Sunday's meeting and Monday follow-up

First:
Today was t-shirt signing day. I was embarassed to stand still while small children, big adults, and people in between wrote all over my back, front and arms.

But it turned out OK. Enlightening and enjoyable even! I need to think more positively about personal interactions.

I held out the bag for donations, not expecting very many people to sign and even fewer to contribute. But people I knew, others I had only seen at Mass but never talked to, and people I was absolutely sure I had never seen before (an introvert's perspective and personal failing) began to sign. Person after person. Some took just a few seconds, others, such as one little blonde boy, took an inordinate amount of time. I checked out where Christopher (the little boy) had beautifully lettered his name in a sort of shadow printing. I'm glad he took his time even though I was getting a cramp trying to stand still.

Realize this: Some Haitian man or woman will wear that shirt with pride in the town of Plaiisance (Pleasant Place) Haiti for a long time! Christopher, you will be proud. I'm glad I stood there and that so many people signed.

Later, we counted the money from T-shirt signing. Maybe I shouldn't say this, but all together we collected more than $500! Thanks, St. Francis people! And thanks for all your kind comments, and promises of love and prayers for our group.

I prepared my Haiti folder for Sunday's meeting, put it in a small cloth bag, added a few things and put it where I'd find it when it was time to leave at 6PM. At 6:05 PM, realizing I had forgotten the time, I searched for the bag and for other things I wanted to take with me. Nowhere to be found! It seems that episodes like this become more common once a person hits a certain age.

Off to Newman Center, arriving 15 minutes late, no bag, and my hat on inside out. Embarassing for real, this time! Oh, and tonight I remembered to give Pam my check, unlike last week, when I said I turned it in, then, later at home found it in my pocket. See what I mean?.

I had spent some time this afternoon searching for my old "Ike" Army jacket, which was issued 50 years ago come next February 11. I put it on and found that it was a little loose. Hmm, another problem with getting old is the wasting away process that continues to make itself evident. But I wore it--my old Private First Class stripe and Artillery emblem--with pride. Also put my dog tags in my pocket.

Nobody seemed to notice, this Veterans' Day.

The meeting was mostly about fund-raising; the good news being that we are probably a little ahead of schedule.

Angela received the little wooden hearts that the group of us will make into Christmas ornaments as a fund-raising project. I took them home with me to do my job of drilling holes in the left and right atriums and painting them red and maybe some of them with some white. Jerry gave me his phone number so that he could help sometime this week when the weather was good.

Well, Monday turned out to be one of those fantastically warm November days. I called Jerry, made a fixture to hold the hearts on the drill press, and bought some flat white paint. Couldn't find any flat red...bummer. Jerry returned my calll about 2 pm and I asked him to find some flat red paint on his way over. He went to three stores, and no flat red paint.

We spent an hour or two unwrapping the hearts, drilling, sanding and stacking them. They looked pretty good.

We went out to the barn to paint them white; we'd just have to do the red another time but the spray gun just blew the hearts off the cardboard backing board! So we cleaned up and will try to paint them with spray cans (Pam's original thought) tomorrow or Wednesday.

All of which brings me back to why we are doing this. Yes, why ARE we doing this? Seriously.

If we are doing this to somehow rectify the "Savage Inequalities," to use Jonathon Kozol's title phrase, (No, the treatment of HAITIANS is SAVAGELY unequal--Kozol better find another term) between American wealth and power and the lack of same for the poor in Haiti we should fnd a better way. Like selling my house, moving to a small apartment and buying a dormitory for Haitian children.

Why don't I do that? Seriously.

I don't have an answer...yet.

A friend I respect kindly reviewed my blog so far because I asked him to. He's a Professor of English, and as such makes a credible critic. He said that I seemed to be unitentionally negative, particularly when noting that I've been having bad dreams about the trip to Haiti. Therefore, let me state that I am NOT negative about the upcoming experience. I look forward to it, I believe that we will make a difference, that the Haitian community will welcome us, and that we will return with a brand-new outlook on life, one that will change most of us for the rest of our lives. But yet, I do fear it. Not because of danger, but because I will come closer to the lives of people in utter poverty than I have ever done so before. That's gives me awe and wonder.

The recognition that the savage inequlity between my life and the average person at St. Michael's is partly my fault weighs on me heavily.

I know, I know, every journey starts with the first step, and one of those first steps is making some heart ornaments to earn money for the trip and for the people we meet there. But still, it nags me...bites me.

Somebody comment, please. Hell, if you read all this long post, have a heart and write something...!