In which I fail, once again at maintaining a blog

Aaaahhh it’s been so long since I’ve written! Here is the first letter, written back in October. In my defense, today was the first day I received a confirmation that my letters have even been arriving and not getting lost in the mail. Please forgive the huge delay!

---

 

These past 2 weeks [it’s been months now, but you get my point] have been so crazy busy, I’ve barely had a moment to myself. Letter writing was, of course, the first thing neglected, but I’m back now so enjoy this novella of a post!

Sunday, October 25 didn’t even begin as usual. We missed morning church services to stay in, sleep a little longer and then do the chores. While laundry and cooking are absolutely forbidden on Sundays, cleaning seems to be ok. Don’t ask me about the logic behind that, as I can produce no logical explanation. Anyway, around 10am, I got a message from Brandy, a former WorldTeach volunteer who chose stay on Kosrae with her husband after they had completed their service a few years back. They had befriended a Seventh Day Adventist living in Utwe, and as the SDA church practices on Saturdays, the normal Sunday rules apply neither to him nor his beachfront property. As a result, I got invited to join them and go snorkeling out front of his house. I very eagerly accepted, suited up and headed out to meet them. We wound up going to almost the same place I had gone the day before to complete my SCUBA certification, and once again, the product was phenomenal. The coral was colorful, rivaled only by the fish occupying the anemones and swimming into the little caves and tunnels carved out by the times and tides. I, in looking for sharks and bigger fish again, kept my sights almost entirely out towards the deeper water. What a shock I received when my friend motioned for me to look towards the shore to spot a 4-5 ft reef shark. It was accompanied by another, smaller shark, but how terrifying is that?! I’ve always heard that sharks can be found that shallow, but I guess I never believed it, or- more likely- never thought the larger, older sharks could be found there. I immediately thought back to all of those times I went swimming around dusk, “knowing” that nothing of consequence would be sharing the shallower waters with me, and did some serious re-evaluating of decisions made. To really drive the point home, I came across another one in even shallower water while swimming back to shore at the end of our snorkel. Quite exhilarating, especially for a Sunday!

Side note: I broke the laundry rule later that same day because my laundry was beginning to smell like mildew from all of the swimming I had been doing in the past week. What can I say? I like to live dangerously ;).

The next week was rather uneventful, especially because I was the only one who didn’t have work or school Wednesday or Thursday due to some silly standardized testing rule. The kids had to take a national exam and the instruction booklet read something along the lines of, “Only one instructor is allowed in the testing classroom during exam time”. As I’m not the primary educator, I was excused for 2 days while my co-teacher was left in charge of facilitating all of it. He was hard at work; I ate, slept and ate some more. The end!

This past Saturday was Halloween and what an amazing night it was! The days leading up to it were a bit hectic with regards to getting a costume together, but it all turned out just fine. My friend has made multiple remarks about how similar I look to one of the Australian surfers here (I wish I looked remotely like him. Body of a god), so I had originally intended to go as him. The plan was to find out whom he was going as and then surprise him by showing up in the same costume that night. Unfortunately for me, in true Aussie surfer fashion, when I called his younger brother the night before, he still had no idea whom he was being. I, meanwhile, had spent the better part of that Friday helping my other friend make a Tune Squad jersey so he could be Bill Murray from Space Jam. The jersey turned out so well, I made a last-minute decision to jump on the bandwagon and make a Lola Bunny jersey for myself. The next day, we all went to Tree Lodge to check into our rooms and help them set up for the party later that night. As is Peace Corps tradition, we were given all of the hotel’s Halloween decorations and were tasked with decorating the restaurant. It turned out really well considering all we were given consisted of a handful of masks and some trash bags to cut up. Once completed, we went back to our rooms to pregame the pregame and change into our costumes. We then headed over to Brandy and Miguel’s house to meet up with the island’s other ex-pats and continue partying. We learned some really fun drinking games (hopefully I can teach you some of them when I finally get my life together enough to visit you!), noshed on some delicious snacks and listened to all of the classic Halloween songs you hear at every party you attend on Oct 31. At some point, we made the call and moved the party back to Tree Lodge to finish the evening off in true Halloween fashion. I spent the entire night dancing- on the dance floor, on the docks next to the dance floor, on the boats tied to the docks next to the dance floor, you get the point. It was so much fun and I cannot wait to celebrate it again next year.

Now for the sad part of the letter. As high as that night’s highs were, the next morning met us with some very low lows. We all got an early start, waking up around 7am, and after killing an hour by trying but failing to return to sleep, we went to breakfast. It was in this groggy state that Steven told us his terrible news. Due to some issues back home, he needed to end his time with the Peace Corps much earlier than expected. He would be leaving on Friday, just 5 short days away, and that would be it. We all took the news as well as we could and then went about helping him in any way possible. I spent as much of the week with him as I could- going to Jasmin’s brother’s birthday party in Utwe; diving with him on our day off from school on Tuesday (yes, another day off); eating dinner with him and all of the other volunteers at KVR on Wednesday; staying out late with him, a WT volunteer and a few of his local friends at the beach, playing guitar and singing songs while meteorites lit up the atmosphere; boating around Lelu Harbor during Tree Lodge’s sunset cruise on Thursday; and sending him off at the airport on Friday. The week flew by so quickly, as his time here did in general, and I can’t help but feel robbed of one of my closest friends in Micronesia. I know I’ll see him again, he lives about 20 minutes from me and we went to high school together, and I wish him and his family all the best and ask you and everyone else to keep them in your prayers, but until then I will miss him as dearly as I miss you and everyone else back home.

I also found out this past week that someone stole Blondie, the adorable puppy my family let me name. It’s been a rough 7 days, but hopefully this will be the worst of it and things will look up from here! Now that I think about it, they actually already have. My older host sister told me that she will be getting married on Thanksgiving this year AND that she’s newly pregnant (Yay!! Big, happy changes!). I’ve also been researching grad schools and future employment opportunities so that I may avoid the dreaded PC Mid-service Meltdown (the one when everyone rips out their hair screaming, “What am I going to do with my life?!” Note the subtle differences between that, the Pre-Service Panic Attack, “What am I doing with my life?!” and the End-of-Service Life-Eval, “What have I done with my life?!”). If all goes well, I hope to be getting my Master’s at American University in about 3 years time. If not, I’ll be applying to various jobs around the world and if all else fails, I’ll live on the street! Some people may call it being a hobo, but I’ll definitely put it on my résumé as “Conducted a social justice experiment on overcoming adversity while living below the poverty line and being homeless”. Wish me luck!

Until then, I really do love and miss you dearly. I am so sorry for not doing a better job at keeping in touch with you all.

 

In which I have a panic attack underwater

I couldn’t be happier here. We are a week into the 2nd quarter and I cannot for the life of me figure out where the time has flown. Monday saw school ending early for an assembly celebrating the students with perfect attendance and 4.0 GPAs (funny how the vast majority of students who won one won them both- who knew actually attending school improves your grades). This Friday we will also have off due to U.N. Day. Bear in mind that U.N. Day falls on a Saturday this year, they just wanted to celebrate it a day early in order to get a day off. I honestly can’t remember if we do that in the U.S., but something tells me we don’t. My friend told me about one day last year when the governor learned that Kosrae had outscored all of the other states on the countrywide standardized tests and gave all the students a day off from school as a reward. He is also thinking about giving us a day off for an island hosted run coming up in the spring. I’m a little concerned by how little it takes to convince people to take a day off but if that’s what makes him happy, so be it. It also reminds me a bit of a story I heard while at CofC. Apparently the only reason why we first started getting MLK Jr. Day off is because we agreed to take a day off for Confederate’s Day. I know. Crazy. Mind you Confederate’s Day is some time in July when we don’t even have school in session, but that’s still insane.

In place of school on Friday, Steven and I went with some of our local friends to watch a couple of baseball games. The teams are currently competing against one another in the Kosrae Games, the island’s version of the Olympics. Every year, teams from the Tafunsak, Malem, Utwe and Lelu come to the capital to play each other in baseball, softball, basketball, volleyball, track and field, canoe racing, and other events I’m sure I’m forgetting. Playoffs for basketball start on Monday and there have been tournaments going on all week to select which team will be chosen to represent each village. This differs from the FSM games, which are hosted every 4 years, but the concept remains the same. I, unfortunately, will not be here for those games but am looking forward to hearing how Kosrae does through my sister, who will most likely play for the Kosraean women’s volleyball team. The volunteers who were here for them last year raved about them, partly because they are just that fun to watch, mostly because there is literally nothing else to do during the summers here. It’s nice to see the states unite and come together for some friendly competition, as well. The Olympics hype does not reach the Pacific islands as very few people have cable here and even fewer are interested in missing work to catch the main events. The last person from the FSM to go to the Olympics was a Yapese weight lifter in 2004, which is great, but not exactly relevant anymore as it’s been over a decade since anyone has gone. Until the next great athlete qualifies, we will all be more than content to cheer for our villages every fall and our states in 2018.

Lastly, I am officially SCUBA certified! While the first few dives we did were nothing to write home about, they were still fun and full of interesting fish and coral. The last dive, however, validated every reason I got certified in the first place. The dive began as the others had, descending and swimming around, admiring a clownfish or two, avoiding the sharp coral, and then halfway through the dive we came upon the sharks. About 20 feet from us were 6 or 7 small, Black-tip Reef sharks and another, larger shark (possibly a Grey but I honestly don’t know). They couldn’t have been more than 3 feet in length, nothing compared to the mammoths of Australia and South Africa, but they were sharks all the same and my heart soared. In my efforts to watch and admire them, I completely lost track of my surroundings and almost immediately grazed against some sharp coral. The following is my stream of consciousness before, during and after the brush-up: “Oh my gosh look at them all! They’re so cute! I wonder what that bigger one is. OW! Stupid coral! That really hurt! OH MY GOD I’M BLEEDING IN SHARK INFESTED WATERS”. It was a small scrape, nothing of consequence, but it was still a bit unnerving considering everything I had ever been told about sharks and their tendencies to attack bleeding creatures. They remained afar, though, smart enough to realize that even with a bleeding leg, I was not alone (thanks buddy system!) and I was significantly bigger than even the larger one. They also don’t like the taste of human- fun fact-, which explains why it is so rare for someone to be eaten by a shark. Most deaths occur from blood loss after the event, not from the shark attack itself. Another fun fact: you are more likely to die from getting hit by a coconut than from a shark eating you, something I can confirm from living here because coconuts are terrifying and heavy and placed precariously high above our heads. The number of smashed windshields I see from breadfruit and coconuts falling out of the sky is enough convince a person to teach him/herself how to walk in a straight line while also looking up. I’ll be sure to let you know as soon as I’ve accomplished that goal or have gotten hit by a car while trying.

In the meantime, I love and miss you dearly and thank you again so much for the amazing package!

In which I see my busiest week on the FSM’s calmest island

Hopefully this post finds you as happy as it leaves me! The first quarter has officially ended and the second one begins with school tomorrow. This whole past week has been devoted to administering exams and grading. With the exception of Friday, I was leaving school before 11:30 every morning. It was lovely. Friday was PTA conference day and while my co-teacher delivered report cards to the parents, I drew us up a curriculum plan that enables us to teach the same basic theme for the 4 Writing classes. I had quickly tired of hearing my co-teacher’s complaints about creating 6 different lessons for 6 different classes, and thus (hopefully) have reduced the amount of time and energy we will both have to spend lesson planning and prepping materials. We’ll see how it goes!

Full disclosure: I am really excited for this next quarter to begin. I have so enjoyed the students at my new school. They never cease to impress and entertain me and this past week has been no exception. The 8th graders and I spent the last 2 weeks of the quarter working on an essay to submit for a statewide contest, and the student who wrote the essay we selected won 3rd place!

With school ending early every day this past week, my afternoons have been packed with activities that have taken me away from my site. Last Sunday, I had an instructional SCUBA class that had me at Tree Lodge for 3 hours learning all about SCUBA and taking written tests on the material learned. Tuesday, my friend asked me to go to the Blue Hole with her for a swimming lesson in anticipation for Wednesday’s confined water dive. Thursday was Janice’s birthday so we spent the evening in Lelu Harbor on a sunset cruise. On Friday, one of the WT volunteers, who had had his brother visiting him for the past 2 weeks, was hosting a send-off party for him. Lastly, Saturday was our first open water dive for SCUBA and then a housewarming party for one of the newest PC Response volunteers. It was all so much fun, but I couldn’t help but feel really guilty for being gone from my family for so long. The PC places a huge emphasis on being at your site and with your family as often as possible. It’s their solution to the integration challenges many volunteers face towards the beginning of their service, and to their credit, it works. The idea is that every moment you are with your family or with your local teachers and friends, you are integrating further and further into the culture, and vice versa for when you are not with them. The stress on integration is so strong that the PC has threatened to fire volunteers for spending too much time away from their sites in the past. I assure you that I am nowhere near that point yet, and I have every intention to stay as far from it as possible, but I still missed playing volleyball with the community at night and spending time with my sisters. Hopefully this coming week and the ones following will be quieter and I will be able to spend more time at home and with my local friends.

This week’s other highlights included:

• This gem of an answer to the exam question “How does every paragraph start?” We were looking for “with a topic sentence” and most students answered correctly, but one kid answered “at the top left of the page” and I laughed out loud.
• My cousin told me that her favorite food was pizza and I decided to make the family some on Saturday. The sauce was delicious- full of onions, carrots, garlic, mushrooms and sausage. We only had cream cheese and American Singles as options for the cheese so we added the cream cheese to the sauce and laid the American on top. I had whipped up the dough from scratch and had no idea what I was doing, but it tasted ok before going into the oven for the initial bake. In my haste to finish, however, I didn’t let it bake for long enough and added the sauce and cheese too early, thus leaving us with a 2/3 delicious pizza. It was still edible and my family ate all of it, but I know that given a little patience and some mozzarella cheese, the next concoction will blow this one out of the water.

I love and miss you dearly and can’t wait to hear your reply!

In which I acquire a new last name

My new host family is everything I could’ve dreamed of and more. They remind me a lot of my Pohnpeian family and I feel as though we’ve clicked exceptionally well considering it has been about 2 weeks. They have all lived in the U.S. (Colorado Springs, to be precise) and therefore understand my aset differences better than other families might. My mom is a hugely successful storeowner, working at one of the biggest, best-stocked stores on this side of the island. My dad used to work for the government but has since retired and now helps Mom out. Together, they had one daughter and adopted 2 sons and 3 more daughters with whom they shared their expansive house. All but 2 of the girls have since grown up and moved out, but the house is still constantly bustling with store workers, family and friends coming and going; a 6 year-old niece and 1 1/2 year-old nephew running around and playing together; and a cousin who goes home about once a week, but would definitely call our house her place of residence. My older sister plays volleyball for the state of Kosrae and we spend most of our evenings at the courts playing with her friends and teammates. My younger sister is 16 and reminds me of one of my best friends from home when we were her age. Our cousin could be her identical twin they look so much alike, and between rarely being seen apart and having very similar nicknames, it took me quite a while to differentiate them. My parents and I keep very different schedules but the few moments we have shared have been lovely. My nephew is fascinated by me, so much so that I can stop his tantrums just by walking into his line of sight (my family is loving this special talent). My niece is about to get her own paragraph, I have taken to her so much. Lastly, the family has 3 dogs: Donut, Hershey’s and Blondie (I got to name the last one) whom I adore and have begun training.

My niece is my older sister’s daughter and she and I have become fast friends due to my markers and her love for writing and drawing. Her favorite song is Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball”, an atrocious choice in my opinion but who am I to criticize a 6 year-old, and we play it on the family’s CD every time we get into the car. She “sings along” to every word of the song, but as English language learning does not start until 3rd grade, she has no idea what Miley is singing. Her solution is ball-parking it- mimicking the sounds as closely as possible, and to her credit, coming pretty close. Her favorite part is the chorus, which has now become my favorite part due to how she sings along. Every time Miley very passionately exclaims, “You wre-e-ecked me”, my niece screams along, “You EH-EH-EH-EEEEEEEEE”. It’s so cute and I can’t help but sing along with her.

Her atrocious choice for a favorite song should also bring into question the quality of music reaching the FSM. The best way I could describe it is if you auto-tuned “Red Red Wine”, that song by UB40 that you hear all the time on cruise ships, and listened to it ad infinitum. I remember a story Mom and Dad once told me about a road trip they took with Tom that sums up our music-listening here perfectly. Tom had brought along a tape for the drive and according to Mom and Dad, it was the first time they realized that their music tolerance was not as flexible as they had previously thought. As each song got more and more obscure, they further and further questioned Tom’s musical sanity. That being said, they behaved as all good parents would and continued to humor him by letting him listen to the tape while they did everything they could to tune it out. At a certain point, during a track so bizarre even they couldn’t ignore it, Tom suddenly piped up, “Uncle John! Uncle John! I think your cassette player is eating my tape!” I have an experience like that here daily. Most people only ever listen to one burned CD over and over and over again, and as most of the CDs are severely scratched, I have no idea what is poor quality music and what is the CD skipping and jumping over a scratch. As soon as I can get my hands on a blank CD, I intend to remedy this and I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes.

Returning to my niece, her favorite game to play with me is School, where she is the teacher and I am the student. Every day she teaches me everything she knows in English by writing something down in different colored markers and asking me, “What is that?” It is then my task to figure out what the heck “that” is. At any given time, she could be asking me about the word she has written, the number of letters it contains or the color in which she has written it. Most of the time, I guess correctly and a huge smile appears on her face. Other times, she will “help” me guess by telling me the answer and having me repeat it back to her. We play a similar game where she will hold up a finger or two and ask me, “What is that?” I, of course, answer with the number of fingers she is holding up and she will reply, “No, purple”, referring to the color of her nails. A third game we play I have dubbed “Attempt to Read her Handwriting”, where she writes down all the names she knows and I try to sound out what has been written. The problem here is, while she knows the English alphabet, she still spells English names with the Kosraean letters. Thompson, for example, is written Tohmsacn. It sounds the exact same when you sound it out, but between her not yet developed fine motor skills and her Kosraean spelling, I really struggle with reading what she has written. My saving grace is that she is a patient teacher and doesn’t mind helping me out. My favorite part about this game is when she gets to my name and calls me Notwe Kracp (pronounced crêpe). It’s always a joy to play with her and her friends and I greatly look forward to our times together.

I love and miss you dearly!

Notwe Kracp

In which I call Xzibit and pimp my PC experience

You have no idea how excited I am to be writing to you!

I’ve officially been at my new site for a week now and cannot believe how quickly it has blown by. I am now teaching English Writing to 5th-8th graders at Sansrik Elementary School, the next village over from my first site. While my classes are no longer filled with nearly as many songs and simple activities, nor are they attended by a handful of screaming children, my students and I still have fun, and are improving their prose at an inspiring rate. My co-teacher and I have an interesting relationship, but one I feel will work for us in the long run. The role of the PCV co-teacher is to assist the instructor in anyway possible, helping with lesson planning, material prepping, curriculum building and class teaching. That being said, many teachers here attempt to take advantage of having an extra facilitator in the classroom, leaving most of the work to the volunteer and assuming the role of class disciplinarian/grader- if that. Others just walk out of the classroom as soon as the PCV walks in, something that technically isn’t even allowed, as the PCV cannot be held responsible for what goes on in the classroom. I had been warned by previous partners that my co-teacher, if given the opportunity, will give as much of the work as possible to the volunteer. As such, I have taken to accommodating to his whims: planning lessons for the week when he wants to, taking the lead on the activities he wants me to teach, and finding and prepping the materials he asks me to organize; but I am refusing to give more than I get. Earlier this week, for example, when I told him that I would not be available later in the day to plan for the next day’s lessons, and asked him if he wished to lesson plan during our free period, he smirked and replied, “No”. I laughed at his curt honesty and departed later that day without having planned, leaving him sole responsibility to plan and prep for 4 classes. We went back to lesson planning during our free periods the following day and all was right in the world once more. Aside from the strong desire to not work, he seems to be a great teacher and the kids enjoy his classes, so my time here should be fun-filled and pleasant.

Sansrik Elementary School is tiny and backs up into the island’s marina, Lelu Harbor. Each grade has no more than 21 students in it, and the faculty is divided by subject, not by grade level. As stated before, my co-teacher, for example, is in charge of teaching English Writing to all of the students from 5th-8th grade. My future partners are in charge of 5th-8th grade Reading, and 3rd-4th grade Reading and Writing. I am really excited to be working with them, as they seem even more loved by the students than even my current partner. Everyone has been incredibly kind in welcoming me to the school and the faculty even threw me a party on Friday after instruction ended. I hope to have a chance to work with all of them, especially because Sansrik is considered the best elementary school on the island (which is saying something considering one of the other elementary schools is funded by U.S. donations and taught entirely in English), and students from all over the island commute from their villages in order to attend my school. Let’s hope I can contribute to the fostering of these children’s educations and not screw it up!

My new house is out of this world. Being completely honest, I’m almost hesitant to share my PC experience with others whom may be interested in joining because it’s not going to be anything like they would or should expect. I believe the term my friends used sums it up perfectly: “Posh Corps”. Most people, when they think of the Peace Corps experience, think about volunteers living completely “off the grid”- without running water or electricity, sleeping under mosquito nets for fear of getting malaria, and losing weight or living completely off the peanut butter-filled care packages people send from home. I, meanwhile, live in a 2-story house about the size of the houses you find back home; have my own bathroom attached to my bedroom, something I don’t even have back home; and have Wi-Fi and cable and a host of other amenities not found in most other houses here, including a fridge with a freezer, an oven, a washer AND a dryer. I’m living at the height of luxury here and my family, or at least those whom I have already met, are equally incredible. I’ll talk more about them in my next letter because my dad flies back from Guam today, and waiting to write home about them all will give me a week to get to know him better.

---

Still no photos :(. Next week, I should be staying somewhere with strong enough Wi-Fi to do everything I want. Sincerest apologies!

In which I literally have a rude awakening

Greetings from Kosrae! What a crazy couple of weeks it has been; I have so much to share with you all!

To start, one of the WorldTeach volunteers turned 25 and invited us all to come celebrate his birthday with him at our VSS’s house in Malem. Unbeknownst to him, his mother had reached out to our VSS and the owners of Nautilus, the only hotel here with a swimming pool, to throw him a surprise party the weekend prior to the scheduled event. She had mailed a box full of miscellaneous party decorations and favors to adorn the pool’s deck and had pre-paid the party’s tab, covering everyone’s food and beverage orders for the night. We spent the evening playing pool volleyball (my team won!), eating delicious burgers and pizza and enjoying each other’s company late into the night. It was such a great time!

Thursday night, the PCVs all received an email from Steven, the M81 who happened to graduate from the same high school as I did, saying that something happened to him while at his site in Pohnpei and that, for his safety, the Peace Corps had decided to move him to Kosrae. While I cannot provide details as to why he was being moved, we were all very excited here to see him again and spend some time with him while our VSS sorted out a home and family for him. He arrived just in time to help us celebrate the WorldTeach volunteer’s second birthday party at our VSS’s house and made fast friends with all of the other asets here.

To add to my VSS’s endless list of things to do this past week, I ran into a serious conflict with my host family and needed to be removed from the house early Saturday morning. Both she and all of the other Peace Corps staff involved handled the entire situation incredibly; stepping up to the line of duty immediately and professionally and exceeding all of my expectations for how a team should react to a situation like mine. I will take this opportunity to reassure you that I’m fine and would even go so far as to say that they overreacted to everything, but in my case, their response was exactly what I needed to feel supported by my staff, something not every PCV can say about their cohort, unfortunately. Anyway, I spent this past week living at Tree Lodge and Nautilus with Steven. I went from living under a roof with 5 people, taking cold bucket showers and not having AC to getting a room with 2 beds all to myself, showering with water so hot it could have scalded me and using AC so strong I had to turn it off to keep from getting goose bumps. We were given $20 a day for food and lived off of pizzas and burgers the entire week we were there while our VSS and Safety & Security Officer went about finding new homes for us. In the end, they decided that I would be moved to Sansrihk, the next town over from Malem and Steven would be replacing me at Malem. I will miss my old school, house and host mom very much, but my new family and site seem phenomenal so far and I look forward to filling you all in with more details as soon as I get more settled.

I love and miss you dearly!

---

I took a really cool time-lapse photo of the sunrise and wanted to include it here but once again my Wi-Fi is just not strong enough to handle such uploading.Sorry!

In which I almost break down in front of my students

Life here is still amazing; something I am very happy to report. School is school and while the day passes slowly, the times I am teaching whiz by so quickly, I can barely keep up with our curriculum. I absolutely adore my students and they seem to enjoy me making an utter fool of myself in front of them for 45 minutes every day. We are currently in our “see” unit, where they are reading a book about things they can see around the island and creating their own “I can see” sentences. I had the pleasure of taking them on a “field trip” across the street to the beach the other day so they could draw what they saw, and bought everyone ice cream for the walk back. We have a shortened schedule every Friday so that we may get outside and have a school-wide P.E. period. This day, while a lot of fun, further compresses the already brief classes to a quick 30 minutes; not a lot of time for much of anything, let alone learning. As a result, I elected to do a quick listening activity where students could follow along as Louis Armstrong sang “What a Wonderful World”, a song full of things he sees. It’s a very sweet song and one of sentimental value to me because it was the song to which my dad and his mother danced at my parents’ wedding, and I was raised with it as a result. After listening to it once through, we all read the lyrics together as a class and with the few minutes left in our period, I decided to play it once more for them to hear it again. To my astonishment, after having heard it only once before, they all began singing along with the song. I’d like to think that I’m not an overly emotional person, but I was so proud of them I almost cried.

Last Saturday, I was invited to join the owners of Tree Lodge and a few others on Tree Lodge’s boat for a day at sea snorkeling and SCUBA diving. I have full intentions of getting SCUBA certified while here, but as it has not yet happened, I was one of two people left at the surface while the rest took the plunge. On our journey there, we were accompanied by a pod of dolphins that jumped and swam around our boat for a good bit of time before vanishing back into the blue of the ocean. They were close enough to touch, and stayed ahead of the boat for the entire time they were with us, almost as if they were guiding us to our diving destination. When we finally arrived and got the okay to jump in, the waves were getting a bit choppy and the current had picked up substantially. Despite these conditions, the water clarity remained pristine; so clear that I was able to see to the reef’s bottom 40-ish feet below me. As those certified dove below and let the current sweep them along, I followed them from above, getting a bird’s eye view of everything they saw. In the 2, 45-minute trips we took, I saw more stingrays and eagle rays than I could count, and even caught a rare glimpse of a few sea turtles. My friend said she saw some reef sharks, but I can’t say that I had the pleasure- maybe next trip! All in all, it was a great day, but as the waves continued to get rougher and current stronger, I began to feel really seasick, something which I have not felt since my first night on SAS. What I found hysterical was that while returning to the boat would make almost anyone else feel worse, re-embarking almost immediately settled my stomach. Apparently I’m more comfortable on a boat in rough seas than I am in the water. Who knew? Anyway, I managed to make it through the day without making a fool of myself and pulling trigger, and went back to land very happy with the experience and a bit sun burnt and rosy in the cheeks.

This past Tuesday was Kosrae’s Liberation Day, the day that marks Japan’s removal from the island by the U.S. military during WWII. While I’ve been told that Japan’s treatment of the people was much worse than the U.S.’s has been (the Japanese once displaced my entire village because of its prime location), I still find it hysterically ironic that “Liberation Day” is a holiday celebrated not to commemorate the island’s gaining of independence, but to rejoice the passing of ownership from one foreign power to another. The FSM, including Kosrae, didn’t become its own country until the 1970s, and to this day is still heavily dependent upon U.S. funding. With the funding significantly diminishing in 2025, China is now increasing their presence here, sending many diplomats to visit the 4 states and sponsoring various ventures like construction projects. With U.S.-China relations being what they are, we’ll see what happens in the next decade, but after speaking to a few Micronesians, they don’t seem too eager to switch hands once again. They seem very content to remain semi-dependent upon the U.S. and actually prefer the present situation to total independence from us. This is first and foremost because the U.S. allows Micronesians to travel and live stateside without jumping through the visa hoops other nations must. The FSM is also given the opportunity to fight for the U.S. military, something many Micronesian teens opt to do in order to pay for college. Should total independence from the U.S. be gained, the FSM would lose these privileges, thus losing the accessibility to family members already living on our shores and fighting for our country. It’s a very complicated situation- so much so that many Micronesians prefer to not even think about the funding shrinking in 10 years time. The obvious problem with that is the same with any procrastination scenario; this one will just affect the entire country and cannot possibly end well for anybody involved (i.e., EVERYONE in Micronesia).

Anyways, we took 2 days to celebrate Liberation Day and didn’t have school Monday or Tuesday. Instead, there were many games and races held at Malem field and the elementary school. Everyone had a chance to participate and could win money, sugar and laundry soap for doing so. I opted out of most of the activities, and instead spent my time taking photos and sitting with the elderly ladies of Malem. While I had no idea what they were saying at any given point in time, they were a hoot, singing, cheering and dancing throughout the entire day and cracking jokes at what the MC was saying. I can’t wait to join them again next year and maybe even participate in the races.

I will finish this letter by giving you a Kosraean culture lesson. The word for foreigner here is “aset” (pronounced ah-set), and was given to us by the locals who first saw the original visitors to the island. Please bear in mind that indoor plumbing is a pretty recent installation here and that some houses still do not have it. Prior to this, everyone went anywhere they so desired and as such, nowhere was safe to step without looking first. The foreigners, of course, were not aware of this; so when they disembarked their ships and almost immediately stepped in poop, they exclaimed, “Aw shit!”- a very justifiable expletive given the circumstances. The locals, in hearing this profanity being shouted, assumed that the foreigners were collectively introducing themselves, and thus the term “aset” was adopted for any newcomer to the island. Let this be a lesson to you for when you travel to new, relatively undiscovered lands: don’t let the first words from your mouth be curse words for they may become your name.

On that note, I’m going to go to bed. I love and miss you dearly!

---

I have some great shots of Liberation Day, but I don’t think my Wi-Fi is strong enough to load any of them :(. I’ll try to load them again another day!

In which I decide sleeping outdoors is the only way to sleep

First things first, please send my love to all!

This week began with a wedding: one of the couples in town got married and anyone and everyone was invited, myself included. Unlike in Pohnpei, weddings here are very similar to those in the U.S.- mostly due to the heavy influence of the church. The ceremony itself took place in the town’s church, with the typical procession. The bride wore white, the couple had adorable flower girls and ring bearers, the bride’s family gave her away; you know, the usual. While almost entirely in Kosraean, it was pretty easy to understand what was happening. Afterwards, we all went to the bride’s house for the reception. There was a shocking amount of food, singing and dancing, toasts and speeches- everything weddings in the U.S. have. Some differences between the two included: literally everyone getting the opportunity to go up and say a few words to the bride and groom as part of the ceremony, the food for everyone being served on baking sheets with the many bridesmaids manning the tables and serving the food, and while I may be wrong about this one, I didn’t see a single gift for the two. In terms of cost, it appeared pretty low-budget until my friend mentioned to me that a sheet of cake costs about $50 (ovens really are that impossible to find here). Adding how many mouths there are to feed, and weddings suddenly become a very expensive ordeal. All things considered, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that people sink as much money into weddings here as they do in the U.S. with regards to percentages of income.

Moving on, things have been going really well here for me. I can’t believe it’s already been a month since I first arrived on Kosrae. While each hour seems to crawl by, the days and weeks race off into oblivion, leaving me feeling both bored to tears and exhausted with all that I’ve done. It’s a very strange feeling indeed, but I guess I’m finally discovering what it means to be a teacher.

My first few weeks of school have been going really well, thanks especially to my inherited copy of the current English curriculum. I’m teaching 3rd graders this quarter and their enthusiasm to participate and learn is almost overwhelming. It’s all I can do to get them to raise their hands quietly without shouting out answers. It is so apparent how incredibly bright they are, and the motivation to try hard is still completely intrinsic. School remains a source of fun for them and their sentiments are so contagious, I can’t help but love it along with them.

The other weekend, my family took me to Waclung (pronounced Weh-lung), by far the most remote town on the island. While there is a road one can take to reach it, it is very poor quality and only the toughest cars can access this part of the island by it. Boating is the preferred means of travel to there; so after attending services Saturday morning, that is precisely what my family and I did. My cousin-in-law grew up there and still has a few family members there so we stayed with them at their house on the beach. It was delightful and quiet. I don’t know that you could find anywhere else in the world that is so tranquil. The road doesn’t even reach most of the houses; it ends near the church on the outskirts of “town” and one must walk everywhere they wish to go on sandy paths. One of my fellow volunteers told me that those who get placed in Waclung are rarely seen, partly because it is so difficult for them to get into town and for others to get to them, but also partly because Waclung is so accommodating, they don’t feel the need to leave. The house where we stayed had just about everything; and whatever it didn’t have was within walking distance. We spent the day peacefully reading, resting in the hammocks, playing volleyball, swimming in the nearby river and eating delicious Kosraean soup. When it came time to go to bed, mattresses were pulled out and placed on the porch, allowing us to stargaze while the breeze gently carried us to sleep.

With a view like this, who wouldn’t want to sleep outside every night?

Friday after school, my fellow volunteers invited me to join them and the JICA (Japan International Cooperation Agency) volunteers for a conversation club at Tree Lodge. JICA is Japan’s version of the Peace Corps, where volunteers are sent to live abroad for 2 years doing a variety of things. The 2 JICA volunteers here are teaching math in the elementary schools and have been here for 1 year already. As one of them teaches at the same school as one of the PCVs, the two quickly became friends and now meet weekly to practice speaking English. The other JICA volunteer happens to live across the street from another PCV and they decided to share a cab to Tree Lodge and pick me up along the way. After conversing for an hour or so, we all borrowed snorkeling gear from the lodge’s dive shop and went swimming at the Blue Hole. Much like the Great Blue Hole off the coast of Belize, the blue hole here is a wide circle of water so deep you can’t see to the bottom of it. While swimming across it is ominous enough to turn stomachs, the edges are shallow enough to see what is below you, revealing a plethora of life in the coral including fish and starfish, sea cucumbers and stingrays. When we had all gotten our fill of the fun, we returned to Tree Lodge for dinner. After putting in our orders, we decided to use the hotel’s kayaks and paddleboards to explore the surrounding mangroves. We paddled in the calm water until the sun began to set and then returned to the dock, hungry and ready for food. It was such a great way to start the weekend; I really hope we do it again.

Lastly, here are this week’s highlights:

• My cousin absolutely loves joking around with me and sarcastically pokes fun at me whenever she can. One night after doing particularly poorly at volleyball, she pulled me aside and very earnestly told me, “Notwe, I adore you, but you’re terrible at setting the ball”. In my defense, it had been raining for the past few days and the mud hadn’t yet dried, leaving the court dangerously slippery, but all the same, I had to laugh and agree with her.
• On the topic of weddings, one of the other volunteers told me a story about how a former PCV here was invited to be in her cousin’s wedding party. She happily agreed thinking that she would be helping out with the ceremony along with the other bridesmaids. False. She sat at the table with the bride and groom (and no one else) and is featured in almost all of their wedding photos.

I love and miss y’all terribly!

In which I nearly lose it and shove a live shrimp down my sister’s throat

So much has happened over these past couple of weeks, and in my running around and settling in, I completely forgot to write a letter for last week, so here is 2 week’s worth of material.

After going to school for a few days, my VSS picked my fellow volunteers and I up to give us a tour of the island. We went around and saw everything worth seeing, save for the hospital (arguably the most important thing to see at a new location). We even had a harrowing encounter with an officer at the police station. He told us that given the opportunity, he would vote for Donald Trump because, “he’s a funny guy”. We respectfully replied, “Oh thank God you can’t vote”. Can you please explain to me why, according to the polls, he is the most promising Republican candidate? Depending on the outcome of the 2016 election, I may opt to remain abroad for another 2 years (maybe doing the Peace Corps in another part of the world?). Feel free to join me in the defecting fun.

Later that evening, my family and I attended a funeral for one of the teachers at my school. While he had died about a week before my arrival, my entire school was going to pay their respects, and it seemed only right that I accompany them. His service was pretty comparable to memorial services in the U.S. There were tears shed, speeches made about the deceased, songs sung and tons of food served. While entirely in Kosraean, it wasn’t hard to get the gist of what was being said and follow along. I am grateful to have had the opportunity to attend a funeral while in this new culture, but certainly hope that I won’t be attending anymore in the remainder of my time here.

On Saturday, my fellow volunteers met our VSS at Tree Lodge, one of the hotels here on the island. Run by a man from Tennessee and his Italian wife, this place has become a favorite of many of the ex-pats who come here to volunteer and work. The property’s restaurant is right on the water, surrounded by a mangrove forest that lines the close by river. A couple of days every week, instructors come to teach yoga, cooking classes, language and culture courses, and dance routines. When that isn’t going on, there are also movie nights to attend, kayaks and paddleboards to rent, an occasional riverboat cruise around the island, and SCUBA certification courses offered. This place is amazing, and being ex-pats themselves, they love the volunteers here, treating them as they would their own family. We enjoyed a delicious brunch there before heading over to Trade Winds, where the WorldTeach volunteers live.

On the path to Bully’s Restaurant

There are 6 WT volunteers here for their yearlong service. They all reminded me so much of my friends from Ecuador, it was great. I confess I didn’t get to spend too much time with them and haven’t seen them since (hopefully that’ll change by the end of this week), but I do want to talk more about Trade Winds. Unlike in Ecuador, WT gives their FSM volunteers the opportunity to choose whether they wish to live with host families individually for the year or at Trade Winds together. Most of this year’s volunteers opted to stick together, and I’d put a lot of money on previous years’ volunteers selecting the same. It makes me wonder the costs and benefits of living with ex-pats instead of living with a host family, though. In Chuuk, for example, the WT volunteers are required to live together because the island they’re on is so dangerous; it’s not safe for them to live solo (even if it’s with a host family). Here, though, no such dangers exist, and the volunteers are left free to enjoy each other’s company while also enjoying the island. As a result, they probably don’t suffer from the isolation as much as the other volunteers who must live apart do. I’d imagine the 2-week experience I had at PATS is pretty comparable. Living with your fellow volunteers is like living at summer camp, and they’re the lucky ones who have the pleasure of doing it for a full year. That being said, they are missing out on a vast number of integration opportunities by choosing to live amongst themselves. They don’t get invited as often to weddings, funerals, birthday parties and other island festivities; they don’t have as many opportunities to speak the language or eat the food; they don’t even share their classes with a local co-teacher; and I’d argue that they miss out on a huge part of living abroad as a result. I’d even go so far as to say that those same 6 people could have the same experience teaching and living together anywhere else in the world. Electing to live with a host family, on the other hand, has it’s own set of cons that should also be discussed. One of the reasons why I haven’t seen the WT volunteers since Saturday 2 weeks ago is because I live relatively far from them. The Peace Corps boasts that every volunteer gets his or her own site, and in the FSM’s case, a good chunk of us get our own islands. This can make traveling to see one another very difficult, especially when plane tickets cost upwards of $2,000 each way. I’d imagine that one of the reasons why so many of us volunteers early terminate our contracts deals directly with the isolation some of us feel at our sites. Integrating is very easy on the surface. Anyone with a bit of courage can ask to join a volleyball or basketball game or strike up a quick conversation with a stranger. But to be invited to play games and to have others initiate conversations with you is a completely different story. This deeper level of integration takes time (many returned PCVs say it took the better part of their first year to have these sorts of interactions)- time that the WT volunteers don’t have. They are only here for 1 school year plus a month-long orientation (10 months), and when living separate from the community, I’m very skeptical about how much integration will actually occur for them. All things considered, I’m happy I’ve been placed with a host family, but it’s so early on, I can only hope that my answer remains the same. I’ll ask myself again in a year and see if I can produce a similar answer.

Last Sunday, my sister and I went up to my cousin’s house to go swimming in the river nearby. Kosrae shuts down on Sundays; everyone attends at least one church gathering (some go thrice), the only businesses that open are those of the Seventh Day Adventists (they practice on Saturdays), and the only truly acceptable Sunday activities are attending church, resting, eating and bathing in the rivers. Most people don’t even cook after attending morning services because it’s considered too much work for Sunday. Soup is prepped in the mornings and then consumed throughout the rest of the day. People take their day of rest very seriously here, so much so that volunteers in the past have been ridiculed and yelled at for doing things like going for a run. The sale and consumption of alcohol is obviously out of the question, but the most ludicrous rule of all is that the police reserve the right to arrest you for even having alcohol on your property on a Sunday. It doesn’t matter that it’s your private land, if they find alcohol on it (both open and closed containers are fair game), you can be taken in. So when you come to visit, be sure to drink up all your booze on Fridays and Saturdays so that it’s gone by the time Sunday rolls around.

Anyway, back to the river. After arriving at our cousin’s house, we all grabbed our towels and some snacks. I was under the impression that we would go, enjoy a bit of time there, head home and then shower off, so I didn’t bother packing clean clothes into which I’d change knowing that I would be returning home to bathe there. Wrong. Unbeknownst to me, my sister had also packed shampoo and soap and after lounging in the cool, clear water for a bit, she and my cousin started to lather up. At this point, I hadn’t even entered the water. I was a bit chilly from the colder weather and the river wasn’t exactly warm. On top of that, it took all of a minute to see that while we were the only people there, we were certainly not alone. As they began bathing and conversing happily in Kosraean, I began playing the game I soon dubbed “Count the Critters”. Under the stones and rocks along the riverbed, I could see many shrimp, some the size of my hand. And when I lost track of how many I saw, I began counting the fish. At around this point, my sister turned to me and asked me why I hadn’t entered the water. While I do not fear small crustaceans, I also don’t eagerly look forward to sitting in knee-deep water with them, nor do I desire to bathe with them. I fed her some lame excuse that the water was too cold and that I would kindly be refraining from taking part in the afternoon’s activity. She and my cousin were having none of it and responded by filling up the bucket they’d been using to wash their hair and dumping it all over me. At this point, I had just about had it. In my opting out, the mosquitoes were having a field day, swarming my arms and legs and devouring me alive. It had begun to rain, making both the air and the water even colder. Shrimp, as it turns out, are territorial and had started to crawl their way out from their secure shelters to reclaim the patch of river they felt was rightfully theirs. This was not how I had hoped to spend the afternoon. That said, I was now soaking wet, and it seemed only logical to attempt to clean myself to humor them and continue on with the day. It took me a while to adjust to the crisp water, but I eventually did and in doing so, was able to appreciate the beauty of bathing in a river. I’ve always been a huge fan of the outdoor shower concept, and this seemed like a simple, small step beyond that. While I’m not exactly looking forward to the next river-bathing experience, given a hot enough day, I’m sure my sentiments will change.

While I have so much more to say, this post has stretched on for long enough. I love and miss you dearly!

In which I go a little crazy…

My week began with an end, and what a bittersweet ending it was. I must admit that saying goodbye to my Pohnpeian host family was a lot harder than I’d imagined it being 8 weeks prior. After all, how attached can one grow to a group of people they’ve never met before, knowing that in less than 2 months time he/she will be packing up and leaving them forever? The answer here is attached. Very attached. My host sister became one of my closest friends here, considerably closer than some of my volunteers had become even with a 2-week head start. My host brothers, while 6 and 11 years my junior, went out of their way to include me in their lives and activities as often as they could. My host parents maintained a perfect balance between loving and supporting me as caregivers, and allowing me to be as independent as was allowed by Peace Corps policy. Typhoon host nephew kept me smiling and laughing throughout the entire experience. My eldest host brother, based on his profession alone, had me feeling safe and secure from the moment I arrived. In short, I had the perfect host family experience, and I now had to pack up my things and leave my newfound home away from home. Of course I was excited to go to Kosrae. The whole point of me being here was (and is) to teach at my permanent site, and I had spent the past 10 weeks training for this moment 8+hours per day, 5 days per week. But the anxieties about leaving remained. How would my new site and family compare? What would my co-teaching counterparts think of me? Would I integrate into the community as easily as I had in Pohnpei? Nothing was certain, but just as I’d done on water safety day, I took the plunge and boarded the plane with my fellow Kosraean volunteers.

Our VSS and host-families greeted us at the airport. To my surprise, my new host mom was not the only one representing my family. Her daughter, who had been living in the D.C. area up until a month or so ago, had returned to Kosrae to give birth and raise her child, and was also there to greet me upon arrival. Our VSS then invited us all to a picnic area near the airport to eat food prepped by the families and meet the M80 volunteer and PC response volunteer also here on the island. In the midst of our schmoozing, our families were asked to present us with our Kosraean names- the names by which we would be called for the duration of our service. I was dubbed Notwe (pronounced note-way), the name of my late host grandmother. While honored, I can’t help but have mixed feelings about being called a name other than mine for the next 2 years. How should I introduce myself to others, and arguably more importantly, what should my students call me? In an effort to integrate myself into the culture as seamlessly as possible, I’ve decided to introduce myself by my Kosraean name first, and when asked, divulge my real name. Still not sure what I want the kids to call me, though…

After the picnic, we made the 30-ish minute drive to Malem, passing Tafunsak, Lelu and Tofol along the way. When we finally pulled into our driveway, I was met by the most pleasant surprise. To be more precise, I was met by 6 pleasant surprises, all wagging their tails and barking their excitement at the family’s return home. I realized very quickly how improperly reported my host family information had been. Not only do I now have host siblings (with more family members on the way), I get to share my home with 6 dogs, all of whom have Kosraean names, but I’ve decided to don with American ones. They have been named after the sweets they most similarly resemble, partly because I’ve always wanted to have enough dogs that I can give them themed names and partly because I have an insatiable sweet tooth. They are: Kiss, S’mores, Gingersnap, Dulce (Alfajores does not a good dog name make), Meltie and… Nameless. I have no idea what to call the last one mostly because no sweets come to mind when I look at her. Any and all suggestions are welcomed.

I’m leaning towards Caramel Swirl, just so I can call her Swirly for short

The first night was pretty quiet, as was the day after. Our VSS had kindly arranged for us to have a day off in order to settle in and get better acquainted with our families. I, much to my delight, learned that one of the main reasons why my host sister had returned to the FSM was to satisfy her cravings for the local foods here, and we would therefore be enjoying many of the Kosraean delicacies; a much welcomed change to the spam, ramen and rice I’d been consuming for the past few weeks. I also learned what a day in the life of a Kosraean looks like. My mom and sister start the day by making breakfast for the family (and dogs) and follow it up by doing the dishes afterwards. Then, they spend about 30 minutes sweeping our sand-filled yard to remove the leaves that have fallen the night before (yes, sweeping sand is exactly as absurd as it sounds). After, they lounge around, much in the same way my Pohnpeian family did, just with less T.V. in the background. Lunch is then prepped, served and consumed, the dishes cleaned, and lounging resumes. Between lounging and dinner, I snapped and had to get out of the house. The solution was to go play volleyball with one of my cousins and her neighbors, a very welcomed change of scenery and something I intend to do everyday if possible. Upon returning to the house, I watched my family repeat the steps for dinner and accompany it with a movie (on this particular night, we watched Samson and Delilah, a laughable rendition of the biblical story if I do say so myself). I then showered and headed off to bed. While peaceful for the time being, I can definitely feel how slowly time passes here when part of the day is not spent at school, and I’ve already finished the 300+ page book I started 3 days ago. We’ll see how long it takes me to break and begin rebounding off the walls with all of the pent-up energy I’m not expending.

The aforementioned book was The Center Cannot Hold by Elyn R. Saks. It is really well written, and I couldn’t help but feel swept up along with her tales. The only problem with that lies in the book’s theme. It is a re-telling of her life as she narrates what it’s like to live with schizophrenia. I know that I don’t have the disorder, but I could almost feel my thoughts becoming more erratic as I read more and more about her loss of grip on reality, regaining of control over her mind, and then loss of it again as she was met with new sources of stress and change. I would highly recommend it, especially for anyone who has family or friends dealing with the disorder (or are dealing with it themselves); just be wary about how affected by it you may become while reading it.

Thank you so much for the package! I would, on a semi-related note, like to ask about which section of the stationary aisle your card came. While totally fitting, it seems to hail from the condolences area, which begs the question: Is the Peace Corps experience similar to a death in the family in the eyes of those left at home? The obvious answer is, of course, no. Two years, while a long time, is not a permanent sentence and volunteers almost always return home to re-settle for a bit before embarking on their next adventures. The obvious aside though, there are some stark similarities between us departing on our journeys and a loved one departing in death. My friend lightheartedly commented that prior to leaving he attended his own wake. As is ever the case with jokes, some truth lies within the humor. Both us volunteers and the deceased have parties thrown for us, at which tears are shed, well wishes (be they for the family of the departed or the volunteer themselves) are given, and entirely too much food is consumed. Our rooms tend to remain in the conditions in which we left them (hopefully clean, but as is more often the case for me, upside down)- a shrine paying homage to the person who at one point inhabited them. Lives continue on, with the person’s absence being at the forefront of the mind at first and then fading slowly but surely away, as routines are re-established and normalcy returns. We are gone but not forgotten; unseen, unheard, but always near; or as your card put it, “Out of sight but never out of mind”. RIP 23-25 year old Marisa.

With that horrifically morbid thought behind us, let me assure you that I am still very much alive and well, still loving the FSM, and still very excited about spending my next 2 years here. Yours and everyone else’s letters fill me in with the goings on back home, and my sporadic blog posts are hopefully keeping you all as up-to-date as the U.S. postal service allows. I hope all is well, and as ever, I love and miss you dearly.