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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.

I wrote a few days ago about various routes I’m taking on my 5-6 days/week walks in the neighborhood. I forgot to mention that 5 minutes toward downtown and on the other side of the Santa Fe tracks there is a barrio. David & I used to ride our bikes over here – there’s a good sno-cone place a couple of streets over across the street from Cano’s Fruteria.

It’s mostly houses, most 2 bedroom, 1 bath frame houses – many with add-on rooms and when people inherit a little money they build a brick fence and when they inherit more money they brick up their homes. Many of the houses have fences around the front yards, mostly chain link, some iron, a few picket or brick, usually with pathways worn by dogs into the dirt along the inside of the fence and I’m walking along listening to my iPod kind of keeping an eye on the two mastiff/junkyard dogs standing on the corner kind of keeping an eye on me AH CHA! A dog hits the fence 2 feet from where I’m walking – Bam, full speed, never a sound until he hits the fence then all kinds of snarling and carrying on. So much for walking around here with an iPod distracting me. Lots of pickup trucks, vans, etc. around here – in my mind I can hear the dispatcher saying, “Four Latin males, late teens, 20s, wearing dark hoodies …” Someone wrote in the concrete of the sidewalk, “El Ghetto.”

Leslie asked me the other night after we were in bed, if I thought about traveling as I went to sleep. Of course the answer was yes and when she asked if any place in particular, it turned out my answer was the same as hers: Hong Kong. This despite recent favorite places including Luang Prabang, Chiang Mai, Saigon … still Hong Kong, the first place we went in 1978 is the place we think of.

Showing conclusively that this is a personal journal … The chair – which belonged to Leslie’s grandmother – has a Karen (from Burma) textile draped over. On the shelves by the chair, books on travel and backpacking, empty Tabasco bottles and a Koon Yick bottle from journeys past. There are some Cambodian lime boxes, a hill tribe betel box, photos of Vietnam and Cambodia, thanka on one side of the door, Karen fabric on other, two monk’s bags – one from Moulmein, the other (from Lance) from around Battambang, books, a painting of Angkor Wat, more betel paraphernalia, blades (mounted – two khukris and African war blade in center, above are a kris, a Cambodian rice knife, a hill-tribe blade, and a Burmese everyday blade), backpack ready for Big Bend, David’s viola, someone else’s cello. David’s tennis, music, track and fencing trophies, etc. are scattered on the shelves. To the left of the small thanka and partially obscured by the cello is a katha – a Khmer talisman. At the top right corner is a small bottle of black sand from the beach of Iwo Jima. On the two shelves to the right of the thanka are books that I hope David will keep – Dispatches, Street Without Joy, books I’ve written (Terminal Illness, Refugees & Immigrants, Infectious Diseases), Hell in a Very Small Place, Never So Few, Barrack Room Ballads, Treasure Island, The Stones Cry Out, Monday Night Class, Tom Sawyer, etc. Out of sight to the right of the chair (to your left if sitting in the chair) is a table made from a blue and white Chinese pot we got from my Mom. It has a glass top and inside is a Burmese alms bowl made of lacquer. I don’t recall what’s in the bowl. There is a Burmese lacquer box on the table – inside are some inexpensive jade pieces, some images in a silk bag, a set of Burmese brass weights (in tikals?), vial of patchouli oil, cotton and silk cord that I got at the amulet market in Bangkok and from a place in Chiang Mai. Also on the table is a set of good Tibetan cymbals and a small old Chinese cloisonné saucer used as a coaster.