Connected

I just read an article by Nicholas Kristoff in the NY Times about Haiti. I went to see Kristoff speak this fall at F&M college. There is a compassion element in his reporting that I find refreshing and invigorating-- in spurring me to action in a way that other reporters fail. I trust his answers because he has done his homework and travelled to the places he speaks about. I have travelled, but not extensively and very little has been international, but I fall into the "God bless the whole world--no exceptions" camp. The United States is a big country. You could travel all over and see so much, that going outside its borders isn't really necessary. Only 30% of Adults in this country even have a passport. Forget other countries, people don't want to seem to want to leave their own villages. In the area where I live, it is not unusual to find adults who have never been to New York City--a three hour drive by car. That is a travesty.

In this day of easy transportation and Internet access, the world is getting smaller and we as Americans need to familiarize ourselves with it. We can't afford to stay in our little boxes. In this tragedy that is Haiti, I am thankful for my neighbor Marsha who opened my horizons. She has done missions work in Haiti. She has shared photos of her experience and introduced me to citizens of Haiti, one of whom is a med student in Port Au Prince. Waiting days to find out if Richard survived (he did, but he lost everything) has made the experience so real for me--just as knowing I had a college housemate living in New Orleans during Katrina. Maybe it is time to reach out to more people, places, and experiences. It reminds me that we are all human and all connected.

Eat Pray Love and pray some more

On Tuesday, I was privileged to see my friend Nan's pictures of Italy. She had gone over with a gallery group who were taking pictures and painting. Now, I don't need stimulation to start my travel envy. It's a given. And the two places I want to spend a summer are the Italian countryside and Paris. Nan lent me her copy of Eat, Pray, Love. The author is fairly local and will be speaking at the Junior League next month. I won't be in attendance. That's $55 I can put in my Europe fund. I've wanted to read this book for a while--long before Oprah recommended it. I love me some travel memoirs. Give me Frances Mayes or Peter Mayle, and I am a happy woman.

So, yesterday after my workshop, I took the book and sat outside a crepe restaurant in Lancaster. I imagined I was back in Paris (I was there for 48 hours in 2003). The folks who walked by weren't dressed as well the French, but I imagined it all the same while I noshed on my brie and mushroom crepe. (There's a funny story of our trip to Paris, my brother and his fiancee ordered a ham crepe and tuna crepe respectively. When the crepes came, they both had a mixture of ham and tuna. NOT a great culinary moment for France.)

So, I dream of taking my kids and spending a few weeks in Paris. (Mon homme, too if he can get off work.) I will eat and paint and write. (Read The Writer's Paris if you need inspiration.) I will take the kids to the parks and art museums. My son fences, so we will check out sabre duels. My daughter is a ballerina, so we will find a place to dance. All of us will eat cheese and crepes and escargot (my daughter's favorite food in all the world). I read a chapter of Eat, Pray, Love to my daughter this morning. We decided that maybe we should sell pizzas door-to-door to raise money for this educational experience. And maybe, too, I can sell posters of my little dancer paintings to all the people who love dance. It's a dream. It's a plan. It's a prayer.