Chasing That Streetcar

If you've been following my booklist this year ( www.ajadev.tumblr.com ) you know all about my new affair with Tennesse Williams. Probably one of the most tragically depressed of all writers, I completely love this guy. Just yesterday my professor compared a classmate of mine to Williams (Tom, as he preferred), and immediately added, "I'm sorry, that's the last writer you want anything in common with. Don't go killing yourself."

There was something just so tragic about Williams. He was famous, wealthy, well liked and esteemed but yet one of the most miserable people to walk the earth. Before having ever seen a photograph of him, when I thought of the writer I'd picture Charlie Brown. In a sharp suit. What I know of Tennesse Williams is he was an alcoholic and druggie. He was gay. He'd rather undergo eye surgery than socialize. He was troubled. He was brilliant.

   

This semester, when studying stageplays I was told to use the colorful characters from Williams' 'Streetcar Named Desire' and choose a scene from the play to rewrite however I'd like. I chose a scene in which Blanche and Mitch were standing outside of the building talking, just back from a date. In my own scene I up-played Blanche's decietfulness and Mitch's nack for being gullible. It was a fun exercise and I enjoyed doing it.

                                          

For the college's spring production they were retelling 'A Streetcar Named Desire' in their own playful way. Their project was aptly named 'Chasing That Streetcar Named Desire'. And to my surprise they added my very scene to their play. I was so excited! To have my own work on a stage in front of people? I never thought! I never cared for writing stage plays. But this was an honor for sure.

The last time anything I had written recieved public recognition was in 2007 at a Houghton Mifflin conference in Florida. It was the highest I've ever felt in my life and I knew that this would be finally another high. It's been so long and I felt like I was back on my writing horse. I could not wait to see this play. The anticipation consumed me for weeks.

On the evening of my 24th birthday I went to the college theater alone. Friends and family expressed interest in seeing it with me but I thought it to be kind of intimate. The last time a script of mine was performed (just in a classroom amongst a small group of people) I felt naked and exposed, embarressed yet proud. It was exhilerating. But I definitley wanted to cover my face with a pillow. I knew this experience would give me the same sensation and for at least my first sit-through, wanted to see it alone.

I flipped through the play bill and saw my name printed amongst the "Written by...". My excitement and anxiety reached it's peak just as the play began. It was a great turnout. The crowd laughed and gasped and made all the right reactions at all the right parts. Then my scene. Executed perfectly by a hispanic actress and a black actor with a strong jaw. I leaned forward in my seat. Those were my words being recited. In every movement I saw my own stage directions. I listened and watched and it felt like going to prom.

(((I waited my whole life to go to prom. To wear a gown. Have a handsome date on my arm. Feel like a princess. Have the time of my life. 16-17 years waiting for one night. Then prom night comes and the shoes hurt my feet, the crosage is falling apart, I'm bored,& I don't feel like entertaining the handsome prince on my arm so I pass him off to a dateless girl in my class. They hit it off. I'm free to be a hermit. And at the end of the night not only am I still in high school but I've spent a ton of money on shit I'll never wear again.)))

Going to prom. Everything was perfect. The actors were great. The set, props, costumes, lighting, all great. And yet, no high. No climax. No feeling naked. Nothing. I couldn't tell you why. Maybe because it wasn't really my story. They wern't my characters.That's my excuse. But when the play was over & the lights came on I felt nothing. But older. And completely upset for not getting the high I swore I would. The high I thought I deserved. The high I waited for.

I went straight home, avoiding all conversation, companionship and any attempt at birthday cheer. Until I got home and found in my room a bottle of Merlot with a blue bow on it. I popped it open and thought, 'I promise I won't go killing myself.'

                                     

Me and the Miles

Wednesday. Training, week 5. It's dark, cold and raining outside and my training schedule says I have to run 5 miles today. I've never ran 5 miles in my life. I'll go for a run because I don't have shit else to do, but it sure as hell won't be 5 miles. I put on my light blue rain jacket in addition to my usual running attire, clip my pedometer to my waist and head out to meet the downpour with a similiar desposition.

It's the last day of February. What a shitty month. And a shitty year. I pull my hood around my face and walk down the hill. Another hill. Another hill. Another hill. Through the dog park. Across Main Street. Down the stairs behind Bourbon Blue restaurant to the towpath, where I set my pedometer to zero and take off. Slow and steady. Today's not about speed, no, that's what Mondays are for. Wednesdays are about distance. Today is about me.

The rain orchestrates a world of ripples in the canal to my left. I immediatley encounter puddles and my feet are soaked through and through. Glad we got that out of the way. No use avoiding them now. I don't have my iPod. I want to be able to hear Life if it has anything to say.

 As I run along the graveled towpath, deserted for once due to the weather, I feel the other me's behind my eyes. They both have demands, plans, questions to ask, lies to tell and shit they've been holding in all week. Go for it. Let it out while the world's not around. I just pass beneath Green Lane Bridge, where the canal and towpath take a slight turn when they let it out. Everything. Every damn thing.

                                        
 
About half a mile in I hit what I call the 'yellow brick road'. It's where a wooden fence painted bright yellow begins, seperating me from the rippling canal. It stretches 3/4 of a mile long, which is half of my usual 3 mile run. This is where I get the guilt. There's a me in here who says everything is my fault. It is, I agree. But she still won't look at me. She hits the ground a bit harder as she runs, dodging the killer geese and their green shit land mines. She tells me what to do to make everything okay. I can't do that. I just can't do that. She hits the ground a bit harder.

At the end of the yellow brick road is where the canal turns into a river. There's a dam there. I rip my gloves off and toss them into a bush as I pass. Her anger is making me hot. I wish she'd cool out. Or it could be the run. I reach the waist-high stone pillars covered in black, silver, red and blue graffitti; usually my turning point but I keep running. I run until the end of the towpath, then I run along the railroad tracks. Eventually I run out of track, then I run along a road until I don't know where I am anymore. And then I keep running. Eventually the other me, the one with the tears on her face, she wants to know why. I don't know. When? I don't know? How are we gonna make it through March? I. Don't. Know. What are we gonna do? I DON'T KNOW! What if we break into pieces and all the kings men can't put us together again? I stop running. I don't fucking know. I'm standing in the middle of traffic, cars passing on boths sides of me. I pull my hood from my head and let the rain run through my hair until it trickles along my scalp. I have no idea where I am. Cars are honking. It's raining on me. I stand there for a long minute. Not because I'm lost, because I'm not. I just don't know where I am. It just feels nice.

What a mess. What are we gonna do? Run.

I turn around and I'm off. Every one of me is empty of everything they were holding in. I heard them out. We're relieved without answers and theres nothing to do but run.I don't notice the cars. Or the railroad tracks. Or the geese. Or the shit. Or the yellow brick road. I know when I stop the hurt will be waiting, the pieces of all thats falling apart. But right now nothing matters. Not what I should or shouldn't have said. If someone has or hasn't called. If the mail came. If the check bounced. The boyfriend. The boss. Home. To hell with it all. I'm a shitty play write. I'm impatient as hell. I turn to temptation when that's all there is to turn to. I havn't seen my mind in weeks. And what have a written lately? Shitty plays. I don't need anyones attention right now. No ones approval. I don't have to be anyones daughter. No one's friend. I'm just here Just me. And I'm running and nothing else matters. No one else matters. Not the asses and bastards who don't mean anything they say. And the liars who don't even know they're lying. Everyone making me feel like I'm not good enough, they suck too. Just run.

Without realizing it I'm at the point in the towpath where I began. But I keep running. Right off the towpath. Through the dog park and up the hill. All the hills. The infamous Roxborough hills known to Philadelphians as 'The Wall'. It hurts but what else is new. I lean forward and push. And push and push. It was like zoning out. Eventually, I'm home. I turn at the top of the hill and look out over Manayunk. Somewhere beneath the distant trees and bridge is my towpath. Everything hurt. I sat down in the middle of the street. Rain streaming down my face. I take off my pedometer and glance at the numbers.

5.004 miles.

We'll make it through March. I promise.

Don't Judge A Year By It's January

2011 blew my mind. As it began I was a college dropout without much to wake up for. I was selling cigarettes at a CVS & walking home late at night to save bus fare. A few weeks before the new year I had recieved an invitation to move to Maryland in February & travel the country saving the world through community service. It was an insane idea to me. I continued selling cigarettes.

To say that AmeriCorps NCCC saved my life would sound a tad bit dramatic. A slight over statement? Maybe. I was getting out of bed only when I had to. I never wanted to. I'd been out of school for over a year. I wasn't writing. I wasn't trying to be anything. I had given up. I had almost accepted what my life had become and prepared to live it out. I had nothing to lose. It's funny when you have have absolutely nothing to lose, you find yourself feeling very free.

Reppin' the 'A' as we say. In Camden, NJ

February 7th 2011. I took a train to Baltimore, then an hours drive to Perry Point, MD where I stood in a crowded gymnasium of an old VA medical hospital turned dorms. I rememeber standin there more terrified than I think I've ever been. Little introverted me. I wrote that day in my journal, "I understand now how some people stay in the same place their entire lives, never exploring what's new. It's awfully scary. Today in that gym I wanted nothing more than a rock to crawl under. I'd forgotten why I came out here at all." 

Leaving the Point one day

Our dorm building. 9H.

Service is what drives NCCC. I've always wanted to help people & this year that light of mine was able to shine brighter than it ever has. I've worked with American Red Cross and FEMA responding to natural disaster emergencies. I've worked in cities, on farms, YMCA camps, with religious groups, mayors. I've built playgrounds, rebuilt boardwalks. I've tutored, painted, timed swim meets. Tilled soil in the pouring rain and so much more. I've done things in 2011 that I never thought I'd do. In 2011 I can say I did something. X10.

The boardwalk we rebuilt. Rehoboth Beach, DE

Cleaning 'Bread and Cheese Creek'. A small town in MD

Cleaning & treating a crawl space for mold. Vermont. I'm the one in white & goggles.

Maryland was home this year. I was all over it. Baltimore, DC, Reisterstown, Annapolis, Edgewater, Port DePosit, Havre de Grace and home sweet Perryville and the Point. I got to know Camden, NJ fairly well as well as the counties in northern Jersey. I went fishing at midnight in Alabama, and got a barge to blow it's horn when it passed. I bar hopped University Strip in Tuscaloosa. I heard bagpipes play in Boston. Canoed the Mystic river in Somerville, Massachusetts. I watched the sunset over the Quechee Gorge in Vermont. I walked around Dartmouth in New Hampshire in search of college parties. And failed to find any. In 2011 I can say I've been somewhere. X10.

Hills of Virginia. Passing through.

Somerville, Massachusetts. The Mystic River.

Baltimore Harbor.

When 2011 began I thought something was wrong with me. Where I come from, I'm the slacker. The screw-up. The one not going anywhere. But in 2011 I made friends who made me feel that I'm right where I'm supposed to be. They've ressurected a part of me I havn't seen since I was 18. A playful part that smiles and laughs easily. They helped me see something beautiful in this mess of me. They were there when I needed them and even when we all disspersed & returned to where we came from they remain only a call away. In 2011 I can say I made a friend. times 10.


Friday Night in Tuscaloosa, AL



End of the workday. Kayam Farm.

Paintballing. For America.

Our last days together. At the Point.

The night we realized it was ending. Our awards banquet.

Saturday night, Somerville, Massachusetts :)

Our prom. Was Zombie themed.

2011 was the best year of my life but not because of all the things I've done, places I've been or even friends I've made. Since the very 1st time I used a power tool at Kayam Farm in March I've been doing things I'd been afraid to do my whole life. I found my voice. I blew myself away the 1st time I spoke up for myself, not afraid to say "Hey, I don't appreciate this." I'd never ever done that before. All of a sudden I'm doing things I'd have been terrified of last year. One being telling someone how I feel, be it a boy or a superior. Take me to an old house that was flooded in Hurricane Irene and I'm the 1st one crawling through the dark, tiny crawl space beneath the floor. Put me in front of a crowd, I can speak. 20 degree weather? I can sleep in that. 100 degree weather? I can work in that. Emergency? I'm certified to handle those. Someone dosn't like me? I can handle that too. Wine bottle, no cork screw? Give me a boot. I'm not saying I'm Indiana Jones all of a sudden. But I'm a bit braver than I used to be. A tad bit smarter, & a bit more equipped to handle whatever is thrown my way. In 2011 I can say I've grown. X10.



Hosting our pirate themed unit meeting.

On the Ben Franklin Bridge. Between Philly & Camden.

2012 finds me in a very similar place 2011 found me. A bit lost in the sauce. Back in my Waiting Place. But I'm a bit more hopeful this New Year because I know now not to judge a year by its January. It may sound dramatic of me to say that NCCC saved my life but it kind of did. It turned me into someone I've always wanted to be. Someone still changing. Still growing.Someone no longer willing to accept a life of selling cigarettes at CVS. Right now I'm in a rut, transitioning back to real life. But soon 2012 will find me writing, running and returning to school. 2012 will find me learning to drive and learning to cook. And if 2012 is as good to me as 2011, my relationship with AmeriCorps NCCC is not over yet. But before we really kick 2012 into gear I just wanted to take a blog to acknowledge all those in the heavens & on earth who made 2011 all that it was and say, Thanks!

Class 17 - Atlantic Region - Raven Unit



Raven 4. 4evermore.
The End.




The Waiting Place II

There are no stars in the Waiting Place. It's just endless darkness in every direction. Not a scary kind of darkness though. It's more of a mysterious kind of darkness. It's never bothered me at all, but man! I'd really like to see a star.

Julie says that stars are balls of fire, suspended in the air a very very long way away from where I sit. I never believe anything Julie says. She's a teacher. She teaches here and there and between journeys she stops to sit with me sometimes. She likes to tell me about things but I usually don't listen.

One day I asked my friend, Eric about stars. Eric's a smart cookie. He's been to places I can barely imagine. He used to sit with me for a few hours once or twice a week and tell me about all kinds of things. Eric is round  and brown and has a large, warm smile. Eric says that stars are just the ashes from all the cigarettes God smoked that day. He says He puts his cigarettes out in the sky, then the ashes burn out by morning. I asked Eric where I could find stars. He said, "Wherever the sky is clear." I don't quite understand what that means. I look up all the time but I never see a thing.

One day Eric was sitting with me and he was telling me about a play he had seen in a place called London. He said the stage was outdoors and he could see the stars. Again, I asked him about stars. Eric said that sometimes the stars come together to form pictures and some people use those pictures to tell stories. I was completely amazed and painfully jealous. I didn't feel as if I'd ever see a star. Not from my bench.
"You've gotta get off this bench." Eric told me.
"But I have nowhere to go."
"Everyone has somewhere to go."
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"I'm going to get my degree." he said.
"Well, why are you traveling so much? Don't you have to just stay in one place for a while for a degree? Arn't you supposed to pick a school and stay there? Where are you always going?"
"Not all degrees are that easy to obtain." he said with a smile.

We sat in silence for a while, watching the waves of people passing by. I remembered my own journey to find a degree. It led me here. Suddenly I was struck with an idea.

"Hey Eric!" I said suddenly.
"Yes?"
"I have an idea. How about the next time you go somewhere amazing you bring me back a star?"
He looked at me amused.
"Please." I begged, "I'll never ask you for anything else ever again. Please? Just one star? Just a little one?"
He smiled at me and said, "Okay, I'll bring you back a star."

Eric left that day and I waited everyday for him to come back. For him to bring me a star. I trusted Eric to return. And one day he did. I saw him in the crowd from a distance and felt my heart jump. I stood on my bench and waved my arms frantically. to make sure he could see me. When he finally made his way to my bench he sat down beside me and started telling me about his latest adventure. I felt that it would've been rude to cut him off to ask for my star. So I let him continue his painfully long and dull story about his trip to Philadelphia. It would not have been a dull story at all had I not been anxiously waiting to see my star. Then my heart sunk. Had he forgotten?

Finally he finished his story and sat in contentment, watching the crowds of people passing by as I watched him. Then finally I cleared my throat and asked, "So, did you bring me a star?" He turned his head to look at me. He was giving me a smile that meant he was hiding something. I was practically bouncing in my seat. Then he reached his hand into his jeans pocket, leaned toward me and whispered, "I got you something better."

Better? My heart sunk again. I wanted a star. He pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me. It was a ticket. For me. My name was on it. "What's this?" I asked.
"It's your ticket." he answered.
"My ticket to what?"
"To stars." he replied smiling that big warm smile.

I had had a ticket once before. It just blew to me with a breeze. It landed right under my bench. My name was on it. I had held on to it for a few days. Then I had heard a ship belowing somewhere south. It was my ship. I could just tell. It was the ship my ticket was for. But I was too afraid to leave my bench. The ship sailed on without me and I let my ticket go, and it blew away with another breeze. That was the last ticket I've had, until this one.

"Where'd you get it from?" I asked.
"It blew to me on a breeze." he said. "I have to go." He stood up a smoothed out his sweater vest and fixed his collar.
"Where are you going?"
"I've got class."
"Where?"
"I don't know actually. But I've got a good feeling about this one."
"Eric.." I started as he turned to walk away.
"Don't waste this one." he said to me, "You're not meant to stay here."

He walked away. Through the crowd. Eventually I couldn't see him anymore. I sat on my bench clutching this mysterious ticket with both hands. I looked down at it. Eric had doodled something in the corner of the ticket with pencil. It was a star.

Thunder 1

I remember sitting in our Rehoboth beach house one evening watching the news on TV with Raven 4. There were stories of storms and mild flooding and we all watched attentively with hopeful eyes.

No one hopes for a disaster. That's just crazy. But here in AmeriCorps we hope for the opportunity to help when disaster strikes. Being called for disaster is one of, if not thee most exciting possibilities of the AmeriCorps experience. At least I always thought so. And since the day I was inducted into this program I prayed for the opportunity to serve on disaster.  First, disaster has to strike. The staff has been telling us all year long that disasters have been rare since Hurricane Katrina (during which NCCC teams were 1 of the first groups to respond). A weekly disaster list is sent out every single week. Every TL picks their top two Corps Members & if your name happens to be at the top of the list on a week when disaster strikes you're eligible to be pulled from your team to join a composite team to go serve.

When 2nd round started this was the plan; Raven 4 was going to stay at the Point for two weeks, working at Iron Hill Park in Delaware. Then head to Boston for 6 weeks to work on the Mystic River. We were all pretty excited. Then we finished our first day at Iron Hill park and did not know how we were going to last two weeks. Little did we know that none of us would have to. After our 2nd day of work I went back to the Point to learn that I was selected to be part of a composite team that would be headed south to help out with tornado relief. It was a Tuesday. I was no longer Raven 4. I was from then on, Thunder 1.

We left Maryland on May 5th, spent the night in Tennessee, and arrived in Tuscaloosa, Alabama on the 6th. The Crimson Tide was rocked my tornadoes recently and we are here mainly to run a volunteer center. We also go out into the community and do assessments. We've also done cleanups and debris removal. Is being on disaster everything I thought it would be? Well, yeah. This is exactly what I joined this program to do. To directly help people and places that need it the most. It's nice getting to know different Corp Members and being on a new team, even though I miss Raven 4 like a big baby misses their blanky. It's awesome being in Alabama because I've never been here before. I'm experiencing the south for the first real time and it's pretty cool. But mostly, I'm glad to be sitting on the other end of the help hotline. I'm glad to be in the midst of the need, with my team, Getting Things Done.

Stop Drop Kaboom!

'Transition' is the brief week between rounds when teams give their debrief presentations to the staff, summing up all they've gotten done during the last round. Also a briefing presentation of the same nature, explaining everything that will get done in the upcoming round. Everyone has meetings on top of meetings. It's a busy week and on top of everything there is to do, we have to squeeze in time for each other. We haven't seen each other in 6 weeks.

Raven 4 returned to the Point early in the afternoon on the Friday our first round ended. We were all so eager to get back to base we didn't give the farm a second glance when we drove off in our 15P. As the evening neared more and more teams arrived, Ravens flocking in from up and down the coast. Buffalo and Moose too. I waited impatiently for Raven 7 to get in from Vermont. I missed my roommate, Ariel and my friend, Zac more than anyone else. And once they arrived I felt every antsy nerve in my body calm. And so our spring break weekend and transition week began.

I've started calling the Point 'home'. It feels more like a home than anywhere else I've been in years. Even home itself. When we all left for first round in early March the Point was bare. Arriving that Friday we saw that it had come alive during our absence. The grass had grown greener. The trees were dressed in beautiful hues of white and pink. And flower petals rained down from every direction. Home.

Late night walks by the water, adventures through Perryville and trips to the Box Car ice cream shop were cut short when we received the news on Monday that the fire team was being called out early. Instead of deploying on Saturday, they were shipping out on Thursday. That meant Zac. And Raven 4's own Logan. They were busier than ever over the next few days preparing to leave. That meant late nights were our only means of spending time. Early Thursday morning, after a shorter than usual PT session, a bunch of us stood in the street and waved goodbye as Phoenix 2 drove off, southbound to begin their great adventure.

The rest of the week passed by in a blur. Deployment day was scheduled for Saturday. Raven 4 is spending the first 2 weeks of this round here at the Point. We'll be commuting to Newark, Delaware everyday to work at Iron Hill Park. So Raven 4, along with 2 other teams who will also be staying at the Point for a while piled into our vans on Saturday and headed to Washington DC for the day to build a playground. We left very early, while the rest of the campus was still asleep. I appreciated this. We were one of the last teams to leave for round one too and the abandonment of having to say goodbye while all the other teams deploy is nothing less than depressing. I was happy to not be around for the departure period.

In DC, at the school where we would be building, we met the girl in charge. The organization is called Kaboom. They do blitz playground builds all around the country. Her name was Danielle and to our delight she was an AmeriCorps NCCC alumni. She wasn't an Atlantic Region alum, but still, she's part of the NCCC family. In the area where we had breakfast there were dozens of pictures covering the walls and windows. Kids had drawn them and each one was labeled, "My Dream Playground..." and each one was a doodle of their perfect playground. There were swirly sliding boards and colorful play stations. We were easily reminded not only of why we were in DC for the day but why we're in AmeriCorps. For little kids who have no playgrounds to play in. For our country.

In a matter of 7 hours we built an entire playground. It wasn't a miracle, it was AmeriCorps. Dozens of kids watched from a fenced in yard, pointing and excited. Disappointed in the end to learn that they would have to wait 3 days for the cement to harden around the equipment to play in their new playground. But it was amazing to see a difference so substantial happen in only a few hours. That's what this year is about, making a difference. And once I saw that playground, bright and erected, it was hard to be bitter at the thought of everyone leaving. Even Phoenix 2. Because they're off making substantial differences as well. We are a force. Like a storm. Oh how amazing it would be to capture a storm in a jar, to have lightening and thunder right in the palm of your hand, to enjoy at any moment. But what good would a storm do in a jar? So, with reluctance I text a goodbye to my friends.

Second round is 8 weeks long. My team has grown into a family. I've grown in ways I can't yet sum up. And believe it or not we're not even half way there yet. As this AmeriCorps adventure of mine continues all I have to say is it's already been more than I imagined. Round two can only hold good things.

L'chaim

Have you ever tasted asparagus straight from the ground? It's good. Ian picked both Hannah and I nice strong stalks of asparagus this morning. Ian is an earthy man. Over the last five weeks he's done this almost everyday. We'll be walking or talking and he'll just reach down and pluck something from the ground and tell me to taste it. He's given me earth fresh carrots, radishes, lettuce, arugula and numerous leaves of various varieties. Every time I pause as I did this morning with the asparagus, with the belief that everything I consume should be cleaned and processed. Then Ian bites in and I feel that it's okay to do the same. Every time I'm impressed by how delicious everything is. Straight from the ground.

At the end of every spike we have to put together a portfolio and a debrief presentation. The debrief presentation is a power point that we present as a team (in formal attire) to our region director and staff, summarizing our accomplishments over the last 6 weeks. The porfolio is a book we put together with the same purpose, but less formal and more personal. The portfolios are archived in this one room on campus with every porfolio from every project from every team in every class ever. They're more of a resource for future classes, kind of a legacy or a footprint.

Last week our next round project was finally revealed to us via Amelia's usual clues and scavenger hunt. That means the end is officailly here. This past weekend we compiled our power point presentation and wrote up the main components of our portfolio. That meant looking back on the last five weeks and reflecting. My reflection is as follows;

At some point this round our team started hooting to each other as a means of communication. One hoot means, “Hey, what’s up?” Two hoots mean, “I need help, come quick!” And three hoots mean that dinner is ready. One day Adeliah and I were on the farm feeding the chickens and somehow those feathered fiends pulled a Houdini and set themselves free. After more than half an hour of chasing 9 chickens around the farm, we only caught 5. With 4 chickens left running around we were zapped of all energy. I ran to the top of a hill and double-hooted at the top of my lungs. This was the first time anyone attempted to use the emergency hoot. I knew it wouldn’t work. It was cold and raining and Adeliah and I stared around at the remaining chickens, ready to accept defeat when BEHOLD! Not even ten minutes later and here comes all of Raven 4 headed our way. It was the middle of the work day and they all stopped whatever they were doing because they heard my hoot. Once the entire team was there running around together, laughing and strategizing it wasn’t so cold anymore. We caught those chickens that day. And the emergency hoot has not been needed since. Of all the fine things I’ve learned while on Kayam Farm my favorite lessons would have to include the Hebrew lessons. Also, I learned that we can live harmoniously with bugs. I learned that comfort is a state of mind. I learned to inoculate mushrooms. I learned how much different cultures have in common. I learned to plant and harvest. But the most meaningful lesson I’ve learned this round is if I hoot, my team will always be there.

Living and working on Kayam farm has been a golden experience. I dealt with sleeping in freezing weather, and I survived. I don't scream too loudly when I see a spider now. And I know how amazing things taste straight from the ground. I turned 23. I've begun learning how to cook. I discovered muscles that I didn't know I had. All the while we've transmformed this farm into a beautiful and productive establishment. At the same time I can feel myself transforming into something beautiful and productive as well.

Tonight we are holding our own seder in honor of our Jewish sponsors. Our theme was 'freedom', which is what Passover is all about after all. I have to admit, being here is the most free I've felt in my entire life. We won't be here to see the fruits of our labor but we know that the ripples of all we've done will spread wide. We each brought an item for the seder plate. I brought the robin's egg I found the other day. For me, that egg represents discovery. As we finish out our last week here at Kayam Farm I'm realizing exactly how free I am. And I'm very thankful for that freedom.