Travels in Turkey

I just got back from spending over a week in Turkey. I was invited to participate in this tour by the Intercultural Friendship Foundation at UIUC, who partnered with a group in Turkey to bring North Americans to experience Turkish culture. Their stance is that world peace and understanding can only be achieved by bringing individuals together across differences, so that is what they do.

I really had no idea what to expect in Turkey, beyond what I had been reading in my guidebook the past few months. Nothing could have prepared me for the warmth and hospitality of the Turkish poeple we encountered. At schools, hospitals, restaurants, and in private homes, our reception was like family, reinforcing again and again that there is more that binds humanity together than there is that keeps us apart.

Never having been in a Muslim culture before, I was unsure what to expect regarding women's dress, various customs, and even how to act in certain situations (such as in visits to mosques). Our hosts were helpful in those areas, and completely nonjudgemental about what we Americans did or did not know. The most unexpected bonus along the way for me was how moved I was to hear the call to prayer being broadcast from the louspeakers mounted on every mosque minaret five times each day, no matter what town or city we were in. It was an unforgettable theme that echoes across my memories of this trip.

My traveling group was a delightful mix of ministers (Mennonite and Presbyterian), professors, scientists, artists, and nurses - and each one of them was a lively, fun, thought-provoking companion. I barely knew any of them before we departed, but our hours spent crossing Turkey together by mini-bus, boat, and airplane made us fast friends. We shared stories, political and religious philosphies, snacks and sunscreen with each other, looked out for each other's health and comfort along the way, sang, and napped.

Some moments of the trip stand out like jewels - the private demonstration of whirling dervishes in Konya, the city where Rumi established his Sufi training center; the twenty minutes of pivate silence I was able to steal inside a church cave in Capadocchia, every wall covered with faded frescoes painted there by the early Christians who were hiding out in those caves from the Romans; walking along the sea coast in Izmir late at night and seeing a trio of sailors playing Turkish music at a cafe table right next to the water.

I brought back some great photos, some olive oil, a couple of trinkets, and some gifts from our hosts along the way, but the most important acquisition on this trip was a deep and profound reassurance that even in these times of neo-Crusades, the human impulse toward love and kindness can - and often does - prevail.

Dogs

Last fall I lost my good pal, Tex, who had been with our family for 10 years. Since my last post, I've added two dogs to my household. Bruce joined me in January when he was 9 weeks old - still a baby. He cried so much the first night that, against my better judgement, I brought him in bed with me. Where he jumped on my head for much of the night and then pooped on the foot of the bed in the morning. Nice, huh?

Riley came on board in early March, when she was almost 1 year old. She seemed to be patiently enduring the boy puppy much of the time, but then she'd get fed up and snarl at him, and he'd run away.

They're both from Westie Rescue.

Bruce is a real brat, with very few manners to date, but he has a winning sense of play. Riley, although she is 8 months older, is smaller, and she is just sweet and affectionate. They are a good pair and the house is full of fun again. And chew toys. And little squeaky stuffed animals.

Random acts of Chanukah

I love my hometown.

I spent a couple of nights back in Chicago this weekend, celebrating the beginning of Winter Break. J.R. and I stayed at a swanky hotel just off Michigan Avenue.

Sunday night was the third night of Chanukah, a fact that had escaped my attention (since despite my late Mom's Jewishness, I am, in fact, a lapsed Catholic) until we were strolling down the Mag Mile contemplating where to go for dinner. A huge white van suddenly swung aroung the corner onto Michigan Avenue, blaring klezmer music. Two young men dressed in the black hats and coats of orthodox Jews were leaning out the doors of the mini-bus yelling "Happy Chanukah" and "Have a menorah" to the crowds on the sidewalk. They tossed oblong cardboard boxes to people as the vehicle slowed to a crawl.

I am not making this up.

I caught a box, and sure enough, it contained a menorah, complete with a box of candles and was printed with the greeting "Chabad-Lubavitch wishes you a Happy Chanukah." Sweet. Nothing is nicer than receiving a party favor just for walking down the street.

Half a block later, a pick-up truck carrying a giant menorah in the bed with three of the "candles" lit drove past us. The menorah took up the whole truck bed, and the candles were giant light bulbs. It was also blasting music. "Oops, looks like their caravan got split up," we laughed, and went on to dinner, adventure over.

Or so we thought.

90 minutes later, with dinner finished, we were back to our strolling when we saw the Chanukah patrol still cruising. Even better, they had now set up folding tables on the corner in front of Water Tower Place, and they were handing out menorahs to passers-by. I approached the table.

"Are you Jewish?" one of the young men asked me.

"No..." I began, and he turned away from me, to ask the question of the next person walking past.

"Wrong answer Mom", J.R. stage whispered to me.

"Wait," I asked the young man, "Tell me about your organization. What are you doing here?"

He turned back and explained to me that Lubavitch Chabad is a Jewish outreach organization, and that they were trying to reach out to as many Jews as possible to remind them to celebrate Chanukah. He gave me a booklet that contained the Chanukah blessings in both English and Hebrew along with information about the origins of the holiday, and instructions for how to keep Chanukah.

"Excellent," I told him. I thanked him for the booklet and the menorah, and we continued on our way, our quota of interesting events more than fulfilled for the evening. But no...

An hour later, after a stop at Ghirardelli for ice cream and some more window shopping, we noted a gathering of Chicago cops up the block. When we got to the corner, we could hear some distant music - not klezmer, this time - and saw a large group of people marching toward us with signs.

J.R. voiced the hope that this would turn out to be a protest.

It wasn't. It was the Archdiocese of Chicago's Mexican community processing in a "Las Posadas" celebration, as the banner in the front of the group explained. In Las Posadas, worshippers act out the journey of Mary and Joseph, who go from house to house seeking shelter, and as it turns out, last night was the first night (it always begins on December 17th). My first teaching job was at a small Catholic high school in Chicago that was about 95% Mexican, and every year we celebrated Las Posadas as a school.

First came dancers, dressed in native Indian dress, and dancing in a circle while they processed forward, then came Mary and Joseph, and then came hundreds of men, women and kids carrying banners and candles, singing the Las Posadas song. They were all led by a Chicago cop standing on a Segway, who was clearing the way for them.

It was an even more surreal scene than the Chanukah crew, especially the cop on the Segway, juxtaposed against the fancy shops along the street.

So that is how in 3 hours, all along one 3 block stretch of Michigan Avenue, my son and I celebrated Christmas and Chanukah, my personal past and my ethnic past, and were reminded that we are always participants in the grand parade of human experience.

And how much - and why - I love Chicago.

NANOWRIMO

...stands for NAtional NOvel WRiting MOnth, which just passed (it was November). Writers could register at nanowrimo.org and pledge to write 50,000 words of fiction during the month. The website kept a running total for each writer, so you could track progress, and awarded virtual medals to finishers. The program is sort of analagous to people who train for a marathon together, and writers on the website could have buddy writers who cheered them on. Participants also had the option of posting an excerpt of their novel.

I know about all this because of my friend Anna, who registered on the website and WROTE A NOVEL during November! She is such an inspiration to me. Every day, even in the midst of working (she's a scientist), keeping track of her wonderful husband and two fabulous kids (hi Stephen, Lara, and Jeremy!), traveling for business, and even briefly visiting my Dad and her in-laws in Arizona, Anna wrote.

By November 30, Anna was 3,000 words over goal, and was still not finished with her novel. I read an excerpt, and it is great. I hope that she will allow me to read it in its entirety when she is done with it.

When we're young, we look for friends who like to play with the same toys we do; when we get older we value friends with whom we can share secrets and jokes. Then, we seek the friend who is "sure shelter," whom we know will always accept us and will never judge our errors and flaws. I'm lucky to have a friend who embodies all of those qualities (although our toys are now ipods and new purses, our secrets are more complex, and our errors and flaws more potentially life-altering) and who also can rekindle my desire to dream bigger, be bolder, take more risks, and pursue big, seemingly crazy projects.

Anna rocks!

A bug's life

The field biology class students have open lab time all weekend to work on their collections. I just spent a couple of hours in the lab with them. I learned a lot.

- The collections have several components: the board with bugs pinned on, vials containing certain specimans (spiders, anything caught in water, and nymphs), and slides mounted with microscopic or barely visible specimans sifted from soil.

- If a bug part falls off, surgery can be done with super glue.

- A carefully labeled and painstakingly mounted insect collection is a real work of art.

- Field biology is a fun class, and preparing an insect collection is remarkably rewarding and therapeutic.

- Students are generous in sharing their extra specimens to help out a classmate. (The legs fell off Emma's cricket, and Bianca lost a piece of her damsel fly, but classmates came to the rescue with replacements for them).

- Maybe I would have liked being an entomologist after all - if I could ever get over my aversion to touching bugs.

The muse

Student Productions premiered tonight, and to my great delight, I find that I have been one of Jackie Hedeman's muses.

... so, this one night, I was grocery shopping, and I met this clown in the produce department of the County Market who was passing out red rubber noses to advertise the circus, and we got to talking, and I told him I was the principal of a high school, so he gave me 400 clown noses, and the next day I passed them out to everyone at school and told them to "lighten up"...

Yes, it's a true story, but in Jackie's hands it became a perfect comment on her character's personality. I also like how the noses obliquely reference Cyrano, the spirit of whom is at the heart of her play. Was that intentional, Jackie?

Note to Jackie: When this play (after being performed at Theatrefest) gets optioned for a film starring Scarlett Johanssen as Agnes, I don't want a percentage - just invite me to Cannes, ok?

Mandy and Co. are my heroes

It's 7:11 on Sunday night, and of the past 24 hours, I've slept two. No, not because of a paper to write or any of the reasons from the good, old days of youth. Last night was the Uni Lock-In to benefit United for Uganda. I was at school from 9 p.m. last night until 9:30 this morning, went home for a 2-hour nap, and then (ack!) came back to school for 2 other events this afternoon and evening.

I don't know all the whys and wherefores about Lock-ins before my time at Uni, but Mandy Grill and the rest of the UFU planning crew did an amazing job organizing, planning, and executing this marathon event. The sixty students in attendance were altenately energized, laid-back, chatty, mellow, hungry, dance-y, scavenger-hunterized, and always, always awesome.

Parents showed up, as scheduled, at all hours of the night to check in to take their turns chaperoning, and although most of them were clutching tall cups of coffee like life preservers, no one griped about being here at that crazy hour. They hung out, helped out where they could, and then melted back out into the chill Urbana night.

This one event encapsulates so many of the qualities I treasure so about our school: The determination of a group of students to raise money so that they can make some difference in this world; the easy cooperation between parents, students, faculty, and alumni to just pitch in and do whatever it takes to make the event work (Dave Stone bringing in breakfast casseroles at 5:00 a.m., Coach Palla and her husband hanging out until 2:00 a.m., Rocky Ryan donating a pan of hot wings from his restaurant for the midnight munchers, Micah and Devin trouble-shooting computer equipment to get a DVD rolling, Jim Carrubba sitting in the hall with his laptop posting updates to the Online Gargoyle, to focus on just a few moments from the night); students able to have fun just by spending time together watching a movie, playing DDR or Halo, talkng in the lounge, or engaging in a spirited game of "Apples to Apples" or Speed Scrabble (a new one on me).

Compared to the value of being able to witness those moments, sleep is just overrated.

Making history

The Uni boys soccer team is poised to make history this week, as a win in Monday's pivotal game will send the the team to the state series for the first time ever.

When students are excused from class at Uni, you've got to know it must be something very special.

Go Uni!