good heart and full of interesting thoughts. I was encouraged.

We hit the water on a rather large lake, and paddling (it became apparent) was going to be a bit of a struggle. First, I realized I had inadvertently paired the two weakest paddlers together (quickly remedied by a little mid-lake swapping), and furthermore many of these guys were still learning the rudiments of stern paddling (aka - steering). I began to offer my routine 'unsolicited advice' (my euphemism for constructive criticism), and I was very impressed with their positive response to it. Then came portaging.

Having already taken three groups out on the water, I had come to dread the first few days of portaging. Inevitably, even if a group was good at the actual portaging process (the carrying of packs and canoes between lakes on designated trails), efficiency would quickly become a concern. One canoe would pull up to a landing, cautiously step out, carefully arrange life jackets and paddles, take their time extracting packs from canoes, and take drinks from water bottles, eventually pulling their canoes out of the water... all while the remaining canoes in the group sat idly in the water. In response to this phenomenon, I began developing and tweaking an on-the-water 'Portaging Efficiency' curriculum (essentially, land, packs out, canoe out, then deal with other stuff while the next canoe unloads). When I tried out my experimental lesson with this group at the first portage they got it! No questions asked or further directions given. And from the next portage on if I was in the last canoe these guys would be disappearing down the portage trail before my canoe even got to the landing! Wow!

Another challenge of trip leading lies in getting group members to help with camp chores. Often the tendency upon arriving at a campsite is to want to fish, not set up tents. Not so with this group. We arrived at our first campsite hungry and with rain clouds looming. I proposed setting up tents before lunch in case it did rain. No questions asked. Boom, the tents were up. "So are you guys ready to eat?" Sure, but shouldn't we set up the rain fly first? Well, yeah but... wow, I love you guys. When it came time to complete other camp chores, the guys were eager. I showed one guy how to operate the water filter and not only did he gladly complete the task, he continued to volunteer to pump water throughout the trip before I ever got the chance to suggest it again!

In the morning, when it came time to get packing, I got the guys up fairly early. No problem. Up they rose, getting most of their things packed before I had finished making breakfast. [Another note: on the morning we left base camp, whereas I usually have to rouse groups that have overslept and prod them along to get packed, I came to check up on my group to see if they were awake. Not only were they awake, but they were heading down the hill 10 minutes early, bags packed, AND they had found the extra time to take showers that morning.] They were officially - by far - the fastest group I had ever led. On our third and final morning they were standing around with packed packs, bored, waiting for me to finish packing. Good work dudes.

When it came time to play, these guys played just as hard as they worked. Whether I joined in or just read and let boys be boys they were well-behaved, concerned enough for their own safety that I didn't have to worry, and creative. Activities included searching for crawdads, pine cone wars, building fires, skipping stones, swimming and playing with canoes, berry picking, and evening games of pinochle. (To be honest, when they started having pine cone wars, I was jealous and longed for my teenage years.) What fun. Truly a vacation from 'hard work' (my original goal in coming up here this summer). Even during evening discussions, they contributed genuine and thoughtful ideas, including many perspectives I had not even considered.

By the time it was over (an all-too-quick 2.5 days later) I was simply in awe. Whether due to lifestyle, geographic location, parental upbringing, or simply individual personalities these guys were a pleasure to guide. They were helpful, respectful, and were great with taking initiative, be it with chores or play. Would that we all take note of their example in these things. (And let us never forget the joy of skipping stones.)

Time for Repose and Reflection. Hah.

I'm working at a camp this summer. The name of the camp is Wilderness Wind. Thus far it's proven very interesting and fulfilling work. The not-work is also very interesting and fulfilling. We pause for silence, discuss and reflect quite a bit. It's good for me. I'm thinking a lot and learning much about myself. One interesting side-effect is that I'm kind of in my own little world here. I make time for reading and friends and my guitar, but I rarely surf the nets. Since my arrival I haven't seen a single episode of the Daily Show, watched a movie, or even a YouTube video. And I don't miss it. I also haven't blogged, and I kind of miss that. But I've also lost track of time, gotten behind in correspondences, forgotten to call even my family members... If you count yourself among those who enjoy reading my blog, I send my personal apologies to you. Tonight will not be the night that I write. I'm already up much past my bed time, working on housing application forms and obtaining free credit reports. But, now that I've publicly acknowledged an intent to write a more detailed and hopefully entertaining post, hopefully I soon will. In the meanwhile, a consolation prize: a post I wrote for Wilderness Wind's blog...

The End is Near

I only have one day left at Goshen Middle School. My how time flies! One day left and about 5 or 6 sticky notes floating around my room of things to blog about, relating to my work at the Middle School. I guess that's both the blessing and the curse of my time there: there are endless challenges, struggles, joys, things to think about... and so much time out of my day is taken up! Granted, I don't have lesson planning to do after school, but I come home, try to exercise, cook supper or both. Then I get some chores accomplished, try to save a little time for friends and before I know it it's bedtime.

(Interesting tangent related to sleeping: In CO I used to wake up just before my alarm went off at 7 am. It was great! I woke up at a good point in my sleep cycle and the day felt tolerable from its beginning. Then I moved to Goshen in February, and even though I began waking up at 6:30 every single day I could not get my body into it's auto-wake up rhythm! Then, about a week ago, it started working for me again. I'd wake up at 6:25, look around my sunlit room and look frantically at my alarm clock, believing I had forgotten to set it (This was actually the case about 2 weeks ago!). Ohhhhh. Sunlit room. I found the other magic ingredient. Waking-up-at-the-same-time-every-day + sun = auto alarm clock. Cool.)

Back to getting sentimental about leaving my present job. This week started out sentimental. Then yesterday and today, I had two very tiresome and draining days in a row. I utterly failed in one tutoring session (example after example did not convey the fairly abstract concept of proportion), kids were rowdy, I overhead a few kids actively missing the original (and ultimate) holder of my position, and many of my tutoring and intervention attempts were either ill-received or seemingly ineffective. So much for going out with a bang.

But today as I was leaving my last class of the day, the teacher whose class it was stopped me to say good bye and wish me well. "Thank you so much for all your help in my class. You were really effective working with the kids. They really listened to you and seemed to look up to you. I'm sure you'll go far if you continue down this path. And I'd be glad to be a reference for you."

And suddenly, despite my frustrations and shortcomings this week, all was validated. Yeah. I did build some good relationships with those kids. And no I didn't just socialize with them and play cool Mr. para. I demanded their best effort in the most encouraging way I could. Sometimes I made friends, sometimes enemies, and I earned my fair share of respect. I done good.

-- As if to reinforce those proud and happy feelings, a student burst out of Kroger as I was exiting, post grocery shopping. "Hi Mr. Rody!" she blurted. "Hi Ana," I replied and smiled to myself as I unlocked my bike. --

Where I Be Goin'

Here's an interesting nugget I found in my National Geographic this morning:

Unless you change direction, you're

apt to end up where you're going.

-Chinese Proverb

Where I found the proverb quoted, it was suggesting that we beware paths that lead toward environmental destruction, the idea being that even if we're not killing off species now, we ultimately will without a major shift in attitude. BUT I feel that it also sums up my recent decision-making process.

For a few months now a dark cloud has been looming in my mind. I need to decide where I'm going to live next. I moved to Goshen in February knowing that it would only be temporary. I had already made plans to work in Minnesota for the summer, and the lease for the house where I am currently living ends in less than a month. So my possessions and myself need to go somewhere. Furthermore, as I was leaving Colorado, I decided that I was sick of moving around on a regular basis. It just took too much energy! So I need to move somewhere and stay there (at least for a little while - say, more than a year). But where?!

Goshen was in the running, but not the preferred candidate. I love the town and the people in it, and while I could see myself settling down here further down the road, I wanted to go somewhere new for the time being. But what should the other options be?? One can't make a choice weighing only one option. And what should my criteria be??? I could move somewhere for a job, but the only feelings I have resembling ambitions are that I might like to be a teacher in the near future... and you can take ed. classes anywhere. I could move somewhere for the scenery, but even in beautiful Colorado I got lonely and moved back East. So shall I go somewhere with a high density of close friends? Still doesn't sound like the best way to make such a big decision, but maybe I can at least start generating options...

Okay,
1) Goshen. But, I already decided I'd like to go somewhere else next if it works out...
2) Pittsburgh. I have plenty of friends there or moving there.

Time went by. Still no more options. I still liked the idea of Pittsburgh - I even started looking for a few job possibilities there. A few months later I found that 3 of my former housemates were planning to reunite under one roof and that my company would gladly be invited.

Conversations with friends and family turned gradually shifted from "I'm still not sure where I'll go after summer. Pittsburgh is one option," to "I'm kind of leaning toward Pittsburgh right now, but I need to weigh the other possibilities," to "Well, there's a good chance I'll be moving to Pittsburgh in the fall."

I wasn't really doing much to change direction. The Chinese must really know what they're talking about...

In my journal I vented frustration at myself for not actively researching additional locations for my post-summer life. This is my life after all! And yet the conversations evolved: "Barring some last minute pull toward some other place, I think I'll be heading to Pittsburgh..." until finally, last Saturday I ran into my Mom's cousin on the sidewalk. "Oh, hi Matthew," he said. "What are you up to." "Just going out for a bike ride now," I replied, "but soon I'll need to start getting my stuff packed up. I'll be moving to Pittsburgh this fall."

I don't think he realized the significance of that statement. I didn't either, really - not until I was riding away. It slowly dawned on me then that I had issued my public statement. I had officially made the decision that I had kinda already made (through laziness? following my heart? ??) much earlier. And it felt all right. Not that stressful. Not necessarily relieving. Just kinda neutral, like I was following a gently meandering path, the faint far-off outline of which had been visible a long way off.

So there you have it. If you need me, I'll be in Pittsburgh.