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Sometimes it’s like I’m looking in on a Shakespeare tragedy, in reality, seeing people’s lives pass through mine, today, children – still sweet – of a woman who wears her resume on her arms and neck and elsewhere in a series of tattoos done in an East Dallas barrio apartment and you know, women don’t do these kind of tattoos around here because they are a little, uh, alienated. When they were ready to leave, her son says to me, “Is there any question you want to ask her?” I say, “Yeah, how are you, Mom?” “I’m doing good.” (Meaning, she’s clean.) And I’m saying to her son, “Hey ______ , next summer you’ll be 13 – old enough to volunteer at the clinic, what do you say, want to come here a day or two a week?” And he lights up, quietly, and says, “Yes. Can my big sister come too?” “Sure, no problem.”

A man I know comes in, a retired police officer. He’s bringing his grandson in for a scout physical. He tells me his wife died in November 2006 and his daughter died in November 2007 and he’s taking care of his grandchildren, new responsibilities, back in law enforcement. The South Texas retirement home he and his wife built and she never saw is empty.

The verb, hostage: one of our patients tells me that she had been an accountant in El Salvador until 4 months ago. She came to the U.S. after her brother was “hostaged” and killed in December. Another brother had been “hostaged” and killed 11 years ago. These were political kidnappings that also involved ransoms that once paid, resulted in death.

Each one of our patients comes to us with a background. Sometimes the stories are ordinary, sometimes good, and sometimes terrible. But each one is the story of a life, a family, strengths, weaknesses. It’s a good thing to find a place where you can tell your story.

Romeo & Juliet (they used to have a scene)

I wanted to wake you and tell you that I’m thinking of traveling with you again and I’m getting thrills though my body thinking of it – like when we went back together in 2006/7 for the first time since 1985.

In a few weeks I’ll be in the alpine – meadows in rock cirques high above the treeline – lakes – wind through passes – resting by the trail …

There was an article in today’s paper about a woman who was killed in Dallas the other day. She moved in some of the same circles as I do – living in Old East Dallas, going to a school one block from our home, going to school where my students and I taught classes every week, I walked through her apartment a few years ago, we take care of her friends and neighbors at la clinica. Then she started moving in different circles, leading ultimately to days and nights of drugs and finally, a terrible death. And there’s a man in my Sunday School class, Bill S., who’s been visiting prisons and juvenile detention centers for >quarter century and today he brought a young man he mentors and announced that the young man is going into the U.S. Navy in a few days. Too bad somebody like Bill didn’t get to Ivonne. Too bad we ran out of energy.

It’s Cinco de Mayo and I’m cleaning out my office. Several people have asked if it makes me feel sad and though surely somewhere along the way I will feel sad, so far, no. I feel nostalgic, looking at photos of people whose lives and sometimes deaths have crossed mine (see Look at her face below) – and seeing reports from students on some of the wonderful work they’ve done – and cards and notes from people – and so on. Mostly I’m looking to the (unclear) future, not knowing exactly what will happen – beyond spending somewhere around 6 weeks backpacking in the Rockies this summer (Glacier, Winds, maybe Beartooths). Leslie and I are talking about Asia in the early spring. So the details are cloudy, but the direction is good.

The garden has exploded in color and fragrance. We leave the front door open in the evenings and the front of the house is perfumed with roses (Maggie, Buff Beauty, Old Blush, American Beauty, Perl d’Or, Zepherine Drouhin, Marie Pavié, New Dawn …), Confederate jasmine, iris … Photo: Standing in the front yard, looking toward the street. The arbor is covered with New Dawn (be careful walking through – lots of thorns), mid-lower part of photo is American Beauty (a true and fragrant beauty), delphinium in the garden and in the yard.

Leslie told me that last night she dreamed that she was in the Avalon with David, Scott, Eric, Kevin, Daniel – all so happy.

I dreamed last night that Ron C and I drove to a place near our home city where there was a village from Laos. It was set up in kind of an inverted U (ת); Ron parked at the bottom left corner and I immediately walked over to the right branch and started walking slightly uphill up a dirt path past little hooches (some Lao, some made of salvaged stuff from the US; most on stilts). There were Cambodians all around, some sitting in the doorways and I knew most of them from back in 1981-85. They were people who never made it in the US, but now they were happy and I was happy to see them. As I walked along we were speaking back and forth – “Oh, hey, I’m so happy to see you.” (I’m smiling writing this.) A young man was walking with me and when we got to the top (bottom of the U), we followed the path to the left and went underground. There were several large turtle heads sticking out of the wall like they were roof decorations but down low and there was fine detail everywhere, all dark and smoky looking and I was asking how all this could be here and the young man told me two women had gone to Laos and bought an entire village and brought it to the US. We went on to the last leg of the U and walking downhill came to kind of an infirmary with blankets over the two doors and I was thinking, maybe this a place for me. The door on the left was L&D and there was someone in labor in there. I asked the young man to ask if we could go in and he said something and an irritated looking midwife came out and said in Chinese, “Both of you go away.” We moved on and along the way, I told the young man I’d forgotten his name and asked what it is. He told me, but now I’ve forgotten it. He showed me how his eyes were all wrong, which I’d already noticed, but now looked closely at them, one rolling up and both kind of inflamed around the margins of his lids. When we came to the end of the leg, there was a building standing a little separate from the others. The young man told me it was a kind of church, and when I looked closely at it there were Kwan Yins and Virgin Marys painted kind of randomly on the outside walls and I realized that they are the same thing (Mercy) and always have been and I wondered how I could not have noticed that before. Ron was there and so was Leslie and we were talking about what an amazing place this is and Leslie was saying that she’d worked hard to make it happen and I remembered that she had gone up against some government entity to help the women bring it here. That’s all I remember.

Writing the I’m Retiring entry put a hold on my writing. Since then …

A couple of weeks ago I spent several days working in the garden and yard. In the back garden, the iris (bought at an Iris Society sale) are blooming, Zepherine Drouhin and Lady Banks are blooming, and some of the herbs are doing well (oregano, sage, germander, lemon grass, mint, rosemary, and savory). I had let the garden go last summer while we were in Asia, but the good soil preparation years ago continues to pay off.

In the front cottage garden, roses are blooming (Old Blush, Maggie, Zepherine Drouhin, Katy Road Pink, Marie Pavié, Hermosa, and the even more wonderful Cécile Brünner), iris are magnificent (white, purple, yellow, and variations), delphinium are starting up (white, blue, pink), oxalis are carpeting in pink …

A few nights ago I awoke thinking about what it will mean to not be doing mercy and justice. For many years these have been huge part of my identity, my self – not my thoughts or beliefs, but what I do, who I be – and I’m setting it aside.

As the weeks come and go and retirement nears, I’m in a suspended state. It all seems unreal, unclear. Yet my eyes, my mind are clearer. Photo: On the right, Leslie waiting for the bus in Nepal, 1978 and on the left, Leslie on the bus in Burma, 2007. Aren’t these the greatest photos!

I’m unable to say with clarity what I’ll do, except that I’ll be in the high mountains, first with David in July and later with Jeff and (maybe) Somsai in August and September. But that only says where I’ll be and who else will be there, not how I’ll be. Oh sure, I’ll be tired, dirty, sore, sunburned, hungry, and all that other good stuff. But how I’ll really be is …
Standing alone on a mountain-top,
Looking out at the Great Divide,
My soul rising, rising, rising,
Flying, complete.

I wrote in the last entry that after Vietnam I was committed to not wasting the time of my life. I have not.

This weekend the G5 men’s Bible study group went to Jim C’s lake house. Like last year it was a good time – good to be in Charlie and Alayne’s old house (now Jim and Nell’s); good to relax with Jim, Mike, Chuck, Ken, Chris, Bryce, Rick, and Dave; good to sit on the screened porch and watch the lake, Mike fishing, the birds; good to sleep out under the stars; good to be.

Thursday and Friday I worked in the yard and garden – hired two men to haul and chop and cut, etc. Except for mowing, watering and the like, I’d let things go since last summer when we were in Asia. The yard and garden have been okay, just a little overgrown – except the back garden has been seriously neglected.

So after a great hike in Big Bend and a day of rest, I wanted to work outside. As retirement nears, my energy is picking up and I’m relaxing some.

After two long days, everything looks great, especially the back garden, which shows again the importance of good soil preparation. I worked very hard on the soil when I put the garden (back) in 7 or 8 years ago, and it shows. The roses seem to be fine. Iris are growing strong. Some herbs are doing well – oregano, sage, germander (whatever that is), mint, rosemary [native is by far the best], lemon grass, and something wonderfully fragrant, but I don’t know what it is. Some herbs have disappeared. Garlic is growing strong and lambs ears okay. In front the Texas Mountain Laurel is blooming prodigiously, purple and sweet.

David and I flew DFW to San Diego for our friend, Chris’ graduation from Marine Corps Recruit Depot (MCRD San Diego). Got a hotel shuttle to the Howard Johnson’s where Shirin was staying, along with Chris’ brother George and his sister Jennifer. We went to dinner together – seafood, nice. In the morning it was raining hard, so we didn’t go to part of the outside graduation ceremony. MCRD was just a mile or so from the hotel, so it was a quick drive to the base.

My memory of MCRD is cloudy, except for exactly where I was way back then, so I didn’t have a lot of recognition – like I didn’t remember that all the buildings were painted yellow, but despite differences in utilities, the Marines looked exactly the same (more about that in a moment). One huge difference is that recruits are in barracks vs. the Quonset huts we had. The grinder (photo above) is exactly the same – a vast expanse of parade ground where countless recruits have sweated and learned. It was empty this day, wet, ghostly, cadence counted in my mind …

We walked through some buildings, some of which I remember and then we got to the yellow footprints! What fierce memories these footprints evoke!

But what affected me most on this momentous day was being among these true warriors. Everywhere I looked there were men ready to kill and die for this nation, our Corps, their comrades. They looked great – completely squared away, clear-eyed, strong, brave – warriors for the ages. It was good to see the drill instructors, too. Strong, hard, cruel – true avatars of the Warrior Spirit.

We and others were a little lost and a DI escorted us into the auditorium where the ceremony was to be held. Though he was completely polite, I knew the DI held a low opinion of us – sheep, unknowing, weak. The auditorium was the same as when I was in boot camp – where they had church services – which I liked because the seats were comfortable, no DIs and I could doze …

The recruits were sitting in the center of the auditorium, everyone with eyes straight ahead and DIs prowling the aisles. Some DIs and a couple of officers were on the stage and in the front of the auditorium. Then they cleared the stage and the company commander marched to the center of the stage and called the Marines to attention – “Prtoons, Aww-Ten-HUT!” Crash! They came to attention and the auditorium was silent. Then about 12 DIs and officers marched on to the stage and stood at attention in a V formation. They sat down, with some more or less at ease – but not the DIs, who would never be at ease in a ceremony. Colors were presented and the band played the National Anthem. There were several ceremonial actions (including asking all former Marines to stand – there were fewer than I expected) and Lt. Colonel Scott, the battalion commander spoke, and was followed by several more ceremonies (e.g., presentation of the Command to the Reviewing Officer). The band played the Marines’ Hymn, platoon guidons were retired, and the platoons were dismissed (photo above).

We went outside and eventually found Chris in the throng. He looked great – what a grand moment!

We went to the PX and Base Museum (We all went back to the hotel and then headed out to eat at a seafood restaurant. When Chris’ food arrived it was pretty funny to see the look on his face when he saw the small serving. In almost all of his letters he’s written about never having enough to eat in boot camp and here he was in an upscale restaurant looking at a huge plate with a little bit of shrimp artfully arranged in the center. In the end, though, I think he got enough to eat.

From the restaurant we walked to the Coronado bay Resort, an old-fashioned grand hotel, for coffee and dessert. One of the things that struck me about Chris during this time was the quiet dignity he showed in dealing with several civilian faux pas – and as I reflect on him, this is the way he is. But really, it was all good and day celebrating great achievement by Chris and I think we all were very happy to be with him. David was there and in addition to his other good qualities, is a good traveling companion. I had a good time talking with George and Jennifer and of course, Shirin is a good friend.

On the way home on the plane, Chris told some MCRD stories. Some pretty brutal and some cruel and most funny – to me, anyway, but maybe not to everyone. Some random and unfair things happen at boot camp. And that’s the nature of war, isn’t it – random, cruel, unfair, and the hardest thing (un)imaginable. Some recruits don’t make it and some may be broken. There is no easier, kinder or gentler way to forge the world’s elite fighting force.

One of the things we talked about on this day was that at MCRD and to a lesser extent, San Diego, it is nothing unusual to be a Marine (although, a number of people in San Diego congratulated Chris – clearly a new Marine). But once out of that small environment, being a Marine is uncommon. Chris is part of a small and distinguished group of brave men.

Today we met Ron & Melinda for lunch at Bistro B, for Tet. We thought there would be big crowds, but no, and no dancing either. Last year it was seriously rockin’. In a wonderful coincidence we were sitting next to a young man who said, “Melinda?” He was one of the scouts that Ron and Melinda led, mentored, and in some cases, saved way back when in the 1980s – the “Blue Dragons” law enforcement explorers. Ron (TAC sniper & do-gooder) ran the East Dallas police storefront back then and did scout stuff. Melinda was teaching at Spence Middle School (tough place) and doing scout and ESL things. Leslie was managing contracts and volunteering huge numbers of hours with Cambodian refugees. I was teaching and starting the East Dallas Health Coalition. Those were the days. Often when we go out to eat we run into someone from those bad old, good old days.

Lunch was good and when we walked out of the restaurant we could hear the drums around the corner and there were the lion dancers in front of Hong Kong Market. So we had a great time there, too. We’re into the crowds more than the dancers and of course there was a good crowd and the drums/cymbals intense and I looked across the way and saw Leslie and that made me happier and as it all came to an end the dance master gave Leslie a blessing, a little magic. And, Michael, the manager at Bistro B told me there will be a big party next Sunday – See you there!

Ideas 2008: (If I retire in May) 5/08 – 7/08 Leslie & I to HKG, BKK, Pakse or maybe Chiang Mai, BKK (meet DK) and on to Hanoi, Sapa and slow travel down through Hue, Saigon and on to Phnom Penh, back to BKK, maybe Chiang Mai, HKG, home. Pocket-Buddy. Home for a month. Then 8/15/08 – 10/08, 1-2 weeks each place, working my way southward (backpack planning page): Glacier, Wind Rivers, RMNP, and back home. Hopefully DK in for the first part, then Jeff. But we’ll see – I’m committed regardless. 10/08 … work on squaring away house. Thanksgiving Sierra Club to Big Bend and maybe BB again New Year. Of course if DK is going to be in California … what if? John Muir Trail?! In Asia it will be hard to maintain my current level of fitness, much less ramp it up as needed for a major trek. Just grandiose wandering at the moment – part of JMT. OR, what if on east coast? Maybe walk small part of AT.

By now … Leslie, cycling Asia fall when it’s cooler, desert early spring, US more travel summer, backpacking Aug-October as long as I can.

2009: 2/09 Grand Canyon and then to Asia for a few months, slooowwwwin’ it down. 8/09 – 9/09 John Muir Trail – meet Leslie in San Francisco, pretty good shower after 30 days on the trail (Oh, I’ve had some good showers over the years). Easing on down northern Cali – 2 days here, 10 days there OR, slow ride north – northern Cali, Oregon, Washington, BC – to Vancouver and take Air Asia to Macau … “Come along Little Susie, come along.”

What if I drop dead a day or two from now? “Oh how sad, he had so many plans …” Nope, we’re just repeating things we know are good, changes here and there, but not things undone.