Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Photo Essay: Working Dignity Farms
This summer I'll be working on a small blueberry farm in the rural township of Pembroke, Illinois. Yesterday I was able to go out to the farm and do some tranplanting to clean up the rows of bushes. Also did some odds and ends around the farm of the guy I'll be working for. Here are some snap shots from the day.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
An accomplishment
In February of 2007, I learned of a program called Master's International (MI), a combination of Peace Corps and graduate school. My friend Amy was looking at it for nursing, thought I might be interested too. Seeing as those were the only two ideas I had for my next step--and the desire to do each of them was preventing me from pursuing either first--MI sounded like the universe had just gift wrapped my upcoming three years and express mailed them to Portland. I got on the vast and mighty inter-tubes to check out the possible programs. There were about four dozens schools with a variety of degrees at that time, one of which was in sociology: Illinois State University. Normal, eh? Community and economic development? Okay.
I went to dust off the Peace Corps application I'd been working on, only to not remember the password... or user name... or where to access it. So instead, a fresh start. Of the myriad components needed, I tore through all but the following: two short answer/reflection questions for Peace Corps, GRE and statement of purpose for ISU, references for both. In other words, I did all the simple stuff, and fell short on all the real work. My job at the time had picked up, the GRE seemed too important to rush through, and I resigned myself to putting off the next step until the Spring semester 2008, rather than starting Fall '07.
I got a second job in March, working at an outdoor store with one of my best and oldest friends, Nick. Needless to say, the great joy it brought me to work and kick it with him in Portland wasn't the strongest motivation in the world for getting my apps together. I had till October, I figured, what's the rush? Besides, that daunting acronym test was still hanging out there, threatening to uncover the sham of my intelligence. Can they take away your BA if you bomb the GRE? Wouldn't surprise me. Nonetheless, I started tapping people to find references. The more people in on my scheme, the more likely I'd be to realize it. Talking with a friend from home, Nicole, I suddenly thought of what my plan meant a bit more tangibly than 'most badass, life changing experience.' It meant three years away from family and friends.
Considering my plan, the facts of my life in Portland and the people I needed to spend more time with, I resolved to push back the application one more semester, start Fall '08, and move back to Boise for a spell beforehand. Now this all reads--and probably seemed back then--as telltale signs that I'd never actually apply. Yet, even at the time, I knew it was going to happen. From the moment I heard of MI, it was a foregone conclusion I'd find myself at a grad school and eventually in Peace Corps. To facilitate that trek, to spend time with family, and to break away from a stagnant professional life into something more fulfilling, I moved to Boise just before Thanksgiving. Life was too comfortable in Portland, if you can understand that. It was too easy, too fun, too selfish. Friends all over town, beautiful natural spaces to hike and play in, phenomenal bars and breweries, amazing roommates, easy job steadily outfitting me for any outdoor adventure I could imagine, excellent arts and culture scene, growing sense of identity as a Portandia native. I had to tear myself from that first, if I was ever going to be able to push myself into a task so much more intense. As my Peace Corps recruiter would eventually tell me, "You need to divorce yourself from your life."
Leaving Portland hurt. Leaving half my heart was hard. Fortunately, I was back in Boise, where the other half dwelt. I enjoyed the holidays with family and friends, and came to terms with that departure, recommitting to the path I'd started down. Along the way, I knew my wisdom teeth needed to go. After Thanksgiving, that's just what happened. Then I needed a job, which I landed after Christmas, for a place called S.L. Start, working with a few gents in their home. Kevin, Greg and Rick are three high-functioning, bright, funny and delightfully quirky men. They happen to have an array of cognitive and physical disabilities, but with a little help they more than get by. I got to step in and provide that help from 7am till 3pm, six days a week for several months. I also got to help my buddy Blake coach our high school lacrosse team. That had me going from 7am till 6pm Monday through Friday, lacrosse games on Saturday from morning till afternoon (also on some week nights, lasting on till 7 or 8pm), and back to the guys' house on Sunday for another 7-3pm. I still found plenty of time to be see friends, visit my grandparents, hang with my folks. And along the way I studied for and took the GRE, filled out my apps in full, and got references in. Interviews for both Peace Corps and ISU came and went, feeling more like chats with friends than probing interrogations (Larry Badger and Beverly Beyer's great interview skills should be thanked for that). Just prior to an evening game against Eagle High, I received the call saying I'd been accepted to the Stevenson Center at ISU for a master's in sociology. A week prior I'd been cleared to start on my medical/dental/legal clearances for Peace Corps. Days came and went, till August saw my pops and I road trip to Normal, taking the northern route through Montana to Michigan, then down to Chicago and on to Normal.
Already close, Pops and I bonded even more as the miles ticked passed. We played cribbage, sipped beers, slept in the bed of his pickup at rest stops, floored it through North Dakota's barren eastern landscape, found the camp ground where my grandfather worked with the CCC (Bob Lake on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan), visited the family farm in Onekama and did some repairs for the folks living there, visited my buddy Max in Chicago and finally rolled into the sleepy little Normal. Normal is a college town, through and through, and very quiet in the summer. My apartment was bare, to put it mildly, with naught but our sleeping pads and a footlocker for furniture. We wandered around, watched a couple movies, drank some beers, and then it was time for Pops to get back to Boise. It was the first time I really felt the absence of family, after he left, but there were things to get done before the semester started, so I was busy enough before long. The real work began when course syllabi were passed out.
The word 'fail' following 'you will' came up a few too many times on the syllabus for Social Theory to prevent thoughts of running straight to Peace Corps. Such thoughts never translated into action, other than doubling down on my studies, though. I was fortunate to be a part of a Stevenson Center cohort filled with motivated and bright badasses with a wealth of experiences. Whether in class or a bar, someone's house or out for a bite, the conversations I had with them were engaging and insightful. I learned as much through discussing development, statistics, theory and Life with my classmates as I did through the courses. The fall semester closed out with an onslaught of papers and projects, seventeen hour days of reading and writing, and finally, a big ole party at Joe's. The director of our program even came. It rocked, and the spring brought on more of the same, but was far easier to manage. Peace Corps invited me to serve in Micronesia, I completed and had approved a thesis proposal, and spent the summer traveling, saying good-byes before boarding the early flight to L.A. on September 2nd, 2009--my dad's birthday--starting the three day venture to Pohnpei, Micronesia.
The two years of island life held so much, it's hard to distill down. The first thousand or so pages of this blog can testify to my inability in that arena. Suffice it to say, my time in Peace Corps was full of Life in its many different manifestations. I succeeded a little, failed a lot, laughed and cried and raged more than ever, loved, and grew more fully human. By August 2011, I had a wholly new understanding of the world and my place within it. My priorities had shifted, and I knew better the kind of wandering I was going to do from that point on, and why, than any time prior. Part of that meant coming back to Illinois, finishing what I started and closing this chapter.
I was offered a research assistantship for the full school year, to help me cover costs while preparing and conducting a new thesis project, and ultimately accepted it. Having planned on spending the fall in Boise, this was a major change but definitely the right one. Having direction was clutch throughout this 'readjustment' process. Coming home after two years in another country and culture is no easy feat. Lack of purpose can be a real pitfall for returned volunteers. Taking on the U.S., adapting to life here, being thrown into the professional development field for the first time as an active member, needing to find and learn a new thesis topic, all while confronting the mental/emotional issues stemming from service and return was challenging. Is that an understatement? Maybe, but I think it's enough. Point is, the whole point of the post, this past Friday (April 13th, 2012) I turned in a thesis draft for the 'right to defend.' All indications at this point are that I'll be sitting down with the committee to defend my thesis in a couple of weeks. During the interim, I'll finish up my work for a regional planning commission, reporting on the surveys I did for them. Afterwards, maybe some editing, definitely a couple solid days of formatting, then I print two final copies of the thesis to turn into the graduate school for binding. I'll have come to the end of my time as a Master's International student. Peace Corps and graduate school, Micronesia and Illinois State University will be parts of my past and, yet, permanent additions to who I am. As this end approaches, I truly see the past four years as an accomplishment, one not lessened for all the failures along the way, one I can build upon, one so inextricably tied to those who befriended and supported me along the way, one I can be proud of.
I went to dust off the Peace Corps application I'd been working on, only to not remember the password... or user name... or where to access it. So instead, a fresh start. Of the myriad components needed, I tore through all but the following: two short answer/reflection questions for Peace Corps, GRE and statement of purpose for ISU, references for both. In other words, I did all the simple stuff, and fell short on all the real work. My job at the time had picked up, the GRE seemed too important to rush through, and I resigned myself to putting off the next step until the Spring semester 2008, rather than starting Fall '07.
I got a second job in March, working at an outdoor store with one of my best and oldest friends, Nick. Needless to say, the great joy it brought me to work and kick it with him in Portland wasn't the strongest motivation in the world for getting my apps together. I had till October, I figured, what's the rush? Besides, that daunting acronym test was still hanging out there, threatening to uncover the sham of my intelligence. Can they take away your BA if you bomb the GRE? Wouldn't surprise me. Nonetheless, I started tapping people to find references. The more people in on my scheme, the more likely I'd be to realize it. Talking with a friend from home, Nicole, I suddenly thought of what my plan meant a bit more tangibly than 'most badass, life changing experience.' It meant three years away from family and friends.
Considering my plan, the facts of my life in Portland and the people I needed to spend more time with, I resolved to push back the application one more semester, start Fall '08, and move back to Boise for a spell beforehand. Now this all reads--and probably seemed back then--as telltale signs that I'd never actually apply. Yet, even at the time, I knew it was going to happen. From the moment I heard of MI, it was a foregone conclusion I'd find myself at a grad school and eventually in Peace Corps. To facilitate that trek, to spend time with family, and to break away from a stagnant professional life into something more fulfilling, I moved to Boise just before Thanksgiving. Life was too comfortable in Portland, if you can understand that. It was too easy, too fun, too selfish. Friends all over town, beautiful natural spaces to hike and play in, phenomenal bars and breweries, amazing roommates, easy job steadily outfitting me for any outdoor adventure I could imagine, excellent arts and culture scene, growing sense of identity as a Portandia native. I had to tear myself from that first, if I was ever going to be able to push myself into a task so much more intense. As my Peace Corps recruiter would eventually tell me, "You need to divorce yourself from your life."
Leaving Portland hurt. Leaving half my heart was hard. Fortunately, I was back in Boise, where the other half dwelt. I enjoyed the holidays with family and friends, and came to terms with that departure, recommitting to the path I'd started down. Along the way, I knew my wisdom teeth needed to go. After Thanksgiving, that's just what happened. Then I needed a job, which I landed after Christmas, for a place called S.L. Start, working with a few gents in their home. Kevin, Greg and Rick are three high-functioning, bright, funny and delightfully quirky men. They happen to have an array of cognitive and physical disabilities, but with a little help they more than get by. I got to step in and provide that help from 7am till 3pm, six days a week for several months. I also got to help my buddy Blake coach our high school lacrosse team. That had me going from 7am till 6pm Monday through Friday, lacrosse games on Saturday from morning till afternoon (also on some week nights, lasting on till 7 or 8pm), and back to the guys' house on Sunday for another 7-3pm. I still found plenty of time to be see friends, visit my grandparents, hang with my folks. And along the way I studied for and took the GRE, filled out my apps in full, and got references in. Interviews for both Peace Corps and ISU came and went, feeling more like chats with friends than probing interrogations (Larry Badger and Beverly Beyer's great interview skills should be thanked for that). Just prior to an evening game against Eagle High, I received the call saying I'd been accepted to the Stevenson Center at ISU for a master's in sociology. A week prior I'd been cleared to start on my medical/dental/legal clearances for Peace Corps. Days came and went, till August saw my pops and I road trip to Normal, taking the northern route through Montana to Michigan, then down to Chicago and on to Normal.
Already close, Pops and I bonded even more as the miles ticked passed. We played cribbage, sipped beers, slept in the bed of his pickup at rest stops, floored it through North Dakota's barren eastern landscape, found the camp ground where my grandfather worked with the CCC (Bob Lake on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan), visited the family farm in Onekama and did some repairs for the folks living there, visited my buddy Max in Chicago and finally rolled into the sleepy little Normal. Normal is a college town, through and through, and very quiet in the summer. My apartment was bare, to put it mildly, with naught but our sleeping pads and a footlocker for furniture. We wandered around, watched a couple movies, drank some beers, and then it was time for Pops to get back to Boise. It was the first time I really felt the absence of family, after he left, but there were things to get done before the semester started, so I was busy enough before long. The real work began when course syllabi were passed out.
The word 'fail' following 'you will' came up a few too many times on the syllabus for Social Theory to prevent thoughts of running straight to Peace Corps. Such thoughts never translated into action, other than doubling down on my studies, though. I was fortunate to be a part of a Stevenson Center cohort filled with motivated and bright badasses with a wealth of experiences. Whether in class or a bar, someone's house or out for a bite, the conversations I had with them were engaging and insightful. I learned as much through discussing development, statistics, theory and Life with my classmates as I did through the courses. The fall semester closed out with an onslaught of papers and projects, seventeen hour days of reading and writing, and finally, a big ole party at Joe's. The director of our program even came. It rocked, and the spring brought on more of the same, but was far easier to manage. Peace Corps invited me to serve in Micronesia, I completed and had approved a thesis proposal, and spent the summer traveling, saying good-byes before boarding the early flight to L.A. on September 2nd, 2009--my dad's birthday--starting the three day venture to Pohnpei, Micronesia.
The two years of island life held so much, it's hard to distill down. The first thousand or so pages of this blog can testify to my inability in that arena. Suffice it to say, my time in Peace Corps was full of Life in its many different manifestations. I succeeded a little, failed a lot, laughed and cried and raged more than ever, loved, and grew more fully human. By August 2011, I had a wholly new understanding of the world and my place within it. My priorities had shifted, and I knew better the kind of wandering I was going to do from that point on, and why, than any time prior. Part of that meant coming back to Illinois, finishing what I started and closing this chapter.
I was offered a research assistantship for the full school year, to help me cover costs while preparing and conducting a new thesis project, and ultimately accepted it. Having planned on spending the fall in Boise, this was a major change but definitely the right one. Having direction was clutch throughout this 'readjustment' process. Coming home after two years in another country and culture is no easy feat. Lack of purpose can be a real pitfall for returned volunteers. Taking on the U.S., adapting to life here, being thrown into the professional development field for the first time as an active member, needing to find and learn a new thesis topic, all while confronting the mental/emotional issues stemming from service and return was challenging. Is that an understatement? Maybe, but I think it's enough. Point is, the whole point of the post, this past Friday (April 13th, 2012) I turned in a thesis draft for the 'right to defend.' All indications at this point are that I'll be sitting down with the committee to defend my thesis in a couple of weeks. During the interim, I'll finish up my work for a regional planning commission, reporting on the surveys I did for them. Afterwards, maybe some editing, definitely a couple solid days of formatting, then I print two final copies of the thesis to turn into the graduate school for binding. I'll have come to the end of my time as a Master's International student. Peace Corps and graduate school, Micronesia and Illinois State University will be parts of my past and, yet, permanent additions to who I am. As this end approaches, I truly see the past four years as an accomplishment, one not lessened for all the failures along the way, one I can build upon, one so inextricably tied to those who befriended and supported me along the way, one I can be proud of.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
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