JUST CLOWNING AROUND

So ... my dear, sweet fellow MVC volunteer signed us up to coordinate the St. Joseph Mercy Employee Talent Show, part of a Fun Day we're having at the hospital. Having done some acting in my day, I thought that I'd have a little fun drumming up support and acts for the show. So I scrounged around for pieces of a costume and a few props, borrowed a set of scrubs from the OR, walked like a little old man, changed my voice to sound a bit like a Gorg from Fraggle Rock and became "Dr. Clown". (You can see Dr. Clown in the patient and family services office/alcove (my department!) with Leila, the receptionist, flashlight, octopus and boo-boo fish in hand. Eileen and I went around the hospital bringing laughter and getting a few people signed up for the show, and many more excited about going to see it. But the costume and character were a greater gift than I could have anticipated. One patient was beaming as I asked her son to hold my "octopus" (a little plastic one) as I fished around in my trashbag for a GIGANTIC flashlight to peer down the employees' throats and inspect for lovely singing voices, joke-telling tonsils, and the like. I pressed the sole of an old man's foot to my ear and listened intently before delivering my prognosis: it didn't look good - I couldn't make out a heartbeat. He laughed and laughed. Then there was the boy with nerve damage in his arm in the front office whose mother howled when I told her it was a good thing I didn't operate because I'd lost all my nerves. There were two ancient women on the top floor (in hospice care) who were just touched that I came by. And finally, there was a little girl screaming in the pediatrician's office, just crying and crying, and I came in and introduced myself to her, her sister and her mother, and gave her a "magic" flower and let her squeeze my huge bulbus nose and tickled her with my moustache until I left her smiling. Really, the laughter was such a blessing - as much for me as it was for them.

Dad - Please share this one with Lonnie: Any Mainer reading this right now should mark it on their calendars to head for Main St., Gray anytime after Memorial Day (I think that's the schedule). There you will find the best hot dogs in Maine, at Lonnie's hot dog stand. Now I tell you this by way of introducing this story. Eileen and I were amazed to find when we had a hamburger that things like pineapple slices and carrot shavings were included as toppings. Believe it or not, they were pretty tasty. However, Monday night on the seawall, dodging kite strings and small children, Eileen and I found ourselves at a hot dog stand, ready to try something else new. It immediately made me miss Lonnie. This dog was chicken, for starters, not the crispy red case, and more like a salad - as you can see. Onion, lettuce, carrot, tomato I'm sure (if I'd asked for it), and spicy mustard and funny-tasting ketchup on top - more like a salad than a chilidog. The Guyanese hot dog, while filling and flavorful, cannot hold a candle to my Lonnie dogs, but it'll do for now ....

Let's go fly a kite up to the highest height - Let's go fly a kite and send it soaring Up to the atmosphere, up where the air is clear - Oh let's go ... fly a kite!

I never appreciated the sheer joy in the simple pleasure of flying a kite. I treasure it even more now that I've seen the joy it brought to twentysomething young boys last weekend. I asked to assist the matrons at the Bosco Orphanage with the boys on an outing Easter Monday (a holiday here) to fly kites on the seawall in Plaisance (about 10 minutes down the highway from me). It was GREAT. Kite flying is an annual easter tradition in Guyana, the kites representing Christ rising from the dead on Easter. The skies are filled with kites of many shapes and colors, and they fly HIGH - like hundreds of feet high in the air, and stay there, supported by the stiff tradewinds coming in off the Atlantic.




























My day with the boys started off with the typical confusion of who was actually going where (and when?), which faded into getting dressed, hair brushing (must be presentable before going out), showing me the star kites, me desperately trying to learn the names of the 20 small boys that I don't know as well and general tomfoolery before we left the orphanage. We walked about 10 minutes down to the Plaisance seawall, and the kids knew what to do from there and set to work getting the kites together and up in the air. My job was mostly to watch spacing, so they wouldn't tangle in the air, and to go after the ones that were caught along the fence or in high bushes nearby. It was a hot hot day, so it was a good thing we just flew from nine to noon. I was still beat red, even with my 45 spf sunblock on. Other highlights included: the boys losing their kites and having to sprint after them through a field of dried tall grasses and mud underneath that had all kinds of holes in it from where local cows left their prints during the rainy season (needless to say, there was lots of tripping); playing "soldier" with one little boy, who would crawl on his belly across the grass while I crouched behind a bush and "covered" him; exploring the seashore after the tide went out and finding hermit crabs and their shells everywhere; and hoisting little guys up and down over the seawall (a precipitous drop at low tide). We were all exhausted by the time we got back, and the boys conked out after lunch wherever they could find space to conk. After a bus ride home, I did the same in our hammock.

Not a bunny rabbit to be seen, but the day still felt very special.

Easter also included several choir performances (one each day of the Tridium) a brunch with the gals from the choir and a lunch with the sisters and friends at the Meadowbrook Convent. That last lunch did provide little Easter baskets with bendy rabbits, which we twisted into creative poses and joked with after sipping our nip of after-dinner Bailey's.

There are also lots more pictures to come on this site - sorry, but downloading the pics onto the web seems to be the hardest part of this. If anyone more computer-savvy than I has an idea about how I can share my pictures more easily (or use the blog more easily) please please let me know, because these images say so much, and I would really like to share them with you.

A Walk in the Woods and HEI-YAA (Part Two)

My dear dad was able to come and visit with me for a week a little while ago. He is a doctor at a Mercy Hospital in Maine, and when I mentioned to Sister Sheila, a Mercy Sister and CEO of St. Joseph Mercy Hospital (see her CEO's Corner for monthly hospital news) her eyes began to gleam.

Dad's plane arrived at 7:00 in the morning on a Sunday. He had been flying since midnight. Eileen and I waited to see him coming from the gates. And waited. And waited. Just when I was about to cry and ask one of the airport taxi shirtjack squadron to go in and take a look for him, he came around the corner - with no suitcases. Now, my dad travels light, but that light was not possible. Turns out he had been collecting donations of items for anesthesia and other hospital needs, and customs didn't really know what to make of it all. Two suitcases full of medicines, medical equipment, a letter from his sending organization saying that everything is for donation .... well, we made it home without any other problems. He spent Monday and Tuesday at the hospital and got to scrub in on several surgeries and teach some new anesthesia techniques to the nurse anesthetist on staff. Everyone was very grateful that he chose to spend some time volunteering his skill and knowledge.

Then we took a little trip upriver. I took him back to the Monastery in Bartica where Eileen and I made our advent retreat last year. We went by bus, boat, taxi and foot, and it was sunny enough to take many dips in the Mazaruni River, this time. At one point, wanting to give back to the brothers for their hospitality, we found ourselves out on the access road to the Monastery in the sun, just after lunch, cutting drainage ditches along the sides of the road to help prevent further erosion when the rains come. That was hot and fun - it always feels good to help out. But oh, man, Brother Mattais gave us raspberries that night at dinner about how we looked to the neighbors when they saw a white man - a DOCTOR, no less! - doing manual labor with a pickaxe by the side of the road, and his daughter beside him, clearing the rubble with a shovel (women do not generally do any kind of heavy labor or lifting - which is considered man's work - unless they are farmers). But by the end of our time there, one of the neighbor women, who had been watching me work, decided to come and try her hand at clearing the drainage ditches too. What a great group effort that turned into!

The next day we spent the morning on a walk in the woods. This woods was not quite like the AT, as you saw from the giant palm dwarfing my father (above). Unfortunately, the image feature on this website is giving me trouble, so I'll have to post more pictures a little later. On a walk in the woods in Guyana, you see lizards about 6-8 inches long with rainbow coloring; there are toucans whistling in the trees above you; monkeys shake the branches as they follow you curiously; snakes stare at you from their sunbathing sites on logs and stumps along the trail (no poisonous ones, and not one anaconda to be seen, unfortunately); your ears are straining for the slightest hint of a leopard stirring in its sleep in a tree above you since Brother Pascal informed us that one "ate" one of his dogs shortly after the new year; and there are flowers and vines and trees like you have never even imagined much less seen. I examined the insides of one felled tree and was surprised when I didn't see rings of growth, but layers of bark interlocking like rose petals where the giant palm had grown new branches. The things that remind you how far from home you are.

Probably the most fascinating part of the walk were the emperor butterflies that accompanied us from time to time. I had seen these flitting about in Ecuador, and was amazed and delighted to be able to show dad it's beauty. Its wings are about the size of a ten year-old's hands, put thumb to thumb. They are dead-leaf-brown on the outside and brilliant, irridescent blue with black edgings on the inside. They will take your breath away, and they are fast flyers. I couldn't manage a picture of one, but it's not an image I will ever forget.

Then it was back to town, goodbye to dad at 5:00 in the morning on Saturday and on to the karate exam. Our club did very well, and many karateka (karate students) skipped belts. The four of us at my level were among them. We skipped the green belt and went straight to purple (5th level) from orange (3rd level). You may rember that I also skipped the yellow belt (2nd level) at my last exam, so this preparation and skill speaks very highly of our teachers.

There was also a tournament on Sunday. There were two categories of competition within each age and gender group: kata (rehearsed choreographed sequence of basic techniques), and kumite (free fighting, only we're not at the "free" level yet, so we go with a slightly choreographed fight sequence called three step sparring). I bombed my kata competition, not remembering exactly which one was which quickly enough, but I was fortunate enough to take first place among our group of 6 competing women in kumite. I had my picture taken with the president's wife (an honorary blackbelt) as I accepted my award. Many of our students did very well in the competitions, and it was a really neat, adrenaline-filled experience.

The bad news? The bad news is that I think I need to take a break from karate for a bit, as it is a huge time committment, and there are some other things that need my attention and time. I think karate will definitely be a part of my life in the future, though the study is more appealing to me than the competition. I do miss my team sports, though. Karate ain't got nothin' on a good game of ultimate!