7 Quick Takes Friday #66

See more 7 Quick Takes Friday contributions at Jennifer Fulwiler's Conversion Diary.

It is truly incredible how quickly time can pass nearly unnoticed. That is what has happened with the quick takes series. When I looked at my last post, it was from the end of July! Really? Two months seem like merely two weeks. Well, since those two months have seem some extensive activities, let me pick just a few to share, seven actually.

1. One of the most interesting trips I have had in this two-month period was to Nebraska where I met with our branch there. One of our specialists, whom I have sent to Afghanistan for consulting several times now, introduced me to his sister, and we all went to dinner, where the most incredible story of their escape from Afghanistan was shared. If any of you have read the Kite Runner, you would have found many details familiar because of the great similarity between the stories. It is simply unbelievable what people have had to go through in order to escape from Afghanistan over the border to Pakistan and then onward. (Those whose stories I know, of course, went onward to the USA.) Most unbelievable is that the father of my employee went back to Afghanistan when Kardezai came into power to help the new government. He holds a high post; therefore, for his safety I can give no more specific details. All I will say, then, is that there are people who have challenges in this life, and then there are people whose challenges are so extreme as to appear somehow to be beyond life.

For those with an interest in the challenges of living in Afghanistan and leaving Afghanistan, there is a great but haunting movie, called Kandahar. The movie is about a Canadian-Afghani woman who is trying to reach Kandahar to help her sister, who is severely depressed by the events taking place there. I don't want to give away the ending, so I will say no more than that it is worth watching, very information (a semi-documentary), but with a heart-rending ending.

2. In August, I tripped to Washington, DC, for two different business events. While I cannot go into details of either business event, since both events were closely associated with US government affairs, I can say that one meeting took place at the Pentagon. For some reason, the general who was leading to the meeting decided that he liked me, and after the meeting, he asked me, "Do you want to see a really cool room?" Well, who could say no to that? The room he showed me is one that appears in movies from time to time (in which the directors guess at what it might look like). The directors have portrayed it in such interesting ways that now the Pentagon has hired one of them to redesign the room in keeping with the movies! (Life is stranger than fiction sometimes.)

3. The very next week, I ran back eastward almost to the same location: Baltimore, Maryland. There we had a meeting of all our branch managers. The last time we all met (we do this twice a year) was in Hawaii. At that time, there was an earthquake in Japan that, as you probably all recall, resulted in a tsunami there and in Hawaii. If you remember the third week of August in the Washington-Baltimore area, you will probably recall that on Tuesday there was a historic earthquake that caused both damage to building and concern to individuals. (In California, earthquakes are business as usual, but not so on the East Coast.) Then, at the end of that week, Hurricane Irene arrived. We all wondered how much of this was really only coincidence -- where we all meet, the earth unsettles itself. Hm...our next meeting is to take place in Texas in the spring. Flash floods or tornado? I wonder which it will be!

4. A really unique thing happened in early September. Donnie and I took our first vacation in years and years. We decided to visit my relatives in Maine. Unfortunately, my brother, Keith, with whom we had planned to stay, was sent by his employer on business to California (not far from where we live) the very same week! We ended up staying at St. Anthony's Franciscan Monastery, a truly inspirational place, in Kennebunkport, Maine, not far from all my relatives. While there, we took the cog railway to the top of Mount Washington in NH, home to the world's worst weather (a mild day when we were there: winds at 83 mph, 28 degrees, moderate sleet, and covered in clouds -- of course, it was only the beginning of fall; there is plenty of time for the weather to grow its normal worse). On a different day, we took the sunset cruise on Lake Winnipesaukee with a friend from my high school graduating class. Of course, we also got to to visit scads of relatives, eat a wicked amount of lobster (including lobster rolls, lobster pizza), and spend hours with a "lost" GPS in the backwoods. I also enjoyed the early morning Masses each day before we set out for one or another point. Ironically, we never made it to the beach even though we were walking distance away! Go figure!

5. On the way home, we spent a day in Boston. (We flew into and out of Logan Airport there.) En route to Boston, we stopped in Boxford and had lunch with another high school chum, who had married and moved to that area. It was great fun, catching up on a couple score of missed years. Then, in Boston, we picked up our older daughter, Lizzie, in town from South Carolina for a conference and met a common friend from Colombia for dinner at the harbor. We stayed just a couple of miles away from the restaurant, but our GPS took us on a two-hour (!! no exaggeration !!) drive to get there. Fortunately, we had left significantly early, but we arrived significantly late. Our friend explained to us why a GPS works so poorly in Boston: all the underground roads really confuse it because it keeps losing the satellite signal. All is well that ends well. We got back to Lizzie's hotel and our hotel easily by turning off the GPS and using our friend's written directions.

6. I no sooner got back home than I had to take off for Madrid, Spain, where I had some business to take care of. one of my employees (a Spanish speaker, yes!) came with me, as did the director of another division. We met with counterparts in Toledo (and learned the supposed origin of the expression, holy Toledo), an immensely beautiful city that looks today much like it was portrayed by El Greco. We also met counterparts in Alcala, childhood home of Cervantes, creator of Don Quixote. And, of course, we did spend some time in Madrid, where, on a positive note, I was able to attend daily Mass and experience some of the local Spanish dialect, and where, on a negative note, my credit cards were compromised and had to be replaced. (I won't go into that story; it was rather annoying.)


7. I just got back and, surprisingly, was fortunate enough to be able to get today off from work. (I have a lot of annual leave that I have to use before the end of the year, so I am looking forward to some more leave some time this month, work permitting.) It being First Friday, I spent the day at our local St. Francis Retreat Center, where Fr. Philip did a beautiful lecture, Mass, and contemplative session and where I got to spend time with friends who regularly attend First Friday. So, while the week has been hectic, the ending was calm and peaceful. A great way to start the weekend.

I wish you a pleasant weekend, as well!

Two Rocks

That is the only souvenir I brought back from Afghanistan: two rocks. That is about all I could find while I was there, partly because I was in the hinterlands and partly because the country is impoverished to the point of having little of the range of normal "souvenirs" that I might bring back. There were some high end items, such as rugs and shawls, very modestly priced, but these are not the typical things I bring back. These are things specifically made for tourists, and I prefer back to bring back artifacts of daily life. So, I brought back rocks.

Yet, even had I been able to find some others things, I may have chosen to bring back rocks, anyway. There is something special about bringing back a rock: it is a piece of the land. There is certainly nothing more Afghani than a piece of the country's desert or mountains.

My catechism students understood this very well on some deep level. Last year when I went to Bahrain, I told them I would bring them back anything (within financial reason) that they would like. They asked for rocks! There were many souvenirs I could have purchased easily for them. Instead, one of my good Bahraini friends and I spent an extremely enjoyable evening hunting for the very best rocks on the beaches around Manama. (An island has no lack of beaches -- or rocks.) So, instead of bringing back a curiosity or tourist's treasure, for my students I brought back rocks, uh, a physical piece of Bahrain.

As for the two rocks I brought back from Afghanistan, they will proudly join the rock I plucked years ago from the Yambash River in Turkmenistan near the Iranian border. I may have left both countries, but with my rocks, the countries will never leave me. Now, what could be a better souvenir?

Afghanistan, That's Where!

For all those who participated in the guessing contest as to where I was and for all those who did not participate, here is the answer: Afghanistan. (One person guessed it -- quite amazing, actually.) What an interesting trip! I cannot say it was enjoyable exactly for I was in the outskirts of civilization, even Afghani civilization, without connectivity of any kind that would have been available in central Kabul. I did use my iPhone to communicate for a while until AT&T sent a dire text message that based on my location and amount of text, I would have to work until I was 99 to pay off the costs. That halted any further connection with the rest of the world.

I had seen pictures of Afghanistan -- the dusty desert, the musty mountains. It seems that life of any sort -- animal or plant or human -- has an incredible struggle to live. Dusty feet in worn, torn sandals walked the streets where I was. In Kabul, there were similar sightings, but there were also cars, many of them, old but running. There was the constant lowering of men's eyes and the shuffling of women within burqas. (One Afghan wanted to put a burqa on me and take me home to his family. That would have been risky for both of us, so I declined what might have been an interesting cultural experience.) Good food at good prices with good service was the norm in restaurants, but these were things mainly for foreigners. I found essentially two classes: the haves and the have-nots. As always, there is potential in that disharmony for violence. And certainly violence can be found there. The Afghan is perhaps best described as a soft soul in a hard shell. As a foreigner, one wonders which of the hard shells are safe to attempt to break open and which are not. More than anything, I wanted to help these people, but there is little that one person can do, so I just lent my professional expertise, which is really all I have to give anyone. (I suspect that any side that can give these people jobs and a life that allows just a little peace and even a tad of comfort will win the current war.)

By way of stark contrast, I got stuck in Dubai when my luggage did not hop from one flight to another as quickly as I did. So, I slept in a house of glass, chrome, and mirrors (the Hilton Hotel), rode to and from the 106th floor of the Birj Khalifa (Khalifa Tower) in an elevator that moved faster than free fall, ate scrumptious hammour, the tastiest fish in the world, in an well-cushioned Arab restaurant that offered shisha (hubbly bubbly) as well. I did not feel rich. I felt unfairly privileged, embarrassed, ashamed that I could waste $30 on an elevator ride to overlook the city when many families in Afghanistan would be grateful for only a part of that to feed their children.

Safi Air, the airline of Afghanistan, blended rather harmoniously the characteristics of one of the richest cities in the world, Dubai, with one of the poorest, Kabul. The airplane, purchased from a Slavic nation (I could read and understand the signs on the plane but did not recognize the language other than through its Slavic roots), was clean and modern. The stewardesses were dressed in beautiful traditional genie-style uniforms. The food was tasty and high quality. On the other hand, there was no airline-owned magazine; a bank provided its magazine for readers (good advertising, I guess). Customer service was superb. I would recommend the airline to anyone.

In fact, in leaving the country, I told the ticket agent that. I had some time to talk to him on an interpersonal level because a traveling companion took our luggage to be strapped -- his had broken enroute to Dubai and, having repaired it, he did not want a repeat on the way home. I told the agent that we had brought some work stuff with us in a foot locker that was overweight so that he would be prepared to expect the overweight. We had come early so that we would have time to deal with overweight requirements and fees. (We had to pay $400 enroute to Afghanistan in overweight fees.) When my travel companion (another employee of our organization) brought the luggage over, the agent weighed each piece, marked it, and gave us the baggage tag, along with our tickets. When I asked where to go to pay the overweight fee, he looked at me and said simply, "I have waived the fee; that is Afghanistan's gift to you."

All I could think was that it is always seems to be the people with the least who give the most. Thank you, Afghanistan! I will be praying for you, for all your people -- those that might be considered friends and those that might be considered foes. That will be my gift to you.

7 Quick Takes Friday #33

Another week, another seven days of work, at least another seven learning experiences. Here are the thoughts that have accompanied this week's experiences. Thanks to Jennifer Fulwiler for hosting the 7 Quick Takes meme at Conversion Diary.

1. Last Friday, I ended up at Mass accidentally. I suppose it would have been much better had I ended up there intentionally, but rarely do I have Friday noon available. Work seems to tumble right up to departure time and then spills into the Mass time itself. Last Friday was no different, or so I thought. As I drove into my parking spot, one of my employees approached me to talk about matters in his department. Ah, I thought with resignation as I listened intently to the information he wished to share, one more week without being able to take advantage of Mass being offered at the little church down the road from my office -- or lunch! (The church near my office is a far cry in beauty, historicity, or even numbers of worshipers from the old mission here in San Ignatio and a place where I know no one, but Mass is Mass and I had attended once before when I was able to sneak away from work while no one was looking.) As we were talking, my employee looked at his watch and excused himself, saying that he had to hurry because he wanted to go to Mass. "Oh, take me with you!" I exclaimed, and off we went. The priest who celebrated Mass was an elderly gent who reminded me very much of my beloved Fr. Barry, who was transferred out of our diocese six months ago. It turned out that my employee knew most of the people who regularly attend Mass there and introduced me to them. What a blessing Friday noon turned out to be!

2. Saturday morning dawned too early. We had to be up because the first thing in the morning the carpet cleaner, Eric, who had spent the afternoon cleaning the carpet throughout the house in preparation for two upcoming parties, was coming back to redo a portion of what he already cleaned because because Donnie had brought chairs that he had set on the porch back into the house, dragging them and his dirty shoes over the newly clean carpet without realizing it was still wet. Dark black streaks glared from the white carpet. Eric came bright and early and quickly cleaned up Donnie's mess. He stayed a bit and talked and would take no money for the extra work. That is the way it is in small towns, or at least in our small town. I went out onto the porch to say goodbye to him, then walked back over the wet carpet with socks made dusty from the front porch. There were the black marks again! Well, gray marks. Thank God for Resolve! After the carpet dried, I could take care of my dirty work myself.

3. On Sunday, Donnie and I attended a funeral mass for the mother of one of my employees at St. Mary Assyrian Chaldean Catholic Church in Campbell, California. What the employee forgot to tell me was (1) the Mass would be conducted in Aramaic and (2) women need a head covering in order to take communion. I probably could have guess both these situations, but I did not think ahead and so was quite unprepared, especially for the Eucharist, which I was unable to take. (I could comment on that, but I won't.) The Mass was celebrated by Fr. Yoshia Sana, who is originally from Iraq and was posted to the Campbell church by Rome. Present-day Chaldeans and Assyrians come from the northern regions of Iraq and the eastern regions of Syria. Ethnically, they are the descendants of the ancient inhabitants of Mesopotamia. Culturally, they are the heirs of the Aramaic language and culture of Jesus; most of the local population in this part of California, particularly those in my employ, speak as their everyday first language modern Aramic (which differs from the language of Jesus's day in that all languages add/drop/change vocabulary and simplify grammar over time). You can read more about Assyrians and Chaldeans here (much of the information is in Arabic, but if you cannot read Arabic, keep digging, there is much information in English, as well. There were helpful missals in all the pews at the church. At first, I thought great, Arabic, but as I looked more closely and tried to read (nary a word could I understand), I realized that there were additional letters beyond those present in the Arabic alphabet. It is rare that I end up somewhere where I cannot understand at least something of what is being said in the local language, but Sunday was one of those rare occasions. We also went to the sitting (an Arabic way of paying respect to the departed that involves men together and women together -- poor Donnie had no way to communicate because none of the men, except my employee, spoke English well enough for communication; at least, I could speak Arabic with the women, but Donnie had learned little Arabic when we lived in Jordan and has forgotten most of what he did know.

4. On Monday, I had the day off! Yes! Happy Fourth a day late! We held a BBQ for my prayer group and others from Old Mission Church. We brought Doah down, and he celebrated with us. Donnie cooked. (No one would have permitted me to cook, given my reputation for burning or otherwise ruining any food I touch.) Shane, Lemony, and kids showed up. It was the first time I saw Nathaniel up close and personal with his new spiked haircut. I almost did not recognize him. "Grandma! You know who I am!" he complained. The prayer group members, who had done a lot of praying for Nikolina but had never met her, were delighted to see her. They were astonished at her progress from nearly hopeless to full of life.

5. Tuesday I attended an all-day, in-house, mini-conference for everyone within the organization. We have one a year. I am not actively involved in setting them up; there is a committee, overseen by my boss, the local head of our organization, that does that. I arrived at the plenary session promptly because a friend and colleague, someone I have worked closely with for nearly 30 years, was coming from the East Coast to be the keynote speaker. Delighted to see me, he immediately made plans for us to get together the next day to discuss some things of mutual business interest, and we did. The best part of the day, however, was an incidental discussion with one of the junior leaders of another division. She had worked for me years ago when I first worked at our organization. (I worked there from 1989-1993, then left for 13 years, returning in 2006.) She told me the history of the annual conference -- me! I was astonished. We had done such a conference on a small scale in my division years ago. A couple of years after I left, she happened to be working on a project where she was in a position to make a recommendation to an advisory committee that the whole organization pick up on this idea and conduct an annual in-house conference, and management agreed. This has now been going on almost 15 years. When she saw me, she said, "Look what your conference turned into!" I did not understand until she explained. Oh, my, it is good to feel that one has made a contribution somewhere! (I do realize, however, that it took many other people with as good or better ideas really to turn it into the major event that it is today.)

6. Wednesday I had my first Pashto lesson. One day not long ago when I was handing out cookies to employees on one of my famous MBWA (management by walking about) afternoons, one of our Afghani employees, learning that I have been involved in some Afghanistan-related projected, offered to teach me Pashto. I emailed him, thanking him for the offer and taking him up on it if he was still inclined to help me. Indeed, he was! He came to my office on Wednesday, nervous as all get-out. After all, he is one of our traveling employees so I don't know him very well, and I am his boss's boss's boss. That lengthy chain can unnerve some folks although most, given my open-door policy and occasional afternoon cookies, have become used to interacting with me. Jamal perched nervously on one of the chairs at the conference table in my office. Seeing his nervousness, I took a slightly lower chair, so that he could look down on me, not up to me. That seemed to do the trick of throwing us into the proper teacher and student roles. Pashto is the 18th language I have studied, so I do not find it difficult. Jamal expected to teach me part of the alphabet that first day and was quite surprised to learn that I already know the alphabet (except for three letters). The alphabet is the same as the Arabic alphabet, which I have known since my days of living in Jordan. He quickly taught me the three letters, the days of the week, greetings, numbers to 1000, all the pronouns in the language, present tense of some verbs, sentence structure, possessive prepositions. In one hour, we were already communicating in the language albeit in short, limited sentences, banal questions and answers. Jamal left his glasses behind; when I contacted him to return them, he said it was because he was so overwhelmed by all the work we had accomplished in such a short time that he lost his head! :) We had our second hour today (well, actually, 30 minutes is all I could squeak out, but now I can talk about things in the future and past tenses, can describe my town and state, saying such things as "San Ignatio is a beautiful, historic town located in California in the southwest part of the USA," "I will be going to Jordan on the 19th of August and returning on the 25th," "I come to work every day at 7:00 in the morning but today I came at 7:30," and "I have seven children, four boys and three girls." Jamal is so excited about having an experienced language learner that he came in from vacation today and is coming in again tomorrow to teach me. I guess he got over his nerves!! The downside? I don't do homework (no time for that), but I warned him about that in advance.

7. I finally got around to reviewing a book proposal for Cambridge University Press. They tend to ask my opinion before giving contracts for new books because the two books I have published through them have been their most successful. Unfortunately, I could not give even one thumbs up to this particular book. I always feel a tad guilty when this happens because I know how hard it is to put a book proposal together and how disappointing it is to get a negative response. On the other hand, the editors/authors should have done their homework a little better and been a little humbler in their presentation. They claimed that the whole world would be excited about their book. Well, probably not. In fact, I suspect that only libraries would buy it and then only if it were to carry the CUP label. They claimed that their work was seminal. Well, no, they even listed others who had written on the topic in their bibliography. They listed someone with a well known name in the field as writing the final chapter. Well, perhaps he would do that but they had not included an abstract, so clearly he had not cooperated with them on a deadline and, while famous (and a bit infamous), in my opinion, he does not have enough experience in the narrow field about which the book editors were collecting chapters to make reliable and valid commentary. While I always dislike giving a thumbs down on proposals, it is not fair to either authors or the press to encourage the publication of a book that is likely to be a bomb. That, I suppose, is why I have a reputation for honest and frank reviews, which I would prefer to retain.

7 Quick Takes Friday #29

I have been traveling all day. Actually, more accurately, I have been traveling for 27 hours. It was supposed to be longer, but when I noticed that my London-Los Angeles trip required me to clear customs in San Francisco, then get on the plane, go to LA, wait and get on another plane for San Jose, just minutes from San Francisco, I talked to the United representative about cutting my trip short in San Fran, which is really only one hour from home. (I would have traveled for another 7 hours within the state of California. I think I will have to have a chat with my admin assistant when I see her, which will not be until mid-June because of more travel ahead of me!)