Wear your feminism and your femininity proudly!

After almost a year hiatus and after some prodding from friends, I decided to do another run of the feminist tees. Unfortunately (or so it seemed at the time) the screen had been lost during its idle time. I whipped up a new and improved rendition of the old text and my ex's parents were nice enough to screen them for me and -voila- the tees are back. Not only do you get the new improved logo, the tees are Bella brand (which I've grown to adore) and I've stitched on little yellow stars at the back neckline, reminiscent of the Viet Nam flag. Cute, eh? They're only 15 bucks (plus shipping) and all the money goes to our fund to get us to Viet Nam. Get yours here.

check!

Part of the requirements for graduating with my bachelor's degree includes two years of a foreign language. Portland State University doesn't offer American Sign Language as a foreign language (don't even get me started on this one), but after doing some checking, I found that I could test out of the requirement rather than take two years of another language. I contacted the local community college, set up an appointment and went in last night for the testing. It went smoothly and I understood everything; he said "wow good skills" before asking if I recognized him. Come to find out it was Mark Azure; a well-known face in the sign language curriculum that is used throughout the States. Geez louise. So glad I didn't know it was him when I came in or the communication would have been a lot more nerve-wracking.

The testing in done, so now I have to get the form that he can sign off on my ASL proficiency. Then today I head off to class to satisfy another requirement for graduation. It looks like I might actually pull this whole 'bachelor's degree' thing off.

cultural exchange

It isn't very often that, as a white American, we get to feel out of our element, but when we make our way to Viet Nam, we will be completely out of our element. I'm sure it will be interesting for me, but assuredly difficult for my kids. So I've been contemplating ways to help them not be so overwhelmed at being the different one. I thought that one way would be to have them associate more with those who are in similar boats as we will be in. I decided that we will host two cultural exchange students, one at a time, for nine days each. Enough time to get to know them, not long enough to annoy me. The first student will be a freshman girl from a Japanese medical school. The second will be a younger middle-school boy from China. I'm hoping that the kids get along with them okay, but I also know that it will be slightly awkward for everyone. The kids (and I) will have to be patient and understand of the cultural and language differences. I think it will be a good experience for the kids and will hopefully lead to a more open response to people abroad and an understanding of how silly we will seem struggling through the most basic communication. It will prove to be hard, I'm sure, but I'm hopeful that having these exchange students will be a positive learning experience for everyone involved, including the visiting students.

World Refugee Day

Today is World Refugee Day. There are more than 9 million children living their lives as refugees. As the UNHCR says, they have the right to play, to have fun, to just be kids. Those opportunities are stripped from them as refugees, many in their own countries. Ninemillion.org is trying to make a difference.

affection for the unknown

I drove back to Portland on Wednesday after a brief sojourn into the wilderness of Central Oregon. Okay, so really, I was chaperoning for my son's school trip to Bend. I had a wonderful time, grateful for the opportunity to spend so much time with only him and grateful for the friends and family who took care of getting my daughter to and from school, bathed and fed. The drive home was truly 'me time', something rare in my life. I spent four hours alone in my car, sometimes with radio reception, sometimes with only the sound of my car.

As I drove into the Mt. Hood National Forest, NPR came back into clarity and they had Billy Collins on, talking poetry as he does so well. He shared a half-dozen of his favorites, including The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost and one that I hadn't heard--never even heard of the poet before, in fact--that I immediately fell in love with. The emotion that he captures between a married couple and the child their love created. I don't know why it strikes me so, being single and my experience in marriage being devoid of the feelings he captures, but this is what poetry is about, in my opinion: After Making Love We Hear Footsteps. I am in love with this crafter of words; another name to add to my "read books written by" list.

In other news, I finally got the opportunity, while in Bend, to watch Vertical Ray of the Sun. A lovely movie, set in HaNoi, that I wholeheartedly recommend for so many reasons, not the least of which would be the beautiful colors that Tran Anh Hung manages to capture on film.

can't forget

I have been doing a lot of reading lately (not surprising, I know), specifically with VietNam as the subject. I'm not particularly interested in the gruesome nature of the war there. I hate war. I hate the killings. I hate the inhuman aspect. Most of all, I hate the after-effects.

Two-thirds of the Vietnamese today were born after 1975. One-third of Americans today were born after 1975. The make-up of society completely shifted for those in VietNam and the effects will be felt for a very long time. As in America, birth rates are falling, but the country will age quickly. Currently only 7% of the population is over 60, but that is expected to swell to 23% in only a few decades.

More than 1 million civilians were killed and today about 250,000 Vietnamese are disabled from the American/VietNam War, including amputations, deafness, burns, malformed bodies, etc. (http://dec.usaid.gov) War doesn't stop with the troops finally pull out, it plays havoc for decades.


Agent Orange did very bad things to children.

If you're up to it, there are a bunch of photos taken at a war museum in Vietnam, showcased by Harrell Fletcher. There are some ghastly sights: American soldiers throwing a Viet captive out of a helicopter for not cooperating; soldiers dragging nearly-naked Viet people to their death, tied to the back of a truck; the devastation of the land by chemical weapons so strong that 30 years later, plants still cannot grow.

Maybe it's a bit of guilt over what my country did in VietNam and how it is being repeated in Iraq that makes me feel like I need to pay penance. Maybe it's White guilt. Maybe it's just that I wish the world didn't have to be so ugly. Whatever the reason, I can hope that somehow I can make things a little better for at least one person when we get to VietNam.