Global Night Commute

Today I decided to check on the other white mothers to see how they were coping with the recent separation. It seems that I, somehow, have become the only white mother without a post on our blog. So I am now making my first official contribution to our relationship-strengthening network of blogging.

Being home for several days with my family has been a sort of regeneration period. It is comforting to be in a place where you know that you are loved unconditionally. My family proved their affection and devotedness as they followed me to Chapel Hill for, as my dad puts it, "a save the world thing." We were able to take part in the Global Night Commute at the UNC campus on Saturday night for the Northern Uganda crisis. I was somewhat disappointed not to find an eclectic assortment of "flower power" and "love not war" college students hoping to provide the world with some sort of liberation and deliverance through global awareness and participation. Instead, the campus quad was only filled with about fifty people that seemed to be so...well...normal. What a disappointment. There were no political debates, no heated discussions on strategies or solutions to attain world peace, and no conversations about enticing humanitarian adventures to third world countries. Oh well. At least my family and I were able to accomplish what was the most important part of the experience - writing the letters to President Bush and our senator, Elizabeth Dole.

While I am sure that our participation in a demonstration where everyone sleeps on the ground will not change the world or even save the children in Northern Uganda, I do hope that it will raise awareness for the crisis. I was also glad to have chosen the UNC campus as the place to take part in the commute. I have always wondered if I should have at least considered applying to UNC instead of being so headstrong about only wanting to go to BYU. But last night settled any doubts or skepticism that remained about BYU being the right choice.

The quad being at the center of campus gave me a glimpse into the college experience I would have received if I had gone to Chapel Hill. While the quintessential eastern college campus that UNC is able to provide has always appealed to me, my first insight into a typical college student's Saturday night was just what I needed to check any remaining curiosity or craving for that type of collegiate experience.

As I read the other posts, I realized that each white mother seems to be going through the same dilemma at the moment - uncertainty. However, my uncertainty is a different kind. Mine is an uncertainty of what the next four months will entail, not because there are numerous unknown adventures that could unexpectedly occur, but because I am not sure if anything exciting will occur at all this summer. Who knows...perhaps this summer will end up being one of the best of my life. Maybe a summer fling will be found in the hot, humid weeks that await me. In spite of these thoughts, I can't help but feel like the Tibby of the group - at home while the rest of the sisterhood traipses around the world having glorious, life-changing excursions.

Maybe tomorrow will bring me the adventure I so desperately crave. As much as I would like that to be true, I know life is only what you make of it. If I want adventure, I have to go and find it (although, I am not sure what type of adventure lies in Clemmons, NC). Nevertheless, I suppose I should remember the advice that Professor Keating gave his students in his first lecture - "Carpe diem!"

So no matter where we all find ourselves this summer, I hope we will all seize the day.

Are you down?

So, as I was riding with Seth to the airport yesterday, he mentioned a few of his friends and in a sigh said, "Maybe that's all I'm good for, girls to vent to about their ex-boyfriends." Of course this brought up the subject of my recent past, and I gave the most condensed version of it that I ever have (maybe 2 minutes - you'd be proud) to which Seth replied, "Well, I can assure you it was nothing that you did. I mean, you're so down." He felt the need to define down.

"So, down is when you're willing to give a little. He wants to watch a skate video; you're intriguied. You meet his friends; you try and remember their names. There's nothing like finding a girl that's down... and if everything else lines up, it doesn't get any better. You are so down."

I think it was the best compliment I've received in a while. It made my day. And I know that I can safely say that The Four White Mothers are down.

The drive to Oregon was... long. And beautiful. Oregon has never been prettier! It's hard to believe I'm really here. Tomorrow is the day of reckoning... possibly the first of many. Wish me luck.

Leaving...

Leaving is a word that evokes so many emotions. I leave for Africa tomorrow. As I sit at the computer, I can hear the voices of my extended family downstairs chatting as some are out front throwing a football and skateboarding while others are swimming in the spa out back. I start to feel a little anxious and think that I just want to stay here where it is safe. A place where, even though things do change, they don't change too much. I know that it is just last minute nerves, but something just makes me want to stay here. Forever.

Isn't that such a weird thing? I don't know if anyone ever expects that to come out of my mouth. I think it is the fear of facing something so completely new and alien, as well as dealing with going to somewhere so far away. I feel like it is wrong to have these feelings at the same time that I have such a strong desire to go and leave. Maybe it's because I like to feel comfortable...and safe. Sometimes change means uncomfortable and unsafe. Don't get me wrong - I am definitely so excited to go. I just think that sometimes I miss home. Having a real, permanent home.

Well, enough with the introspection. Can anyone believe that I leave tomorrow? I will be in Mozambique on Tuesday! I have such feelings of excitement warring with the anxiety in my stomach. Will I have fun? Will I be safe? Will I get sick? Will I miss home? The scariest of all: Will my dreams of being in Africa and changing the world live up to the reality? Probably not, but I hope that it is close. I am thinking of my other three white mothers often. It made me smile to see that Jenny had time to write while in Germany. Thanks for remembering! Whitney - I thought of you on my drive here as I was listening to a book on tape and it mentioned Winston-Salem. Aren't you proud? Sarah - I thought of you as I was talking with my sister about Oregon. Hope all is well. I love you all and I will try to get to a computer while in Mozambique, but I have a feeling this is good-bye for two months! Love you!

Commencement

This is it.

I'm sitting alone in the very empty apartment that was once haunted with laughter, squeals, and russian accents. But as I was reminded today in President Samuelson's greetings, this is not the end, it's only the beginning of a new chapter of life. People just say things like that to try and make you feel better when you're leaving a place, people and lifestyle that you love to face the big bad real world.

Graduation was nice. It was a surprisingly emotional experience. It was a beautiful spring day, clear and sunny. I love days like that. The most surreal moment of it all was when the Academic Vice President presented us as candidates for baccalaureate degrees and invited us to stand. It doesn't sound like much, but it was one of those glimpes of the reality of what is really happening.

While so much of the future is unknown, I've decided the healthiest way to stay happy and motivated, is to look at the small things that I know are just around the bend. For tomorrow, it's commencement exercises, the potential of yet another beautiful spring day, and a drive to the airport with Seth. Really, could it get any better? Ok, maybe.

I'm alive in Germany (barely...)

Well, seeing the picture of my lost white mothers made me more homesick than I had expected. I simply miss the other three and feel like part of me will be spread across the world in about three days. However...the Bayern area of Germany provides several possibilities for relief. :) And amazing German chocolate is only one of them. Their house is in a small town outside of Munich, and on a clear day you can look across the valley all the way over to the Alps. The hills, undulating and covered in trees, provide an idyllic setting for a spring get away. (Do I write as well as Danny yet?) Last night I was able to walk around Marienplatz and hear the famous Glockenspiel play on the Rathaus. I had learned about that clock in every German class I took for five years. It's strange when book-reading encounters everyday life. Despite the fulfillment of a dream, I found the Polish mime standing by me more amusing than the clock and the midget-like guitarist and his basist friend who were wailing out Bob Dylan and Bob Marley (is that the connection?) more amusing than she. The clock simply continued chiming. People around me cheered when the figurines moved, and I smiled at their response. I watched the whole time, waiting eagerly to return to people-watching. (Don't worry, Whitney, I didn't try to determine the love relationships between any of them.)

The subject line mentioned that I was barely alive. Although Poland was great (no marriage proposals though), the six days spend there included a comedy of errors like I have never had on a trip. My mother tripped at the airport and all but shattered her kneecap. I had to handle all the luggage from that point on. I quickly noticed that it was too much, and I deposited bags at the lotnisko (airport) and then at the dworzec (train station). She thought she was good enough to walk, but after two more falls--one on the main street in Warsaw--I officially became the mother. Her knee was too weak to walk alone. She had to grip my arm as we walked anywhere, which finally prevented falling. We walked as slowly as possible, meaning it took us about and hour and a half to do what it took me thirty minutes alone. It was a stark reminder that my mother is aging. In jest I said, "You'll never see my children," though I started to ponder the actuality of that. Despite other problems--one lost passport and Auschwitz closed the one time in the whole year that we were there--the trip was enjoyable.

I miss you all and fully support the spring of the fling--though I don't know what I have done to set up anything for a fling. :)

Spring Fling

Look! It's us! Minus Jenny, of course... :( But she is in The Poland having the fun (possibly fling) while we mourn in Provo. Any proposals yet, Jen Jen? By this time during my return visit to the mission, I already had one (not so) hot brasileiro tell me he wanted me to be the mother of his beautiful brown babies. But who needs to go across borders to find summer lovin' when boys are right here in Provo just waiting to give us some sweet lovin'? Or maybe they are in Portland or New York... And maybe his name is Mr. Darcy. And maybe he graduated from Harvard and is the most google-able person I've ever had the prospect of "flinging" with. Basically, what I'm trying to get down to is my proposed plan for the Four White Mothers' most adventurous summer yet.

Let's face it. We will soon find ourselves in new circumstances, with new opportunities and... new men. Along with all of the new prospects for adventure, we'll have open wounds of separation that can only be healed by one thing: the summer fling. While Whitney tries to argue the point that there is not a single prospect in the entire eastern United States, Jo has just laid down the law: kiss any male specimen you find (whether or not he makes you want to vomit). While we all know that Jenny has already set up the perfect circumstances for her summer fling right here at home, the rest of The Mothers are venturing off to the unknown. Best of luck to all of us. And happy flinging!

Food - The Ties That Bind

So, as we were eating breakfast this morning for the second time in 8 hours, I began to ponder about the connection between the Four White Mothers and food. Really, our whole year and semester has revolved around food. Do we have a relationship with each other that is separate from oreos, breakfasts, Cadbury mini eggs, ummmmm...(I am trying to think of something healthy to insert here)...oranges? We all like the oranges, but we haven't really made eating them a bonding experience. I will say, though, that my new love for oranges makes me feel very connected to Whitney in a deeper, more acceptance-of-messy-hands kind of way. As I remember our conversations over oreos of the boys that we like, date (some of us!), and avoid dating (I hate my life!), I begin to feel a slight case of nostalgia for the way things were. Really, will there ever again be an oreo night to compare with those of the past?

The Last Morning

Sniff, sniff. The inevitable (and sad) has finally happened--it's our last day together. As we prepare for our morning breakfast (wait, didn't we have breakfast 6 hours ago?), Sarah is deciding if she needs to wear a bra, we're wondering when Whitney will be ready, and I'm typing a blog.

Our Night With Seth

We just got back from a most fascinating journey down I-15 with our friend Seth. He is like the encyclopedia of underground pop culture knowledge. A complete fount of wisdom. We are still in awe of his vast awareness of the music world.

Prefacing our journey back to Provo, we spent the evening admiring the Employee of the Month wall at The Belgian Waffle and Omlette Inn.

It's late. We're going to sleep.