Gardens Everywhere...HOORAY!

As a child, I remember singing...”April showers will bring May flowers.” Here in Ukraine the flowering season has arrived surrounding even the most stark Soviet style building with a breath of freshness.

I arrived in Ukraine just one month ago on April 1st. Winter was winding down and temperatures soared into the 70s for a few days. It was enough to give a hint of spring green. While temperatures would dip near freezing in the weeks ahead, the seasons were changing. My friend Bob wrote me in mid-April saying that the ice was “mostly off the lakes” in Maine. I think Ukraine is ahead of Maine.

My first weekend in Chernihiv saw the annual Spring clean-up. Organizations from across this city of 300,000 mobilized some 20,000 people to rake up the winter debris. Chernihiv can really turn out people of all ages. Pride, I think. Paint was provided for benches and fences to be given a quick coat of color. Purple was the flavor this year.

My first weekend in Chernihiv saw the annual Spring clean-up. Organizations from across this city of 300,000 mobilized some 20,000 people to rake up the winter debris. Chernihiv can really turn out people of all ages. Pride, I think. Paint was provided for benches and fences to be given a quick coat of color. Purple was the flavor this year.

Interestingly, trees are given a coat of white wash. I have not discovered whether this is a cosmetic preference or has some utilitarian purpose. Either way it seems to be a wide spread practice.

The city housing is mostly comprised of with box-like apartment complexes that create an open space in the middle away from the highways and streets. Trees frame the space and benches and maybe a child's swing or two complete the park like area. Often in the late afternoon, I see babushkas (grandmothers or anyone who looks over 60), sitting and chatting with one another. I am told that they often spend hours recalling the old day. “Do you remember this?” “Da (yes), do you remember when...”

As the weeks progressed, I noticed small gardens popping up every where. On the side of an apartment, a woman turns the soil. She carefully works around the early spring tulips and daffodils. On the buses, I see men caring small shrubs and trees. I spied a few lilac and maybe cherry trees. Near my apartment, old tires are painted purple being turned into planters for lilly of the valley and hostas. I am charmed.

Ukrainian people love gardening. I love gardening too. I am feeling my first pangs of home-sickness - not because I am unhappy, but because I miss my garden. Sounds silly, but I am sure many understand especially my padrugas (friends), Ilene and Patti and Domenica. We would always get together to swap our various ideas for this year's “better than ever” garden. I will miss those times.

Now my house is sold and I am in Ukraine.

Today my cluster went to a Dasha. A Dasha is a country kitchen and garden. Many Ukrainians

go out to their Dasha to plant vegetable and maybe a few flowers. They have weekly outings to tend the “sod” (garden) and then harvest the produce

Ukrainians tend to be seasonal in their vegetable eating. When I go into a grocery store, I am reminded of Patman's in my boyhood. Warren and Pete, do you recall? Can goods lined the shelves behind the counter and a small area in the corner held the available produce for the season. Right now in Ukraine sorrel is available and I am enjoying “green” borscht.
The Dasha that we visited belonged to a famous Ukrainian writer of the late 19th century. Michael Katsoobinski wrote about the sorrow and pain of this life urging his people to not be passive in their living but to grasp each day for freedom. While he was writing, his wife tended a wonderful garden. Imagine the inspiration. Now it is a historical site managed by his great great grandson.

I may not be able to have a garden this year, but you can be sure that by the time next year rolls around and “April showers bring May flower”, I will have a small Ukrainian sod!! Somewhere! Somehow!

Ukrainian Pasxa

Imagine that you are at one of the Big Ten Universities, like Purdue. It's a bright day. The sky is cloudless blue and there is a chill that bites into your cheeks. You and hundreds, thousands of others are scurrying to the stadium for a game. Everyone is focused on making it there before the first kick-off.

Now transport yourself to Ukraine and experience Pasxa (Orthodox Easter). It is 5:30 am and the sun is not quite up. I quickly dress and pack a basket filled with foods. Typically, the foods include Pasca bread, kielbasa, colored eggs and anything else that the family might eat that day.

Luda and I wait for a taxi. She is on crutches and it is impossible for her to walk long distances. Together we take the taxi to one of Chernihiv's oldest and largest churches. The day is breaking as we depart. It will be one of those bright chilly Big Ten football days.

But to my surprise the analogy continues.

I immediately notice that the streets and walkways are busy. Hundreds, thousands of people are walking to church. Each family or couple holds a big wicket basket filled with Pasxa foods. One after another after another they form a procession scurrying just like the crowds at a football game. The difference is that many of these people will walk miles. Few have cars and buses will not be used on Pasxa. This is a holy time, a holy procession from every corner of Chernighiv. The sight and extent of devotion is remarkable.

We arrive at the church. It is one of Chernihiv's oldest and largest. A fence and gate encircles an inner courtyard. Today the gate is flung wide open. Kneeling at the gate are a half dozen beggars. Bibical images come alive as Luda stops, holds her crutches in one hand and bends down to places a few coins in a beggar's hands. I do the same.

In the court yard, families stand side by side in a winding snake like formation. All are focused on a Pasxa morning blessing. The baskets of food are uncovered. The priest and several acolytes slowly pass along the line chanting “Christ is Risen” and then in response “He is Risen Indeed.” Along with the chant, copious amounts of holy water are slung onto the food and families. All cross themselves and some fall to their knees in an act of humility as if before the risen Christ.

Inside huge crowds wander between pictures, statues and tombs of holy men. Slowly and devoutly prayers are muttered, the sign of the cross is made and often a kiss – a holy kiss is placed on the icon.

Luda has an advantage with her crutches. The people seem to part to give her space. I follow her in her prayers. A few candles are lit and placed on pedestal displays. Their reflection shines in the massive golden altar stretching from floor to ceiling and wall to wall.
I remember family and friends who I know are having difficult times. I think of the blessings we all havein sharing each day. After an hour or so, Luda asks, “Ready to go?” I am.

We pass by the beggars again giving a few extra coins . I take photos of the church and the priest blessing more families and Pasxa food. My Ukrainian church time ends as the blessings of Pasxa begin.

Sights in Chernihiv

Here I am with Ksoosha. She is 23 years old and has studied tourism at the Institute. She has been fantastic in helping me since she knows how to speak a lot of English. One afternoon, she and Pavil (Paul) took me on a sightseeing excursion. After a life time of looking at pictures of the onion domed churches, I was walking towards them in the golden sun light.

We were welcomed to Ukraine in a traditional welcome ceremony. The bread was the most beautiful piece of culinary art that I have ever seen. It was a shame to eat it. But we all were invited to partake in a kind of welcoming communion. Ukrainians are warm and welcoming. They have a saying that it takes the eating of 16 kilos of salt between people to become friends. While I may not ingest so much salt, I look forward to new friendships. Here is a view from the ramparts that surround one of the churches. I believe it is the Dniper River. In the early Spring all is waking up and fresh.

Magnificent holy structures. On Palm Sunday, they have the blessing of the pussy willows and weeping willows at the churches. Bunches of willows are brought to the church. The Priest takes a bucket of holy water and drenches the willows and the people holding them. Believe me, I got wet like a Baptist! The willows are taken home and a ritual flogging is performed so that the pain of the life will leave this family during this holy week and stay away throughout the year.

I can only hope that the pain of this life will be bearable for all this year and maybe stay away...for many more to come. Bless the pussy willows and weeping willows. Bless us all.

This is a memorial to all the people of Chernivol. After all these many years, the melt down of the nuclear reactor still makes the area inhabitable. Although I read that the animal population is on the rebound. The animals may not live so long, but without a human population they have an opportunity to fill the ecological space.

I believe this is the oldest church in Chernihiv. It is caught in the middle of a struggle between the Russian and Ukrainian Orthodox Churches. Who will have this historic church under their control? I find it remarkably beautiful. What do you think?

First Speech in RUSSIAN

Okay, maybe the pronunciation was slow and maybe I stumbled on a word or two....But after 5 days of language study, I made my first public speech.

I am truly amazed by the investment that the Peace Corps is placing in our language competencies. We are divided between two languages – Ukrainian and Russian. Here in Ukraine, about a third of the people speak Ukrainian and a third Russian and the final third both. The Russian influence comes not only from the Soviet period, but from centuries of close and sometimes contentious relationships.

The Peace Corps blieves in building relationships in Ukraine. Language becomes essential. Here not so many know english though it is a growing number among the young. Still for Americans to learn the language is important to the Peace Corps mission and our standing in the community.

My language group consists of five trainees and one native Ukrainian teacher. She is amazing in all the various ways that she presents the lessons. Definitely never boring and often a lot of fun. I knew absolutely no Russian before Peace Corps. The prospect of trying to learn actually gave me a chill – the kind you get when you know you are in a situation that you may not be able to handle...brrrrrrrrrrrrrr! Like I imagine bungy jumping!!

But then I remembered my niece, Jennifer's advice. She has traveled the world as a student and with her career army husband and family. Her language skills are strong. She said, “Try not to figure it all out. Try not to get every detail. Just listen and keep open to the flow. It will come.”


Her advice and the excellent teaching and yes, my effort made it possible to make the small speech. I got to introduce myself to the Deputy Mayor and the Department Head for Tourism of our City, Chernigov. It was a 7 sentence speech and I was very proud of myself.
I now have a growing hope that Russian language will come. What a huge change from those month of anticipation. I get up every morning saying to my brain..."get open to that flow!"

My friends, the Hellers, say that I am in my honeymoon period. I say FANTASTIC!!

Peace Corps Staging

First afternoon of Peace Corps is complete.

What an exciting time. It is wonderful being joined with so many interesting people. I am really looking forward to learning more from each and building new friendships. We are a group spanning ages from twenties to late 60s. We are east coast...west coast...Hawaii and everywhere in between. Quite a few of us are in our senior years. It is a great dynamic in conversations and discussions. I am learning the lingo of a younger generation!!

The workshops have been well done. I am imppressed with the quality of presentation. Who would think that policies and procedures could keep the interest of 55 PC trainees? But there was enough variety and interactivity to keep us engaged.

I am feeling much better, thank you. A three day spring cold with intense coughing and maybe a little fever had me worried. Brother Peter let me sleep at his house for nearly 30 hours straight. We broke my hibernation by going to a New Jersey diner. Comfort food was on the menu. I had hot turkey sandwich, mashed potatoes and rice pudding....YUM!! That and NyQuil have made all the difference.

My last night was spent with Peter, Valarie and my niece, Jessica. I a got a few calls from friends and a farewell was shared with my son, Paul. All of these moments are cherished memories. I am feeling very blessed.

Tonight I am treating my self to a wonderful dinner and then off to bed for a 6 am wake up. After all this time, the adventure begins and within the next 24 hours...UKRAINE.

SPRING IN MAINE...NOT YET

Winter in Maine has its beauty, but it goes on and on for so long. This week Spring has sprung according to the calendar, but here in Maine the winter remains.

When I arrived back in Maine, I was greeted by a driveway engulfed in snow. Bob, my neighbor and Bruce, my Realtor, had kept open a narrow path to the front door. The rest was frozen in about 3 feet of snow and ice. Finding someone to help me dig out was a challenge.

Finally I found two young fellows who labored hard for about two hours. “Mister,” one young man said. “We cant get through the ice....sorry.” At the bottom of the drive was a block of ice that had accumulated from the run-off of the down spout. It was about a foot thick and larger than a 4x8 piece of plywood. I paid the fellows and applied salt and waited and waited for a warm day.

Yesterday, was the first full day of Spring.

I talked with Marilyn on the phone. She told me that up at her camp in Dexter Maine, the ice fishing is in full bloom. Marilyn say the ice is about a foot thick. Across the lake little shanty huts pop up like Spring flowers do in warmer places. Mainers gather in these huts, bore a hole into the ice and wait. They stay warm by imbibing liquid heat. Like the old joke says, “Fishing – one jerk waiting and waiting for another jerk.”

Ahhh, Spring in Maine!

Letting go...

Letting go is harder than I imagined. It's complex and filled with contradictions.

I left Lafayette about a week ago to return to Portland Maine. For two days I drove across country in the pouring rain. Yes, a difficult trip and one where I was grateful to arrive safely at the homes of friends and family along the way. I needed their welcome, support and encouragement more than I knew.

The process of letting go had begun in Lafayette. I began to sell or give away my stuff. I packed a large sized suit case, not for Ukraine, but for the Good Will. I downsized my collection of shirts and pants and ties and jackets. A few had been with me since Seminary days – some 35 years ago. Am I unusual or do many men like to hold onto clothes. I say to myself...”One day they will come back into style”....right?

My colleagues at AARP will remember the day I brought the Kelly Green shirt out of hibernation. It was a winner in the earlier 70s when bell bottoms, leisure suits and vivid colors were the latest and greatest. What was I thinking...I thought its time had come again.

On a bright summer day, I wore it to the office complete with matching tie. The reaction was immediate. My AARP friends were kind enough to snicker to my face and not behind my back. The shirt is now history. I will miss you, green shirt.

I posted a list of stuff to sell and kicked the letting go into a higher gear.
TV gone.
Stereo, no more.
Micro Wave, I'll cook without you.
I got rid of kitchen gadgets, side table, shower curtain, towels and a real nice vacuum sweeper. I think saying on the posting that “it suck real good” sealed its fate.

LUM got my Fiesta dinnerware for parties minus two plates and two cups that I still needed. I guess I could have gone to paper plates this last month, but I was not ready for that change...yet. In fact, while I know I needed to let go and I know that keeping a blender or a toaster in a box in storage for two years makes little sense, I still mourn their going.

I am downsizing, yet still I managed to fill my car with a lot of stuff for the ride back to Portland.
Back in the 70s, I remember watching Franco Zeffirelli movie about St. Francis – Brother Sun Sister Moon. I was moved by it. Here is a good review. Use cntrl-click to open or paste into browser.

http://www.christianitytoday.com/movies/reviews/2004/brothersunsistermoon.html?start=1

Upon returning from war, St Francis is shown throwing robes and bolts of clothe of immeasurable value to passersby on the street below. He is depicted as giving all to the poor. Free of possessions, he dances on the roof tops.

I feel like I am facing a St. Francis moment without his soul and spirit. A part of me likes my stuff...at least some of it. The idea of having just 5 or 6 winter/summer shirts for two years is unsettling. For days now I shifted the ones I will keep from one closet to another. The same with pants – 3 pairs. Socks and underwear are easier to let go. I can part with them. Thank goodness.
I am also letting go of friends . This may be harder still. I have grown to value my friendships more than just about anything.

In Lafayette, I had a wonderful experience of reconnecting with people I knew in the 70s and 80s. I was amazed by how comfortable I felt with people that I had not seen for decades. The warmth and welcome of people like Tom and Peg and Al and Anne remains with me. And maybe that is what is different about letting go of friends. You do not really loose them. You just modify the way you stay connected. I have kept friends from Seminary, Washington DC, Boston and AARP. We may not see each other much, but pone calls, emails and visits keep us connected.

I made a lot of new friends in Lafayette. The LUM staff and Joe were amazing. I felt like part of the gang in short order. LUM Board members and Campaign volunteers welcomed me with open arms too. Our paths are joined. It was good to be a part of raising $2.9 million.

As I embark on the Peace Corps, I take a great group with me. With a chuckle, I call all of them...”MY PEOPLE.” Thanks and let's use the email and Skype to stay connected! Visits??

Yesterday, the storage company came to do an estimate. I will be keeping family heirlooms and a few pieces of antique furniture. But mostly my stuff is going into two 8x8x5 storage boxes. I am sure St. Francis would have done it with one.

Two final items need to be sold...my car and my home. I suspect that soon I will no longer own either. Mmmmm...wonder how that will feel? Mournful? Freeing? Or a mix of contradictions. What am I without my stuff? Letting go is hard.....

LOVE MONTH

February is the “love month”. In the midst of winter, we are reminded about the human connection of love. Red hearts are everywhere. And if cupid was animated and not just a paper cut-out, hardly a heart would be missed.

Even at the YMCA, I was struck by a love message. I have been going to the Y in my constant campaign to loose a few pounds. Well, maybe a few more than a few. It's a slow process, but I have managed to increase my swim time to ½ mile and my elliptical cross trainer to 45 minutes. Yes, you can cheer me on!!

But getting back to the love message. The Y has a bulletin board with a new saying every day. On February 14th, the message was:

YOU CAN GIVE WITHOUT LOVING....
BUT YOU CANNOT LOVE WITHOUT GIVING.

I got to thinking ...about how this message gets played out through the Lafayette Urban Ministry.

Since returning here after 18 years, I am struck by the way LUM touches the lives of so many. Young and old, hungry and distressed, all are welcomed by LUM. While at the same time, LUM brings together volunteers and financial gifts in a life changing community ministry. LUM continues to offer more than food or shelter or other family supports. Always LUM strives to connect in ways that offer respect, dignity and positive hope in what can be some rather desperate situations.

Recently, an unexpected connection happened between two people who never met. A long time friend of LUM won a gift in a raffle during a local bank's promotion. Her prize???
A BRAND NEW BRIGHT GREEN BIKE!!!

She immediately called LUM and we thought of a guest at our shelter.

The young man became homeless when he lost his job. With no paycheck, he soon lost his apartment and was becoming more depressed. He turned to alcohol and it began to take him down. Something had to change. He turned to a local Church and the church secretary suggested that he go to LUM. She said, “I think they will be able to help.”

What might have been a “bad news” story started to look better.
He was welcomed at the LUM shelter. For the first time in many days, he had a nutritious meal. That night, he was off the streets and had a warm safe place to sleep.

And just as important, he found people who cared and were prepared to help. An outreach nurse gave him a medical check-up. Everyone was concerned when his blood pressure registered 190/148. LUM got him back on his blood pressure medicine. Slowly he stabilized and began to have hope for the future.

Like all of LUM's shelter guests, he met with one of the volunteer case managers. Together they talked about plans for getting Mark back on his feet. He registered for job placement at Purdue and he began using a computer to type up his resume and apply for jobs on-line.
That's when LUM offered the BRIGHT GREEN BIKE to him.

“Wow!” said Mark. “Now I can get around. I put the bike on the bus and get out to those businesses on the edge of town. You know, it is better to apply for jobs when they can see you eye to eye.” He is still working his plan. His blood pressure is down to 98/70. He says he is feeling a lot better. And maybe for the first time in a long time, he knows that others are pulling for him.

Even though he never met the woman who donated the BRIGHT GREEN BIKE, the two of them are now connected. And it makes a difference....February is the “love month.”

KEEPING FLEXIBLE....

The Peace Corps has a mantra for volunteers. Keep flexible. Expect the unexpected.

I had a taste of flexibility on my trip to family and friends at Christmas. It's called a sleep over at O'Hare Airport. I'm not sure I would recommend it unless you too are thinking about Peace Corps service.

The snow kept falling as I awaited my flight from Chicago to Providence Rhode Island. Delayed by 45 minutes. Delayed again by an hour. Delayed again and again until finally at 2:00 am, the agent announced no flight tonight.

To the groans of weary customers, she pleaded that she was only the messenger and not to blame her. So we put away our slings and arrows and blankly stared at one another. "We could all try stand-by tomorrow," she gleefully said- tho she failed to say that those flights were all booked.

I thought about getting a hotel room but at this hour and needing to be in the stand-by line by 6:30 am, it did not seem very logical. What to do now?

I looked around for for a resting place. Three chairs together without an arm rest in between would be perfect. But, I will tell you from experience. In an airport such a configuration is rare. I did see a few, but they were well occupied and I did not think it wise to disturb the inhabitants. I thought "No room in the inn"....opps that is another story.

So I settled for a two chairs and an arm rest. I linked my legs over the arm rest, rolled up my coat for a pillow and tried to drift off for an hour or so of sleep.

A gaggle of kids set up camp a few chair rows away and began giggling and having a good old time. I was hardly in the mood, but tried to practice Peace Corps fleibility and patience. I remember what a good friend taught me, "change the way you look at things and things change." Thank you Jim! I started thinking that I had waited so many years before I got caught in an airport and here they were 1/3 my age having this "adventure." Soon they settled and with a hand on my baggage I drifted off.

Next morning we all gathered at the gate hoping for stand-by. I was number 9 for a time until I got bumpped to number 15 by customers who had more frequent flyer miles than I. Needless to say, I did not make it on that flight. Looking outside I worried. The snow was coming down like the north pole. Good for Santa...not so good for Jud.

Trying my best to add a smile to my weary face, I hit upon a discussion with a fellow passenger. Amazingly, he had come some 20 years ago from Poland in an area only about 50 kilometers from Ukraine. He was a carpenter and going to the Providence area to visit his family. I told him about Peace Corps and we ended up having a wonderful conversation. He told me that he had changed flights to fly into Boston and then take a bus to Providence. Great idea. I did the same.

As I left snowy Chicago, I thought practice fllexibility and maybe you even meet a stranger who helps you along your way....

My Maine Garden

In the middle of winter it is always a delight to see reminders of summer. During my time in Maine, I enjoyed transforming my backyard into a flower garden. The Asiatic Lillies always start blooming arounf the 4th of July. I called them my garden fire works. What do you think?