Since winter hit, I've been striving to squander as much of my money as I can and get my hours cut as much as possible - or at least that's how it seems. I'll spare you the painful details of my financial accounts, but I will say that I only work about twenty-five hours a week. Of course, I've been squandering the hours and whittling down the last few months in Durango as much as possible as well.
I started spending four of my idle hours a month by volunteering with a program called TAMBO. For an afternoon, I'm partnered with an awesome kid. Aren't all kids awesome? - just little bundles of kinetic and frenetic energy and optimism. Most of the kids in the program have some sort of disability, be it cognitive or physical and ranges the whole gamut of severe to mild. Caveat: the program takes place in a building with a large gymnastics facility.
There's a seventeen year old, Jack, who's a big 'ol boy. He loves Alice in Wonderland and he can quote the whole movie. Every time I sit down next to him and try to talk to him about the movie, he quotes it loudly and then peering out of the corner of his eye, I can see him looking me up and down and then attempting to mimic my posture. I taught him the "cool man handshake" a week ago. He got it down in no time.
There's Emily, who, I suppose you could say is wheelchair bound. But, as soon as she is out of the chair, she uses her strongest arm to pull herself toward the large trampoline in the back. She can't jump, so she has to be held. I cradled her in my arms and sat her in my lap. She looked at me with her one eye and stopped laughing even while I was trying to bounce her on the trampoline. A serious look came over her face and she took her arm from around my neck. Scrutinizing my face carefully, she took her hand and started petting my beard. The smile came back and I think I heard a little giggle.
At the end of the night, when the lights in the gym are switched off and the floors vacuumed, the program coordinator gives a brief speech about the importance of volunteerism and how much we matter. For four hours on a Saturday, parents with kids with disabilities can drop their child off and go have some time to themselves, take a breather, and decompress a bit. It feels great to be appreciated and know that you're helping someone and hopefully making an impact as well.
I've also managed to fill some idle hours each week by hanging out with my friend, Gam. He's from Nepal and his English is terrible, even after four years in the States. He works six days a week and during his off day he's in school, studying English, and that's where I come in. I hang out with him for an hour and we just talk about whatever he wants to talk about or whatever I feel he needs to know. I'm trying to teach him what a subject and verb is.
I've been to Gam's house twice now for lunch. Today was time number two. His wife is a stout little woman, but cooks giant and delicious meals. She scoops spoon after spoon on to my plate until I have to adamantly and politely refuse. It's some of the best home-cooked food I've had.
Today, after the meal, Gam told me a little bit about his life. I listened with a bloated and bubbling belly. He was in the Indian army in Iraq for fifteen years. He retired from that and moved back to his homeland of Nepal. He lived in a small and remote village with little electricity but a great view of the Himalayas. After that he signed on with the British army and served for a few years in Iraq. Sometimes it's difficult to understand him, so I'm not sure how, but he ended up going from Iraq to the United States.
Now he lives in a trailer in a pretty rough-looking part of town. There are only a few material items in his home and most of them look as if they've been scavenged out of dumpsters. A few holes in his trailer's wall show small bits of light coming through. He says America is a wonderful place. He never stops smiling and laughing. He always opens the door for you and then claps his hands together and with a huge smile, bows to you and comes up giggling. Namaste, my friend and best of luck to you.
And, to all of you, Namaste. Thanks for reading.
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