Three birds meet one stone.

Bill Bryson blogging for Bryce, Irish blogging for Travis, and immigration blogging for myself. Does the internet get any better? I submit it does not.

From Bryson's Made in America

"If one attitude can be said to characterize America's regard for immigration over the past two hundred years it is the belief that while immigration was unquestionably a wise and prescient thing in the case of one's parents or grandparents, it really ought to stop now."

Slow clap.

But here's where it really gets good:

"From the earliest days, immigrants aroused alarm and attracted epithets. For the most part, early nicknames for foreigners were only mildly abusive, or even rather backhandedly affectionate. This was particularly the case with the Irish, whose fondness for drinking and brawling and perceived lack of acquaintance with the higher mental processes inspired a number of mostly good-natured terms of derogation, so that a police station was an Irish clubhouse, a wheelbarrow was an Irish buggy, bricks were Irish confetti, and an Irish beauty was a woman with two black eyes."

Two thoughts:

1. Those don't actually seem to be all that good-natured, but maybe that's just me.
2. The Border Patrol have a type of truck that we tend to call "dog catchers" because they resemble the type of vehicle used by animal control. I don't really like using the term because it sort of implies, by default, that migrants are the dogs, but the only other term I know for such a truck is a "paddywagon," which clearly has some pretty negative connotations for the Irish. So long after the Irish are really known for being arrested in masse, whether the stereotype was true or not, the name sticks. Language is fascinating.

Happy Birthday Mexico

It's a beautiful country that Mexico. Well worth celebrating. Last Saturday night the entire country gathered together and celebrated like it was 1810. Some things to be thankful for:



Family. And friends. And dogs.



Cowboys. Real, or, er, not so real.



Kids.



And laws that let you shoot off fireworks into large crowds of people. Miguel Hidalgo would be proud.


VIVA!!!

The things I don't talk about.

Every time I go to the Border Patrol station in Douglas I hear or see something that makes me physically ill. I always forget that I will feel this way. I always feel this way.

I really like the way Bryce writes. I'm copying his style right now.

I am proud of every single one of my friends.

I attend a Catholic church. I don't believe that the bread is really Jesus' body, but I still love to kneel every Sunday.

I would rather be good than happy. But I'd rather be happy and good.

I go back and forth between being proud of my creativity and thinking I am not a very creative person.

I don't want to post this.

I'm going to post it anyway.

Sometimes I think that I am not very good at my job.

Sometimes I think that I am awesome at my job.

I never want to be defined by my job.

I'm going to be in Colorado in November. I am very excited.

Deanna is going to visit me. Sometimes when people say things to me I am glad that she doesn't know how to speak Spanish.

She reads this blog.

I really like to cook. I never knew that before this year.

I am very good friends with a man who works for Raytheon making missiles. I read two publications put out by Focus on the Family. I drink Coca-Cola when I am in Mexico. I don't like missiles, Dobson's theology, or corporate soda.

I was never taught to use grammar and that makes me self-conscious when I write.

I have never gotten in the habit of proof-reading my writing.

A lack of grammar skills and an aversion to proof-reading is not a promising combination.

I just got a phone call from a man who needs diapers and baby formula.

I don't give money out to people because I don't want them to use it for drugs.

I am going to the store right now to buy the diapers.

My phone number is changing. I'll call you when I know what it is.

It's Giuliani Time!

My new buddy Karen* (yes, the funny engineering video Karen) reminded me of my project to talk about each one of the oh-so-many 2008 candidates for POTUS. The problem with that little project, as I see it, is that so many of them are so obviously lackluster. I mean...Romney? Really? President? How am I supposed to write an entire post about that?

But I'd still like to finish it. So here is my post for "America's Mayor," Rudy Giuliani.

As a rule, trite poilitical attack names (Slick Willy, Shrub, Al Bore) are created simply because they are catchy. At times they have some sort of foundation in truth ("The Decider" comes to mind), but for the most part they are only useful for making someone look childish (although it's debatable whether the person using the name is, in fact, the childish one).

In the case of Rudy Giuliani, the label "President of 9/11" is not only catchy, but actually seems to be 100% accurate. Has anyone, any single person, actually heard him talk about something that wasn't A)Iraq, B)Iran, C)9/11, or D)Terrorism? I mean, really. I'm not saying that these aren't important issues (although I could make that argument). I'm saying that, outside of his argument that we are all going to die if we don't invade more countries(!), he really doesn't have anything going for him. And since I don't find that argument convincing...well, you get the picture.

You could say that, even though he doesn't talk about it much, running New York shows his capability for the job. But New Yorkers don't seem to like him very much.

Actually, whether it's "America's Mayor" Rudy, or "President of 9/11" Rudy, this is really going to hurt his case. Not only do these New Yorkers not like him, they also think he did a really terrible job with 9/11. Ouch.

I think I'll leave it at that. Talking about what Giuliani would do to the Constitution is a sure way to find myself in a paranoid depression.

*Karen was kind enough to send me this not at all doctored picture. My shocked face represents my fear that Giuliani is about to lecture me on how afraid I should be that anyone else might win the election.

You make me want to be a better man.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WESLEY BENGT WICKLUND


Here are some thoughts I wanted to share with you on this momentous occasion:

1. You've been around through a lot of stuff. I remember being in elementary school with you, hanging out, moving on to middle school, and then being really excited when you finally got there two years later. Mission trips. Praise band. Leadership teams. Mexican champagne. I love that our history goes deep. I love that our future is going to be even deeper.

2. Because I can look back for years and years, far past a decade of friendship, I have no problem saying that you have always been a really, really good guy. More than uncommonly legit. And you've become a really, really good man. One of the best I've ever met. You've always tried to do the right thing, and when you've failed, as we all do, you've tried even harder. The title says it all.

3. You are damn passionate. I've seen you get in fist fights, yelling fights, and soccer fights (the dirtiest fights of all). I can't say I've always thought it was a good idea for you to be fighting, but I've always loved and admired that spirit. You have convictions, and a belief that there are things in life worth fighting for. And there are.

4. You don't love the law for the law's sake. You want all the freedom that Jesus can give you. Let's get after it.

5. JBBP baby.

You are my brother. I love you.

PG-13 Blogging: Some Mild Sexual Content

"Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol plays on MTV Mexico in the background of the restaurant.

Friend: Ugh. Why do people like this song?

Me: Sabe. (Spanish for "who knows?")

Friend: It's on all of the time.

Me: Yeah, I just don't get it. It's not even catchy. Just...long and boring.

Friend: I have a theory about this actually, but it's very Freudian.

Me: Freudian?

Friend: Yeah, I developed it after Death Cab's "Transatlanticism" became really popular.

Me: I like that album. And I really like that song.

Friend: Me too, but it's very Freudian.

Me: Ok, explain.

Friend: People like things that are very repetitive and then climax.

Me: Hahahahahahaha

From my gmail inbox...

A link to this video:



And a suggestion:

"Now think in terms of Jesus"

One of my favorite short films set to music (yes, I made that genre up myself) from one of my favorite orchestra/post-rock/post-genres/unbelievable bands.

Glosoli by Sigur Ros. Thanks Jo.

Everything's bigger in Texas

What a charmed life I live.






The view from my balcony, room 529 at The Crescent Hotel in Dallas.






My feet getting ready for my "mani and pedi." Yeah, seriously.







What shines more brightly, the Rolls' logo or my freshly manicured nail? The car was parked right outside the hotel- across from an Enzo and next to a pair of Bentleys.







Jimmy, Nate (the groom), and Garrett channeling their inner CEOs. Alternate caption: Go on brush your shoulders off. First runner-up: I'm not a businessman, I'm a business, man.












Milli (the bride) gets henna applied on her hand at the Mehndi party.







Junia and I share a moment at the airport.

Can you really blow smoke rings? Radical!

Seymore/C-Macaroni and Chesse/C-Money/H to the Izzo V to the Izza (Wait, that's the Roc)

Happy Birthday Brotha!

Not surprisingly, I have some thoughts to share with you:

1. You really love profound thinking. And I REALLY love that about you. I don't know anyone who hasn't found themselves in an unexpectedly deep conversation with you only to realize that it has revealed a big truth about their life. How do you do that?

2. You have really been a part of a second family to me. Your parents treat me like one of their own kids. That makes us close like white and rice.

3. You, to be as cliche as possible, have taken some lickings and kept on ticking. You have what older people would probably call grit. I like that about you. I respect that about you. Sigue adelante, as we say here in Mexico. Roughly translated that means "keep on trucking son."

4. Tom Moore is your father, but I'm pretty sure that Bryce is your daddy.

5. I always sleep on top.

I love you brother.
Happy Birthday

"Some of those that work forces, are the same that burn crosses..."

Three pieces of border news and a comment on the Border Patrol.

With an already bad situation in Iraq steadily deteriorating, I can't imagine the border gets all that much news coverage elsewhere. That's just a guess. To gauge this, I want to know if anyone who reads this blog heard that a Border Patrol agent shot to death a 22 year old Mexican migrant from the state of Puebla about three weeks ago.

It happened about 8 miles from where I am sitting, out near where we leave the water in the desert. Like all Border Patrol shootings, the details surrounding the "incident" have not been released.

In other border deaths news, another body was found in the desert last week by the family of a missing migrant. When he didn't show up or call, the family called the Border Patrol to advise them that he was missing. Eventually the family came from Florida and California to search for him. I'm glad that they found him, but sad that he had already died from "exposure."

And finally, in honor of Rage Against the Machine reuniting, here's a sad story of a racist wearing a badge. Two very close friends from Agua Prieta were visiting another very close friend in Tucson this weekend. On their way back to the border they decided to visit a state park and hike around the lake. As they were leaving the park they were stopped by Border Patrol and asked for their papers. They supplied their tourist visas (which they have had for a number of years) and were told by the agent that these papers were for "shopping at Wal-Mart and then going back to Mexico." He then called them a derogatory term for Mexican migrants, told them that he wasn't stupid, and accused them of being smugglers and "helping (expletive) migrants." I'm told that they were lucky as the agent could have seized their Visas without a guarantee that they would be returned.

I am aware that this post is pretty harsh on the Border Patrol. In many ways I regret that. I appreciate the work that the Border Patrol does in fighting drug smuggling, something I have no love for. I also appreciate the lives that they have saved by finding lost, sick, or injured migrants in the desert. The fact is that I have a number of friends down here who are agents, one very good friend in fact. I think they are good men. I wish more agents were like them.

Friday Puppy Blogging Part Two

So, as some of you now know, Meghan and I have been in the business of puppy ranching these last few weeks.

It started when Kyle and Erik came down to visit me here in AP.

One morning we were walking down our street on the way to get breakfast, when Meghan noticed a little puppy running around an abandoned lot two doors down. We went over to check it out and were greeted by four more tiny puppies living under some trash.

Erik told Kyle that he should take one back with him, which is why the infamous illegal immigrant puppy Sonora is now living happily in Ft. Collins.



Sonora in Kyle's pocket


The weather took a turn for the worse after Kyle and Erik left with Sonora, and Meghan and I were worried that the other four puppies might die. Sadly, the smallest one did die, and so we decided to bring the rest of them into our apartment and look for permanent homes.

And here are the little buggers. They only have nicknames because we didn't want to become too attached.




This is the little girl. She's secretly my favorite.


This is "Sola." She is easily one of the strangest looking dogs that I have ever seen. One eye is bigger than the other, and it also has a black ring around it. She sort of looks like a cross between a goat, a cow, and a polar bear.


And that's the little bear. He used to be a lover, now he's more of a biter.


Adorable.

We have found homes for two of them, and they will be leaving us tomorrow. I'll miss the cuddling. I won't miss the poop.

I'm On Permanent Mexiroam

Here it is, the Chiapas post that at least two of you have been clamoring for. The rest of you don't have to read it if you don't want to.

I still haven't figured out a way to talk (succinctly or not) about a trip that lasted almost three weeks and encompassed two-thirds of the great country of Mexico, so my apologies if this is a little disjointed or confusing. This is going to be a massive post because of the pictures.

Here are some basics for the trip:

Who- Myself, Meghan (my housemate, co-intern, and partner all things Mexico), Tommy (my boss at the Just Trade Center, a weird sort of blend between hippie, Catholic, corporate manager, and romantic), Barbara (Tommy's girlfriend and an unbelievable coffee saleswoman), Arthur (Tommy's twentysomething son and a great guy), Daniel (co-founder of Just Coffee and one of the nicest guys I've ever met), Vicki (Daniel's wife and the woman in charge of packaging for Just Coffee), Danielito (Daniel and Vicki's son, easily one of the coolest two year-olds I have ever met), Luis (A Guatemalan immigrant who lost both of his legs in a train accident trying to get to the U.S. border), and Surullo (Vicki's dog and constant companion).

What- A three(ish) week trip down the west coast of Mexico to visit the town of Salvador Urbina in the state of Chiapas (the location of the Just Coffee cooperative), and then back up through the center of Mexico with a stop in Veracruz to visit one of the two new cooperatives. We borrowed a 1980's Ford 15 passanger van with 225,00 miles on it from our friends at the Catholic Church and loaded another 4,000 miles onto it between the time we left the border and the time we got back.

When- We left on December 27th I think, and got back last week at some point.

Where- I suppose I sort of covered that point already. Here's a map to help out.
The red lines follow the rough route of our trip.



Why- Part of my motivation for going was just to visit so much of Mexico that I had never seen before. Part of it was just to take a break and relax. Most of it, however, was my desire to meet the Just Coffee growers and see the states where migrants were coming from. I also didn't really want to come home for Christmas because this year is a bit of a test run for how I would like living abroad for an extended period of time.

Now for the pictures (click to enlarge):


The beach just north of Mazatlan where we stopped for a swim after our first night of driving. Gorgeous.


A blurry, but adequate, picture of the ditch that I accidentally backed the van into, and the rescuers that helped us get it out. To be fair, it was pitch black and we were in a residential neighborhood. Ditches weren't really on the radar. And no, I didn't take the picture. I'm behind the van pushing just like everybody else. I haven't really had great luck with vans in Mexico.


Sadly I did not break the pinata. I will say that pinatas, fireworks, and hugs for ALL of the fifty people at the party is a great tradition for celebrating the new year. Feliz ano nuevo indeed.


My home away from home. This is Daniel's mom's house (Mama Yoly). There were already six people living in the house (from three different generations) when the eight of us moved in. I'm quite happy to say that Mama Yoly and company spoiled us rotten. Great food. Great conversation. Great people. Tons of fun. The stuff on the cement outside is coffee being dried in the sun.


The women of Mama Yoly's house. And it was DEFINITELY a house of women (only one man lived there permanently, and he was moving out). Mama Yoly is in the back right of the picture, her daughter-in-law Rosy is next to her, her daughter Elda next to that, Elda's daughter Tahlia on the back left, Barbara and Meghan are clearly the gringas, and Daniella is between them. I actually don't know who that baby is, there were many of them around. All of these women except for Daniella were living in the house.


Tahlia (back left, 19) and Daniella (front, 22) were my homegirls in Salvador Urbina. Tahlia's mom Elda owned this little store in the town square, and it was awesome to just hang out with them, drink delicious Fanta, and talk about life.


Danielito is my boy all the time. Seriously, can YOU think of a toddler you would want to spend 120 hours in a van with?


Elda. What can I say about Elda? Well, for one thing, this is a picture of her punching me. I guess that tells you something about our relationship. Tommy and Arturo call her "La Mala," which literally means "The Bad One." We skirmished. We teased. We laughed. She misses me, I know it.


Rosy and her boys (her own description of this picture) That tall drink of water on the left is Arthur. The other one, you may or may not be able to tell, is me.


This is the view of Salvador Urbina from the front of Mama Yoly's patio. The pueblo is on two sides of a valley and centers around the road that runs up the mountain through the center of town. The Cifuentes family is pretty legendary in Salvador Urbina. For one thing, Daniel's grandfather helped fight for the land that the town now sits on. For another, there are at least 150 people in the family, and most of them live in Salvador Urbina. Daniel has 12 brothers and sisters, and Mama Yoly has more than 50 grandchildren. Finally, Daniel and his brothers Eri and Isaac were pretty much the driving force behind Just Coffee.


This is the "laundry machine" at Mama Yoly's house. It is also the large basin of water that you draw from in order to bathe yourself or flush the toilet. Compared to showers I almost prefer baths out of buckets now, but that's just me. I'd say the highlight of doing anything down there was the view, but the fish that lived in the water tank was pretty cool too.


The market in Tapachula. Fireworks? Check. Hammocks? Check. Used clothing? Check. Fresh pineapple? Check. I love street markets.


Sunrise on our way up the volcano Tacana. We left at 8 p.m. the night before, hiked until about 1 or 2, and crashed until dawn. It was freezing cold and I stayed up most of the night keeping a fire going in a little shack that they had built for people climbing the volcano. The brutal thing about Tacana was that there were hardly any switchbacks at all, just a straight path up the mountain.


Tacana's summit. The marker that I am standing by is the international border between Guatemala and Mexico that divides the mountain in half. The volcano behind me is in Guatemala. Needless to say, customs doesn't have a checkpoint up there.


Ruins from the city of Tahin in Veracruz. One of the most beautiful places I have ever been.


The gringo crew enjoying coffee, pan dulce, and good company in Veracruz. Throughout our trip the people of Mexico were undecided whether Tommy looked more like Santa Clause or more like Fidel Castro. Votes?


This is the armadillo that we started eating almost immediately after the last picture was taken. Pretty tasty actually. Especially with hand made corn tortillas, possibly one of the best tasting things on earth.


The "Socios" (members of the coffee cooperative) in Veracruz. Really great folks.


The coffee "fields" in Veracruz. Organic. Shade grown. Just. It's a beautiful thing. Kind of reminded me of my grandfather's avocado grove from when I was a kid.


Cleaning the coffee by hand so that it would be pure enough to decaffeinate. We really need to figure out a better way to do this. It's all about the quality though. Who loves you? That's right, Just Coffee loves you.


A coffee farmer on his way to sell the harvest. He still had another 45 minutes to go and those bags weigh 100 lbs. Think about that the next time you're at Starbucks.


One of the ten or so Cathedrals that we visited in the colonial city of San Luis Potosi. Thanks for the European training Mom and Dad. I can visit Cathedrals like a champ. On a side note, I think that when Protestants get bored they found new denominations, and when Catholics get bored they build more churches. It's a working theory.

That's it for me I think. I might post more thoughts later. I might post more pictures. We'll see.

I will say that it was easily one of the best trips I've ever taken, and that I'm also incredibly glad to be back "home" on the border, particularly as I've taken up puppy ranching. But that's for another post.

Free Coffee= Sweet Perk of the Job

Still working on a largish post about Chiapas (I got the pictures onto the computer...just not this computer, but we're getting there).

I'm also wanting to get back into the business of posting about my job and about the border more, so I'm going to sort of combine both of those goals with this post.

This is an e-mail that I just sent out to friends and family in SoCal asking for some help with Just Coffee and explaining a little bit about what makes this project so special. I suspect that most of you would be interested in knowing this stuff as well, and I hope to get some questions out of it, and then maybe write more in some follow-up posts. We'll see. (Sorry Molly, you already read this so it won't be able to keep you occupied at work. Guess you'll have to do your actual job instead).

Hello West Coast friends and family!

For some of you this is going to come as a follow-up e-mail, so I apologize if any of this is repeat. For everyone else, well, this is a call for some help. Read on, all (well, lots) will be explained.

Let's start with a little bit of background:
Part of my job down here in Agua Prieta has been working with a coffee company called Just Coffee. Just Coffee was started by Frontera de Cristo, the Presbyterian border ministry that I work for, a little more than four years ago.

Just Coffee was started primarily as a response to immigration. My church in Agua Prieta, El Lirio de Los Valles Presbyterian Church, is a largely transient congregation, made up mostly of immigrants from southern Mexico. The church routinely gains and loses members as some families arrive at the border from the south, and others cross the border into the U.S. looking for work. The vision for Just Coffee came from a conversation between Mark, a staffer at Frontera, and Daniel, a member of the church. Mark was trying to understand why so many migrants came from the state of Chiapas, and Daniel was trying to explain the drop in coffee prices that growers had experienced there. The rest, as they say, is history.

Four years later, the Just Coffee Model (or Fair Trade Plus as it is also called) continues to address immigration and pursue economic justice in three fundamental ways:

1. Just Coffee allows coffee farmers to receive a just price for their crop. In Spanish, Just Coffee (Cafe Justo) literally means Justice Coffee. The almost forty members of the growing cooperative receive more than $1.30 per pound for their coffee (more than three times the amount they were receiving when Just Coffee started). They also receive health and retirement benefits for themselves and their families.

2. Just Coffee is owned by the growers. Although Frontera helped to found Just Coffee and has worked with it closely ever since, Just Coffee is 100% owned by the growers. This is in stark contrast to regular coffee, but also to most Fair Trade coffees as well. We call Just Coffee "Fair Trade Plus" because the traditional Fair Trade model does not include health care or retirement benefits, pays the farmers as much as $.40 per pound less, and exports a great deal of the profits out into the U.S. Not only are the farmers receiving a just price for their coffee, they are gaining business skills.

3. Just Coffee helps the local economy in Chiapas and on the border. The increased price that farmers have received from Just Coffee has gone out into the community around them. On the border, Just Coffee has created seven jobs for Mexican workers.

That's great...but how's the coffee?

1. Just Coffee is 100% shade grown organic coffee.
2. Just Coffee is shipped to you less than a week after it has been roasted.
3. 1 pound of Just Coffee costs $8.00 ($6.75) wholesale, about the price of 1 lb. of non-fair trade non-organic coffee at Safeway. 1 lb. of fair trade and organic Starbucks coffee runs about $12-16.
4. Just Coffee tastes amazing. Yeah, I love it.
5. It comes in all kinds- Arabica, Robusta, ground, bean, dark, light, regular, decaf. You name it. We also do custom roasts. Special, huh?

So...what does this have to do with all of you?
Just Coffee is also growing.

In 2007 the plan is to open two new coffee cooperatives in southern Mexico, and begin preparations for a cooperative in Haiti. The first new cooperative that we are launching is called El Aguila.

El Aguila is a small Mexican town in the state of Chiapas (near the border with Guatemala) made up of small scale coffee farmers. It is also just up the road from the Just Coffee cooperative in Salvador Urbina.

Just Coffee has been marketed and sold locally, with about 80% of sales happening right here in southern Arizona. That model is going to be replicated with El Aguila, but with a target on the Southern California area. That's where you all come in.

The plan for El Aguila is to put a roasting facility in Tijuana, and to focus marketing on San Diego, Los Angeles, and the Central Valley. For those of you in Washington and Oregon, don't worry, we would really like you to be involved too.

At this point, Just Coffee is also sold primarily through churches. Although we have a large number of individual customers, and even stores and coffee shops, a majority of our sales come through churches.

The way it works is that a church orders the coffee from us at the wholsale price of $6.75, and then sells it at their church for between $8-10 (their choice really). The difference in price is theirs to do with as they choose. Obviously this is not the only way to sell the coffee, but like I said, it's where most sales come from.

Initially I said this e-mail was about asking for some help, and I'm finally getting around to that part.

I would really like all of your help.

How?

1. If you like coffee, buy the coffee. It's good. I'll send it to you for free to try it out. Ask me.
2. Talk to your churches/people at your churches/friends at other churches about using the coffee at their fellowship hours and selling it at the church.
3. Send me names and contact info. for other people in your area who would be interested in participating and hearing more about it.

Mostly, I would just like to work with those of you who can make the time (I know all of you are busy) and have the interest in helping me (and a bunch of coffee farmers) out with this. The goal is to have the roasting facility in place by June, but orders are ready to be processed starting pretty much right now.

One of the really exciting things about this model for me is that it is about forming relationships and supporting people that I know. You have the oppurtunity to visit the roasting facility in Tijuana, to meet the staff, to learn about the people growing the coffee, and meet them as well.

So, if you're interested, here's what we can do:

1. Check out the website: www.justcoffee.org
2. Think about what other people would be interested and let me know (e-mail is best)
3. Think about the best way to get your own church involved. (Who would/has the authority make the decision to use Just Coffee? To sell it? What information would you need to present to them? Who would be a good person to handle ordering the coffee and making sure payments get sent?)
4. Ask me questions and talk to me. What do you want to know? What do you need? Let me know what you are thinking. Let me know if you don't have the time. I'd probably like to talk to you anyway. E-mail me. Call me (720-560-0460) Set up a time for us to talk further about ways that we can help one another. Anything. I'm all ears.
5. Pray. (Or as Stephen Colbert calls it, p-mail).

What we're not asking for: Donations (although those are nice). We are looking at building a customer base. Great coffee at a great price for a great cause. That simple.

That's about all from my end. As an aside, I'd love to hear from all of you, whether about coffee or not. If you've made it this far, just shoot me a quick e-mail back letting me know what you're thinking and where we can go from here. If we're already talking, expect to hear from me soon. I just got back from Chiapas and have a day or so of catching up to do.

Thanks so much for all your time and support.
Aaron

File Under: Bad Solutions to Immigration "Problem"

Ms. Lauren Brown has a new post up (http://laurenbrown.typepad.com/weblog/2006/12/esta_gran_nacin.html) about the recent immigration raids on meat plants in several states, including one in Greeley, CO. As an extra incentive for all you Longmont folks, she even links to the Daily Times-Call!

Go read it, it's great stuff.

The Quarter Life: Friends and Community

My good friend Bryce Perica and I are starting up a project that we are calling "The Quarter life." The Quarter Life is a new series about, well...life, I guess. More specifically, it's about the experience of life that we have had in our 20's. Bryce and I chose some topics that we both wanted to cover, and over the next few months we are going to be posting pieces on things like family, work, finances, etc. The first installment of The Quarter Life begins today with a post on friendship and community. As always, Bryce's stuff is up at http://sixhoursonsunday.blogspot.com.


In Mexico it's not uncommon for children to never leave home. The first time that someone told me this I couldn't believe it. "Never!?," I thought to myself. But it turns out that, by and large, it is true. The ideal family situation in Mexico is one where the children grow up, go to college, come back home, get a job, get married, and finally move out of their parents house. And by move out, I mean move into the house that they built across the street from their parents.

This contrasts sharply with the way that I was brought up to think about my own family, and especially how I was raised think about friends and community. As a (white) American I have always had this sense that, while being really important, friends, and even sometimes family, were not necessarily permanent fixtures in life. I don't think this played out any more clearly than in my decision to head off to Pomona College in sunny Los Angeles, CA. For a starters, I didn't know anyone at Pomona College. No professors, no students, no staff. It never occurred to me that it was strange to leave all of my family and friends behind and set off for a place full of people that I had never met.

Of course I now have plenty of friends from my Pomona days, and another big group from an assortment of related adventures, but I have yet to regain the community that I had back in Longmont growing up. Intuitively, that makes a lot of sense. I have spent the last five years moving around from place to place, never spending more than several months investing in any one thing, or one cohesive group of people. Not surprisingly, I have missed the community that I used to have, and for all sorts of reasons. In many ways I think that my life has been less fun and more difficult because so many of those people were not around.

And I think that this is pretty common. My sense is that twentysomethings experience a great deal of loneliness and isolation as they strive to form new communities and friendship groups. I have talked to countless recent graduates, and even friends who graduated years ago, about how much more difficult it has been to form friendships and community in the "working world" than it was back in college. So many of us, myself included, spend the majority of our time in strange new places working demanding jobs or trying to secure another degree (that will hopefully land us more demanding jobs). All this while trying keep up with the friends and communities that we left behind.

The issue of keeping up with friends from high school and college is so challenging that many people (myself included) begin to intentionally prioritize these friendships. I prioritize my friendships using the context of weddings. Why weddings? Well, for starters, weddings are expensive. I'm not even talking about having a wedding, I'm talking about going to weddings. Flights. Food. Gifts. Clothing. It all adds up. It's even more expensive if you are fortunate enough (no sarcasm) to be included in the wedding party. It is simply impossible for any twentysomething without a trust fund to attend all of the weddings to which they are invited. As a result, my friendships have become classified by the existence of theoretical weddings, theirs or mine. Here's my hierarchy of friendships as evaluated through weddings:

1. Friends who will be in my wedding
2. Friends whose wedding I will be in
3. Friends whose wedding I will attend
4. Friends who will attend my wedding
5. Friends who will not attend my wedding
6. Friends whose wedding I will not attend.

I'm not a big fan of using formulas or rankings on people, but that's a little disingenuous to say right now since I do use them in this context. Things like visits, gifts, e-mails, phone calls, and a whole other set of "friendly" gestures are doled out based on where people fall on the wedding scale. It's not meant to be mean spirited, just to make sure that the people who are most important in my life both feel and stay just that, important. It's also far from perfect. The truth is that I tend to neglect important people no matter what (currently I am badly neglecting many dear friends who still go to Pomona), but it's a way to be more accountable. It's also been a helpful way for me to realize when new friends become really important to me. If I try to think about my wedding without them and I just can't see it, that's probably a good sign that I should work extra hard to stay in touch.

All of these thoughts, beliefs, and assorted musings leaves me feeling convicted about two things. The first is that I simply don't value my friends enough. I think this is most evident in the ways that I make decisions about my life. In college, what I did over summer vacation or any other break was much more influenced by what seemed inexpensive or fun than by its particular proximity to my friends. That wasn't always the case, but it was a lot. More important, however, is that I have yet to make a serious sacrifice in order to be closer to my friends. That is to say, I have yet to give up a good job, or something I hold to be of similar value, to seek a deeper and more meaningful relationship with my friends. If I am serious about becoming a more faithful, more compassionate, and more balanced person, I should be more serious about spending a lot of time with my friends. Friends, at their best, are the catalyst for change and growth in your life. Obviously they should be fun to be around, interesting to talk to, etc., but mostly they should be someone who can hold you accountable, and who will let you do the same for them. Without that I just don't think it's friendship.

Community, especially Christian community, is a whole 'nother animal. It is, as we see it best modeled in Acts, a physical manifestation of the Kingdom of God. Unlike friends, who we have some say in, community, no matter where we are, is given to us without the choice to opt out. Community, even more than friends, pushes us outside of our comfort zones and into a place where we might be required to confront Jesus. It is often the people we don't like, and especially don't like to love, the people who make us uncomfortable, the people who make us feel awkward, and even the people who make us feel awful. That's community. And community, as far as I am concerned, is best faced in the company of friends. And this is where I feel convicted once again. As much as I have tried to contribute to a number of different communities- Pomona, urban Los Angeles, Uganda, Douglas/Agua Prieta, etc., I have never been able to contribute as fully as I would like to. This is, I think, partially a function of the relatively short amount of time that I have committed to the people in those places, but is also due largely to the fact that I experienced most of those places, and the people in them experienced me, almost totally in the absence of my closest friends.

So, like many twentysomethings, I face the decision of accepting my relationships with my friends and my community as they have always been, or of being proactive in imagining how I want them to be in the future. I am trying to take strides to choose the latter. For example, I recently made a commitment to a friend to live with him after I leave Agua Prieta. I don't know if this will be immediately after, as there are considerations with my family as well, but it is a commitment I intend to keep regardless of what other opportunities come up. I wish the details were more specific, but it's a start. In addition to the benefit I will receive by enjoying his company, decisions like this, I believe, will allow me to be a more meaningful participant in new communities in the future. In the presence of my closest friends I will be able to love and serve in a greater capacity than I am currently able to. That, I think, is a major lesson of Jesus and his disciples. And for me, the prospect of loving more and serving more is a terribly exciting thing.

Note: Special thanks to Maite, Lexie, Chris, Mike, Laura, Grace, Thandiwe, Brian, Bryce, Erik, Chris, Wes, Kyle, Collin, Brianne, Travis, Ben, and Maile for having a profound impact on my thoughts about friendship and community. I'm sure that I'm leaving out many others. Sorry 'bout that.

That's just adorable.

Please join me in welcoming Jane Elizabeth Hamilton into the world! The Hamilton family has been very near and dear to my heart since I worked for Rachel in Los Angeles at the Center for Student Missions. I'm so happy for them.

Qwack Qwack

Dear Cathy,

I did not fall off the edge of the earth. Well, not physically at any rate. I have pretty much neglected all of my Pomona friends however. Sorry 'bout that. I'm still working on how to make that one better. It is incredibly cold here as well and I have not finished installing my heaters. Seven blankets just doesn't compensate for no central heating and all tile flooring. Hugs and kisses.

Aaron

Did I Listen to Pop Music Because I Was Unhappy, Or Was I Unhappy Because I Listened to Pop Music?

I’ve been having a tough time lately. There’s really no better way to say it than that. I’ve been discouraged, depressed at points, and really just at a loss about a whole lot of things. And, appropriately enough, I’m not very happy about it. I’ve had a bunch of “blah” days, and a few more that were much worse. I spent some time thinking about whether or not I wanted to write something up about this and post it here. Obviously I have decided to do so, largely because I think it would be dishonest not to. I’ve been trying to present a sort of broad picture of my life and work here, using mostly anecdotes and personal interactions to paint, what is hopefully, a complex and diverse picture encompassing this place and these people. Without posts like these I fear that this story would be incomplete.

I’m not really going to go into a lot of specifics about what it is that is making me feel this way right now. Instead I want to talk about the impact that these events have had on my time here. I was catching up with a friend the other day when he asked me if I was ever going to come home. It was a hard question. The truth was, I desperately wanted to go home. I desperately wanted to be in a place that was my own and with people that loved me. But my response was something like, “No, I’m not coming home for at least six more months.” The thing is, if I went home, I’m not sure I’d be able to come back.

It’s hard here. All of the people that I love, and all of the work that I believe in, and often love to do, doesn’t take away the fact that it’s hard. It’s hard for both small reasons and big, but the cumulative effect is that on really bad days, it’s almost impossible to be here. Maybe it would feel impossible to be anywhere. I can’t say for sure. But it has felt impossible here.

I think it’s especially difficult to talk about having a hard time here because in a lot of ways it feels like defeat. For some reason I want to be able to, well, to conquer this place. That’s an ugly, militaristic word, but it seems appropriate here. I want to be able to face the injustice, the cultural shocks, the lack of heat, the absence of my friends, the absence of many things that I like to do for fun, the insane working hours, the constant instability, and the strong sense of isolation out here in the desert. I want to be able to face these things and thrive. Which, after listing some of those challenges, seems like a ridiculous desire, but it’s the desire that I’ve had.

I think this desire comes in part from a sense that I am doing what God called me to do. I don’t think I’ve received a lot of calls in my young life. I’m usually more inclined to think that God gives us a lot of freedom in our lives and asks us to be faithful in making decisions. That’s not why I ended up here in Agua Prieta though. I came here through a very specific call, and because of this I had some sense that I should be “successful” at it, that it would be less difficult somehow. That’s not really a biblical reading of a call, but it’s one that I have been pursuing. And it’s clearly not working out so well.

I’m pretty sure that it’s going to keep being hard for a little while to come, and in some ways, probably as long as I stay here. There are also some things I’m wrestling with that will possibly be very difficult long after I leave. So what do I do in the face of these difficult times and discouraging thoughts? That’s a challenge to all of us that’s not unique to me or to this place. The first thing that I’ve had to change because of this period has been my own reluctance to be honest about things. My desire for this year to be a challenging but fun experience left me denying some very obvious ways that I was hurting until they all sort of came crashing down at once. That hasn’t been helpful. I’ve also got to be more pro-active in making allowances for how hard things really are. I’ve been afraid that dwelling on the difficulties would make me depressed, but the truth is that not trying to mitigate them, or to enjoy myself more, has left me in a place where I’m not really sure what I would do for fun even if I got the chance. That’s not a good scene.

Ultimately, I don’t think that enjoying this year is too much to ask, especially since this work is related to things I might do for many years to come. It’s not comforting to think that misery is in your future long-term. However, I also don’t think that Jesus was joking about that whole picking up my cross thing. Far from it. I often suspect that, for believers in Jesus, if life is very difficult then we must be doing something right. Clearly this is not always true, but I believe it is true more often than we would like to admit.

The most important thing, as always, is that God is worthy of praise. If God is worthy when my life is great, then God has got to be worthy now, or God is not worth anything at all. So, in this, as in all things, God be praised.

By the by, the title for this post comes from High Fidelity. Nobody does neurotic unhappiness like John Cusack. Not Woody Allen, not even Moz. Johnny Boy holds it down.

Like Chores For the Internet

I have been meaning to update my links for a few weeks now and they are finally done.
I now have some music review sites, a whole bunch of blogs (from Christian to political to feminist), and a few webzines up there. If you get some time check those out. They are pretty well organized, more or less.

Sunday Music Video Blogging

In honor of the last concert I went to before wandering on down here to Meh-hee-koh I am posting a couple of really awesome videos from two incredible bands that I absolutely love.

This is the new video from The Format for their song "Dog Problems." This album is full of really great pop music with an orchestral bent, and the video is perfect for the song.



This link: http://www.tubopopcorn.com/mp4/anathallo/hanasakajijii.wmv takes you to a video that I put up last year on instant messenger. It is two songs performed by the band Anathallo, Hanasakajijii 1, and Hanasakajijii 4. Floating World was one of the best albums released in 2006. Do yourself a favor and check it out if you missed it the first time around.

Special thanks to Special K, E-Rick, The Legend, and Third Wheel for going to this concert with me and dancing to Anathallo when the rest of the crowd was being lame.