Streetside Serenades

Always sing in the most unusual of places, at the strangest of times.

     Cicadas, songs and kindred spirits have filled my summer months here in our little haven of Davidson - the glowing heat in day and night seems to bring the atmosphere alive with calm awareness of everything around us that grows.  Last night after enjoying wonderful food and conversation at an Arab restaurant with the Quaker community, I went with some special people to find adventure in “NoDa” (North Davidson), a lively neighborhood in Charlotte.   This adventure took the form of the four of us galavanting around the streets for a several hours; Gabe and Jordan climbing brick walls, climbing trees, skipping and imitating Irish accents while Anita and I trailed behind laughing hysterically.  We ended up under an overpass, so naturally the two guys decided we were going to climb up the side into the corner ledge.  And naturally, we started to sing.

“Way up there, you and I, you and I…”

We sat on our ledge under the bridge for an hour, singing whatever came to our minds and harmonizing on the fly.   Freedom is seen in wide sunlit fields, in the expanse of the sky...but it lives in small things, small corners, small smiles from friends with cement and cars overhead under the blanket of night.

“All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise….”

Earlier when we were leaving the restaurant, Gabe found tree sap on his car – his face lit up in its usual joyful way and he exclaimed “TREE SAP, YESSS.”  When we came upon an art student selling pottery on the street, he immediately made friends with her and asked all about her life, art and inspiration.  The last place he suggested we sing a few weeks ago was in a circle in front of the CVS pharmacy entrance.  I have yet to find a corner of life that doesn’t interest him, and I admire his spirit for discovering and adding excitement in every rising moment.

“I’ll fly away, oh glory, I’ll fly away in the morning…”

Jordan spent almost a year in the Middle East, and though I haven't known him long I love to see the light in his eyes and the way his mind flies into another plane of view when describing how to cook Arab food, speaking Arabic with our waiters at the restaurant, contemplating the mysteries of language, or simply showing us new songs on his phone that that he would love for us all to sing.  Not to mention he was an excellent driver of our imaginary Flintstones vehicle as we later strolled up to the drive through window of cookout on foot.

“And every breath we brew was hallelujah….”

Just hours earlier at dinner, Anita mentioned that the way she sees God in the heart and music of others.  We have spent many a summer day laughing and making music, and each note she sings blends with the air as if it had been there all along and is rejoicing in having finally been found.  She found the notes that live under bridges at night; her heart is as genuine as her smile, and I hear God in her voice. 

“Come with me, my love….to the sea, the sea of love…”

….Always sing in the most unusual of places, at the strangest of times. 

Everything Starts as Somebody's Daydream - the story of E2D

      If you are reading this right now, you are probably one of the fortunate 77 percent of Americans with computer access in your home.  You were probably checking e-mails, streaming Pandora, and scrolling through facebook when just happened to stumble upon this lovely girl’s blog.  All throughout the year we peruse the digital constructs we build for ourselves, but while you and I were playing and posting on social media luxuries there is a woman without a computer struggling to make it by in the town of Cornelius, North Carolina. She has three school-age kids and a baby, and she takes all her children to the public library four times a week to use a computer just so they can complete their schoolwork.  There is a family in Davidson who can’t afford to send their 11-year-old to a summer activity program because of the high internet bill they pay for their shabby, outdated computer.   There are middle-schoolers and high-schoolers who can’t type their papers or do their research like their teacher asked: mom’s at work and they need to watch their younger siblings.  There’s a little boy in the second grade who can’t identify the leaves he collected in the backyard for his science class assignment because his family doesn’t have a computer, and even if he could access one, his parents don’t have any computer skills with which to help him.   The other kids show up to school with pretty posters of their leaves and descriptions from encyclopedia.com.  This little boy has a couple unidentified leaves in a plastic bag.

Some people look at the growing influence of digital technology and only lament over what it has done to our culture and communication.  And yes, we should probably all spend a little less time on facebook.  But for these families, this divide is not a matter of luxury.  It’s a matter of necessity.

While the digital world is booming, more and more of the adult world is being loaded online.   Electronic mail.  Banking and bill paying.  Job searching and applications.  News.  College apps and info.  Continuing education.  In the child’s world, and increasing number of schools expect students to utilize computer and internet resources for homework assignments beginning as early as elementary school, to the detriment of a fair percentage of students in many areas.  Economically disadvantaged kids in Davidson pass grade level at a rate 30-35% lower than their non-disadvantaged peers.  Many simply don’t have sufficient access to the tools to succeed.  And with computer and internet prices today, this one most crucial tool for upward mobility is often only available to those who have already been upwardly mobile.

Most of us didn’t notice. We were logging in, linking in and checking out.  But one 13-year-old girl in Davidson thought something was very wrong here.

After noticing some of her classmates face this struggle and fail to complete their homework, Franny Millen brought it up to her family at the dinner table and decided something needed to be done.  Her dad scoured the town for a board of volunteers dedicated to their local schools and educational equity, and E2D - “Eliminating the Digital Divide” - was born. This all began around January of this year, and since then they have raised almost $40,000 dollars through community donations, grants and even lemonade stands, and have collected a slew of computers via personal and corporate donations.  By the end of the summer we will have installed wireless internet and new laptop computers in the homes of all Davidson Elementary families without computer access, and will also have provided them with computer skills training conducted by Davidson students.   But believe me, it doesn’t stop there.

I heard about this project through the Civic Engagement center at my college, and I came back to campus in June ready to hop on board E2D as their summer intern.  I had only a faint idea of the breadth and impact of what had been started.  In addition to engaging the College in this effort, E2D has partnered with the Ada Jenkins Center to implement the program, a center for human services, health services, crisis assistance and educational support. I have been working with Pat Millen, Davidson College's Civic Engagement Center and Ada Jenkins to identify these people in the community, process their information, set them up with discount internet service, and design the training that they will receive when they are given their computers at the end of august. Not only have I gotten to learn about all the amazing services the Ada Jenkins center offer, sparking an interest in social services, I have gotten to meet incredible community members, volunteers and professionals who are all passionate about service, empowerment and equal opportunity for the next generation.  E2D is now looking ahead to expand the project beyond Davidson and Cornelius, setting sights on the future digital divide solution for all schools in the Charlotte-Mecklenburg school system (the 16^th largest system in the US…!!!!)

So there's one more kid who can complete his assignments on time and get caught up in school, and  one more kid who can go to summer camp.  One more mom who can save the time and energy of taking 4 kids to the library 4 times a week as she tries to support them.  And  hopefully many more kids who will google all they can to learn about their own backyard.

Just today I came across a rather fitting quote: a man named Larry Niven said “Everything starts as somebody’s daydream.”  Even if you’re 13.  If there was ever a reason for teaching kids the power of imagination, this was it. 

Read this description from Founder Franny Millen – I couldn’t have said it better myself.    

Chronicles of Cute Things Bea Says

I currently get to spend my summer mornings catering to the whims of one precious blond two-year-old girl named Beatrice, who never fails to provide giggle-worthy quotes and entertainment.  Since, in her eyes, every little thing in the world is the most fascinating, amazing, ground-breaking thing in recorded history, encountering everyday items such as water bottles and bubbles with Beatrice becomes the next grand exploration of mankind. Behold Bea's grand adventures:

1. We were at the park, and as I was taking a sip from my water bottle and she saw the cap - she HAD to have the cap.  We then proceeded to screw the cap on and off...and on and off.....and on.....and off....for at least 15 minutes straight.

2.  She draws a massive blob of squiggles on her chalkboard, points to it and yells, "IT A SCARY ELEPHANT!" and gasps.

3. She picks a new favorite story from her Busy Busy World story book every day and makes me read it at least 6 times.  In a row.  I am pretty sure I could recite "Ukulele Louie" from heart by now.  Or as Beatrice calls it, "Ooo-ka-looo-eey."

4.  She sits in her high chair while I'm making her lunch and throws her hands in the air and shrieks, "I HAPPY,  I HAPPY,  I HAPPY, I HAPPY!!!   Haha.  I guess I'm doing something right.

So, in honor of the little sunshine girl...

Hello world.  I'm happy.  :)

Just Catching Up

    Ladies and gentlemen, after a wonderful visit with my family for 2 weeks, I am back in the beautiful town of Davidson for the summer!  The plane trip back was especially exciting as always, because unlike the majority of the human race, I happen to love airports. ... You heard me right.  Yes, they are crowded and dirty and confusing, but everyone has a destination and a goal, the exciting potential of your voyage stretches out before you, and even within all the manic hustle, you might manage to catch a small moment of sincerity: a little smile from a child passing by, or a short story about someone's life journey.  When I was in Denver waiting for my next plane, I overheard a lady telling someone about her ranch where she teaches yoga and horseback riding programs.  Yoga! and Riding!!  2 of my favorite things!!!  Could it be true?  I awkwardly relocated myself in the terminal so I could get closer to ask her about it.  She just said: "Yoga is the science of self-actualization; horses are already self-actualized. They're just waiting for the rest of us to catch up."

There was the truth that I had felt for years, spoken by a lady I had never met in my life.  And this is why I love airports.

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Barefoot

I remember the first time I wore high heels.  They were sparkly, plastic, and came as part of a Cinderella costume set.  I was four.  With my plastic pearls, feather crown, and favorite new shoes that set me an inch higher in the world, I knew that I could conquer anything (I mean, really - who would refuse a four-year-old in a feather crown…).  Fifteen years later, any day I get to twirl in a pretty dress and ridiculously impractical shoes is a great day. Here ye, here ye, the perks of high heels:

 1) Instant supermodel status – the catwalk strut is ten times more fun when you’ve got 4 extra inches.

2) Your legs look longer than route 66 (hate to break it to you boys, but its alllll an illusion…)

 3) If you are of small to average stature and your date happens to be unusually tall, you don’t have to stand on your tiptoes just so he can hear you.

4) If your date turns out to be a totally jerk, you have thin spikey weapons readily at your disposal!   

Ladies, lets ignore the astronomical ankle-safety hazards, the frequent inability to functionally move in a straight line, or the fact that in the case of the zombie apocalypse, you would almost positively get left behind and die.  For all intents and purposes, there are no downsides to high heels.

  With our gazes a little higher, our walk a little swifter and our steps just a little sharper, we feel a little more powerful.  Like that businesswoman on TV whose feet pierce the conference room floor as she peers though jet black lashes, poised for persuasion.  Like that girl in the magazine who smiles coyly back at the man who watches her longingly while she prances away in her stilettos with her new prada bag.  We can be stronger, higher, farther from the very tired, very human girl in the mirror every morning.   She doesn’t exist.  We are powerful.  We are strong.  We are fearless. 

Fearless.  Are we?  When we can’t show the world our clean and real faces?  When we think strength is in whoever can speak the loudest?   When we can only see ourselves when the eyes of the world are on us, our self-image made a product of admiration and desire, while we strap on shoes, faces, voices and smiles that hide our real words, real bruises, and real missteps?  We strut passed people who only wish for a helping hand and can barely show the people we love our bare soul.  We mistakenly equate fearlessness and bravery with our own control.   Humankind clamors for high heels, high salaries, high-rise apartments and office buildings, while barely recognizing the earth on which it stands.

I grew up at the end of a gravel road where, pine needles, wild grass, and Oregon grape cover the ground.  As a young teenager I sometimes wished I lived somewhere that I could wear high heels out without a) sinking in dirt or mud, b) tripping over gravel and rocks, or c) looking silly and impractical, but I am most thankful for the days as a kid when my sister and I ran barefoot.  The pine needles pricked and poked our toes, but at least we could feel.  We could sense where we stood.  We could feel the right places to step.   The other day I lay in the grass of my back yard and thought about the bravery it takes for us all to take off our shoes, our feigned faces, the hollow ego in our voices, and let ourselves feel the world.  We get pricks and slivers, but we can sense the steps we take and face each other with open palms.  Fearlessness does not lie in battle cries, sharp steps and piercing gazes, but in soft words, listening ears and open minds.   When we can look each other in the eye and cry and say, “I’m sorry.”  When we can step down from our high risers and hold someone, anyone, in solace, without a sound.

And no, for the record, I don’t think high heels are inherently evil.  They are still loads of fun, and I’ll surely still dance and prance in my pretty dress and silly shoes - what girl wouldn’t.  But all the while, I’m going to try to remind my heart to walk barefoot. 

Empty, open, awake, and four inches shorter, we are powerful. We are strong.

 We are fearless.

Boulders and Balloons

Every night before I fall asleep, I imagine I am holding a large bunch of helium balloons in the middle of a hay field.  I write each of my worries and concerns on a balloon, and then one by one I release them into the sky.  Watching them float away, I am left free.

Most of us have had days where we want nothing more than to be able to let go.  We find ourselves standing in a field holding all the things we’re afraid of, all our expectations, all the things we regret, all the things we wish we could change about ourselves…yet more often than not, we wake up to find that our worries and troubles are more like rocks than helium balloons.  We get frustrated that we’re unable to send them away into the sky, so instead we try to push and shove them as far away as we can, or we throw them at the people who we believe threw them at us.  We try to get rid of them, wasting time wishing that boulders were balloons, that we never learn to sit with them, accept them, and turn them over in our hands until we see them for what they are.  We don’t like how these rocks can weigh us down, crack us open, carve us out and leave us exposed.   Yet God again reminds us that’s it’s ok to be vulnerable in the middle of a hay field.  It’s ok to hold heavy hands and be still.   With our cracks we are not broken but rather open to recieve the light and love of others.  This is how we begin to be free.

We get thrown rocks. We dig them up.  We yell and throw them back.  But all the while, maybe God was handing us some of the stones we needed to build our trail.