jud dolphin adventure

Winter Art

2012-01-16T22:43:00.004-05:00

I never thought I would say this, "I'm missing winter." After two years in Ukraine, you might think I had enough of snow and ice. But here I am in Washington DC with temperatures in the 50s and 60s and only a few below freezing. Last week it was warm enough to have a picnic in a park and I did.

Yikes, it's January!

Maybe to compensate for the unusual weather, I've been creating snow scenes in my art. It's been a lot of fun and I feel like I'm improving week by week. I started with scanning my photos of Maine winters for inspiration. These two take me back to my wonderful years in Portland. Then I heard on the radio that Portland was surprised by below zero or maybe not so surprised. I remember... Mainiacs seem to take it in stride even as they sigh, "Here we go again."

Original photos of Mainer winter

My first painting is a small one about 5" x 8". People often ask, "Where's it from?" Of course the best thing about watercolors is that pictures come from the imagination.

Original Watercolor - Winter Walk

I remember the birch trees that are ubiquitous in Ukraine as well as Maine. I looked through the web for inspiration and pulled together this painting. I like the glow of color that also leaves a viewer wondering, "Is it the sun rising or setting or is it a fire or ...?"

Original Watercolor - Winter Glow

I took this photo in Ukraine. It was a cold crisp day when the sun was so bright that the shadows turned blue. I wanted to give a watercolor life to the photo and express my own feelings. It looks easy to do, but believe me it is not. It took me three attempts to get the blue wash smooth enough and the shadow acceptable - not too light or too dark, but just right. Here's my rendition.

Original Watercolor - Winter Blue

I love winter storms. Well...let me be more precise. I love the first winter storm. When I lived in Maine, I would snap on my snow shoes and go for long walks in the woods. In Ukraine necessity meant you walked everywhere. Maybe it's the kid in me but when the snow is whistling across a field I feel exurberant and so wonderfully alive. Of course by March, I've had enough. Yet in both Ukraine and Maine, winter has plenty more to dish out.

Original Watercolor - Winter Storm

Painting has become a kind of New Year resolution for me. I sent several photos of my work to friends in Ukraine. As they replied with Happy New Year wishes, they also encouraged me to keep creating. I think that's what I most like about watercolors. I face a blank sheet of paper with only an idea in my head. I mix some colors. Sketch and outline. And them swoosh on my first brush of paint. Idea becomes form. A new creation takes shape.

My Hallway of Ukrainian Art

Peace Corps: You Can Do It

2011-12-21T11:02:00.000-05:00

Friends and family ask, "Well, what was it like in Ukraine?"

I say, "It was a grand adventure...one of the best in my life."

Saying goodbye to Luda who hosted me in her home during training

Maybe I add a story about living in a Soviet style apartment or tell something about one of my projects. Usually that satisfies the questioner unless the person is more curious. On those occasions, I get to share more stories of projects and people and living in Ukraine. I try to stop before eyes glaze over...(chuckle!)

Now many of those stories are captured in a video. Before I left Ukraine, actually my last day, the Peace Corps ask me to share my experiences for future groups of Peace Corps Volunteers.

I had given presentations at two Peace Corps workshops. Labeled "21 Tips for Community Integration" , it was well received.

Yelena, Director of Hearts of Love, meets me during Peace Corps swearing in ceremony , June 2009

Douglas, our Country Director complimented me and liked the refrain I used - "Yes, you can do it too" - and a number of new volunteers told me that they referred to the PowerPoint presentation especially during their first months at site.

So I was pleased, although a little nervous, to make the presentation again and this time into a video camera. I felt that I did okay, but if you ever have done anything like this, you know that as a presenter with only a camera as an audience, you don't really know. The camera gives no feed-back and mostly you're just glad it's over. The Peace Corps staff said they would edit pictures and slides from my PowerPoint Presentation into the video.

I left Ukraine in June of 2011. Since then, I wondered from time to time what became of the video. But I never heard a word until this week.

The staff had been working on the video. A final version has been prepared and is being used with new Peace Corps Volunteers.

Iryna Krupska, who directs training for the Peace Corps in Ukraine, shares in an email:

"It felt like you were here, while we watched the final version of the video. I could feel your kindness and wisdom, your big and loving heart in every word you were saying. I just keep being amazed at how inspiring and instructive your tips are. I’m sure that many generations of PCVs will benefit from them and as a result would be able to better understand Ukraine, have more patience and inspiration and have a more rewarding give and take experience here.

THANK YOU for continuing your service to Ukraine!"

The video has been placed on the web and can be viewed at http://vimeo.com/33968664

Amazingly, the adventure continues...What a ride!

Leadership at Home

2011-11-16T22:01:00.004-05:00

I admit it. Sometimes, I get fed up and just turn-off the news. Can you blame me?

Here is a sample from the past week - Occupy Wall Street protesters evicted from park. Greece and now Italy face economic catastrophe. Republican Presidential Candidate, Michele Bachmann, favors waterboarding. Congressional Special Committee cannot agree on budget and taxes. The House GOP wants to reclassify pizza as a vegetable. Penn State coach accused of pedophilia.

In Washington DC, I get a constant flow of information. When I was in Ukraine, I was lucky to get NPR’s All things Considered once a week via the web. Now I have multiple NPR channels and of course, cable news programing each with its own right or left wing slant. The news even becomes comedy. Check out the Daily Show if you haven’t already done so.

News is unending 24/7 with no brake for holidays. Maybe that’s why I get to feeling over-satiated, ill like going back to the Thanksgiving buffet once too many times….ugh!

That’s when I like to escape. I make a cup of tea and turn on the classical music. Give me the rhythmic precision of a Bach Goldberg Variation to soothe the inner turmoil and the outer clamor. It’s lovely, nuanced and predicable.

Today, I am listening to music. Sunday’s Washington Post lays sprawled across the floor by my reading chair. I pick it up and cannot resist thumbing through the articles. I guess I can’t escape from the world of news for very long.

As I read the following article, my inner voice says, “This makes sense.” The editorial writer, Steven Pearlstein, creates a counter punctual Variation from the cacophony of weekly headlines. I wonder if the Dems and the GOP can put aside rivalries over the next election and focus on the common good? Do we have the leadership? Pearlstein gives some plausible hope.

Here is the editorial as it appeared in the Washington Post and syndicated around the Country. Give it a read and let me know how it strikes you. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.

By Steven Pearlstein, The Washington Post

Posted Nov. 13, 2011, at 6:41 a.m.

The global financial system teeters on the edge of collapse because European politicians refused to tell citizens of their crumbling economies that they could no longer guarantee them “la dolce vita” — the sweet life — they had come to expect.

Top executives at Olympus, one of Japan’s leading companies, resign in shame after acknowledging that for nearly 20 years they used a complex accounting scheme to hide billions of dollars in speculative trading losses.

A revered coach and a respected president at Penn State are fired because they were more concerned about protecting their own reputations, and that of their school, than protecting young boys from an alleged sexual predator.

And a former governor, senator and head of Goldman Sachs resigns as chief executive of MF Global after bankrupting the broker-dealer with overleveraged bets on European sovereign bonds.

Welcome to this week’s exciting episode of “Failures in Leadership.”

Leadership is difficult to define but easy to notice when it’s gone missing. Surely any definition of leadership includes the instinct for seeing the big picture, the ability to get people to acknowledge unpleasant reality, and the willingness to take the personal risks necessary to secure the common good. By that definition, the world would appear to be suffering from a profound leadership deficit.

In hindsight, it seems perfectly obvious what should have been done in each of these instances. Everyone knows it’s crazy to play Russian roulette with the nation’s economy or a company, university or industry. Except that they did.

Why?

“At the time, it seemed like we didn’t have a choice,” says the Demi Moore character in “Margin Call,” a new movie about the recent financial crisis, as she recalled her firm’s fateful decision to disregard warnings about a mortgage market crash.

“It always does,” replies the Stanley Tucci character.

I’m guessing that’s how it seemed at the time to the political leaders of Greece and Italy, who couldn’t imagine a world where public employees couldn’t retire at 55. Or the top brass at Olympus, who couldn’t imagine the shame of reporting huge trading losses. Or coach Joe Paterno, who couldn’t imagine allowing a moral stain on his stellar record. Or Jon Corzine, who couldn’t imagine clients would mind his using their money for just a short while to keep the firm afloat. They each had a choice, and they made the wrong one.

To politicians in Washington, it now seems they have no choice but to stick with their party as one more blue-ribbon panel — the congressional “supercommittee” — tries to come up with a bipartisan compromise to rein in the runaway federal budget deficit.

For reasons that have mostly to do with ideology and political gamesmanship rather than economics, Republicans have been insisting on a plan that relies solely on cutting spending on domestic programs and entitlements. They offer Americans the promise of growing our way out of the economic hole we now find ourselves in simply by repealing regulations and lavishing more tax cuts on corporations and those heroic “job creators” in the million-dollar bracket.

What you’ll notice if you listen to Republicans describing their plans is that they involve no pain for anyone except overcompensated, underperforming government workers and the undeserving poor.

Among the Republican presidential candidates, the race to wipe out entire government departments has become so intense that one of them couldn’t even remember all the ones he plans to ax.

Do those who propose to eliminate the Commerce Department plan to do away with the Census Bureau and the National Weather Service? If there are no federal funds flowing to local school districts from the Education Department, does that mean Republicans are in favor of raising state and local taxes to make up for the lost revenue?

Of course, these bold proposals are nothing more than political talking points meant to satisfy the mad hatters at the Republican tea party, not serious proposals by serious leaders. As Republicans see it, there is no need to talk about shared sacrifice because there’s no need for sacrifice. Just give them the chance to spread a little free-market fairy dust and America will magically be back on top again, where God had meant her to be all along.

As a group, Democrats have been better only by comparison. They offer their own version of painless budget solutions that they’d have you believe puts all the burden on millionaires and oil companies. They pander to the elderly by telling them there is no problem with Social Security that can’t be solved with higher payroll taxes on the rich, and no problem with Medicare that can’t be solved by government price controls on hospitals and prescription drugs.

They pander to the middle class by promising to lower their taxes, make college more affordable and use the words “middle class” in every third sentence. Although Democrats think more infrastructure investment is vital, it’s apparently not vital enough to warrant a modest increase in fuel taxes to pay for it.

Along these lines, a special shout-out goes to the AARP, the seniors lobby, which has been busy with a TV campaign threatening both parties with political retribution if they dare to slow the growth in spending for Medicare and Social Security. The ads feature a seemingly kindly gentleman who summons up indignation as he declares that seniors won’t stand for being denied the programs they’ve already paid for. Too bad it’s not true: They take out more than they put in to either system.

The ads also are based on the false premise that if we slow the runaway growth in Medicare spending to something closer to the growth in national income, seniors will be denied the care they need. Along with most everyone else in America, seniors are getting hundreds of billions of dollars worth of unnecessary care, or the wrong care, which can be eliminated with no harm to anyone other than doctors, hospitals and drug companies. Failing to slow the growth in health-care spending won’t just bankrupt Medicare — it will bankrupt the country.

Just like the Greeks and Italians, just like the Olympus executives, just like the folks at Penn State and MF Global, the United States is at that “profile in courage” moment when our leaders have to be willing to risk their careers in order to prevent a disaster. Whatever downsides there might be from raising taxes on small-business owners or asking seniors to wait another year for Medicare or eliminating tax breaks for oil companies, you can be sure that all of them would be better off with those than the financial calamity that is otherwise sure to befall us.

President Obama and Speaker Boehner have demonstrated they are ready to embrace such a compromise, and the latest Democratic and Republican proposals leaked from the supercommittee are hopeful signs that others may join them. If it happens, my guess is that it would unfold something like this:

The final deal will be struck among three Democrats (Sens. Kerry and Baucus and Rep. Van Hollen) and four Republicans (Sens. Toomey and Portman, Reps. Camp and Upton) — the bare majority necessary to trigger an up or down vote on the plan in both the House and Senate.

The deal will involve between $650 billion and $750 billion in additional revenue over the next 10 years as part of a sweeping reform of the tax code that will get the top rates for individuals and corporations below 30 percent. There will be about $1.5 trillion in spending cuts, at least half from entitlement programs, plus savings from foregone interest payments. To provide an immediate boost to the economy, an earmark-free $100 billion public works bill will be tacked on for good measure. Total debt reduction: about $2.5 trillion.

First stop will be the Senate, where a bipartisan group of 45 has committed itself to voting for such a package, where the bill will be managed not by Majority Leader Reid but by No. 2 Democrat Durbin. Schumer Democrats and DeMint Republicans will rail against it. In the end, both Reid and Republican Leader McConnell will seize the historical moment and vote aye.

In the House, Boehner will break from his own caucus and, with a hundred other Republicans, vote for the plan, along with an even greater number of Democrats corralled by Democratic Whip Hoyer. Republican leader Cantor will lead the tea party fight against it. Under pressure from her president, Democratic leader Pelosi will defect from liberal colleagues and vote aye.

This would be the American answer to the “unity governments” now taking power in Italy and Greece, in their cases too late to avoid years of painful austerity and restructuring. Whether it can happen here depends on the willingness of those three Democrats and four Republicans to buck their party caucuses, ignore the special interests and put their own political futures on the line, jumping together into the cold waters of bipartisan compromise.

Those who argue that it will require the 2012 elections to break the political stalemate are just kidding themselves. Voters are neither equipped nor inclined to create grand bargains. Those require leadership. If the budget deficit is not tamed now, the chances are it won’t be until the economy is in a steep decline and the financial barbarians are at the gate. And at that point we’ll all be looking back and wondering what could they possibly have been thinking in the fall of 2011?

Washington DC Quake

2011-08-24T11:50:00.002-04:00

It's the day after the Washington, DC Quake of 2011. Here's what I experienced when the ground shook and ordinary time became an indelible memory.

I"m enjoying brunch with a group of grad students. They are from American University. This week they will start their classes in International Studies. With orientation scheduled for Thursday, I wanted to mark the occasion with a little celebration. "Let's have a brunch."

We are finishing our meal when the quake hits at 1:52 pm.

At first I think it's someone playing a joke and jiggling the table underneath. Or maybe it's a a construction truck from the building of a new Walgreen store on the corner. The low rumbling sound could easily be coming from a fleet of construction vehicles. But why? What's happening?

Then the stained glass chandelier above the table begins to swing and we all look at each other in shock. What do we do now?

I was going to run outside onto my patio, but a young woman from California says "NO!" She advises that the safest place is under a door frame. Who would have thought? With 16 floors of concrete above me, I followed her advice.

We all scurry into my short hallway that connects bathroom, bedroom and living room. Crammed under several doorways, we stand stunned and watch the pictures sway on the walls. Something falls off a shelf and crashes to the floor. Oh no!

At such times, you are suppose to have a mental flash-backs of your life. Accomplishments, regrets, people you love and so forth.

Me? I said, "Damn, just when I got all my boxes unpacked, look at what's happening. I'll have a mess to clean up." So much for spiritual depth and insight. Fortunately only one item fell from the shelves and it was not broken.

The quake was over in about 15 seconds or so, but I kept shaking. Never before had I experienced one. The grad students all said that my back-to-school brunch "Rocked and Rolled."

Considering what might have been, all is well in Washington. Several spires on the National Cathedral fell to the ground. It is situated on the highest point of the City. I can only imagine the sway that caused this damage. But no one was hurt.

The 127 year old the Washington Monument is closed for inspection. A few fractures were spotted near the top.

A swimming pool in a sports center at the top of a shopping complex cracked and spilled water on a Target and Best Buys below. But again no one was hurt.

I wonder if there will be Quake Sales. Maybe it will "level" some of the prices. (My brother is responsible for this pun!)

A friend from Lafayette says, "I had no idea that DC was on a fault. I thought that the only fault was above ground in the House of Representatives." I was hoping for a shake-up. But thankfully, life just goes on....

On My Way: Back in America

2011-08-05T23:54:00.003-04:00

I’m on my way to being back in America. I've been here for two months and I have had my share of returning culture shocks. Sometimes I notice the speed of American life. I feel like a mini-car on the DC beltway dodging congestion and racing forward. People seem driven. Every day demands more and more. As they say, Americans are highly productive.

I look at young professionals going to work. In Kiev the escalators moving into the Metro goes at double speed, but here it’s the people. I see a young woman, professionally dressed, but in sneakers, actually racing down the escalator like she is competing in a race. And maybe she is.

I notice that everyone in America has technology in hand. While cell phones are ubiquitous in Ukraine, smart phones and I-Phones and Blackberries have taken over America. People meld into their electronic possibilities.

A blue suited young man pulls out his electronic device and stares at its 2.2 inch screen. His thumbs are busy typing or flicking across the Internet. He’s so absorbed that I think there could be a robbery happening near-by and he would not notice. American life has gotten even more intense or maybe I have forgotten what it was like back in 2008.

I miss the slower pace of Konotop. I miss the children at Hearts of Love who greet me every day with warm enthusiasm. I miss running into friends at the Konotop fountain and exchanging greetings in Russian.

I think about my Peace Corps buds and hanging out at the local café or making pizza for the gang (mine is the best!). I yearn for phone calls from Ukrainian friends who have practiced these English phrases so that they can give me a proper invite to a family dinner or a picnic in the forest and a swim in the river. I miss the simple pleasures of everyday life and the people who made them so enjoyable.

Peace Corps friends: Rose and Jeramie

Moving on gives a legacy of memories, but then surrounds them with longing. I close my eyes and I am in Konotop. Last night I dreamt of Konotop. It was not a story-dream as much as it was a people-dream. Faces flashed before me like slides on a screen. Luda, Yelena, Marat, Andre, Anton, Arteom, Oksana, Maxim, Anna, Ilia, and little Maria. I cuddled her in my arms.

If you could have seen me, I think you would have noticed a smile on my face. I love the people of Konotop and the privilege of serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer. But of course, I’ve moved on. I open my eyes and here I am in Washington, DC.

Thankfully, I’ve been surrounded by good friends. Bob and Joann Bell and their son, Bob, have opened their home as I repatriate into my old life. Bob and I became friends in 1968 at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and have stayed in contact all these many years. It’s wonderful.

Bob is the first American I meet upon my return. He greets me at National Airport. After nearly 24 hours of travel, his warm smile makes me feel like I am home. I will always be grateful for his hospitality and friendship. I stay with the Bells for about 5 weeks. There’s much to do. I must finalize details for the purchase of my co-op apartment and start my Social Security, Pensions and Medicare.

I find myself in a Catch-22 situation. The Co-op Board hesitates to approve my application to buy a unit because I have no cash flow. Since I have been out of the Country, I have not been able to have my Social Security and Pensions kick in. It will take a month or so. I have investments, but alas I show no cash flow. What to do? For a few days, I wonder if I will be homeless.

My realtor knows the president of the management company and writes a letter. Like Ukraine, people connections are important. Approval comes and I make settlement on June 20^th. It’s official. I now live at 3001 Veazey Terrace NW, Washington, DC.

I take a few more weeks to paint the all-white-apartment in warm Spanish hues. I decide to be bold and paint burnt orange in the living room. Brilliant or not, the verdict is still being decided. People say that they like it, but are they just being kind?

My desk and reading area.

Not with standing living room walls, I love my new home. I have an ample kitchen where counter space is measured in feet, not inches. My stove has four burners and a griddle in the middle. They all work. My fridge has water and ice in the door. Imagine. I have hot water every day. Down the hall is a room filled with washers and dryers. No more bath tub soaking and swooshing for me. Just select the wash cycle and tumble dry. It’s easy to re-adjust to luxury. Maybe, it’s too easy.

Today is ordinary. I'm going to buy a toothbrush. I walk from my new apartment down a short hallway through an automated door and into the underground garage. My apartment building is connected to a Giant Supermarket which is just a 50 yard stroll down a ramp and through another automated door. There’s no need to go outside. Everything is interconnected and convenience abounds. I am back in America.

The doors open to the produce department. The space is large. I think it must be 3 or 4 time larger than any market in Konotop. Fruits and vegetables spill from the shelves. The variety is stunning. In Ukraine I remember how excited I was to find a few broccoli heads at the market. Here thick displays tempt the eyes to buy more and more.

Behind the produce section, I discover the rest of the supermarket. It spreads out into 12 more aisles brimming over with products. By American standards, I guess it’s not so unusual, but with my acquired Ukrainian sensibilities, it’s colossal. I wander from one aisle to the next. There’s too much to see.

I find my soft bristled toothbrush on aisle ten. I can’t help but chuckle to myself, “that was easy.” In Konotop, I remember preparing for the buying of a tooth brush. I didn’t want to get a hard bristle one again. So I looked up the words in my Russian dictionary, wrote them down and hoped that I could recognize the labeling. Buying something as simple as a toothbrush sure could become an adventure.

But in America it’s easy. Signs and labels are in English. Maybe there are sub-texts in Spanish, but always English. After 27 months surrounded by Russian, it’s comforting to be a native speaker in my native land.

I buy my new tooth brush and head home. I retrace my steps through the automated doors and within a few moments I am sitting on my patio.

Growing tomatoes and basil on my patio

It’s a calm green spot surrounded by trees and plantings. It's my private oasis in the midst of the hectic city. I’ve made a little water fountain with two large pots. It’s so soothing. I turn it on and stare into the mesmerizing spouting and gurgling of water.

Yes, I’m on my way – well on my way to being back in America. But maybe I will just close my eyes for a moment and catch another glimpse of Konotop and my friends.

Friends wishing me well as I depart from the Konotop train station

PC Acronyms

2011-05-28T15:03:00.003-04:00

The Peace Corps loves acronyms.
Of course there are the easy ones like PCV or Peace Corps Volunteer. But then there are more complicated ones like PCMO or Peace Corps Medical Office and PST or Pre-Service Training. Some people experience ET or Early Termination, but most of us go all the way. Right now I am experiencing COS or Close of Service. I finished my two page check-list and have said my goodbyes to a wonderful PC Staff.

In less than 24 hours, I depart from Ukraine leaving behind a DOS or Description of Service in my official record. Take a moment and give it a read. Soon I will be a RPCV or Returned Peace Corps Volunteer and a proud one at that!

"The U.S. Embassy Chargé d’Affaires, a. i., James D. Pettit swore in Mr. Judson W. Dolphin as a Peace Corps Volunteer on June 18^th, 2009 in Kyiv, Ukraine.

Mr. Dolphin was assigned to Konotop, a City of 95,000 Ukrainian and Russian speakers in Sumy Oblast which is located in the northeastern part of Ukraine. He worked as a full-time NGO/Community Development facilitator at Hearts of Love Charity Fund, which has a director, 6 primary volunteers and many other occasional volunteers.

As a Community Development volunteer, Mr. Dolphin focused on transferring organizational development skills. He consulted with his primary organization, conducted workshops, and implemented projects. During his second year in Konotop, Mr. Dolphin connected with secondary organizations including governmental, NGO and educational institutions.

Yelena Yuschenko, Director of Hearts of Love Charity Fund, was his counterpart. Ms. Yuschenko along with other volunteers opened Hearts of Love in the fall of 2008 as an activity and support center for special need children and their families. Mr. Dolphin was their first Peace Corps Volunteer arriving in June of 2009.

Ms. Yuschenko introduced Mr. Dolphin to the community during a partnership meeting within the first week of service. Mr. Dolphin followed up with individual meetings and further networking to broaden his contacts in the community. Within three months, he had met with over 25 leaders from the NGO, educational, governmental and business sectors.

Mr. Dolphin deepened relationships through an innovative 10 week Leadership English Course. About 15 leaders participated in the twice weekly course that ran for 10 weeks. He authored the curriculum and tailored material to the abilities and interest of his adult students. As skills and English language learning were being shared, mutual trust was developing.

For example, when flu quarantine closed Ukrainian schools, including the Konotop Institute where classes were being held, the City Department of Pensioners and Disabled Persons volunteered a space so that the classes could continue. Having a US Peace Corps volunteer freely using a space in a city governmental building is unusual and was a first in Konotop.

At his primary site, Hearts of Love, Mr. Dolphin worked with volunteer staff to start an Art Expression Class for special need children. Collaborating with Ukrainian volunteers set the framework for transfer of skills and eventual sustainability. Now even when Mr. Dolphin is away from site, the Art Class continues with about 10 children participating each week.

In the winter of 2009, Mr. Dolphin provided guidance in developing a funding strategy for his host organization. Higher energy costs and increased activities at the Center required additional funding.

Through a series of discussion and presentations, it was decided to initiate a local funding strategy to supplement grants from foreign benefactors. With additional guidance and training provided by Mr. Dolphin, Hearts of Love held a successful charity auction selling bead-work that children and parents had made. A silent auction was also organized with services or goods that had been solicited from 16 local businesses of whom most had never contributed to Hearts of Love before. Over 3800 UAH was raised along with much media exposure.

Media reports during the holiday season stimulated copy-cat auctions raising additional money. In 2010, the Charity Auction was repeated with expanded leadership and is on the path for sustainability

In January of 2010 Mr. Dolphin led a needs assessment process involving children, volunteers and parents at his site. The idea for a SPA project emerged calling for a computerized learning center for the special need children of Hearts of Love. Often, these children are passed over in school and do not have access to the power of computerized learning.

Implementation of the project was delayed because of unforeseen illnesses, but in September 2010, a computerized learning center was opened. Five Ukrainian volunteers now teach and oversee about 25 children (non-duplicated number) each month. Plans are underway to secure additional funds for connecting to the Internet.

Also in 2010, Mr. Dolphin developed a series of Organizational Development Seminars. Leaders from both government and non-government sectors had heard about success at Hearts of Love and wanted to benefit from the knowledge and skills that Mr. Dolphin brought with him from a life time of non-profit management and teaching experience.

Mr. Dolphin conducted a needs assessment with leaders and potential participants. From this information, he developed a series of four 3 hour seminars in both English and Russian. He worked with a translator and presented each seminar twice in order to better accommodate schedules.

As a result 26 leaders participated in one or more of the seminars. They gained information and practice for developing mission statements, conducting SWOT analysis, building teams, working with volunteers, growing as leaders and of course, understanding fund raising strategies, organizational stability and grant writing.

As word spread about the value of the Seminars, Mr. Dolphin was invited to adapt the material for special audiences. The City Department of Families and Children held a meeting on volunteering and Mr. Dolphin presented information on working with volunteers to about 50 people. And then youth leaders of the City met to learn skills and share ideas. Mr. Dolphin presented leadership skills and team building to 23 young leaders. All presentations were conducted with Russian translation.

Mr. Dolphin was honored by the Konotop Institute and Polytechnic School during its 120^th anniversary. Among the many business, educational and business leaders, he was invited to briefly address over 100 people who had gathered to mark the occasion. It was a very special honor to be the only American to be a part of this historic moment.

Also while serving in Konotop, he has made brief presentations at half dozen primary schools, several youth organizations and other meetings. On one occasion he shared the podium with several of Konotop’s remaining Great War veterans. Stories of personal sacrifice during the War were blended with other stories about individuals volunteering to make the country a better place to live. Mr. Dolphin concluded his remarks by paraphrasing President Kennedy, “Ask not what Konotop can do for you, but what you can do for Konotop?”

In the summer of 2010, Mr. Dolphin and other Peace Corps Volunteers discovered a lack of English literature books in all of Konotop. A rich cultural exchange and world of new ideas was closed to the people of Konotop. Mr. Dolphin set out to correct this deficit. At first he was rebuffed by the city library. They were not interested in partnering. But then, Mr. Dolphin approached the English teachers, librarians and director at the Polytechnic School. They were enthusiastic and eager to partner.

Over the next 6 months a small team works steadily. As a result, an English literature library of more than 300 books was opened on March 2, 2011. Access is open to anyone on Konotop and a month long public education campaign was launched to inform the community about this new opportunity. Within the first month 38 books had been circulated. More will follow since the School plans to integrate an English Literature course into their curriculum.

During his intensive work with the Polytechnic School, Mr. Dolphin started a monthly advanced English conversational seminar. Each seminar was interactive and gave students a chance to leave textbooks and have real English conversations. About 18 students participated in each session.

In February and again in May of 2011, Mr. Dolphin was invited by Ukrainian Catholic University in Lviv to teach in their Institute of Leadership and Management. It’s the only institute in Ukraine offering a master level program in organizational development and NGO management. Their goal is to equip Ukrainian leaders for developing Civil Society.

Mr. Dolphin taught a 6 hour seminar on Public Relations and Media, a 3 hour seminar on Fund-raising and Grants, and another 3 hour seminar on Story Telling. Each was well received and sixty-five leaders participated in one or more of the seminars.

Continuing their relationship, Nataliya Bourdon, Director of the Institute of Leadership and Management, has invited Mr. Dolphin to be a long-distant advisor. They plan to have regular Skype conversations as this important effort to build civic society continues.

Throughout his Peace Corps service, Mr. Dolphin enjoyed his exposure to Ukrainian culture. While his language level was tagged at low intermediate, he had no difficulty in developing many new friendships. During a thank you party as he prepared to leave, more than 40 of Konotop’s leader and friends came to say farewell.

Mr. Judson W. Dolphin left Konotop, Ukraine on May 25, 20011 for end of service meetings with the Peace Corps staff in Kiev.

Following Ukraine's Declaration of Independence in 1991 and its decision to become an independent democratic country, a bilateral agreement was signed by US and Ukrainian Presidents to establish a U.S. Peace Corps Program in Ukraine in 1992. Since then, US Peace Corps Volunteers have been serving in Ukraine in the areas of business development, education, environmental protection, youth development, and community development. Mr. Dolphin work as a Community Development Volunteer, as well as his role as a representative of the people, culture, values and traditions of the United States of America, was part of a nation-wide development effort in Ukraine.

Mr. Judson W. Dolphin completed his Peace Corps service in Ukraine on May 27, 2011."

Goodbye and Good Luck, Konotop

2011-05-23T15:31:00.000-04:00

“In the past two years, you’ve become family,” says a dear Ukrainian friend. “Now as I look around, I realize that we are not the only ones. I see that you are family to many others here in Konotop.”

The day of my “Thank You Konotop Party” is unfolding. It’s late on a Sunday afternoon and about 45 well-wishers gather for a final farewell. Diverse segments of the community are here. They have come together for some chi and cake, a little wine and of course to say goodbye to me.

I remember Gregory saying that if he was still living, we would have a big party before I went home to America. He did not live long enough, but both Illya, his grandson, and I agree that he is smiling upon us.

We’re in the midst of toasting one another. Ukrainian people are so eloquent. They dip into their poetic souls to say some of the most touching phrases.

The Director of the Konotop Institute reminds us of the great Ukrainian poet - Taras Shevchenko. He tells me his statue is in Washington, DC near the FDR Memorial. "Please send us his photo." I readily agree.

I try to express my appreciation in my best Russian. “I came as a strange. You did not know me and I did not know you. I could not speak much Russian and everything was so new. But then I began to meet the kind people of Konotop, especially you in this room. Two years later, we have become good friends. We’re so comfortable with one another. True? And of course now, I speak Russian… but only a little.”

My friends smiled broadly. They have been so generous and patient with me. We joke that I need a translator to translate my Russian into Russian. But I manage and as I look around the room, my eyes swell with happiness. Yes, we are family and this one is Ukrainian.

If God is Love and I believe it is so, then today God is touching Konotop. We all are getting a glimpse at how good life can really be. Amazingly, children of the Cold War who once were taught to fear one another, now embrace as adults.

For nearly three hours we talk and remember. There are first meeting stories, funny happenings, holiday dinners, forest picnics, project adventures, silly mistakes, cultural differences, keeping in touch wishes, and so much more. Where words fail, body language takes over and says the rest. There’s an abundance of hugs and cheek kisses. I'm all smiles.

I have prepared a self photo. It gives me a chance to speak with eachperson and write a little Russian/English message on the back. One of my young friends puts it in his shirt pocket and looking at me, says, “Next to my heart.” If only he and so many others knew what a big part of my heart they occupy. But then again, maybe they do understand and it is mutual. I feeling so deeply blessed.

Our final farewells go slowly. We don’t want to let go. We begin by saying goodbye at the tables and then in the doorway. Outside we gather in circles and share more final stories – again and again. I love denial. It can be wonderful at times like these.

But eventually, a few turn to go home. I watch as they stroll down the street. My Ukrainian friends are disappearing from life and entering into the timeless realm of memory. Two or three look back and wave a final goodbye. And then they are all gone.

I ’m thinking how fortunate I am to be alive in this place at this time. Goodbye. Я люблю Конотоп. Спасибо и удачи.

Copy the Russian into Google translate.

Ukrainian Proverbs and Folk Wisdom

2011-05-17T01:58:00.012-04:00

All day I’ve been stressed. It started when I read my morning emails. Last night as I went to bed, I thought I had finalized buying a condo in Washington DC. I was set for a smooth transition from Peace Corps Service to my new adventure in retirement.

Soviet Block Apartments

But now as I am sipping my coffee, I read that my real estate agent is still waiting for scanned documents to be emailed. And a second email ominously warns that another offer from another buyer is possible, maybe before the end of tomorrow.

With 7 hours difference in time, tomorrow is now.

For the next 5 hours, I’m glued to my computer. My neck aches from hunching over and my mind floods with worse-case scenarios. Increasingly frantic, I‘ve try everything. I look out the window and think, “I can’t do this anymore. I got to get away. “

Interestingly, I recall some Ukrainian folk wisdom. “When life is hectic and times are difficult, we go to the land.” Rich dark fields and sweet cool forests restore. I think that’s why so many Ukrainians keep a dacha returning to the village of their childhood.

For a glimpse at dacha life, click Ukraine Dacha. For generations this land has rejuvenated spent spirits. I need it now.

Outside I walk away from my stress and Soviet style apartment block, across a field and stroll down a dusty path. The spring rains and mud have left behind a fine dust where footprints now track the walking of others.

One of the remarkable things about living in Ukraine is the number of people walking here, there and everywhere. Without so many cars whizzing by, everyone walks. The paths and roads are alive. Somehow it makes me feel connected even if I don’t know names.

Visually Ukraine is all about people and not so mechanized with cars. It’s refreshing.

Ahead of me, a babushka herds a few goats. They are munching on fresh spring grass. I wonder what they eat in the winter. I ask if I can take a photo. She smiles and I do.

I turn up a dirt road. Barking dogs announce my approach. They run loose, but thankfully, behind high walls which surround each cottage home.

Many of the homes are in a state of ремонт. That’s repair, pronounced remont. Ukrainians love to repair, decorate and extend their homes. The process can go on for years. Money comes, money goes and the remont keeps everyone dreaming. I pass several lovely homes. They are small, but ever so quaint. The lilac are starting to bloom and the air is perfumed sweet.

In the distance, a man works a field. He turns the sod one scoop at a time. I think it’s a linguistic coincidence, but the Russian word for garden is сад and it’s pronounced sod. I have only seen one roto-tiller in Konotop and it belongs to the City. They use it to plant flowers along a mile or so of the main street. Everyone else uses a shovel one scoop at a time.

Already, the man has turned an area approaching the size of a football field. It’s not unusual. For many Ukrainians, a large garden is a necessity, not a hobby. With work spotty and monthly pensions averaging around 700 UAD (less than $100), this dark soil literally feeds the body.

The road opens to a broad field leading to a village. While fences surround individual cottages, no fences can be seen dividing the land.

I think it may be a holdover from years of collective farming and maybe represents a different approach to the land.

Instead of individual homesteads plowed for free market production which created American agribusiness, Ukraine has workers in small villages (many under 500 people) who comprise a work force for the land. Once they were called serfs, then peasants and comrades and now they are simply workers.

For an interesting report on Ukrainian agriculture from an American viewpoint, check out this USAID Report.

I breathe in the colors of the grass and earth. I feel a calm joy soaking into my spirit. The sun plays hide-n-seek behind stacks of clouds. The artist in me wishes I had brought some supplies so that I could capture this rejuvenating image. Ukraine is so beautiful.

Of course, we have expansive areas like this in America’s mid-west, but seeing a horse drawn cart or men and women traveling by bicycle on the make-shift roads adds a human dimension missing in my more prosperous and mechanized homeland.

I knell down and grab a clump of dark earth. “From earth we came and to earth we go,” lingers in my mind. I imagine all the suffering that this land has absorbed on behalf of Ukrainian people - hungers, wars, oppression from one generation to the next. It’s humbling to think these thoughts as the earth slips between my fingers. I can only hope that Ukraine will see better days while keeping its warm human spirit.

Gradually as I walk along the edge of the field, I gain a new perspective. My condo problem is small stuff. A faint smile replaces worry. I’m mostly okay. As an old proverb says, “Only when you have eaten a lemon do you appreciate what sugar is.”

Take a moment to browse a few more Ukraine Proverbs.

Rainbow over Konotop

My story ends with a taste of sugar. Finally the documents appear on my agent’s computer thanks to the help of a third party in America. The deal is sealed.

As another proverb puts it, “The only thing certain in life is birth, death and change.” Soon my life will change again in Washington, DC.

Paska: Goodbye and Good Luck

2011-04-30T03:41:00.009-04:00

Maybe it's my imagination, but people seem happier on Paska (Easter).

I'm watching Ukrainians at the Vokzal (train station). I see smiles everywhere. A babushka and dedushka hold hands helping each other as they meander across train tracks. A little girl sucks on an ice cream while a little boy races ahead looking behind every few moments to make sure his parents are still watching.

In a gentle spring manner, the sunshine is beaming down on everyone. Puffy clouds roll across the day's cerulean blue canvass. A tender breeze caresses the senses. It's warm without being hot. A perfect day.

If Paska means love-unending and I believe it does, then I am in love with Ukraine and the chance to be living here.

I'm at the Vakzal to catch a train from Chernigiv and back to Konotop. It’s here where my Peace Corps adventure began. Now two years later, my time is ending and new clusters of volunteers are just starting.

Last Thursday, I got a chance to share my experience and some tips on networking and community integration at the Peace Corps training. The new recruits were attentive. Two years of being a Peace Corps Volunteers bestows some credibility. Like Woody Allan puts it, “80% of success is showing up.” I'm a survivor...veteran...or whatever. I showed up.

I like developing training presentations. I always wrap in stories with practical tips that I have either used or gathered from other volunteers. My presentation went so well that staff invited me to record a DVD so that it can be shared in the future. I’m delighted. It looks like I will be able to leave behind a training legacy.

This time my visit to Chernigiv is also a goodbye to my host family and particularity Luda. I lived with her for 11 weeks in 2009. Luda taught me some of my first practical Russian phrases.

I remember practicing.

Я хочу купить воду без Гасс. Proudly back home to Luda, I carried my first bottle of “water without gas.” Like a kid, I beamed, “I did it.”

Every week we would make a menu in Russian. Even if we didn't follow it which was mostly the case, I was learning. We played lots of UNO and I learned my colors and numbers that way. Of course, Luda almost always won. We laugh together recalling our shared stories.

On Paska, we take the yellow bus to one of the historic churches in the center of Chernigiv. Along the way, I see scores of people strolling with wicker baskets strung under arms. Each is filled with an assortment of Easter breads, (also called Paska), eggs, kielbasa, and maybe some cognac.

As we approach the church, I see a crowd ringing the ancient domed building. They wait with their baskets quietly greeting one another in the dawn.

Luda and I snake our way through the crowd and enter the sanctuary.

Spectacularly, the front is gilded in gold from floor to highest heights. A screen known as a iconostatis separates the altar from the people. Icons are everywhere. It’s a remarkable sight to see in such a poor country.

There are no pews. People circulate through the space pausing at icons to say a prayer and kiss the image. They begin and end their prayers with the sign of the cross. Unlike the West, Orthodox Christians cross themselves with broad bold movement – head, chest, right shoulder, left shoulder and a full bow.

Many people light candles. I buy one to remember those I have loved who are no longer with us – my parents and brother, Nancy Lee, Gregory, Babushka, Brent, Jessie and Brian.

I am struck by the theology of the space. The gold and towering dome is other worldly. Yet the people milling around is so human. I think this architecture reflects the miracle of divinity and humanity together in Jesus.

I don’t understand the words of the Priest. He chants and I am told that he is reading the Resurrection account from the Bible. A lovely soprano sings simple melodies. Her voice reverberates and seems to come from the arches above - almost heaven.

Later some people come forward to receive a sip of wine from a chalice given to them on a silver spoon. They have been fasting since Holy Thursday and break their fast with the “blood of Jesus”. It must be a powerful experience for believers.

We leave the sanctuary and join the crowd outside. It has grown denser - about 3 or 4 deep.

The priest has a bundle of spring branches in hand. He dips them in water – holy water – and sprays the people and most importantly the baskets.

A babushka pokes the priest on the back. Her basket has gotten little if any water. He turns and splashes both basket and babushka. She radiates wet smiles.

Everyone and everything is blessed. The Easter miracle - Love-Unending - is repeated.

From above, bells begin to ring. A large one goes bong…bong…bong while strings of smaller ones chirp ding-a-ling… ding-a-ling… ding-a-ling. The combination is so much livelier than a single bell. I imagine the heart of Chernigiv brimming over with joy.

After our blessing, we stroll down the walkways that surround the Church and make our way back home. I try to imprint the sights and sounds into my consciousness so that I can remember this feeling.

Later that same day, I say goodbye to Luda. With a smile that keeps tears from flowing, we remember our daily ritual. Every day as I left for language class, Luda would say, "Goodbye and good luck." Now we hug and say it for the last time face-to-face.

What a lucky fellow I have become. It's like I have gained a second family. I step into the sunshine and look up at the balcony of Luda’s flat. She is there waving - Goodbye. Good luck!

For Holy Week and Paska

2011-04-16T03:08:00.005-04:00

Again, it’s the dawn of Holy Week. Outside the snow is gone and hope for a resurgence of green grows each day. Daffodil spikes poke through the black soil.

In Konotop, resurgence is real and happening now. Ah, spring!

I will travel to Chernigov next week. I have been invited to share in the training of new Peace Corps Volunteers. I want to present a collection of tips for community integration and networking. It’s so important to take time to understand Ukrainian ways and build new relationships.

As another Peace Corp Volunteer said to me recently, “Our service is all about relationships first and then projects follow.” I’ve learned a lot and I’m glad to have the chance to pass it on.

I’ll stay in Chernigov and share Paska (Easter) with Luda and my host family. It’s my third Paska in Ukraine. What an amazing story I have been blessed with living these past two years.

Yesterday as I was enjoying a flood of memories, a free verse came to mind. I sat down and with very little tinkering, these words flowed onto the screen:

the kingdom of god is now

so he rode into town

the people loved him

but crowds are fickle

or was it revenge

then and now, money changers remember

they play the future

a kingdom of god is no good when you have plans to profit the whole world

so with the crowds blessing, they killed him

just like they always do to those too good for now

just like a common thief for stealing away the right to hate and do daily injustice

then and now, death restores normalcy

or so it seems

but for those with eyes and ears and hearts and hands that work, the kingdom of god is now

so we ride into town...

Yesterday, I shared the verse with a few friends. One said she felt inspired and another said she might include it in Easter Sunday worship. She’s a minister. Amazing, how email sends thoughts around the world.

And now I share the verse here on my blog. While the context is Jesus and Holy Week, I think the theme is universal. All religions struggle with overcoming hatred and fear and daily injustice. Like daffodils, we poke our heads through the dark soil in hope.

Happy Paska!

желмасив - My Living Place

2011-03-29T15:10:00.006-04:00

My apartment is in the neighborhood of желмасив. To pronounce it, say zhelmasiv. Roughly translated, it means a place for living. When I tell Ukrainian friends where I’m living, they smile and joke, “You’re in Siberia. It’s so far away.” Well maybe, but I call it home even if it’s next to nowhere.

Let’s travel to my Ukrainian home in желмасив. See the sights that have been part of my life for nearly two years.

We’ll start in the Center of Konotop near the cinema and the town’s main fountain. Neither works.

The movie theater has been closed for years. People say that DVDs did away with the need. In my opinion, it’s a pity. Teenagers still gather in front when day-light turns to twilight. They promenade in an ageless ritual of looking and being seen.

The fountain only works on special holidays and sometimes not even then. But the children love the fountain or more correctly, they love the child-high wall that encircles the fountain.

They place tiny hands on the concrete surface as if by touching they will have power. And they do. Little boys clutch toy cars and trucks as they speed around. Little girls giggle and race around too sometimes beating the boys.

Occasionally, a few older children dare to mount the wall and slowly walk the concrete strip like a circus performer. So proud they become. To walk around the wall is an accomplishment for a 4 ½ year old and making it all the way is a relief for nervous parents who hover nearby.

I love this fountain without water. I will sit and watch the drama unfold for hours. Who needs TV when real Ukrainian life is right here? But today we are going to the edge of the city...to желмасив.

We’ll catch either a van or a mini-bus. Both cost 1 ½ UAH (12 cents), but vans are smaller. In a van, you have to crouch down low as you enter so as not to hit your head. Then you must navigate up two steps while trying to swing the door shut.

The steps are narrow and if you are not careful and if your feet are big, like mine, you will trap your shoe between the door and the riser of the step. Believe me, I have learned the hard way. That’s why I prefer the big yellow mini-buses.

Of course we could hop on the trolley. It goes to желмасив too. Since Stalin’s time, Konotop has had a trolley or tram way system. It opened on Christmas day in 1949 and runs for about 15 miles (24 kilometers). Seniors get to ride free. You are supposed to get an official stamped card, but I never have. I guess I just look the part.

Down the main street of Konotop, we go. It is one of the main arteries that are paved. Like many towns in Ukraine, this main street is named Перспектива мира. To pronounce it, say Perspektiva Mira. Prospect Peace.

Out our left window is the park. A statue of Lenin waves in front of the City Building and a Shevchenko statue reclines while reading poetry across from the Post Office.

Benches line the walkways. A few kiddy rides are further back and mostly in disrepair. The Soviet State use to provide family fun in the park, but of course, it is no more. Private enterprise has yet to fill the gap.

On our right is a row of магазины. To pronounce it, say Magazeneh. Stores. A few Babushkas huddle in front selling pussy willows and sunflower seeds.

Pussy willows are signs of spring and the approach of Palm Sunday. Since there are no palm trees in

Ukraine

and other trees do not leaf early due to the harshness of the climate, only pussy willows reveal their tender catkins.

Leaves are present too, but not quite visible – a symbol of Easter joy that remains hidden, but soon will be revealed to the faithful. Everyone wants to have a bundle of pussy willows in their home at this time of year. They have a story to tell.

See the three guys standing on the corner. Notice that one shares a handful of sunflower seeds with the others. It’s a popular snack and maybe a national pass-time.

In a smooth motion from hand to mouth, they crack the seeds between their front teeth extracting the kernel and spitting out the husk while not missing a word of the conversation. It’s multi-snacking at its best.

We make the turn at фора (Phora). It’s one of Konotop’s supermarkets. Between the Bazaar and here, I purchase most of my food. It’s not huge like an American Shop-n-Save. It’s more like a convenience store on steroids.

Inside you can find most of what you need. It helps to be able to read Russian, but then sometimes it gets confusing. Well, a lot of the time, it gets confusing especially when the labels switch to Ukrainian.

I guess that’s why it’s a relief to come down the vodka, cognac, beer aisle. Everything is color coded - white for vodka, brown for cognac, and skinny neck bottles for beer.

On our mini-bus, we pass by “Little Palestine.” During our last walk, Gregory pointed it out to me. “It’s where Konotop’s Jewish families lived before famine, wars and Nazis.”

He showed me his boyhood home which is now an office. He lived in a room about 12 x 15 with no kitchen or bath. Both were down the hallway and shared with other families. This was known as family dormitory living. I do not recommend it. I almost never pass by without saying a blessing for Gregory. If it matters in heaven, Gregory is remembered.

Our 15 minute ride is not so far by American standards. I know people in Boston who commute more than an hour. But still I am on the edge of city development. It’s the end of the line for the mini-bus, van and trolley. All three will turn-a-round here.

We get off and see an open field across the way. The soil is dark black and is said to be among the most fertile in the world. Individual plots have been laid out. In a few weeks, families will be out there turning the good earth by hand and planting food for the next year.

It’s a necessity. I have learned that Ukraine’s minimum monthly pension is 596 UAH ($73) and its average is no more than about 1,060 UAH ($130). It’s a pittance for a life time of work, but even at these levels, officials say the entire pension system is in dire crisis.

I’ve seen the alternative. An elderly woman scavengers through the trash containers not far from my home. She searches for any item that can be sold. And as difficult as it is to realize, she will also grab anything that can be eaten.

Stray dogs stand patiently in the shadows of the dumpsters, like sentinels, watching for any scrap that may be tossed their way. Other people scurry here and there and seem not to notice much. Очень жаль. To pronounce, say ochen zhal It’s a pity.

We walk another 15 minutes to my home. We pass a gaggle of Soviet apartments. They are five stories high and either of concrete or brick construction. To be higher would have required elevators according to Soviet code.

Balconies protrude in vertical rows. Each hangs in various states of repair. The overall appearance is disjointed and drab. In Soviet times, these buildings served a utilitarian purpose – to get families out of dormitories and into a home of their own. That part worked.

We notice in the distance some new construction. Locals call it “poor street” with obvious sarcasm and maybe some envy. Apparently free enterprise has given some people more – a lot more. And they have constructed their own castles on the edge of желмасив, on the edge of town.

My place is modest – ever so modest. I have one main room that’s about 12 x 10 feet. Here is where I sleep and read and write this blog. My desk occupies one corner and my armoire sits in the other. A fold-down futon takes up most of the other space.

A short hallway connects this room with my bathroom. Last September, I got hot water. I’m in favor of hot water. But even when I was without it for 15 months, I adapted and I think most people would.

Next to my bathroom is a kitchen. I have about a foot of counter space. Whenever I am with other volunteers, I always make a complaint. With tongue- in-cheek, I gleefully rant on. It’s become my signature joke – a gourmet cook with so many ideas and so little space. Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle…

And whenever I’m invited to another volunteer’s apartment, I stand and envy their two feet of counter space. It’s all in fun because I know many Ukrainians prepare elaborate meals for people they love with no more than I have. They prove that you can do a lot more with less.

I’m thinking people adapt. We adapt to more maybe too easily and we adapt to less maybe without realizing it. We may not like it. We can complain. We can have fear or envy. But in the end we adapt and it’s a good thing.

So Welcome, my friend. I live on the edge of town in желмасив. Even though it is not a "poor street," I like it. It's become my living place.

Peace Corps Birthday Gift

2011-03-06T09:31:00.017-05:00

Fifty years ago this month, newly inaugurated President Kennedy established the Peace Corps. Over the years, more than 200,000 volunteers have served in 139 countries. Back then as today, Peace Corps Volunteers shared skills and knowledge, represented America to host country friends and brought cross-cultural understanding back home.

Happy Birthday, Peace Corps.

What would a birthday be without presents? In Konotop, we took this occasion to open the world of English literature to an entire community and in so doing created a legacy of knowledge and cross-cultural understanding.

Where none existed before, more than 300 English literature books are given and made available to everyone. This English literature library was made possible with gifts from Americans to the Peace Corps Partnership Program and with additional gifts from the personal reading shelves of Peace Corps Volunteers serving here in Ukraine.

What a great way to honor the Peace Corps. After all, for 50 years the Peace Corps has been about giving in country after country around the world.

My team - Tatyanna, Irena, Anna

“We are making history,” whispers Tatyana with eyes glistening. She and Irena and Anna are English teachers at the Poly-Technical School and Institute in Konotop. For more than 6 months, they have planned and worked for this moment.

“Remember you came to us on September 10^th with this idea of English literature,” recalls Anna. “We wanted more text books at the time, but you introduced the idea of literature. We did not know it, but our Head-Mistress also had a dream of offering English Literature to our students. “

The Head Mistress had participated in a cross-cultural exchange program and spent a month in Ames, Iowa. She brought back many new ideas. Wonderfully, the synergy of the Peace Corps, an idea brought from the heartland of America and gifts of books will now make dreams come true.

PC Director, Douglas Teschner, with PC Volunteers, Rose Cheyette, John VanGavree, Dan Cahoon, Danny Zawacki, Kim Rosado, Jud Dolphin with Gifts of Books

I am with Douglas Teschner, our Peace Corps Ukraine Director and an entourage of local Peace Corps Volunteers. We are walking down the hallway towards the library. Along the way students direct us. They are dressed –up for the occasion. Suits, formal dresses and an occasional thumbs-up greet us. It’s obvious that today is considered a very special one.

As we enter the Library, the Head Librarian and her staff are all smiles. When we first met, I remember her showing me a handful of Soviet English publications from the 1960s. That plus a few other books at the city library were the extent of English literature in Konotop. None of the classics were available.

“We may get as many as 300 books and each one will need to be catalogued. It’s a lot of extra work,” I caution. Earlier in the month, I had been turned down by the City Library so I wanted to check out interest. But this librarian is more excited than worried. She assures me, “Not a problem.” Weeks later, Tatyanna glows when telling me that the library staff is learning English too since each title must be translated and entered into the computer.

It seems to me that giving creates its own rippling effect. It keeps expanding outward creating waves of possibility where none existed before. As Douglas remarks, “The books are important, but it’s not just about the books.”

With obvious pleasure, the Head Librarian now displays shelves of English books. Each has been prepared properly - a translated routing card and a stamp that says US Peace Corps Partnership Program. The books include many abridged versions of classics so that even beginners can have a positive reading experience. Other books are full versions for those more advanced.

Anna and Tatyana

I remember going to Kiev with Anna and Tatyana to buy the books. We started before dawn on a cold dreary day. First I had to go and get cash. Ukraine is mostly a cash economy. Few shops take credit cards. For a time I was a rich man with over 12,000 UAH ($1500).

We invaded English only shops and outdoor stalls. Previously at their own expense, Tatyanna and Anna had checked-out possibilities in Kiev and knew exactly where to go. Carefully, we selected titles. So absorbed we became that we forgot about lunch until 5:00 pm.

Getting the books back to Konotop could have been a problem, but as a sign of the School’s commitment, the Head-Mistress provided a car and driver. Perfect. Since then, we felt that problems could be solved.

It’s an important lesson for everyone to learn and here in Konotop, we replace problems with a good feeling. I don't know who started it, but whenever we come across a problem, we remind one another of the Bobby McFerrin tune and hum - “Don’t worry…Be happy” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-diB65scQU

Now anyone in Konotop can check out a book by showing identification. Young or old, student or not, all are welcome. It’s a huge change in policy and one that might challenge even American colleges.

Two young Ukrainians in traditional dress hold a red ribbon in front of the bookshelves. As the Head-Mistress and Douglas cut it, I can’t help thinking that here cultures are meeting and embracing one another. Soon an English literature course will be part of the curriculum. Tatyanna boasts, “Some of the students have already checked out books.”

A piece of the ribbon is handed to me. Waving it in the air, I am ecstatic

Inside the Reading Hall, a crowd is gathering. As I walk to the front, I suddenly notice two very special people. Gregory’s widow and daughter are here.

You may recall that when my first organizing attempts were rebuffed by the city library, Gregory told me that “something good would happen.” Sadly he died before he could see his prophesy fulfilled. I embrace his widow and daughter and my eyes well-up with tears. They are strange tears, but mostly ones of joy, inspiration and gratitude.

Two students emcee our program. We are treated to a wonderful full-length Ukrainian ceremony. We hear about the dawn of writing and scrolls and papyrus and eventually the printing press and books as we know them. Two charming poems are recited in English and a few songs are mixed in along with a stand-out performance on the Bandura. Please learn more about this traditional instrument.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bandura

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DUGx5FVxp00&feature=related

Douglas and I both are invited to share a few words. The people are impressed with Douglas and more than one remark how wonderful it is that he comes all the way from Kiev. He talks about the Peace Corps, its history and its enduring goals. He tells everyone that the Peace Corps is now 50 years old.

It’s a perfect segue. Each of my Peace Corps colleagues brings a gift of books from their own collection. Festooned with ribbons and bows, the books pile up as a tribute to the Peace Corps and a symbol of our friendship with Ukrainian people.

I say, “We give you the enjoyment of books. We give you the knowledge of books. We give you improvement of English through reading books. We give you your dreams with books. We give you understanding of other cultures.” And then I add, “We give you our friendship and hope for a very good life.”

After all the speeches are completed and people filter out, two young boys stop to speak with me. Their English is pretty good and they bubble enthusiasm. Each pledges to read many of the new English books. I smile and think maybe they will….so many more possibilities exist now.

Happy Birthday, Peace Corps.

A Toast for Civil Society

2011-02-28T15:13:00.010-05:00

"Let me say a few words...a toast to so many walls falling down...no longer afraid...we are open and can talk our minds...friends without fear and barriers," smiles Natalia, the Director of the Institute of Leadership and Management of the Ukrainian Catholic University.

I am with her and two of her team members relaxing over dinner after a long day that included my seminar on Practical Public Relations for NGOs (Non-Profits).

Her toast comes after an extended conversation about struggles for a civil society and lingering consequences of Soviet rule. Although it's been 20 years, I am continually struck by the dark depth of this legacy. It seems like Soviets in an effort to control human thinking left deep scares marked by fear and isolation.

(Courtesy of Suzanne Cochran, Peace Corps Volunteer)

"As children, my brother and I went to Holy Friday worship services with my mother," Natalia shares. "It was held at night because in the dark, it is not so easy to see who is going in and coming out."

She tells about a time when they were observed by authorities. The next day at school, she and her brother were taken into a room and reprimanded. "Good Soviet Pioneers (a Soviet children's program) do not go to bad places. Only bad people go to churches." As Natalia says, "We learned to stare a hole in the floor and never say a word."

The Soviet system imploded in 1991 and Ukraine rose up declaring its independence. The world would need to learn that this land was no longer "The Ukraine" as if it was a section of a larger country, but simply Ukraine, a fully autonomous nation.

I remember having to learn to drop the article "the" when I first came to Ukraine. The Soviet legacy was a part of my mind too. It may seem like a simple or even silly grammatical change, but it is more. It is about identity, human dignity, freedom and hope for a better life.

I am in the west of Ukraine in the city of Lviv. It's a 13 hour train ride from Konotop and a mere 85 kilometers away from Poland. During much of Ukraine's history, the area around Lviv has been been annexed by one empire or another. Poles, Lithuanians, Astro-Hungarians, Germans and of course Russians took turns. Still through it all a remnant Ukrainian identity survived. And now since 1991, there is but one Ukraine from Lviv in the west to Kiev in the middle and Donestk in the east.

My seminar brings together about 30 NGO leaders. Each is engaged in some form of community service or charity work.

It's remarkable.

Back in Soviet times, there was no entrepreneurial leadership. If it was not done by the State, it was not needed. You did not embark on your own. To do so was to invite danger to yourself and your family. So many Ukrainians have told me that they got real good at being invisible and just blending in.

It reminds me of the old Beatles tune - "He's a real nowhere Man, Sitting in his nowhere land, Making all his nowhere plans for nobody..."

So truly it is remarkable to see so many leaders eager to learn and increase the effectiveness of their NGOs. These men and women are building the structure for a more civil society. Association by association, network connection by network connection, the slow process of regaining a good life is happening.

A mother talks about her son with autism. "They told me he would be nothing and should be kept at home and out of sight." She rebelled, went to school to learn about treating autism and now heads a small organization that gives hope to other families.

A young fellow, maybe 28, is working to resurrect Ukrainian culture and teach the next generation about the traditional ways. He is planning a cultural festival in Spring and is eager to learn about press releases and press conferences and how to spin a story into news.

An older woman talks about uniting pensioners so that they can speak in one voice. Her organization is part social and part advocacy. Immediately I think of AARP and the similarities of how it got started. I share lots of ideas. She can't wait to check-out the AARP web site - http://www.aarp.org/

A woman tells about a mini-bus that travels the streets of Lviv giving HIV tests and AIDS information. "A lot of time people don't notice us," she laments. We discuss placing colorful circle and a banner on the bus so that it stands out. I suggest, "Maybe a radio station will play a game and ask listeners 'where in Lviv is the HIV bus today!'"

We have a lot of fun. Thanks to a wonderful translator, I can freely share practical ideas, antidotes and even a few jokes. We all have a laugh when I use a colloquial expression and my translator stares at me in disbelief. "What will he say next?"

Even though the Seminar goes on for more than 6 hours, most of the students stay. They are so eager to learn and grow their organizations. It's a delight to be with them.

It's like seeing a kind of transformation. Silent head-bowed obedience is being replaced with animation and tons of questions. The human spirit lives. Minds can think new ideas. People can associate in new ways. Civil Society emerges.

So, dear friend, I invite you to join us. Say a few words and offer a toast. Americans and Ukrainians, we are friends without fears or barriers. Let us help one another live into a good life.

Egyptian Antiquity and Tahrir Square

2011-02-12T16:24:00.003-05:00

More than 4000 years ago, a moral conscience developed among Egyptians. I have been reading Development of Religion and Thought in Ancient Egypt by James Breasted.

Absorbing the evolution of ancient thought as I watch 21^st century history unfold in Tahrir Square has created a remarkable convergence of underlying truth. I realize anew the depth and strength of the human spirit. It cannot be denied.

In this civilization along the Nile, people created a cradle for our civil society. From prehistoric roots, they developed the first awareness that social behavior is linked to human development and the will of the gods. Some experts say that their social consciousness was well established more than three centuries before the Ten Commandments.

Even Pharaohs are subject to judgment. Carved into the walls of their tombs are pleas of innocence.

“I did not slay men. I did not steal from one crying for his possessions. I did not take away food. I did not diminish the grain measure. I did not commit adultery. I did not stir up fear. I did not stir up strife. I was not avarice. I was not puffed up. I did not make falsehoods in the place of truths. I was not deaf to truthful words. My heart coveted not. I did not wax in hot temper. I did not do an abomination of the gods.” (Adapted from Book of the Dead, translated J. Breasted, pp302-303)

Injustice does not stand. As Martin Luther King said to a powerful country still needing to address its own injustice, “…the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice."

Before January 25^th and the start of the protests in Egypt, I was emailing Omar. You may recall him as the artist I met in the Egyptian Museum, just a few blocks from Tahrir Square. He was the one who recommended a cafe on Tahrir Square.

I did not know then that the cityscape I was exploring would soon be filled with tanks, military and millions of ordinary Egyptians fed up with the dictatorial system .

Omar writes one week before the start of protests:

“the weather here is kinda cold, winter break just came by, my birthday in 2 weeks and my 6 months anniversary with my girlfriend, I am really excited about the 2nd one because I really think she is the one :)

I am starting my own company too; Vinyl designs - as in records not the material :D - , WISH US LUCK. WE NEED IT!!!

best wishes from the ever green Egypt :)”

A very normal and friendly note from an almost 21 year old. It’s what you would expect and then a few days later I receive this email:

“Hey Jud

how are u doing? yea things have been crazy the past week! a lot of people escaped prisons and were stealing malls and homes. i almost got shot like 6 times and i almost killed a man. feels weird but thanks god me, my family and our home are unharmed. the good thing is that people are uniting again, everyone cares about the other and our love to our country got restored. pray for us. btw i am 21 on the 7th :D”

I honor his request for prayer and celebrate his birthday by sending a home-made birthday card. I write the following to him:

“I am very glad to hear from you. It must be a very scary time but also a time for much needed change….

I can only imagine the fear of being shot at and the terrible feeling of almost shooting another. I am glad you were spared that experience. May it continue.

Are you sleeping on the square? Are you protecting your area from criminals? I of course will pray and trust that good outcomes will happen for you and your country.

I will celebrate your 21st Birthday on Monday.”

I assume Omar celebrated his birthday on Monday, but did not hear from him. Of course, I worried as the stalemate became more intense. The news had a face and it was Omar's. Then history was made on 2/11 and Omar wrote:

“YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY, ALIVE AND DIGNIFIED WE ARE AT THIS MOMENT I CRIED OUT OF JOY! I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT!!!

it has been a long journey, I myself almost got ran over twice, almost got shot 8 times

and full of bruises and scars now. i have lost friends and i ve seen bad things

but i gained freedom and got my country back :D”

Like all the commentators say, Egypt has so much to accomplish for freedom and justice to flourish. But this is a land and people who first gave voice to our higher ideals.

Like a kind of unintended immortality, we have the words of justice inscribed on the walls of ancient tombs. Even now they strengthen our human spirit. I have a feeling that something good will emerge and I think my young artist friend will be a part of it.

Omar, God bless you….

Civic Engagement and Service Learning

2011-02-12T07:42:00.003-05:00

“Can you help us develop a grant for Civic Engagement,” comes the invitation from Tatyana, the Director of the Poly-Technical School?

Tatyana is a graduate of an American Exchange Program that took her and a few others from Konotop to Ames, Iowa. Now there is an opportunity for a grant to further Civic Engagement locally.

I arrive for a meeting. It’s a small world. By coincidence, my brother and his wife lived in Ames for most of their married life. Warren taught biology at the Iowa State University and Judy directed the campus YWCA. They never met Tatyana, but amazingly they share friends in common. Because of this Ames connection, I think Tatyana and I share a special friendship.

Her request to help develop a grant comes unexpectedly. Initially, I have no idea what to suggest. I fret about it for a couple of days before the meeting. I am honored to be asked and increasingly I’m afraid I have nothing to say.

As a last gasp for something, I start looking at my Peace Corps Training Portfolio. I’m looking for ideas, any ideas. But there is nothing. I sort through more files and dust off my assortment of how-to manuals. I am getting desperate.

Suddenly, Service Learning jumps out at me. In the first summer of my Peace Corps experience, I attended training about Service Learning.

When I returned to Konotop, I tried to interest a few people, but it went nowhere. I placed the how-to booklet behind my shoes in the bottom of my armoire. It stayed there until today.

I quickly research the idea on the Internet and put together a one page fact sheet translated into Russian. I put a call through to the Peace Corps Office and get them to send me all the materials they have on Service Learning. Strikingly, they have been translated into Ukrainian. I am soaring high. Who would have thought that such a great idea would be lying dormant in my armoire?

Briefly if you don’t already know, “Service-Learning is a teaching strategy that integrates meaningful community service with instruction and reflection to enrich the learning experience, teach civic responsibility, and strengthen communities. “

(http://www.servicelearning.org/what-is-service-learning)

I think it is a perfect idea for Civic Engagement. At our meeting Tatyana agrees. She asks whether Service Learning is common. I say, “It’s growing in America, but maybe not so much in Ukraine.” She smiles and says, “Maybe we will be the first.”

But there is more. Tatyana goes on to explain that she is finishing her doctoral degree on educational pedagogy emphasizing engagement of students. We both see a wonderful merging of her academic work with Service Learning and this grant opportunity.

Others are called into our meeting and soon assignments are made to develop the grant. I will help with the English translation.

I leave the meeting with a glow of satisfaction. Sometimes all the pieces do fit together. In another small way, the Peace Corps is making a difference in the world.

Call for Compassion

2011-01-31T11:03:00.003-05:00

It's strange to look at a CNN photo of the Egyptian Museum with fully armed tanks rolling down the street from the very spot I stood just a month ago. Gone are the traffic jams replaced by armed power and fear.

I have no great insights about the whys and wherefores of yet another world conflict. It just seems to me that the world churns onward with too many many reminders that we need more justice, understanding and compassion for the entire human family. Maybe it sounds corny, but surely it's needed.

As chance would have it and while I am doing research on an upcoming seminar on marketing for NGOs, I stumble upon a video and the Charter for Compassion. www.charterforcompassion.org

"What's this," I say to myself? With a click, I take a look. It's a remarkable video and an inspiring message. I think, "Maybe this message can infiltrate the human family in a new way and empower a little more justice, understanding and compassion. So I will pass it along and who knows where and what it will do."

Sure it's not solving desperate problems and maybe it's a little corny, but with a little more justice and understanding and compassion....

Trains, Temples and Stars

2011-01-18T06:07:00.069-05:00

Images of antiquity seem ubiquitous. They’re available in picture books or on our computers whenever we want them. Las Vegas gives us Pyramids and the Sphinx in miniature. It’s easy to think, “ We've seen that before,” and glibly move on.

But today, I’m surrounded by the real thing - a formal colonnade inside Luxor Temple. I’m impressed and stand in wonderment. I can only imagine the awe people felt 3500 years ago when they stood in the same place where I am standing now. They had no pictures, no miniatures and no buildings as tall as these towering structures. The sight must have shaped their thinking and conveyed a deeper meaning.

Fran and I travel to Luxor via a day train. We want to see the countryside and catch glimpses of ordinary life. The seats are comfortable and the windows are grimy giving my photos an antique look. The trip will take all day and then some. It’s about 450 miles following south along the Nile Valley.

Outside it’s lush green. The Nile through a series of canals certainly transforms the desert. It’s as if someone has drawn a dividing line - water and green vegetation on one side and dry desert on the other. It’s a remarkable to see how the Nile makes life possible.

Interestingly, the Aswan Damn, which is further up stream (south), now controls the periodic flooding. Water flow is carefully measured out. Peasants use gasoline powered pump to lift the water from canals. Their fields are laid out in 15’x20’ plots with raised walkways to contain the water. It creates a kind of green patchwork quilt.

Unfortunately, they no longer get the benefits of rich black soil that flooding had brought since the dawn of recorded time. Now they buy fertilizers from chemical companies.

I spy a family tending their field. They’re dressed traditionally like we use to imagine when we dressed up for the Christmas pageant. Long flowing robes called Gallibya cover from neck to ankles. A head wrap protects from the sun.

It’s a quaint picture for a westerner though I am sure it is anything but a quaint life. I know a little about rural life in Ukraine and this seems more severe.

I see no mechanization except the water pumps. The family works the field on their hands and knees. They are cutting what I believe is alfalfa. It's feed for their animals.

I see at least half dozen donkeys and a few horses, but mostly donkeys, for every car or truck on the road. They carry bundles on their backs, transport people and cluster in the shade of palm trees when not in use.

Small mud huts dot the landscape. I think these are shelters used when working a field and not permanent homes.

They are made from mud and straw bricks like those mentioned in biblical times. They look quite primitive, but no doubt a pleasant respite from the glaring sun. I’m enjoying my train ride so much. It’s like a living museum where life goes on from one generation to the next and change is measured in the millennium.

I start thinking about the two natural phenomena which dominate the landscape - the sun and the Nile water. No modern tourist can visit Egypt without awareness of the bright glaring ever-present sun. It rises in the east and falls in the west only to repeat itself every day. Likewise, the life-giving water of the Nile clearly transforms the dead desert into a living lushness.

It’s a small wonder that these natural phenomena influenced thought and religious development from earliest time. The sun evoked a god called Re, Atum, Horus and a host of other names as one aspect or another is emphasized. He becomes the king of gods.

The Nile becomes the domain of Osiris. His mythology follows the regeneration of life upon the desolate earth after flooding. He becomes identified with death, resurrection and the after-life. To learn more about the Osiris mythology and its interaction with the sun god mythology, go to http://www.touregypt.net/osiriscu.htm I think we still have shadowy remnants of these ideas when we look to the heavens for God and celebrate rebirth every spring.

Now I'm across the street from the Luxor Temple in a bookstore. As serendipity would have it, I find a most interesting book. It's entitled Development of Religion and Thought in Ancient Egypt and is written by James Breasted , an esteemed Egyptologist.

The Great Pyramids of Gizeh were built from 2575 to 2150 BCE and stretch some 60 miles along the edge of the desert. They represent an incredible effort of an entire society through purely material means "to immortalize the king's physical body, enveloping it in a vast and impenetrable husk of masonry, there to preserve forever all that linked the spirit of the king to material life." (Breasted, p 178) I use to think of the Pyramids as a monument commemorating a Pharaoh when actually they are a material place for immortality.

After about 2100 BCE, Pyramids were no longer built and after another 1000 years, they were mostly forsaken, left desolate amidst the shifting sands of time. An age of political disintegration took hold of Egypt. Mournfully, they began to realize the futility of massive masonry to insure immortality. Skepticism ensued and with it, new ideas took root.

The afterlife which had been the sole domain of Pharaoh was democratized to nobles and eventually common people. Osiris and the sun god were redacted into a blended, if not always consistent, theology. By 1300 BCE a new religious order worshipping the sun god Atum was established. Thebes or modern day Luxor was at its center.

Now I am here.

As I stand among colonnades of Luxor Temple or visit Karnak Temple or wander the Valley of the Kings, I feel linked with these places. I realize that the development of human thought once moved through here and now moves through my generations and one day will move into places not yet imagined.

Later that night, we join a group for an evening of star gazing under the desert sky. Climbing a sand dune, we watch the sun go down or is it dying in the west. I now understand how natural phenomena can be given mythological meaning.

We gather around tables to enjoy a delicious Egyptian meal with people from South Africa, France, Holland, England and our Egyptian hosts. We are a diverse human family and yet we come together under the stars.

We are shown the Milky Way, constellations and star clusters. One star, Aldebaran, or the Bull`s eye, is said to be 65 light years away. I gasp, “Yikes, this one started its light path to earth during the year of my birth.”

Of course, other stars are much further away. They say our galaxy is about 120,000 light years in diameter and it is one among billions of other known galaxies.

Gazing into the heavens puts perspective on my Egyptian trip. As ancient as Egypt is, it is but a recent moment in the life of the universe. We are just beginning to send our light to distant places.

Like ancient Egyptians before me, I look up at the colonnade and the stars and I can't help but wonder. What meaning? What stories are yet to be told? What will human life and thought and religion look like in another 5000 years and beyond?

Egypt: Part II

2011-01-11T09:29:00.016-05:00

Today is museum day. We are off to the the Egyptian Museum which is just across the street from our hostel. It was built at the turn of the 19th century and some have called it the "Warehouse of Antiquity" since it crams a lot of artifacts into its two floors without the more modern presentations.

I am eager to see for myself. After a day of surveying the Pyramids, I want to see what the Pharaohs took into the afterlife.

Fran and I queue-up in, not one but two, security lines. I am told later that Egypt has a number of make-work redundancies to keep people employed. We are thoroughly scanned and bags are properly searched.

Cameras are not allowed inside and must be checked. It's interesting to see the big tours companies filling baskets with their clients' cameras - thousands of dollars of digital hardware placed on a shelf with a coat-check token as collateral.

Internet photos from open sources

Inside a grand hall greets me. Colossal statues of Pharaohs beckon me onward. Smaller sculptures and bas-reliefs are displayed along the way. I am introduced to my first hieroglyphics close up.

Thanks to my niece Jenny's Christmas gift, I take out my new sketch pad and pencils and begin to draw what was chiseled into stone 4000 or more years ago.

I learn that ancient Egyptians were more pictorial in their thinking. They did not see the world in abstractions. My sketches show birds and snakes and implements of everyday life. Their writing tells stories in pictures. I become totally absorbed. What a grand way to visit a museum - sketch it!

Of course no visit to the Egyptian Museum would be complete without a visit to King Tut. Tucked in the back on the second floor with no signs announcing the way is his room.

King Tutankhamun means "Living Image of Amun." Here is a hieroglyphic rendering...

He lived during the 18th Dynasty of ancient Egypt and only reigned for 10 years - 1333 BC to 1323 BC. He took the throne at age 9 and was dead by his 19th year. There's been a lot of speculation about his early death. Some say murder while others point to malaria, infections and various birth defects due to inbreeding that was commonly practiced among royalty.

King Tut has become widely popular since his tomb is one of the few that was not looted in antiquity. When Howard Carter, the famous archeologist, unearthed it in 1922, the gold face mask became an instant symbol of the Pyramids although he actually was buried a millennium after the Pyramids were built and in the Valley of the Kings about 450 miles away near Luxor.

I am captivated by this sarcophagus. It's an impressive piece of artistic craftsmanship. Every centimeter of the gold overlay is inscribed with a small delicate design. I just kept wondering how someone could inscribe the gold with such beautiful precision and I wondered what happened when a mistake was made?

Tutankhamum Scarab

I become bolder in my observations and try sketching profiles of statutes. As I am working, a guard comes by and says "nice" in English. He stands watching me. I smile with a little self-consciousness.

Just then, a young fellow stops and introduces himself. His name is Omar. He's an art teacher and artist himself. Today, he has a few students at the Museum sketching.

We enter into a wide ranging discussion of art and music and our various cultures. Besides being an artist, he also is a heavy metal rocker. He explains his kind of music is underground in Egypt. We both like Reggae because of its rhythm and social justice themes. I tell him about Zydeco from the Cajuns of New Orleans. We exchange emails and vow to stay in touch. And we do!!

He is the first Egyptian I have met who is not trying to sell me something. In fact he gives me one of his pencils as a token of friendship. Art is wonderful. It brings cultures together.

I feel like I crammed a lot into my 7 hours at the Museum. My mind is now a warehouse of images brimming over with ideas for art projects.

I retrieve my camera and look around outside. I take a few of my own photos before heading back across the street to the hostel. Omar has given me a suggestion for a cafe. Fran and I will give it a try tonight and compare notes about our day at the Museum.

Egypt: Part I

2011-01-09T07:01:00.006-05:00

Without thinking, we step on to a moving sidewalk at the Istanbul airport. I am with Fran, my Peace Corps travel buddy. We have a 5 hour layover before proceeding to Cairo Egypt. So engrossed in conversation, we don’t notice the end of the walkway approaching. Suddenly we spill across the floor. Hand luggage scatters along with our legs and arms.

What happened? Quickly we check for broken bones and scurry out of the way before more people tumble upon us. We are okay with more bruised egos than anything else. We look at each other and think, “How could we be so stupid?” Then uncontrollably, we begin laughing and laughing and laughing.

This incident becomes a metaphor for my trip. Egypt is all about shock and awe. I find myself in places I never thought possible. I experience the intensity and chaos of Cairo and then step into the stately antiquity of the Pyramids. I consciously try to learn to let go of control and just savor the experiences – good, bad or indifferent. It's about enjoying the ride for as long as I can and remembering to jump and not fall off the end.

Cairo is a densely compacted city of 7.8 million with as many as 10 million more people living in close proximity. Intense is an understatement.

Cars whiz along as if trying out for the Indy 500. Three lanes become 4 and sometimes 5 as cars swerve to gain an advantage of a few feet. I’m in the front seat and have to close my eyes more than a few times. Amazingly, I never see an accident although I certainly think one is about to happen. It’s as if cars become an extension of the people driving and they can calibrate the closeness to another within fractions. It’s uncanny.

Car horns beep and blare…constantly. It’s like they are talking to each other. Some taxis have special beepers. They emit a rapid high pitch and crescendo before ebbing in a wave of sound. The cacophony assaults the senses. I think maybe Cairo Egypt is where John Cage got his inspiration for his compositions of sound effects.
I try to cross the intersection to get to the Egyptian Museum which is directly across the street from our hostel. I walk a half a block to a traffic light, but quickly realize that lights are more ornamentation than traffic control. Egyptian drivers ignore them…yikes!

How to get across? At 9:30 am there is no break in the traffic and like I say, traffic lights don’t help. I watch other pedestrians. How do they do it? They boldly walk out in front of the speeding traffic. Of course, car horns blare, “Get out of the way.” The pedestrians extend an arm in a stop motion and then dodge between on-coming traffic. It’s magical. Cars mostly slow down.

I pick out a cluster of Egyptian pedestrians and decide to follow closely. Even though my blood pressure probably shoots up 30 points, I make it. I’m alive. By the end of the trip, I am doing it on-my-own. I just extend my arm in a stop motion and magically cross to the other side. Egypt is Pyramids and the Pyramids are everything you can imagine. However, getting to them is a challenge. We buy a tour from our hostel. It's a mistake. Our “English Speaking” driver has a limited vocabulary - very limited. Try as we do, there is no way to communicate. I now know the frustration my Ukrainian friends feel when they try to communicate with my limited Russian.
Our driver gets us to the Pyramids and then the tourist hustle begins. Everyone seems to have a scheme to help me spend money. It can be the shopkeeper who prices bottled water at 10 Egyptian Pounds when the local rate is 4 EP or it can be the dozens of long robed men trying to grab my attention with a deal not to be missed.

“Come with me....what is your name? This way please....where are you from? I have very good price. What you want…camel…horse…carriage? I get it for you,” they say. I feel like I’m being picked apart by the constant barrage of offers. I’m exhausted going a few hundred feet. It’s a hectic touristy craziness.

I fend off offers…although I am tempted a few times. I’m still a neophyte in the Egyptian bartering system. I don’t know a fair price and I don’t know what may lie ahead. Fran says she yearns for a shop with price tags. We buy tickets to get into the Pyramid area. At 60 EP (less than 12 USD) it's a deal and maybe the only one we will encounter today.

Spinx stands guard

After going through a security scan, AD picks us up right out of the crowd. He is 61 and soft spoken. At first I think he is checking our tickets and then I think he is a part of our entrance fee. Silly me. He explains that he is not trying to sell us anything. Huge relief.

For about an hour he escorts us around the Pyramids. It’s a sunny day with a touch of dusty grayness or is it pollution hanging in the air? I feel like I have walked into a National Geographic layout. All my life I have seen pictures and now I am here gazing at mortuary monuments from Egypt’s Old Kingdom, some 4500 years ago.

The Giza complex includes three large Pyramids for the afterlife of the Pharaohs and three smaller ones for wives. A mortuary temple and complex is attached so that offerings can be made to the god-king and his resurrected life secured for perpetuity.. A causeway has been discovered that connects the colossal monuments and smaller tombs for nobles of the Pharaoh’s Court.
The volume of the largest Pyramid of Cheops is roughly 2,500,000 cubic meters. Based on these estimates and building over a 20 year period, workers (or were they slaves) would have installed about 800 tons of stone every day. Similarly, it means that of the 2.3 million blocks of stone, about 12 would have to be put into place every hour of every day for twenty years.

To learn even more go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Pyramid_of_Giza

The Pyramid area is so vast that even with many tourists, moments of calm reflection are possible. I realize that here ancient people have made an insistent and passionate protest against death.

The Pyramids are an affirmation to life and a supreme revolt against the darkness and silence from which no one returns. They evoke mystery and deep soulful thinking.AD brings me back to the present as he finally makes his pitch for a “tip.” I give him 100 EP and feel satisfied that he is getting a fair compensation and I have not been taken too badly. After all, I reflect, “In the face of 4500 years of antiquity what difference does $20 dollars make?" I smile to myself, "There are better things to occupy the mind - life and death and beyond the horizon.”

Snap-Shots From Konotop

2010-12-21T04:38:00.009-05:00

To take a good snap-shot requires the right equipment at the right time in the right place. I offer you two snap-shots from Konotop that prove the wisdom of being present in the moment.

Fridays mean Art Day at Hearts of Love Center. Just about every Friday I do some sort of Art Project with the children. It’s become popular to draw or paint with the American.

On some Fridays, I’ve seen as many as 18 kids in space for maybe 10. I do get a little tense and overwhelmed, but with the help of Annya, I keep my cool. She says with a smile, “Normalna. It’s normal.”

Last week, I made a huge Christmas tree by taping together blocks of paper and using my watercolors to paint the branches. Then the children drew ornaments to decorate. All levels and ages contributed. Some of the ornaments are decorated ala scribbles while others are carefully drawn. One medicated boy surprises me. Instead of the usual scribbles, he draws a design for the first time. I say in my best Russian, “Good job…Good Job.”

I always insist that the children put their names on the art. I think by claiming it as their own, a little piece of self-esteem is added to their lives. Often they will take the art to other adults at the Center and bask in the approval.

I am putting away supplies and getting ready to go home, when a little girl bursts into the room. “Chi, Chi, Chi,” she insists. I make my way down the hall to another room where she and a friend are setting the table with china cups and plates – no Styrofoam here.

Then I learn it’s the little girl’s Birthday. She is a 8 years old. Her mother has brought in a small cake for a small celebration. It’s a special treat.

As we settle into our places at the table, we are invited to share a Birthday wish. This is a wonderful Ukrainian ritual. People talk intimately about a person’s character and offer wishes for a good life. Each wish can go on for several minutes. I love the way Ukrainians are not embarrassed to express kindness.

I look at the little girl. She is wearing a red dress. Red is considered most beautiful for Ukrainian women. And this little girl is beautiful in her own special way.
What I notice most is her demeanor. She glows with Bambi eyes wide open. The gentle words of praise accumulate like dozens of presents – but only more valuable. I am touched when her older brother speaks in admiring terms of love. We all should be so blessed.

I place my hand on my heart and take a mental snap-shot.

<<<<< >>>>>

Whether it's Santa or St. Nicholas, there's magic in the idea that a stranger will come to give gifts. Sometimes it’s expected and other times it happens as a surprise.

At Hearts of Love, the hallways are strung with tinselly garlands. We are having a lot of fun getting ready for our St. Nicholas party. Just when I think all has been done, Yelena finds another box of tinsel. More is better. I tease her that she's decorating this center like a mother with a gang of kids.

My watercolor tree is decorated. The children have covered it with their own creations. I am proud of them. Festive bags have been bought and filled with candies. We are expecting about 35 children.

The party unfolds as expected. A play is performed by an acting troupe from our House of Culture (a Soviet institution that continues).

The story pits a fox and wolf against two little hares with a big old bear as referee. There are chase scenes, deceptions, fisticuffs and more. But in the end all are friends. Ukrainians like animal stories and judging the reaction from the children, they love this one.

Finally St. Nicholas comes. Instead of red and jolly, he is dressed in a light blue cloak and a monk's hat. He gives a little blessing and then distributes bags of goodies.

A large gingerbread man has been added – compliments of our new Mayor. The children are delighted. A few games are played and then the party ends. Thank you, St. Nicholas.

I am putting on my coat when I learn that the Vice Mayor of Konotop has dropped by and wants to meet me. With the election of last fall, governmental leaders have changed and the new Mayor is reaching out.

After introductions, the Vice Mayor gets right down to business. "How does this organization compare to ones in America," he asks? “Wow,” I think. “How am I going to respond to such a question?”

I have learned during my time here that Ukrainians will sometimes ask the comparison question as a way to determine if we are with them and find them acceptable. I quickly re-frame the question into a litany of what Hearts of Love is doing well - like transforming a crumbling building into a center of life and activity, a place where children who might be ignored are considered special.

I talk about the challenge of funding and the need for local support. I offer the idea of a "United Way" approach. He leans forward. He’s interested and asks, “Will you come and meet with the Mayor?”

I’m totally surprised. What an unexpected opportunity!

Then he turns to Yelena and says, “I think we should make a professional video so that the people of Konotop can learn about your work here. “ It’s another unexpected surprise. The meeting ends with exchanges of emails and wishes for a Happy New Year.

Later as I am getting ready to leave, Yelena turns to me, “You told us to widen our circle of friends…You know, we listened….See what’s happening.”

I put on my jacket, smile and take another mental snap-shot.

Allies...Enemies...Friends

2010-12-18T16:03:00.005-05:00

Once we were allies. Then we became Cold War enemies. And now we can be friends again.

The story starts with an invitation to speak at School # 5. I have been getting quite a few speaking invites and never know exactly what to expect.

We walk into the assembly hall. It’s packed with students and most look to be from the upper grades. They’re dressed well - no jeans and sweat shirts here. Boys wear dress pants, suit jackets and ties. Girls are in skirts or dresses and many with bows in their hair. For a moment I think it’s 1958 and I am back at St. Cecilia’s Catholic School in Philadelphia.

Today is Ukrainian Army Day. Officially it’s a day to remember the 1991 establishment of the Ukrainian military, but unofficially it’s more about veterans and especially veterans of the Great War (WW II). The director of the School wants to combine honoring veterans’ service with the idea of volunteering and community service. I now know why Yelena, Vika and I are here.

We are escorted to the front of the hall and take our seats behind three older men. They are a living legacy from the Great War. Their chests are festooned with ribbons and medals. I see the profile of Lenin and madallions with the hammer and sickle on many.

To an American, it looks strange to see so many military medals on an ordinary civillian suit jacket. But then as an American, I have never known such a pervasive and devastating war on my home soil. What memories they must hold on their chests.

The program unfolds in typical Ukrainian style. Two students read from a scripted program to welcome and introduce each segment. They do a great job. After introductions, a young woman sings a hauntingly beautiful patriotic song.

Then we are shown a slide presentation. It’s visually haunting as well. I see a slide of army boys crouched at a window looking out at war-torn buildings. Then I glance at the windows in this hall and shiver. The window style is the same. The photo could have been taken from a place just like here. And maybe, it was.

The Veterans take turns addressing the students. I kept thinking that they were not much older than the oldest student here when they went to war. I notice a young boy across the aisle from me. He is on the edge of his seat absorbing every word. Judging from the intense silence in the room, everyone is doing the same. The speaker begins to weep.

I wish I knew what he was saying, but I later find out he was speaking in Ukrainian and I only know a little Russian. So I sit absorbing emotion and offering empathy.

Yelena speaks next and her warm charm provides an excellent transition. Her pictures of a broken down building being transformed into a lively Center for disabled children tells a powerful story of volunteer drive and the positive difference a few people can make. She speaks from the heart just as the Veterans had done, but she speaks about living and loving and hope.

My turn comes next. I start with JFK’s famous phrase – “Ask not what your Country can do for you, but what you can do for your Country.” I talk about the Peace Corps. I tell the students that right now more than 8,500 Americans are serving in 77 countries around the world. They share skills, like I do here in Konotop. They make new friends and kindle cross-cultural understanding.

I end my short talk by applying JFK’s words to Ukraine. “Ask not what Ukraine can do for you, but what you can do for Ukraine… for Konotop…for your city. “ The applause is loud and sustained.

As I take my seat Yelena smile. Each of the Veterans turns around to shake my hand. As the third one does so, he pulls me closer and before I know what is happening, he firmly plants a kiss on my hand. This military man with a chest full of medals and memories has tears in his eyes.

Allies…Enemies…Friends.

What About God's Justice???

2010-11-29T05:16:00.011-05:00

In this religious season when we think about being thankful and try to imagine God's Spirit among us, I thought you might appreciate hearing about some of the good that is being done in the world. It’s a story about Paul and Darlene Heller.

I have known Paul and Darlene Heller since my days at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. Yikes, that’s more than 40 years ago. Paul and I met and became close friends. I never realized back then that we would still be good friends in 2010.

Darlene found Paul (or was it the other way around) when he was in NYC serving an internship at the East Harlem Protestant Parish - a groundbreaking ministry among the poor. Darlene was studying to be a nurse. They fell in love and Darlene came back to Pittsburgh with Paul. Marriage soon followed.

Over the years our friendship deepened. For more than 20 years, ever since my divorce and its brokenness, I have spent every Thanksgiving and Christmas with the Hellers. The kids, Adam, Caleb and Rebekah adopted me along with their spouses Sara and Andrya. We are family and I am delighted.

One time I was visiting and had a nightmare. I woke up shouting, "WHAT ABOUT GOD'S JUSTICE???" It was loud enough to wake the Hellers. Over coffee the next morning, we laughed about my active imagination and theological musings – even in sleep. It became one of those family stories that gets repeated over turkey.

Fast forward to present time. Paul and Darlene leave Plattsburgh, New York with all its snow and skiing for the tropics of Malawi. Yes, for two and a half years, Paul and Darlene Heller, have been in Malawi Africa.

Darlene has been directing the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery. They take in babies who have been abandoned for a variety of reasons. Often their mothers have died in childbirth or there has been some other difficulty in the village. When the babies come, they are mostly in a wasted state.

Paul has been working on the administrative side strengthening administrative practices and securing a more stable financial base. It’s crucial work.

He also has been preaching at the local church where 1000 people regularly attend. That’s right, one-thousand people – imagine! He tells me that worship services often go on for 3 hours and even more. I tell him he needs shorter sermons (chuckle).

The work at the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery is literarily life-saving. It will probably never reach the headlines of the NY Times or the air waves of NPR – although you might easily argue that it should.

Another baby is brought to the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery

Day-in and day-out, babies are being nursed back to health. They come as frightened skeletons and become chubby cherubs. Of course, sometimes a baby arrives too late. All that can be done is hold the little one until she dies. It’s hard work. And I think it takes a lot of soulfulness to do it. My good friends have soul and faith and love.
The same baby after two months of food and care

Take a moment to review their blog. The context is heart-wrenching, but the work is heart-enlightening. http://www.suffer-the-little-children.blogspot.com/

I keep thinking that among the lives being rescued at the Mzuzu Nursery, there are those who will make a difference in Africa’s poorest country. Thank you, Paul and Darlene, for being an answer to my dream – “What about God’s Justice?”

Today I Graduated

2010-11-24T13:00:00.010-05:00

Today I graduated. And I must say, it's been a lot of fun.

Ever since arriving in Ukraine, I have taught beginner’s English. Most Peace Corps Volunteers have at least one class. Many have several. During our Peace Corps training they told us that while being new in a community, English could be used as a kind of social currency. It gives us something useful that Ukrainians want and it occupies us as we try to figure out what’s going on.

So whether it’s been with children or adults, mothers at the Center or governmental leaders, I have taught English. It’s been fun to introduce participatory classes and get my students talking in English. We progress from simple verb tenses to pronoun charts to prepositional phrases and more. We make-up simple sentences and dialogues about family, friends and weather. Progress is slow and it’s been at an elementary level.

That's why I am pleased to receive an invitation to teach at the Technical School.

"Can you come and be with our advanced English students? They do not have many chances to talk with native speakers. Your presence will be a great pleasure for them,” says Tatyanna, one of the English teachers.

I agree to teach and we begin to discuss particulars - What kind of class; how many students; and so forth? Tatyanna tells me that there will be about 25 students, maybe a few more. "Like I said, it will be a pleasure for them,” she says. And I think it will be very interesting for Tatyanna and the other teachers as well.

We decide to read portions of Taras Shevchenko’s poetry. He is a renowned Ukrainian poet (and painter) who captures the long suffering of his people and the ever present hope for rebirth. His influence on Ukrainian culture is immense.

During Soviet times, his strong patriotism was downplayed in favor of his anti-czarist sentiments. However Shevchenko was always a Ukrainian patriot. He was a serf and stood up for the plight of the poor. Today he is an iconic figure even appearing on Ukrainian 100 grievnah bill. (adapted from Wikipedia)

Also we decide to read portions of Martin Luther King's I Have a Dream speech. His dream of America living up to the ideals of our Founding Fathers echoes Shevchenko's dream for a just and free Ukraine. I hope this class will add to our cross-cultural understanding. We all struggle for a better life.

I arrive early for the class. I can tell that the teachers are nervous - a little for me, but more for their students who they hope will do well and that I will have patience with them. Tatyanna confides, "They have never had such a class."

Students arrive. It is a full house. Extra chairs are brought in from across the hall. Unlike most of the classes I have taught, young men outnumber the women here.

I ask, "Do you speak English?" And I am pleased to hear a loud response, "Yes, we speak English." The class proceeds with readings from Shevchenko’s poignant poem. Some have read it before in Ukrainian, but now we read an English translation.

…Break then your chains, in love unite,
Nor seek in foreign lands the sight
Of things not even found above,
Still less in lands that strangers love...
Then in your own house you will see
True justice, strength, and liberty…

…Then all the shame of days of old,
Forgotten, shall no more be told;
Then shall our day of hope arrive,
Ukrainian glory shall revive,
No twilight but the dawn shall render
And break forth into novel splendour....
Brother, embrace! Your hopes possess,
I beg you in all eagerness!

Taras Shevchenko, Viunishcha, December 14, 1845

We continue with King's speech and note the similarities of these two patriots from countries half a world apart. We discuss a little about justice and freedom and how liberty is justice with freedom. We are having a substantive class and discussion in English. It’s great.

As we wind down the class, I have a surprise. I show the words of a 1960s song. It's a song I sang often with other volunteers when I first tried the Peace Corps in 1967. Now more than 40 years later, I am teaching If I had a Hammer to Ukrainians. Who would have thought it possible?

We review the lyrics and end the class by singing it together:

...it's the hammer of justice, it's the bell of freedom, it's a song about love between my brothers and sisters all over this land....

What a wonderful experience. I feel like I have graduated.

Ordinary Life: Potpurri

2010-11-21T14:16:00.008-05:00

Life in Ukraine remains interesting. I find my days filling up with memories. What a privilege to be here and take it all in. Recently, I noticed that some of these memories and images and feelings are beginning to blend together. I guess it’s natural. That’s why I keep writing so that I can recall details years from now. I hope you will enjoy and I hope it will help me to remember.

>>>One morning on my way to a Marshuka, I spy a old babushka emerging from the tree-line that surrounds an open field not far from my building. I give her a causual glance and begin to turn attention elsewhere when I notice four goats following her. They grab my attention.

The goats are grazing on a mixture of leftovers from the field and weeds. The babushka is bent over gathering some of the same weeds, maybe herbs.

Even when she stands up, she is still bent over. It's a common sight among older woman who, no doubt, have had years of back-breaking work - literally. She's dressed in a peasant skirt, heavy stocking to her knees, layers of sweaters and an overly large coat. Nothing matches. A colorful scarf wraps her head. Slowly and deliberately she moves plucking weeds and using her walking stick for balance. The goats follow. I stare. It’s another National Geographic moment.

>>>Synergy is a neat word. Don’t you like the way the syllables roll around the mouth before emerging? And even neater is the way it keeps showing up.

I am sitting in the audience while Hearts of Loves second charity auction unfolds. Last year I played a central initiating role, but not now. Plans for the auction were well under way before I knew it. The idea of local fund raising has taken root.

This year a group of university students volunteered to help. They reached out to businesses for donations and orchestrated the entire evening complete with music, entertainment, auctioneers and lovely "Vanana White" type young women who parade among the audience with each item for bid. It’s a charming sight.

I think they are feeling bad that I do not have a larger role this year. They are wrong. When I am asked to share a greeting, I say how proud I am of these young leaders. Everyone applauds.

Last Spring these young people were among those who shared in my Leadership Seminars. Now they are joining Hearts of Love to raise more money for this year's heat. Synergy is happening in Konotop.

>>>Anton, my young Ukrainian friend, tells me a family story. When his father was his age, nineteen, a Soviet military recruiter came to their small village. At the time, the Soviets were involved in a in a blood draining war. The place was Afghanistan.

The young men of the village were rounded up. There were 35 of them including Anton’s father. On that day, everyone was scheduled to go to Afghanistan. After paper-work, they would be packed in trucks for the long journey away to war. I can hardly imagine the impact this must have had on a small village.

Anton’s Grandfather knew that if he could delay his son’s departure by a few days, he would likely be assigned to Kazakhstan and not Afghanistan. So he acted to save his son.

On the day of the round-up, he brings a hog and a lot of vodka to the recruiter. He says something like, "my son is needed at home. Can he go next week?" It works. The paper-work is misfiled. Anton’s father is passed over for a few days.

As Anton tells me this story, I get a chill. I realize that without his Grandfather’s action he would probably not be here. Of the 34 recruits sent to Afghanistan that day, only 5 returned.

Probably most people are not faced with dramatic situations like this one. Yet I get to thinking that kind and generous actions, even small ones, can make a difference from this generation to another and another.

Libraries and Books

2010-10-21T09:40:00.007-04:00

I never visited our local library. Other volunteers at other sites have done some amazing things with their libraries. My friend, Fran, set up a sizable collection of English reading books where none had existed before. So along with several other Peace Corps Volunteers, I decided to discover the situation in Konotop.

Our guide and interpreter for the day is Gregory. At 70 he speaks impeccable English and is a leader in the remnant Jewish community of Konotop. For many years, he edited a newspaper. He has a love of words and curiosity about life. He has become a good friend of us Peace Corps volunteers.

We discover the library on the ground floor of a block apartment building. It’s easy to walk by without noticing. It’s nothing like the ornate buildings that Andrew Carnegie was prone to build and endow. How fortunate we Americans are.

Inside on the left is a computer room and on the right are the book collections and reading room. A few young guys seem to be checking out the Russian version of Face Book and an older woman is quietly reading. Obviously, we are a disruptive entourage, but still we are warmly welcomed. For a few grievnah (less than a dollar), we become library members.

We ask about English books. The librarian takes us to a bookcase. Half ways down on a shelf are about a dozen – maybe eighteen books. I did not expect many, but I am surprised at so few. “Are there others somewhere else," we ask?

“No, they’re all here. “ In a town of nearly 100,000 people, less than two feet of shelf space holds Konotop’s entire collection of English literature.

Immediately, I think of Fran and how she transformed a similar situation. She created a Peace Corps Partnership Grant and with the help of family and friends, about 300 books were purchased forming a permanent collection.

A few weeks later, Gregory and I make an appointment with the librarian. I had promised to return and show pictures of Maine and America on my computer. I often do this as a way to build friendships. Most of the library staff crowd around a table as I show off the beauty of lighthouses, my garden, Lincoln Monument and more.

Later over tea, I propose a Partnership Grant to create a permanent English reading collection. I’m stunned when she says, “No.” Thinking that she does not understand, I explain again that it will be a grant in addition to the library’s current budget. The answer is still no. She adds, “It’s not in our work plan.”

Gregory is a good friend. He sees my disappointment. On the way home, we pass the building where he lived as a little boy. He insists on showing it to me. It’s an office now and inside a small room, about 10 x 12, is where his parents and siblings lived sharing a kitchen with other families down the hall. He tells me about being hungry as a boy – “so very hungry.”

He tells me about how the Soviets tried to control thinking. And then referring to the library and English books, he says, “Something good will happen. I know it.”

Disappointment leads me to think about alternatives. I make an appointment at the Polytechnical School. I propose the same Partnership Grant and this time teachers and librarians respond with enthusiasm. Gregory was right.
Reading room of the Polytechnical School

They show me a handful of old Soviet era English paperbacks. That’s it for English literature. They have English textbooks for classes, but nothing to open the world of English literature so that students can grow and learn on their own. Old Soviet era English books

The Director of the School joins our meeting. She says that ever since she visited Ames Iowa on an exchange program, it has been her dream to have an advanced English Literature Course. “Now I think my American dream will be possible,” she says with a broad smile.

I’m excited. This project will open the world of English literature from beginners to advance readers. We will include anthologies, poetry, young adult literature and of course, many of the Classics. We will purchase 10 English/Russian dictionaries to help students with new vocabulary. Students give thumbs up to the Project

In addition we will publicize this new collection to the entire community. As a result, Konotop will have a new source of knowledge, inspiration and cross cultural understanding, a way to learn about life and the world, and an encouragement to imagine and achieve dreams.

As this project takes shape, I am deeply saddened by the sudden death of a wonderful man. My friend, guide and translator, Gregory, died on October 10th. He was hospitalized in early October, had an operation and showed a few sign of recovery. But then he died. What sadness.

How he loved words. How well he spoke English. What a wonderful friend he was. His stories and reassurance echo in my heart. “Something good will happen. ...I know it.”
. Shelves waiting for English reading books

If you would like to help with the English Reading Project, please send me an email at juddolphin@gmail.com I’ll send you more information as soon as the Partnership Grant Proposal has been approved and posted on line by the Peace Corps. Thank you so much.