Family values

Hey moms and dads! If you have enough money to take the entire family to the violent, R-rated "Edge of Darkness," then you have the financial means to hire a babysitter to watch the youngsters back at home. That way, you could have enjoyed the movie in peace instead of having to occasionally give your rambunctious children a half-assed shush - that is, when you weren't just ignoring them. Instead, you chose to subject your elementary-school-aged kids to the vision of practically every character in the movie -- spoiler alert!! -- getting shot to death. If you can't take the responsibilities of parenthood seriously, please don't become a parent.

Monday morning

The alarm clock is set for 5:30. My cell phone is set for 5:33 and is strategically placed across the room, forcing me out of bed if I reset the alarm clock. I will run in the morning.

***It was cold, I smelled a skunk nearby going out and back, and there was a mysterious rustle on the side of the road, but I did it. No cars, no dogs, and a star-filled sky. But mostly I'm thankful I didn't get sprayed by the skunk.***

The windup and the pitch

Last night, my cell phone rang with an unknown number on the caller ID. It had a 302 area code, so it was someone from Delaware. Intrigued, I answered.

It was a senior from my alma mater, the University of Delaware, calling under the guise of reminding me of my upcoming 10-year reunion and updating me on current events on campus. Really, they just wanted my money, and I patiently waited for the pitch.

I could have just hung up the phone, of course. But I've made enough survey phone calls in my life to know she was just doing her job. Might as well help a fellow Blue Hen out.

"Would you be able to make a $250 donation this evening?"

Holy shit! Two hundred fifty dollars! Earlier in our "conversation," I had mentioned I was working as an AmeriCorps VISTA. So, either she 1.) was clueless about VISTA and, therefore, unaware of how little money I was making; 2.) knew I had no money but was forced to stick with her script; or 3.) didn't listen to a single word I had said up to that point. I gave her the benefit of the doubt, just because I'm that kind of guy.

"Well, like I mentioned earlier, I'm an AmeriCorps VISTA working on the Rosebud Indian Reservation making poverty-level wages. I am not able to make a $250 donation."

"Oh, I certainly understand that. How about $150?"

The buzz words of "Reservation" and "poverty" evidently didn't sink in. I had to get more specific.

"I make $833 a month. I can't afford that."

"Would you instead consider $75?"

"No, I am unwilling to make a donation this evening." There, that was my problem. Obviously, I hadn't been direct enough. No means no, right?

"We're also focused on the percentage of each class that donates, and 43 percent of the Class of 2000 has already contributed. Would you be willing to make a $25 donation?"

Sigh.

At this point, I wanted to not only teach her a lesson on active listening, but also mention how I disagree with the University's recent nickel-and-diming of loyal, multi-decade purchasers of football season tickets (like my father). Instead, I only repeated myself:

"I will not be making any donation this evening."

She didn't go any lower. But holy smokes, 250 dollars! Whatever happened to a "meaningful" contribution? And the University seriously needs to let their salespeople deviate from the hard sell. Now I wonder what she would have said if I would have told her I was unemployed? Maybe something like, "Well, how much of your weekly unemployment check can you spare? And did I mention we also take EBT?"

By the way, I'm not going to the reunion.

¿Cómo se llama?

Better

Man, what a difference a day makes. I made a significant dent in the list of action items I developed for myself during last night's Board meeting. I came across a funding opportunity which could net the affiliate some bucks. I have a chance to help an ill colleague with a grant application. I finished a project this afternoon that brought back memories of my job in Alaska. I had an awesome run this evening. And then I shoveled a trough-sized portion of spaghetti down my throat for dinner. Oink.

All is right with my world again.

At a loss

My frustration with the situation at work is metamorphosing into anger. Not coincidentally, my sunny outlook dims a little more at the monthly Board meetings. This month's concluded a half hour ago. I want to tell you the whole story, but that's part of my problem. I think it would come across as whining about difficulties everyone faces at their place of employment from time to time. But that's not really the case, and I know it.

I am utterly alone. It's not a woe-is-me-I have-no-friends type of alone. It's more like I'm on a ship with a breached hull and it's slowly sinking. Not only am I the only one trying to patch the holes, but I'm dealing with fellow passengers standing idly by with a deer-in-the-headlights look, while another is intent on making the situation worse before he leaves in the one lifeboat.

I don't want to call bullshit because I would prefer to remain professional and diplomatic around the true decision makers. But I can't just sit back like the others and not say a word. And when I do speak up, drawing everyone's attention to issues that are either conveniently ignored or were not even considered, I receive zero support. And I hate that.

Tonight was bad. My last day as a VISTA is June 25. I had already extended my term of service through the end of May; I decided one additional month was all I could commit to while still accommodating both of my graduate school options. Keeping in mind I have already more than fulfilled my year of service, I was asked this evening how I would be able to contribute to the organization after I leave Mission. In other words, 19 months of free labor is not enough.

I do see this as a compliment; in fact, I received much praise during tonight's Board meeting. Unfortunately, it was a three-hour long meeting and we hadn't even started my agenda - or, more appropriately, the items left off of the official agenda that I wanted to talk about. They are all contentious issues; however, they're not going to just resolve themselves. There's no such thing as ignoring something long enough to make it go away.

I'll skip the details that require a long backstory. But the meeting did conclude with the executive director clearly stating he didn't care about the ramifications of his decisions now because he won't be around to deal with them. (He already plans to leave the organization in a few months.) And trust me, there will be consequences.

It literally took my breath away to hear what I already knew to be true. And if that wasn't enough, one of the Board members laughed. I actually had to say, "That's not funny," in response.

So, let me get this straight. The administrative leader has no concept of leaving a legacy for those who will follow him. He'll continue to make decisions detrimental not only to the organization, but to its service population as well. The Board is silent (save for the occasional giggle, evidently). And I'm the one who's supposed to chip in from a distance, whether it's from the other end of the state or a time zone away. Does that sound about right?

I was warned when I moved here by someone active in the community it's a reservation phenomenon for those willing to lend a hand to be completely taken advantage of. And her premonition was correct. See, there's a core group of people here who are involved in every aspect of civic life. The upside to this dynamic is it's easy for a newcomer to get involved in a cause or grab the ear of the local decision makers. However, the message that's communicated, either purposely or subconsciously, is "What more can you give?"

The worst part for me though is the lack of camaraderie. It's absolutely maddening to not have that one person who knows, who really knows, what I'm going through. I confident I'm not delusional, especially when comments are made, like the ones this evening, and there isn't that one rational explanation I just so happened to have missed. But it's still hard not to have that corroboration, that knowledge I haven't completely lost my mind (yet).

When having options is too much for people to handle

Overheard at the next table during breakfast this morning:

Customer: I'll have two eggs scrambled, hash browns, and toast. Is your sausage links or patties?

Waitress: Oh, we have both.

Customer: Okay, I'll have the ham.

Maybe it was just a hypothetical question.

I keep telling myself having options is a good thing

I've started to have anxiety about leaving Mission. I have four, maybe five, months left, and what's really getting to me is leaving behind everything I've built for myself here. I'm still looking forward to grad school; it was on my agenda even before VISTA presented itself as an option. And I know the reservation will go on without me. But I've made a home for myself here, I'm involved in the community, and people know me. And now I'm just supposed to leave.

So you can imagine what was going through my head last week when I received a phone call from a work colleague strongly encouraging me to apply for a job here in Mission. She phoned on a Thursday; the vacancy's closing date was the following Monday. The position involves community development work, a lot of which I already do. She thought I'd be perfect for it with the contacts I have here, plus the convenient fact that I not only live in Mission, I actually like the place.

She had an answer for all of my questions, specifically my desire to pursue graduate education. Not only is the organization supportive of continuing education, they'd pay for it. (That's how she obtained her master's degree.)

And then I told her that I still had several months remaining in my VISTA commitment. That wasn't a problem either; in order to accommodate a relocation back to the area, there was a several-month gap between when she accepted her position and her first day of work.

I promised her I would seriously consider applying. So, I sent an e-mail to the hiring manager asking those same questions of importance. His responses were a bit more understated, probably the result of my inquiry coming via e-mail versus over the phone or in person. The bottom line, however, was the position was a good fit for me, even if it meant modifying my long-term goals a bit.

I woke up Friday morning and jumped in the shower, where I do my best thinking. My decision was easy: to not apply. I determined it was the right job just at the wrong time. I've had a vision of what the grad school experience is going to look like, and working full-time while taking classes online is not going to get me there.

In some respects, I think I chose "the plan" over fate. But do I really even believe in "things happen for a reason"? At the very least, I decided to stay the course over pursuing an opportunity I didn't see coming at all.

I'm thankful to have gone through this exercise. I tell people all the time how much I love living in Mission and on the Rosebud. This was a chance to test my conviction. Am I fond of this place because my days here have always been numbered? Or could this be home indefinitely? I can undoubtedly answer the latter.

Now, instead of incorporating a third option into my post-VISTA life, I'm still at two. I won't be able to make a decision on which of two grad schools to attend, though, until what each has to offer is known.

Whether I end up in Vermillion or Boise next fall, it's going to be more difficult to leave here than I could have imagined a year ago. Looking back, I couldn't have left Delaware fast enough. Any trepidation I may have had leaving Texas and the life I had there was muted by the fact I was fulfilling my goal in moving to and living in Alaska. I left a great life in Juneau, but it was to pursue this new challenge on the Rosebud.

Maybe when I know where I'll be moving next, I'll be able to focus more on the future and not worry so much about what I'm giving up. I think that helped in Juneau. I knew I was moving to Mission for four months prior to my one-way ferry trip south. And I was ready to go by the time November 11 rolled around - even with the economic meltdown!

(Side note: I have to say, for better or worse, when I have a goal in mind, nothing is going to stop me. I mean, who quits their job and relocates to the reservation to become a professional volunteer during the worst economic environment since the Great Depression? One person's tenacity is another's tunnel vision, I guess.)

I still have plenty to look forward to during my remaining time in Mission. High school track starts up again in a month. I have several projects at work I'm excited about. I still have my sub-1:30 half marathon goal I need to accomplish (Brookings in May, hopefully). Spring is coming. And family will visit in June. I'm not done with the rez just yet.