Aug
25
2011
Replies:
0

El Porvenir/Casas Viejas Update

Baile Folklórico Casas Viejas

El Porvenir’s Impact on the Community – Spring 2011

At the end of El Porvenir’s 5-day Casas Viejas, Nicaragua construction project the community members of all ages and the volunteers celebrated together in the school yard with a piñata for the children, a local band, students performing folkloric dances, and lots of happiness.

The Casas Viejas community received three new latrines, a handwashing station and a re-connected water line to a school that had been without any of these basic needs for many years. In terms of personal relations even more was accomplished. Although all construction materials and planning was handled by El Porvenir, community members learned to work together and with the volunteers; from Jose, the foreman of the work crew, to his wife, Chepita, who handled all the lunches for the volunteers, to the women and children of all ages who arrived everyday on site to help with whatever jobs were necessary: hauling sand, site clean-up, digging lines, carrying water, etc…

The pride of accomplishment shown in all of us, foreigners and community members alike, as we danced, sang and celebrated the completion of our goals – the addition of basic water needs for the primary school of Casas Viejas.

I’m updating my spring trip with El Porvenir with an impact statement which will appear in the El Porvenir newsletter by Jo Buescher. Thought the rest of you might be interested since I never finished my NIcaragua blog. Sorry.

Next post will continue my struggle with public relations for Free To Bloom.

 

 

Aug
10
2011
Replies:
1

Life’s Goals Before Death’s Ghouls?

Goals or Ghouls?

Will I reach my goals before the ghouls reach for me?

My writing dates back 50 years. I had a fantastic HS English teacher who made us read Chaucer, taught us to write long essays, made us speak extemporaneously in front of the class and paddled even the girls for tomfoolery (but we wore crinolines then and it didn’t hurt a bit).

Through the years I dabbled in writing: published several newsletters, worked in my sister’s publishing house, took poetry at New College, published my first article in the Volta Review, a respected magazine of audiology and continued writing articles and stories for small magazines, but I never made the big time. I had lots of excuses. Don’t we all?

I had a husband, two children and a job. My son was born profoundly deaf and after the ‘shock and dread’ wore off I was determined that he learn to communicate and live as normal a life as possible. To survive the many difficult areas of my life I started keeping a journal. It became the therapist I couldn’t afford, a place to get things off my chest. Slowly it developed into a treasure cache of important memories, catchy little phrases, and a few precious gems. The older I get the faster the memories evaporate except for the tragic, the ecstatic and the ones I’ve written down.

I’ve dreamed of writing a memoir, but as time passed raising children, running two businesses, becoming a teacher, gaining a 2nd home in Costa Rica, losing a husband, my writing foundered mainly because it always came second, third, last.

Then I joined Patrika Vaughn’s weekly writing group in Sarasota. It gave me the deadlines that my scientific brain required. I had to submit something at least every other week to be critiqued and I learned how to critique others. The former got me going and the latter taught me how to write and not to write. The members, one by one, started publishing their books. Under her nom de plume, Regina Perry published Play Girl, and Marisa Magnani self-published The Sharkman of Cortez, a biography of her husband.

I’ll never be one of those bulimic writers that can vomit out a chapter each day, every day, but I was accumulating a body of work worth publishing. With the help of Pat’s A Cappela Publishing and my computer guru son Ray I did it.

The most difficult part, the writing, was over; or so I thought until I started on Goal 2 – Getting the Word Out. See my next post.

 

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