Next Adventure--Rwanda

During the January drill weekend I got a lot of help from getting together the paperwork I need to extend my enlistment for another year or maybe two.  At the end of the weekend the sergeant in charge of admin for our battalion had most of the papers so in February we should be able to get them signed on on the way up the chain of command to the Adjutant General of the state.

If it goes through I serve until May of 2014 or maybe 2015.  If not, I am out in May of 2013.  Either way my long term plan includes most of a year in Rwanda.  That would be the academic year 2015-16.  That year my wife would be eligible for a sabbatical.  She is a math professor so her research is very portable.  The plan is to take the whole family to Rwanda for a year.

Our three (maybe four) sons will have the opportunity to live in a black-majority culture.  Of course, Xavier has spent his entire life in a black-majority culture, but he will experience it partly through the eyes of his brothers.

So why Rwanda?  Bicycle racing.  There are dozens of terribly poor countries to choose from in the world, but not many where I have something valuable to contribute.  In Rwanda, a former Belgian colony, the country is recovering from the 1994 genocide.  Part of that recovery is a shared love of bicycle racing.  An American, Jonathan Boyer, who raced in the Tour de France in the 80s went to Rwanda after the genocide and organized a national team and a national race--The Tour of Rwanda.  The story was in the New Yorker this summer.

In Rwanda I can teach English to French-speaking kids who need to be literate to be bike racers.  I can teach English with a full bike vocabulary--and then go riding with my students.  My sons can help with the English also.  They will be 16 and 17 and able to teach very current English.

Once the boys are in college, I want to spend more of my time in Haiti, Rwanda, and other poor countries.  A lot of people my age and older talk about traveling.  Some actually do it.  The Army reminded me that travel without a purpose can be dreary.  I loved going to Haiti.  I can't wait to go to Rwanda.  I know I would love going to Paris and Perth again, but I want to go places where it matters that I went.  Even if I can't much directly to help while I am there, I can write back home to tell other people what it's like to live in Rwanda.

Numbers Update

This week Site Meter says my blog passed 100,000 visits and 130,000 page views since June of 2008.  Blogger also tracks page views and says I have had 90,000 since June of 2009.  The webmaster at my day job says every method of tracking traffic gets a different result.  But the fact that the two are close makes me think they are pretty accurate.

Blogger also tells me which posts are the most popular.  By far the top of the list is "Home Sweet Trailer Home" with more than 2,100 page views followed by "Flying to Camp Garry Owen" with just over 500.

I know that my all time visits equal about one Lady Gaga minute, but a soldier stopped me in the hallway to say he reads my blog.  So I will keep posting till I get out.  Today's post is # 1,037.  Writing over 1,000 posts is like gaining weight--it doesn't happen all at once, but if you eat a little too much every day for a few years, suddenly you can't see your feet standing up!

And on a different note, the paperwork is coming together for my request to stay in another year or two.  So I may get to 1,500 posts if I stay in long enough!

Looks like a Happy New Year!

Hearing Test--Army Style

Today we had the annual cattle call for medical evaluations.  Medical teams come in and set up in the armory to check our teeth.  Others set up in the parking lot to check our hearing.  Today at Noon I got in line for the hearing check.  The line moves at the rate of two people every ten minutes.  I joined the line with eight people in front of me.

And for the next 40 minutes I listened to the diesel generator that ran all the equipment in the hearing test truck.

Huh?

Exactly.  Everyone in the line listened to a diesel at high idle for for the best part of an hour before the hearing test.

We all passed anyway, but sometimes the Army is too funny!

Another Old Soldier

Another good friend who I served with in Germany in the 70s was Sgt. Abel Lopez.  He and I were assigned to Bravo Company 1-70th Armor in Fort Carson Colorado in late 1975.  In September of the following year, Abe and I and 4,000 other soldiers flew to Germany becoming Brigade 76.  We were supposed to reinforce the East-West German border.  Our alert area was Fulda, right where Tom Clancy said World War III would begin.

At one point Abe and I were tank commanders of tanks parked next to each other in our motor pool in Wiesbaden.

The picture above was taken in that motor pool during the two hours each week we had to work in our gas masks.  Abel is in the middle flanked by Gene Pierce and Don Spears.  

After the Army, Abe went back to San Diego and became a fire fighter--retiring a few years ago as a Captain.  For most of the years since he left Germany in 1979 we have talked a half-dozen times each year.  Most of those conversations are about our faith mixed with the Army, family work and bad jokes.  

Once in 2008 I called Abe and said I read that Gen. Petraeus went to West Point about ten months before I enlisted which meant we were the same age.  Abe said, "The only difference between you is he is a big success and you aren't."  

Which is just the kind of jokes we have been making since Gen. Petraeus was a Lieutenant.

Old Soldiers Don't Fade Away

To begin the new year, let me introduce you to a soldier--actually an airman--who was my roommate at Lindsey Air Station in Wiesbaden, West Germany, in in 1978.  Airman 1st Class Cliff Almes shared a room with me during the year I worked for the base newspaper at the Wiesbaden Military Community Headquarters.  

You'll notice in the pictures below that Cliff is still in uniform and is serving on temporary assignment in the Middle East.  

He is no longeer in the US military.

When his enlistment was up, Cliff went home to Arizona for a couple of months then came back to join a Lutheran Monastery in Darmstadt Germany with a name so long I will direct you to the web site if you want it in German.  Land of Kanaan is the short version.

We became friends during the time we roomed together.  And after Cliff began his time as a novice I was able to visit him in Darmstadt.  

Cliff became Brother (Bruder) Timotheus.  

Here he is on a recent trip to Israel.  He is the second from the left with three other Brothers and a local pastor.

In this photo Cliff is back in Germany with some of the young men who have come to Kanaan for short-term ministries and sometimes to see if they have a vocation for a life of service.  

On the Eve of 2012

My big Army projects at the beginning of 2012 are:

• Write a newsletter summing up the last half of 2012 and all the things we did.
• Send a message to everyone in the unit who has a facebook page to "Like" to the 2104GASB page.
• Fill out the packet of information I need to extend my enlistment after I turn 60 in 2013.

Life gets more crowded every week.  If I had any sense I would just let my enlistment run out so my life would be less complicated.  But it is so much fun to fire machine guns and ride in helicopters that it is hard to give up.

Happy New Year.

In Haiti: Bare Chests, Bad; Bare Breasts, No Problem!

On Sunday morning I went for a run from the mission/orphanage where we are staying. To get to the main road, I ran down a half-mile dirt road past a small beach on the Caribbean Sea.  As I was running past a spring that ran to the beach, I saw a young woman who was washing her clothes and herself.  It was already over 80 degrees at 9 am so I was running with my shirt off.  The woman at the spring was doing the same.

When I got to the road, I turned right with high hills to my left.  Another spring ran down the side of the mountain and in the spring was another young woman ten feet from the road and dressed the same as I was--naked from the waist up.

A half-mile down the road a motorcyclist sped toward me gesturing to put my shirt on.  A few minutes later another one did the same.  I put my shirt on.  Clearly I was in violation of some local custom.  Or maybe the problem was aesthetic.  I could see lots of reasons to tell an old guy to put his shirt on while running.

I suppose bathing by the side of the road is a fact of life here and old guys running with their shirts off is not.  But I did think that most every guy I have ever known would like to live in place where shirts were mandatory for men and optional for women.