Half the way there...

Well, we are half way done.

Yes indeedy - 25 down, 25 more to go.

In the the past month (almost, we are a whisper away from a full month on the road, so let us round up and be on with it), we have learned/observed a number of things, at least some (or maybe just one, short and sweet) of which I would like to share with you.

This country is beautiful, gorgeous in geography and in personality. She is the sly fox who saunters up to the bar, all confidence and hips. Yet, when she orders her drink (a root beer, wouldn't you know it), she smiles widely at the bartender, tips 40%, and then beats you, mercilessly, at pool. She is a force to be reckoned with, yet benevolent and gracious. You can't help but like her.

For all the faults, the shortcomings, and aggravations, we live in a country full of generosity. Full to the brim of passionate and creative people who are conceptualizing, planning, establishing...working toward making a difference.

"What difference?" you ask, flabbergasted at our happy-go-lucky, "I'd like a cherry on top" perspective. "I don't see a difference. I see things getting bad, if not worse."

Yes, things are bad. Uncomfortable. Down right awful for many people.

But, you know what, look harder. I am sorry, but where do we get reflecting on how terrible everything is without offering suggestions for change or highlighting all the wonderful things worth struggling for. So squint if you have to, pop a quarter in the pay-to-view telescope and examine the distant horizon. Heck, just keep your eyes open - really open. I promise you will find the "good". And if you can't find it, although I promise you will, go create some. We can always use more.

On to house-keeping issues - we (pardon my language) suck at this blogging thing. Terrible, awful, stink, fail. At this juncture, we believe it would behoove all of us involved if we just focused on getting a brief description of our day on paper, then go back and fill in the details. Please don't think we are shirking the organizations, or the overall trip, but we are now 9 days behind in blogging, but on-time in real time, so, we would like to let you know about all the volunteering we did in that gap. So, from this point forth, we will treat you to short descriptions daily, before venturing back to regale you with, long, overly descriptive tales woven into to inconsequential tales about our lives and interactions.

Sound good?

I will take that as a "yes".

Day 16 - Georgia - FurKids

Tim is not a fan of cats; actually, he is a pretty well established, card-carrying member of the anti-cat party. He may even run for office next year, under the slogan “Let this town go to the DOGS”. When asked for the reasoning behind his disdain for felines of all shapes and size, he reasons that cats are completely useless - they serve no real purpose. I guess everyone is entitled to his or her opinion.

Wait.

Hold up, Tim, have you met our dogs lately?

Not to be mean, because I am tremendous fans of the both of them and don’t want to hurt their feelings (especially, if they happen to be reading this, which I doubt), but what purpose do they serve? Tucker is quite the needy spaz (for lack of a better word), who will whimper, whine, and cry until picked up and tucked neatly on someone’s hip as they go about their errands around the house. “Oh, how cute!” you think. “ I wonder what kind of dog he is? Perhaps a jack russell. Maybe a Chihuahua. No I have it! He is a YORKIE!”

Nope, not even close – Tucker is a 50 lb lab. Well lab mix. But a lab. A lab that likes to be held like a toddler, laying his head across your shoulder, or perhaps tucking it softly at the nape of your neck. It is our collective fault, really; we picked him up and held him too often as a puppy. But, we keep telling him, if this behavior doesn’t stop, the other dogs will start to make fun of him. But he says he doesn’t care, then pouts, and begins to nasally whine. And, I am sure, if he had thumbs, this would be the point where he would lodge one in his mouth and continue to sulk.

Then there is Lola, the 9-year-old English bulldog. This old dame is kindly referred to as “Lola Burrito”, given she is compact, yet surprisingly dense, and has a certain penchant for Mexican food. Besides being a bulldog, which makes her a world champion sleeper, and being Tucker’s aloof playmate (I have almost bitten him by now to keep him from bothering me, so I have no idea how she withstands the urge), Lola is almost blind. I say almost, because sometimes, it is like she can see. She toddles along, plodding forward in her crooked, stunted gate. A confident swagger emerges.

But, just as you are feeling secure in her visual acuity (she seems to know where she is going!), she walks directly into a wall, resulting in her sitting down abruptly on the derrière she was just shaking. She jiggles her head around a bit before looking at you accusingly, as if to say “Why the hell did you leave that wall just laying around? I was trying to walk here! Jerk!” (This does shed some light on why tinfoil may be lining the walls of my apartment. No I am not protecting myself from aliens – I am protecting my dog from konking her head. Though she seems to pick up layouts quickly, tinfoil has been employed to make “proceed with extreme caution as to avoid smashing face against the wall” zones).

So, really, its not like either of these dogs are hunting, tracking, or pulling sleds.

Now, Shannon, she serves a purpose.

Shannon, who spends her time with the family we stayed with in Atlanta, between swanky trips to conferences around the country, of course, is a Canine Assist dog. Canine Assistants service dogs assist children and adults with physical disabilities or other special needs in a variety of ways, including: turning lights on and off, opening and closing doors, pulling wheelchairs, retrieving dropped objects, summoning help, and providing secure companionship. So when Shannon started showing off, you could say it was impressive. Or, you could say, “Oh lord, our dogs are more useless than we previously thought!”

Anyhow, Tim was still riding his Shannon-inspired “dogs are so cool” high when we arrived at FurKids to work with…(dare I say it)…CATS!

FurKids, begun as a network of foster homes conducting adoptions primarily through the Petsmart Perimeter location, now operates the largest cage-free cat shelter in Georgia. From rescuing 216 animals in the first year of operation to 831 as of 2007 year end, the shelter facility allows for the increase the number of cats and kittens rescued. The shelter provides a temporary home in the colorful, cage-free environment. The dogs remain in foster homes until adopted. FurKids is also one of the only shelters in the Southeast that has a room dedicated to cats with Feline Immunodeficiency Virus (FIV) and has the capacity for 20 cats. Additionally, they have veterinary facilities on site.

It started with a standoff. I picked up a cat and handed it to Tim. He did one of those endearingly “guy” things: he held the cat as far away from his body, locking his elbows and shoulders so that there was no way Mr. Five Pound Kitty was coming any closer – the “Let me evaluate you from afar. Any closer than this would be too close for me to get a good look at you. Hmm, yeah, you don’t look familiar. I really don’t know about you. Jury is still out, Kiddo, and until we get to the bottom of this, I will stay over here and you will stay over there. Deal?” routine. Anyhow, Tim kept that cat a safe distance. Who knew what it was capable of?

But fairly soon, the distance between them shortened. While cleaning the colony rooms, Tim found a kindred spirit – i.e. the cat that would attack me if given the correct motivation (further defined as the cat who, when tantalized by a ribbon toy languishing on the back of some tall, blue jean clad scratching post, would forget all reason, launch from his kitty perch, and begin to climb, painfully (for me, not the cat), up the back of the aforementioned scratching post). Tim and that cat must have thought the game was a hoot – it was repeated several times.

Each colony room (all eleven of them) was kept meticulously clean: first water and food was changed out and replenished; cat boxes were tidied; cat toys, houses and play structures picked off of the ground as floors were swept and mopped; and beds were fluffed or removed for washing. Happy cats looked on, either helping clean by chasing the mop, or simply reveling in the maid service.

After the colony rooms had been cleaned, Tim and I observed a few spay and neuter procedures, watching as the volunteer vet cleanly and skillfully completed a number of surgeries. Sam and the staff spoke to us about a number of the cats, telling us their stories. One cat had hyperthyroidism and was undergoing treatments. His health issues left him looking a little ragged, but he was feeling spritely as ever. Another cat came all the way from Japan, had been adopted once, but ended up back in the shelter given his dare devil tactics. And another cat, a horrifying work of human cruelty, had suffered wounds due to abuse, both physical and chemical. Though contrary to expectations, he snuggled willing toward you, enjoying the attention and tender consideration. But each was happy, content in their current environment.

The end of day found us in the lobby, talking to Sam about the progression of the organization. She had started FurKids because a mother cat had deposited her kittens in Sam’s backyard. Fast forward 8 years, and you have a wonderful facility with a vast network of volunteers, all working to see that animals are treated properly and find good, permanent homes. Though the current economy has slowed adoptions (more people are unable to pay for pet food, vet bills, or, are losing their homes), the people at FurKids remain positive.

I mean, it is hard to not stay positive, when in one day, you are able to convince the most anti-cat person to come around. Tim now admits they aren't usless - they are "pretty okay", whatever that means. But when no one was paying attention, Tim sat down with Gus and let the encounter extend until they had both settled comfortably, just enjoying one another in the leisurely moment.

Day 15 - South Carolina - Center for Community Services

“Wow. This is a striking number of people,” I thought, before counting off by twos. Two, four….sixteen….thirthy-four….fourty-eight….sixty-eight….(wait, is that three or four people over there. Three, okay)….On no…. Where was I? Well, I am sure, dear reader, that you don’t need an exact number, that you, in fact, would loathe having a completely certain and round figure, because it would prevent you from envisioning that there where hundreds, nay thousands (!!!) of individuals present, all gathered on the grounds of the Center for Community Services, ready with gloves and rakes, hats on and jackets off in the morning sun. We know that’s what kind of people you are - the dreamers and the hopefuls - so we stopped ourselves from doing another precise headcount and let your imaginations run wild.

And, in fact, you may be correct in your flagrant estimations. Thousands were present. Perhaps not physically, in the parking lot and on the grounds of CCS in Greenville, SC, but in the spirit of service across the nation, giving their time and energy in remembrance of Dr. King.

In the shell of an elementary school that was shed by it old inhabitants, Center for Community Services has built a campus of assistance programs, providing better access to healthcare, temporary assistance, parenting activities, child education, and adult education. Although CCS provides a central location where human service agencies can work together to better meet the needs of families, the end goal is to connect families to services that are offered closer in proximity to where they work and live. That being said, the center serviced approximately 9,000 individuals last year.

To commemorate King Day and to celebrate what CCS accomplishes within the community, people gathered and worked. Interiors of the buildings were scrubbed, dusted, disinfected, and polished, floors mopped or vacuumed. Hallways echoing with adult conversation and children’s giggles as they, arguably the smarter of the two groups, turned cleaning into a game. The faster they worked, the sooner they broke free, into the sunlit grounds. Mean while, outside, the landscape was raked, mulched, pine straw’d, and prepped for winter. Benches were painted. Light bulbs were changed out – old for energy efficient new. Conversation and laughter functioned as the constant, but low, background music. And, when we broke for lunch, the campus was clean and beautiful, reminiscent of a tidy school desk on the first day of class, nary a pine straw out of bounds.

Because so many people donated their time, lunch marked our end of day. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, or at the short tables that filled the room, we enjoyed a few slices of pizza and a respite from the sun. The diversity in the room was striking, yet, we all sat with the same evident look of satisfaction, proud of the work that had been done -you could see evidence of it everywhere. And in that moment, we were all equal. Equally tired, equally satisfied, and equally proud to have taken part in the project.

Day 14 - North Carolina - The LaStraw

Eat locally and support your local farmers, thereby sustaining the health of your local agriculture. Shop locally and support your local businesses, thereby sustaining the health of your local business environment.

These are mantras that many Americans are incorporating into their daily lives. Instead of shopping the cheaper Wal-Mart, people are heading to mom and pop shops, small boutiques, and neighborhood stores. Instead of buying produce from out of state, or even out of country, residents are buying shares at CSAs or looking for local crops at the supermarket. In fact, the meal we shared with our host in North Carolina was exceedingly local – every bit of food on the table had come from within 10 miles of the house.

But, to complement the food and the business, we pose that you add one more component to your locally minded routine:

Volunteer locally and support your local service organizations, thereby sustaining the health of the local community.

When Tim and I decided to travel, we wanted to add a service component to our trip. Additionally, we wanted to focus on community-based organization, meaning organizations that are located within the community that they serve. We figured this would enable us to see the best in each community, bear witness to the good work that is being done by local residents in order to help other local residents. And in visiting these organizations, their volunteers, and the people/animals that they serve, we would be witnessing communities maintaining their own health. And, yes, I did just use the word community 4 (well, now 5) times in one paragraph. COMMUNITY. Six, ha.

After divvying up the states, Tim and I began researching opportunities and contacting organizations. I remember finding The LaStraw on a Friday evening – I was sitting on the couch researching, while Tim was at the stove, making our perfunctory Friday night chicken tacos. An organization built on the principle of community involvement and input. Huh. I stopped Tim and made him read the description of the organization.

Founded in Greensboro NC by a group of women who grew up in several of the low-income areas of Guilford County, The LaStraw seeks to work with the community to identify issues affecting the members and sculpt creative solutions for those issues. Instead of an outsider entering the community, naming perceived problems, and imposing solutions that they believe will fix all grievances, The LaStraw transfers ownership to the community, urging community member involvement. The LaStraw’s mission is to create an accessible network of human and social services, empowering low-income people to improve their quality of life. This will result in the eventual reduction in the need for emergency based social services by actively engaging individuals in low-income areas in a root cause analysis of issues perpetuating poverty unique to their community as well as their overall demographic. To use their own words (as I tend to), “Issues perpetuating poverty are exacerbated by the absence of impacted individuals.”

At this point, no other organization had even responded to us. It was Friday evening, a very silly time to be sending out emails to people, given very few people would even look at their emails till the next week. Hopefully Monday they will have a chance, we thought. But, throwing caution to the wind, I decided to send executive director, Melva Florance a note (via Facebook, no less). And almost immediately, I got a reply back. She was supportive of us, wanted us to visit, and even had a concept already planned for the day – a community health fair.

“Dude, you think she knows there are only two of us?” I asked Tim, after reading him the email chain (yes, I say “dude” frequently. I realize it makes me sound idiotic. I will stop saying it the day I turn thirty. Until then, let me have my small verbal indulgences). I immediately started to panic, imagining the disappointed look that would cross Melva’s face when she realized that The Civic Projects was only two interested and passionate people, rather than 40 or 50 individuals constituting the basis of a social revolution. Tim, remaining as calm as ever, continued to slice lettuce and recommended I email her back – “just emphasize that there are two of us, see if she changes her mind.” But, she remained totally supportive and resolved – The LaStraw would host us during our time in North Carolina.

On MLK Day, The LaStraw hosted a Community Health Fair, with a focus on getting attendees tested for HIV/AIDS. Because we were there the day before, Tim and I helped with setup and neighborhood canvassing.

After touring The Hive, a collectively run not-for-profit community space in which The LaStraw is located, we began setting up for the community health fair. The floor was swept and mopped, tables arranged, and pamphlets put on display. We organized and reorganized information, making sure there was a logical flow and delivery. We arranged a reading room, so that children could be entertained as their parents perused literature and got tested. We piled books on tables, so that parents and children could collect volumes to add to their home libraries (Books, holy books! You should see the amount of books they had). We compiled packets of sensitive information. We ate Bojangales (no, not related to the success of the health fair, but an important part of our North Carolina experience none the less). And we canvassed.

I should not have worried about the lack of bodies associated with The Civic Projects; Melva assembled an army of her own. About thirty individuals convened at The Hive, the majority of which came from the A&T School of Nursing. Acting as queen bee, Melva split us into groups and gave us our instructions. Teams set out, traversing the nearby streets and depositing information about the health fair with local residents. Many people opened their doors, meeting us on the porch. A team from a local testing facility explored the area, charting the course they would take while they went door-to-door, offering to test people who wished to remain in the comfort of their own homes. In a later conversation, someone informed us that during this door-to-door march, typically 40 to 50 people get tested. That means that there are 40 to 50 more people informed about their own health, above and beyond those who made the effort to come to the health fair.

Once the swarm of volunteers had returned to The Hive and, then slowly dissipated, we too said our goodbyes and returned to the car. One of our initial goals had been to explore the good in each community, but instead, we had begun to really experience each community that we visited, becoming entrenched in a faction of it, if only for one day (and not only because they make us line dance before we are allowed to leave. Even Tim. He danced. Awkwardly). It struck me that we are now privy to the commitment and passion of those members of the community who are looking for a better future, as well as to the faith of those who have enough trust in the members of their own community members to establish organization born from community wisdom, rather than individual assessment.

So, when the weather gets warmer and people are more apt to be outside, go visit your local lemonade stand (you know, the one down on the corner that buys its lemons from a local farmer and donates its a potion of its proceeds to a local charity - what a civic minded venture!). While they get your order poured into a cool, paper cup, already sweating from the ice, take a few moments to observe the beauty in your community - the people out, walking down the street; kids playing in front yards and on sidewalks; people enjoying each other's company on the front stoop. Look at the networks, the relationships. And when you are called back to attention, when they ask you if you need a straw, tell them heck no, you have plenty. You are no longer down to your last one.