one long bus ride

got here to puerto escondido.

so when they say 12 hours in mexico- really they mean 17. pretty funny. the bus ride was pleasantly uneventful (by comparison to the few i took in nepal). although i think it helps to ride at night. they keep the bus at about freezing temperature which is great when you´re wearing shorts-seriously though-i had to ask the bus driver twice to turn it down (mui frio) - two words i actually know.

i´ll be here in puerto for the next few days and will give more of an update later. it´s hot here and the beach is calling.

love to you all

Coutry mouse in the ciudad

well-

i made it.

i will be writing this in all lower case as i refuse to try to figure out the keyboard at this particular point in time. maybe later. i am safe here in mexico city with gabe´s wonderful abuela Viola. she is a real spitfire and has been a real help. she welcomed me right away with some pineapple juice and we sat in her nice open green yard and just chatted. it was like being with mary nell-except a lot more coherent.

anyhow-my first night was uneventful-spent some time getting the low down on the recent influenza epidemic- don´t worry- it sounds like sars freak out kinda stuff. nothing real to worry about. funny enough-i was just asked by some local underground reporters to share my opinion of the current epidemic and how i think it´s being dealt with. truth be told-i don´t really know what the hell is going on-i guess i just figure if it was that serious- they´d really be making sure people weren´t out and about. but i have my little mask, i haven´t felt sick other than dropping a huge post paella poo this morning- sorry but i just had to share that with you all.

speaking of which- the paella party yesterday was phenomenal. there were 30 people from gabe´s extended family and his uncle Eddie made a paella. I got to watch him. He said-for your first time- you watch. I told him that I am the same way when I cook. anyhow- we were ready to eat at the stated 230 pm time. no one showed until 330. mexico. abuela was teasing about that because she grew up in the states- she still operates like an american. this is despite her having lived here for 61 years. she´s lived in the same house for 58! it is definitely frustrating not being able to speak the language. but i guess it´s good motivation. so once i get down to oaxaca-i´ll be ready to go. still, several of the younger generation, spoke good english, and we had a gay ole time talking. the uncles started drinking very early and didn´t stop until the last game of dominoes had been played around 11pm. abuela got a little pissed at her son Eddie for getting too drunk- and there was some small level melodrama in the kitchen before i went to bed. but it was the full experience of eating, kissing a lot of people on the cheek, eating some more, and drinking pretty much from 3pm until 10:30pm. i had a ton of fun.

anyhow-today i figured i would venture into the city and actually do something. so i had a nice morning breakfast and brief outing to see a local church with abuela, and then she showed me the metro stop-conveniently down the street from her place. i changed out of my pants and button up into my shorts and crusty white tee, and hopped the metro downtown. the only real funny little blooper i encountered-aside from initially not understanding abuela´s directions-was putting in my metro ticket and then trying to push through the gate on the wrong side. a couple behind me got some free gringo entertainment. the other great part about where abuela lives is that the metro station nearest her, goes straight into the zocalo- which is the city´s center-which is the only place i really cared to go.

i figured i get right down here and there´d be internet cafes everywhere- and i could finally let you all know about my whereabouts. nope. i walked in a large circle- too prideful to simply go up to the tourist booth and ask- figuring i´ll find one soon enough. nope. i walked for about 30 mintues and nada. so as i came back to the zocalo, i ran into the aforementioned reporters who, after asking me their questions, were willing to answer mine. they pointed me down a nearby road. i walked another 15 mintues. nada. i came back and went straight to the damned tourist booth and she smiled when i asked in spanish if she spoke english- and promptly pointed me to a hostel three steps away. funny.

so after walking through the busy streets and seeing the big ass churches here in the city- i got to admit- not my thing. i´m sure it´d be sweet to go to a soccer match-which i would´ve had the chance to do but the stupid influenza thing has much shut down. so i´m planning on catching a bus to the beach tomorrow and get the hell out of the city. get to the beach. get some fresh air and surf. the name of the place is puerto escondido if you want to google it.

i hope all is well with you all.

i´ll let you know as soon as i can when i get to the beach.

besitos

Second Try's a Charm

I'm sitting at gate C5.

I have my passport. I have my tickets. I have my bags checked. I have my carry on. 

I am going to Mexico.

I will make sure to write you all an email when I get in.

Besitos.

Slightly Less Stupid

It's Thursday here in Portland, and real Northwest Spring is here. It's somewhat clear, cold, and just a little damp. Better than cold ass pouring rain. And actually, a nice shift from the intense sun we had for the 4 days previous. 

I'm sitting at a little coffee shop down the street from Leah and Gabe's place. I'm trying to caffienate my way out of one of the more intense, sleep-deprivation- induced moods I've been in in quite some time. So far it's not working as fast as I would like. But it's working. Maybe that's why I got the words "SLOW DOWN" tattooed on my body. It is. I think of all those cheesy t-shirts and bumper stickers that annoyingly proclaim: "Attitude is everything." It's so annoying because when your attitude sucks, it really sucks to be reminded that if you want it to change- you have to change it. We love it when our attitude is positive. Not so much when we are negative. 

I know that I struggle with letting go of having to feel like perpetual force of positive energy (as well as being a pleaser). What an exhausting way to try to function!? This is turning into what may actually be my first true "Brandt Rant". Ha- only took me like 50 posts to get to a point where I can truly be myself and truly just rant. 

I'm just feeling the effects of a lot of different things all at once. I'm processing multiple significant events all at once. I am not a good multi-tasker. I suck at it. Plus I've just moved from the ultimate in predictable, calm (mostly), private (mostly) living spaces- into a transition period in which I am confronted with living in smaller space with multiple people. I am realizing just how much more I need lots of personal space when I've got so much running and racing through my brain. 

Ok, the caffeine is starting to kick in. Or, maybe I'm just actually starting to change my attitude. Probably a little bit of both. 

I think I'm being reminded how even when there's good things going on- when there's a lot of them and a lot of new transitions- it's stressful. I'm still learning how to do with my stress well. I know how to take time to myself. But sometimes when I'm stressed out (and lonely too) it's nice to have someone around. You know? I realize that this may be too much information for you all. But, after all, it is called "Brandt's Rants". 

What's really funny to me is how quick that title for this blog came to me. I am, afterall, a sucker for things that are shiny and rhyme. But what does strike me is how a lot of my writing has felt forced, performed, not truly flowing from the heart. And yet even that is perfect in the sense that this blog is truly the "process" for me. You all know me as one never short for words- and I am glad to have a forum to simply let go, write, and rant. 

One of my little dorky, obsessive quirks is noticing what the title and tone of the first song on Pandora as I start to write (Martin Sexton's "Black Sheep") -and this is the truly nerdy and neurotic part of me- and then being aware and patient enough to notice the last song and actually listen to it in its entirety before moving on to the next thing (Tracy Chapman's "New Beginning"). 

I am responsible for my attitude.

But caffeine and music help.

Thanks Yirgacheffe, Martin, and Tracy.

Classic

So Leah and I are driving to the Portland Airport at 3:00 am. I'm excited. She's tired. We're talking about how much more organized I am. We share some laughs about this because I found my travel checklist in the car which I only found just this morning having spent the last few days using my mental checklist. We have a great drive to the airport complete with that sense of urgency, unrealized profundity, and, of course, some laughs about the many classic Brandt moments of the last few days spent together. We get to the airport, hug, cry, and say goodbye.

I show up at the airport at the recommended 2 hours earlier than my international departure- 3:30 am. And, of course, the fucking airlines people aren't even there yet. Classic. I am second in line with this short, friendly woman and we begin to commiserate about the hilarity of the hurry up and wait nature of airports. We get into it. I ask her about where she's headed. Next thing I know we are having this great conversation about her well-traveled, worldly daughters (four of them!). I can tell she's grateful for the pleasant distraction from the waiting- and I'm pleased for the same reason. She tells me that her youngest traveled to Oaxaca and taught Spanish there a couple of years back!? She tells me about her daughter who lived as a Peace Corps volunteer in Nepal. We have a wonderful conversation. Only took me about 5 minutes to have my first nice travel conversation- Classic.

So at 4 am the desk workers show up. I let the older, nervous couple behind me go in front, for which they are extremely grateful. I wait my turn and step up to the counter. The woman asks, "Where's  your final destination?" I respond, "Mexico City". She asks, "May I see your passport?" 

By now, if you are reading this blog, you know me, have met me, or at least have some knowledge of my amazing capacity to lose things. This is not to mention that I have already dropped several serious hints in this brief post.  You catching my drift? That's right- after conversations this past weekend with dad about how much more organized I am; after hearing from mom how proud she is that I was able to organize myself enough to apply to 9 different PhD programs; and after minutes prior having a conversation with my sister about how I'd really thought of even somewhat small details (like getting a spanish-english dictionary ahead of time)- I reached into my carry on, pulled out my money belt, unzipped it, and pulled out...

...copies of my passport. 

I dig a little deeper. I look in my checked luggage. I look again in my carry on. And then it hits me (and this is CLASSIC)- I left my passport laying on the copy machine at the local branch of the Portland Public Library.!!!!!!!!!!!!! In the effort to prepare for the instance of losing my passport (Mom I hope that you aren't experiencing PTSD symptoms from this posting)- I lost my passport. You can't write this shit. CLASSIC.

First reaction:

Oh my God.

Second reaction:

Insert slightly- too- loud- for- 4 am-- and -just- having- realized- leaving- one's- passport Ike laugh.

Third reaction:

Figure it out Brandt.

The Airlines worker reassures me that she can get me on a later flight. So I chill out (even though, for whatever reason, I'm already pretty relaxed). She does the usual click this and click that- looking for the next available flight. She asks if I think I can be back later today or if she should book me for Friday. I'm thinking I should give myself the extra time to find my passport (not to mention have a little more breathing room for making absolutely sure that I have everything I need!). So she books me for a flight that leaves at a more reasonable morning hour on Friday, arriving at the same time in the afternoon in Mexico City. ClASSIC.

So I'm sitting at a cafe table in the Portland Airport, listening to Pandora, eating a bagel, drinking coffee, and smiling. I just checked my email and the Portland Library Branch director emailed me to say the she has my Passport. Phew. I just checked the Public Transit website to figure out my route back to Leah and Gabes' place. And I'm already preparing for how to best surprise Leah and Gabe. I'm thinking about just hanging out on the front porch with a cup of coffee ought to do the trick. Mostly I'm savoring the entertainment value of my favorite foible...what was that word again? Oh, well. 

Without completely justifying my forgetfulness, I am struck by just how many stories have come from this well-documented weakness of mine. I think of all of the times when mom, dad, and I would go to the lost and found at the end of the school year and pull out sweatshirts, socks, pants, and backpacks- all with my name printed neatly on the tags (thanks Grandma). I am also humbled by how the process of getting better at things that don't come easily- is truly a process. CLASSIC.

So for those of you who still have the patience to read my ranting and raving and forgetting- I am here in Portland until Friday morning. I will also send out emails to folks to let them know of the current situation and make sure folks aren't waiting unecessarily to hear that I got into Mexico. 

If you need to reach me- you can get me through Leah's cell phone- 541 232 1082. 

CLASSIC.

How many hipsters does it take...

... to make you feel uncool?

I think that my title writing ability has really just died. 

It's eighty degrees here in Portland and I'm actually glad to be writing in the shade of the west-facing Stumptown coffee shop. I haven't yet deciphered what 80's underground punk band is blasting through the speakers- I'm just proud that I have chosen to listen to something very different than what I've been listening to. I've been in one of those music-medicating phases for the last few weeks. You know- lots of mellow, folksy, nostalgic stuff. Lots of Dan Reeder, Martin Sexton, Iron and Wine, and yes, even a little John Mayer (go ahead and laugh Bradley).

I love how connected we are in this world. 10 minutes ago, I was sitting at Leah and Gabe's couch when I got a gchat from Bradley Campbell all the way from Minneapolis, MN. He's was like: "Dude, you should get over to Stumptown!" I'm all like, "Where's it at?" He's all, "Where you at?" I'm all, "SE 30th and Burnside." He's like, "Dude, you could spit on it." I'm like, "Really?" He's all, "Here's directions." And, ten minutes later, here I am staring out on an absolutely immaculate spring day in Portland, sipping some of the finest brew Portland has to offer. Perfect.

Spent a nice relaxing morning with Leah on her 25th birthday. We got up and took the dog she and Gabe are dog-sitting for a walk through Laurelhurst park. I love dogs. Dogs are great. Except for when they aren't particularly well trained. Then they kind of suck. Even though I still mostly love them. Anyhow, we had a nice time just strolling and lolly-gagging. The park was already hopping at 9 am on a Monday! Portland is a paradise when it's sunny.

Leah- for those of you who don't know- works as a Spanish-language medical interpreter- and she is pretty much on call from the hours of 9am-5pm. It's a sweet experience and the hourly rate is good for her, but it's a pain in the sense that it's completely random. No big deal for me, she's got to take work when it comes, so we walked back to the apartment and had some oatmeal together and she went about her business. After our walk, and my relatively unsatisfactory night of sleep, I was ready for some serious napping. So my first nap today went down at about 9:30 am.

I woke up early enough to clean the kitchen and cook some eggs before Leah got back from her first appointment. She looks so grown up and beautiful. It's just one of those things for me as brother that still just sort of mystifies me. You know it's easy to imagine yourself as growing up and getting older. But when it comes to other people (specifically your younger siblings) it's harder for some reason. I don't know why. Anyhow, it struck me this morning just how much she has grown into being a woman. Like a real woman. Holy poop- my sister is a 25 year old woman.

So the really funny part about today is trying to coordinate with Gabe (Leah's Partner/Boyfriend/Latin Lover) to come up with an appropriate, fun, and simple birthday celebration. We chatted last night, albeit briefly, about several different options for an evening picnic/frisbee/fun/outdoor extravaganza. Today was predicted (and proved) to be a repeat of yesterday- warm, sunny, and spectacular. So Gabe's thought was to be outside in a park somewhere with good views. I don't really know Portland, but I've been to a couple of places that I remembered had views of Mt. Hood (which yesterday was unbelievably clear all the way from Umatilla!!!!). But due to the limited time and space of yesterday's dinner- we didn't get very far into our plans. I'm thinking that adding bikes to the plan would be nice if it's reasonable. I'm thinking ride bikes with picnic ready, frisbee and hackysack packed, and make for someplace open and in view of things beautiful and big. Simple enough. It's nice having a sister who appreciates simple things. Should be a good time.

I'm still coming to terms with reality. And though I think that will always be the case with me- I am struck by several things: 

1. I have achieved a new level of exhaustion

2. I have just experienced some of the most wonderful, weird, and wild things of my short life in the last few months and weeks.

3. I am going to Mexico for a month and a half in a day and a half.

4. I am going straight to Atlanta, Georgia for two months after my time in Mexico.

5. And I am starting a PhD program in Knoxville, TN in August.

6. I have achieved a new level of exhaustion...

7. ...did I mention that I have achieved a new level of exhaustion?

Ok, enough melodrama. But seriously- I am attempting to be present to all that is going on right now. And I think...no- I know- that the intense and transitional nature of my life's current course is absolutely without coincidence. I love drama. I love chaos. I love this shit. I am and always have been an intense person who thrives on intensity. And even though (and really it's because of) I am exhausted- I feel more alive than I have in a long long time.

I am so grateful for this last chapter of my life in Moscow. I just lived with my 80 year-old Grandparents for 5 and a half months! I have shared so many moments both large and mundane with my Grandma and Grandpa. I have had daily conversations about bowel movements. I have shared letters of rejection from Graduate Schools. I have had heated arguments about grocery lists. And I have cried and hugged with both Grandma and Grandpa in pure elation at having been accepted into a PhD program. I have grown closer to them as people than I think I ever thought I would or could. And I love and appreciate them more deeply than I realized I was ever capable of. 

I knew that before I left them I wanted to take the time to put down in words just some of the things I would be taking from my Moscow experience; things they had given me. I am posting the letters I wrote them both with the hope that you all enjoy them. 

Here they are:

Grandpa,

 This is your Grandson Isaac. You have now had to live with me and my quirks for 6 whole months! Can you believe that 6 whole months have gone by? In some ways it feels like longer- and in some ways way less. Anyhow, it occurred to me recently that we have shared a lot of experiences during this last period of time. In some ways, I feel like I have had the chance to get to know you as a person for the first time. That is, to get to know you as Gordon Braun- not just Grandpa or Pastor Braun. But just as a fellow human being. And I am so grateful for having had this time with you. Anyhow, thinking about all of this, and realizing that I will be leaving soon (and that we rarely get time just the two of us)- I wanted to write some things down to share with you.

 

Firstly Grandpa- I want to say how proud I am to be your Grandson. I have watched for years all of the people who benefit from your kindness, gentleness, and ability to find the right words at the right time. And yet, it hasn’t been until this time in Moscow that I actually have realized just how MANY peoples’ lives you have touched and how- despite your being retired- you continue to do that. Pretty much anytime I’ve been out and about with you, we run into someone who knows you and whose life you have touched in some way. I still remember my first day at Tristate and meeting Gerrard and being so proud to introduce myself as “Gordon Braun’s Grandson”.

 

Secondly, during this time I have come to admire the values you hold and how you live what you believe. You are a man of your word, deep faith, and unconditional love. If you say you’re going to do something- you do it. This makes you someone that people can always count on to follow through. I admire that and strive to be more like you in this regard.  I’m sure you’ve noticed my weakness in this particular area. I say that I’m going to do things, and sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t. You’ve taught me that I need to think before I say that I will do things; to be more responsible about knowing what I give my word to.

 

You are a man of deep faith. Whether it’s taking the time to be thoughtful about a sermon, praying at the daily meal, or just stopping in to visit people in the community who are in need- your faith is the foundation upon which you’ve built your life. I think that it’s no coincidence that because you have done this- your life has been filled with so much love, goodness, and beauty. While I may not be following in your pastoral footsteps, I see the work that I am choosing to pursue as God’s work (I guess all of it is to some degree). Anyhow, I want you to know that your sense of faith is a legacy that will live out through me and my family.

 

Lastly, you share your love unconditionally. Whether it’s just sitting down with Granny when she’s feeling bad, telling my mom she can come and stay for as long as she needs, or telling me the same thing- I have always known that- no matter what- I am loved by you. I may be a young man, but I know how important that quality is for children to grow into healthy adults. I only know brief stories from you and your upbringing Grandpa, but the little I gather, I get the picture that that wasn’t always (if it at all) that you got from your immediate family. I say this because I want to emphasize how much I admire you for being able to provide your family with this kind of love. Not everyone (and especially not every man) does this with his/her life. You have. As it is written- ‘The love that passes all understanding”.

 

 

Finally, Grandpa, I want to tell you how much I hope that you find a way to healthily grieve and cope with Grandma’s condition. I can’t pretend to imagine what it is to watch your wife and partner of almost 60 years deteriorate and decay. What I can, after six months with you both, somewhat imagine, is the amount of daily prayer and energy it takes to be able to deal gracefully with Grandma. I see how frustrated you get. I see how all of this has taken, takes, and will take a toll on you. I know that you already know this better than me- but I just want to say that I hope that you make time for the things that keep you alive and healthy. I don’t know what reading and learning you have done about caregiver relationships- but it strikes me that with being the kind of man who is willing to be there for others, you can sometimes neglect yourself. I realize that Granny’s situation requires some serious sacrifices on your part- but I’m hoping you still can find ways to do the things you need to take care of yourself.

 

That said Grandps- I just want you to know that wherever I am, in the way that you have always provided for me, you have a place. It might be a futon on the ground. And you might not be doing as much traveling in these next few years, but I want you to know that I’m excited to be becoming my own man and to continue the legacy you have given to me.

 

 

 With deep admiration,

Isaac

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grandma,

 

This is your Grandson Isaac. Hard to believe how six months has just flown by?! I’m sure that after 78 years on this earth, time passes even more quickly for you. You always said you’d like me to stay for a couple of months, and I did. I love that I asked you and Grandpa if I could come and that you both said yes. What a time this has been!?

 

As I sit here and think back on these last months (not to mention the previous 27 years) – we have shared many experiences. We have laughed. We have cried. We have argued. We have forgiven. And above all, we have loved. Being here in Moscow I have run into so many different people who have continually reminded me how fortunate I am to have such a loving and lively woman for a Grandma. And each time that I spend with you- I realize that a little more.

 

Anyhow, before I leave this place and time, I wanted to share some reflections with you. You know how you like to write notes for important things so that you don’t forget them? Well, this is one of those “notes”.

 

You know how you share your favorite memories of me as a little boy? Well, I think I’ll start out by sharing with you some of my favorite memories of you as my Grandma. And, honestly, the first thing that comes to mind is, funny enough, our fireside “chat”. I know this may not be one of your favorite memories, but for me it perfectly captures how, although we think very differently about things, we are very similar in our passionate feelings about how things are supposed to be done, (and how we are able to love and forgive each other). I can still see us both sitting there by the fire- you screaming like a banshee and me barking at you like a mad dog. And I can also see us then sitting on the couch with our arms around each other laughing at how silly the whole situation truly was.

 

And I know that one of my favorite memories will be this past Sunday’s Easter adventure. I think I told you that I did have thoughts about not going. I didn’t sleep all that well the night before, and I did feel like maybe it would be better for me to just sleep in and have a relaxing day to myself. But it was as if the voice of God was softly speaking to me, saying, “you need to go and be with your family- this chance to worship together with your grandma may not come again.” Really. I just knew that I needed to go and be there with you and Grandpa. I think I must have cried about 5 or 6 times sitting there next to you, just looking at the radiant smile on your face and seeing how happy it made you to be sitting in a church worshipping, singing, and appreciating the whole of God’s creation. You were absolutely glowing that day. I could see your spirit soaring. I know you say that it’s hard for you to imagine Heaven being more beautiful than Idaho- well, Grandma, for once, I absolutely agree with you.

 

Sitting here at the One World Café I remember sitting at Bucer’s with you back in August thinking that that could be the last conversation I ever would have with you. And as much as I didn’t want to believe that, I knew that we (as you always say) don’t know what God has in mind. I can still remember our conversation feeling forced- I know now that I was trying to make sure I said all of the things I felt I needed to say to you. I also wanted to make sure that you had a chance to share any last important thoughts with me. And somewhere deep inside of me, I really knew that that wasn’t supposed to be our last conversation. Well, we have had many conversations since that one. We have talked about just about everything there is to talk about. And I think that my other favorite memories of you will be just sitting and chatting with you about anything and everything.

 

I made a sort of list of some of the things that I have learned and admire about you.

 

The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of you Grandma is your gift for connecting with all different kinds of people. I don’t think you fully realize just how unique your capacity for simply talking to anyone and everyone is. You talk to famous, common, beautiful, ugly, able, disabled, short, and tall the same. Your sense for just genuinely wanting to know all people makes them feel loved, appreciated, and completely at ease. I’ve heard you say that you always hoped to be a Pastor’s wife- well, I think God had that same hope for you. 

 

The other things that come to mind I know will make you smile. I think of your “husband” and “father” training techniques. That is, you making sure I learn about keeping the frying pan handle turned in; making sure the laundry is sorted by color; hanging up the laundry when it’s sunny; keeping the kitchen clean; and as much as I hate to admit that you’re right about this- keeping my hair looking trim and neat. It’s taken me 27 years to realize that these “little” things are actually important details that make a real difference. I don’t pretend to know God’s plan for my life- but if I am to be a husband and a father- then I will be a better one because of you. I have learned much from you Grandma.

 

I have heard you say several times since I have been here that you wished you could’ve been healthier for our time together. I can understand that. But what I want you to know is just how much more I feel like I’ve gotten to know the real you. I think that our truest, deepest self comes to light during the times of trial. And I am grateful and honored to have shared this time with you. I also think that these are also the times in which we as family are called to come closer together. Thinking about all of the families that do not have the opportunity to share such tender times, I can’t help but feel blessed.

 

I want to close by sharing just a few last observations, fears, and hopes.  Having shared the same living space with you for 6 months- I have had the unique opportunity to observe how you and Grandpa do things. And as I have shared with you- I have learned much from both of you. You have been married for 57 years!!!! You have been married for more than twice as long as I have been alive! I am just a young man of 27. But I also have my own unique observations and contributions- I think. It’s not always an easy thing to be open to new ways of doing things (especially after 78 years of doing them a certain way). But I want to say that I think you have shown that you can be open to learning new ways of doing things (I think of how you’ve gotten better about what you eat and how we have talked out our frustrations on several different occasions). So what the heck am I getting at?

 

Well, Granny, I think one of the things I have observed is that because of your now limited energy, and because you have been so used to seeing something that needs done and just doing it: it’s difficult for you to feel like you can’t do it. I guess I just hope that you can find peace in letting go of trying to do things the way you used to, and just feel good about the things you can do. I also have observed that sometimes, even though you’re not in the mood to be outside of the house, that doing just that- getting out of the house (whatever that may be- going for a drive, going to church, having lunch with a friend) perks you up. I realize that you are slowing down, getting old, and that sometimes we all just aren’t in the mood to do anything but be comfortable at home. But I also know from my own experience, that sometimes when we are feeling the worst, that those are the exact times we need to do something to distract ourselves, do something productive, or simply be in the company of people who remind us that our problems aren’t the only ones. I think you know what I mean.

 

Lastly my sweet Granny- I just want you to know how glad I am to have had the chance to really get to know you better as a person. It’s easy to think of you simply as Grandma. And obviously you are my Grandma. But I have really enjoyed just getting to know YOU. Whether it’s listening to your stories about your wonderful childhood; listening to your genuine curiousity about what’s going on in the world; or watching how much you love appreciating the simple things in life (i.e. naps, sun, and the call of a bird)- you are truly a beautiful human being.

 

I love you Grandma. I hope this isn’t the last time I get to spend with you. But if it is- I think we both know that we have had life and had it abundantly!!!!!!

 Love, love, love

 Isaac

Hope that touched you to read as much as it did to write-

Love to you all- and happy birthday to you Leah!!!!

Last Days in Moscow

Two full days left.

Right  now, Dad is on his way; driving from Wenatchee. Uncle Dave and Aunt Janeen are coming down this morning from Sandpoint. Leah got here from Portland on Wednesday. We are going to have a full house here at 489 Paradise Dr. It's perfect to have a full house of family to welcome in Spring, celebrate life, and just be together.

Funny how many little things there are to take care of before leaving on a trip. You'd think that having done my fair share of traveling, I'd have become somewhat knowledgeable in this process. Things like canceling phone plans. Things like money belts. Things like sunscreen. But I'm proud to report that for this up and coming trip to Mexico- I've been more organized than ever. I even made a budget. I know...

I am leaving Moscow on Sunday morning with Leah for Portland. We will get three days together there before I head for Mexico City on Wednesday morning. I am starting to get real excited about a traveling adventure, learning Spanish, eating great food, and doing some traveling, really, for the first time on my own. The plan is to spend my first night with Leah's boyfriend Gabe's family in Mexico City. I'll be with his Granny- who I hear is a complete spitfire. And it sounds like I am timing things just right because the whole family is having some kind of big get-together the night I get in. Good food. Big Mexican family. Gonna be great.

Speaking of good food, big family- Granny and Gramps are running around this morning preparing for the arrival of our guests. Grandpa is so cute with how he likes to have all of the meals planned out. He's putting a roast in for dinner tonight. We're having crepes for breakfast tomorrow morning. He's heading out the door to go pick up some extra fruit from Winco as we speak. Granny is sweeping the floor in the kitchen with her curlers in. She's looking good- had good night's sleep. It's so easy to tell with her if she slept well or not. And typically, as it is with all of us, when she sleeps well she does well. Plus, she LOVES having family together. Although, I can tell that she gets anxious when she knows that she's going to have to be "on" with friends, with family, she seems to just be a little happier and a little better. Who knows though? Granny's moods have always been a bit like the weather.

Regardless of all that is up the in air for me- I am proud to say, that it seems, in some small way that I have helped by being here. Grandma's weight has stabilized and she's slowly adapted to a healthier, diabetic eating rhythm. No small task for the ostensibly impenetrable wall of stubbornness that has defined Mary Nell Braun for so long.  I'm wise enough to know that Mary Nell doesn't do ANYTHING that she doesn't want to, but I think, ironically, my own stubbornness helped eventually convince her. I am definitely my Grandmother's Grandson.

I have been super emotional these last weeks. Having months of waiting for the final word on Grad school; appreciating all that has gone into the realization of this dream for me; fully realizing just how important and necessary Grandma and Grandpa have been for me during this time; and trying to make my peace with Grandma's death- I have been like a guest on Oprah. I think I have cried more in the last few weeks than I have in the last 6 years. I think the body pretty much always forces us to confront our emotional and spiritual realities eventually. That's a really smart evolutionary mechanism. Plus it feel so damn good to cry. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I am simply able to just experience the more powerful emotions and simply let the tears come. Nice.

Granny is sitting here next to me at the kitchen counter writing belated Easter greeting cards. And I am sitting here appreciating one more time just how unique, bizarre, scattered, and ultimately thoughtful and caring her correspondence was, is, and always will be. She has written more letters, notes, and postcards than anyone I know. And the fact that she started writing something in 1996 and found in yesterday has never stopped her from sending it. I love that. She just loves making people feel a little more loved. She's a connector. I can't wait to get more of her letters.

Well, Spring is finally here for real. We've got a vase of daffodils sitting right here on the counter with us. The hyacinths are on the sill by the kitchen window. And the rolling hills of the Palouse are showing their lush green colors. There's something so magical, deep, and moving about Spring.

Spring comes not when it is wanted-

But when needed.

She reminds us:

Lightness comes from Darkness-

Life from Death.

She teaches us:

Water, sun, and patience-

Provide.

Heed the ancient call:

We are one.

Spring comes not when it is wanted-

But when needed.

or said another way:

Spring is life.

Life is a garden...

So DIG it.

One Down

I got up early this morning and walk straight upstairs to check email to see if there were any new updates.

Colorado State Professor Rickard had responded to my email from yesterday inquiring about my status. I scanned for the critical words- "congratulations" or "sorry"- and I saw "sorry".  So at least I know. I'm surprisingly not disappointed- just relieved to have clarity.

One down...

...one Oregon to go.

I should know (I have to know by 2pm tomorrow) in order to make my decision in regards to Tennessee.

I'll keep ya'll posted.

Jimmy Cliff's Blues

If any of you have never listened to Jimmy Cliff's cult classic soundtrack to his cult classic motion picture "The Harder They Come"- check it out.

I was just thinking about how much I love his song entitled "Sitting here in Limbo". And what I love about it is how the reggae sound can be at one time uplifting and slightly sentimental. That's excactly where I'm at right now. I'm so excited that I'm about to burst. I'm so sentimental that I find myself crying at least 5 times a day. Sitting here in limbo.

Today is my last shift at Tri-State. Last day of sorting boxes. Last day of selling patent leather Danskos. Last day of retail. So many of those this-will-be-the-last-time-in-a-long-time moments right now. I'm such a sentimental sensitive little flower.

Anyhow- still no news in the mail or the email. I will keep you all posted. Starting to feel like Tennessee may have chosen me. 

P.S. Grandma had one of her best days yesterday in such a long time. She glowed with energy like an angel on earth for pretty much the entire trip up to Nez Perce. We sat together in church and sang together and cried together on several occasions. She was so tired from the day that when we got back she fell asleep sitting up in the chair with her feet soaking a warm tub of water- one of the cutest things I've seen. The line of the day was her response to me telling her to just lay back and take a nap in the car (talk about role reversal), and she said, "I can sleep anytime- but I can't always look out on this beauty!"

Well said Granny.

Love to you all

Easter Morning

The moon is near full.

Today is Easter.

And I am risen from the "dead".

I was struck earlier today  by an NPR interview done with a man who was/is a famous stained glass artist. I cannot for the life of me remember what the man's name was (but I'm going to look it up)- and really- it doesn't matter. He was asked about the work he has done for a famous cathedral (wow I'm good with names) in Washington D.C. and about the similarities between what he does as an artist and what the church does as an entity of spiritual expression and devotion. And he said some of the most beautiful things I have ever heard said about the spiritual nature of things. The interviewer started off by asking whether or not he believed in God, and after more less realizing the unfairness of his question, opened things up by asking how belief/spirituality informs his work as an artist. And the artist basically said (and now is when I realize that this is one of those stories that started out as a profound idea and as I'm writing it is turning more and more into one of those guess-you-had-to-be-there realizations- but stick with me): I don't know if there's a God. He said that we hear people say things like love, beauty, and kindness are God, and that he doesn't really believe that either. He emphasized that he hopes that there is a life to come after this one; who wouldn't want to? But what he ended with is what struck me the most. He said- for me- none of that even matters. He said that he believes in the power of love and kindness. He reemphasized that some people believe that the power we recognize in love and kindness is inseparable from what we know as "God".  And again he basically said- for me love and kindness are enough.

OK- go ahead and roll your eyes Jens. OK- go ahead and make fun of me for being cheesy everyone. But I was so struck by that. It was one of those moments when you hear someone put into words something you've felt, thought, and sensed- just couldn't, yourself, find the right words to express. And it was perfect that today is Easter. I laugh too because I am going to Church with Granny and Gramps in the morning for only the second time since I've been here in Moscow. No easy feat when you live with Pastor Gordon Braun. 

What the hell am I talking about? Why the hell am I writing any of this? I think for me and how I think about spirituality (paired with my affinity for talking a lot)- it's important to share these moments with others. I don't know that I believe in God. I don't know that- like the old artist put it- it really even matters. I also believe that love and kindness are enough. However, I also know from my own experience that there are these powerful moments that come when you least expect it; when you are on your morning commute listening to NPR; walking down the street at dusk; or watching the sun go down. And that these kind of moments are meant to be experienced by each of us in our own ways. And also that the experience of these kinds of moments are also meant to be shared between us as humans so that we can be reminded of the miraculous nature of life itself. I think that's maybe why I'm writing this.

That's definitely why I wrote this.

Whatever you all do or do not do for Easter- I think the metaphor of the resurrection is a powerful and beautiful one.  And though Mother Nature still does things way better than any of us humans  (Spring being clearly the most basic, elemental, and literal experience of resurrection), I am glad to be going to Church with Granny and Gramps this morning. I'm glad because I know that this is where Grandpa and Grandma have their spiritual moments. And it's not that I think that their spiritual moments are confined to church so much as I get joy and meaning from knowing how important it is to them. Even if I do have to sit through another one of Granpda's 13-point 5-point sermons (you all know what I'm mean).  We three are driving to Nez Perce in three hours- I am going to sneak in a little more sleep.

The moon is smiling.

The Last Days of Waiting

Today is April 11th.

I will know where I am spending the next five years on April 15th.

Holy poop.

Dog Days

It's 3:35 am and I'm wide awake. 

Funny part is I don't feel tired really at all. I think I truly may be part dog. It's like I really only have two settings: off and on. I wake up and I'm ready to run, play, and eat. Sometimes I wish I was more like a cat: able to sleep anywhere anytime. But I am definitely a dog.

I'm pretty sure that I'm also up because of a certain feeling that has filled me. Being a dog- I am prone to the whimsy of instinct, pangs of hunger, and the blinding focus of love. And I can't hide what I'm feeling anymore than  a golden retriever can act calm around an open field full of birds. 

I'm pretty sure you all can pick up my scent.

Anyhow- laying awake downstairs staring out the window- it occurs to me once more just how powerful this time in Moscow has been. Today is the 7th of April and I have now been here 6 months. I have lived here at 489 Paradise Dr. for six months! That's pretty damned amazing on several levels. The patience and emotional stamina required to gracefully (key word) live with Grandma in her current state are things easily achieved. The ability to listen to Grandpa's quirky, silly, and mostly lame jokes on a day -to- day basis is a capacity that one can only cultivate with great discipline, practice, and perseverance. Ok enough of my melodramatic antics...for now.

But the funniest part about this whole experience is just how much I'm gonna miss this place. The true irony and beauty is that all of the things I have made fun of, poked at, and seemed to be annoyed by- are all of the things that I also love most about living here. And maybe that's all love really is anyway- being able to truly accept another human being for ALL that they are and ALL that they are NOT. I am so deeply in debt to the love that Granny and Grandpa have shown me. This time here these last six months has been a gift of a magnitude that I'm only now beginning to understand. I already know that I will continue to look at this time and smile and remember just how lucky  a little shit I was to have this time. 

I still remember standing at the Emerson in Bozeman out under the morning sky, talking on the phone with Granny and Grandpa about my idea for this time. I originally had thought I would come out for about 3 months (that was all the longer I thought I could realistically hang in there) and then take off for Mexico at the end of February. Actually, what's really funny to think about, is just how ignorant I was (and still pretty much always am when it comes to realistic time frames) about the time frame for applying to grad school, getting a job, saving enough money to both visit schools and go to Mexico, as well as actually carving out a healthy and regular amount of time with both Granny and Gramps. That's a lot. Again- back to the dog thing- I just sort of see the open field and start running. But I remember pitching it to Granny and Grampa over the phone (for those of you who know how easy it is to have any kind of conversation with Granny and Grandpa both on the phone at the same time will probably find a small amount poo in your pants when you stop to imagine me trying to describe to Granny and Gramps my scattered, logistically crazy plan to move in with them for several months so that I could apply to grad school, save money for a trip to mexico in the spring and then to atlanta for the summer,  and to get to spend to quality time helping in whatever way with Granny)- and them having a real difficult time getting my specific plan and intention. I took Mom's advice (thanks Mom) and wrote them a letter (why didn't I think of that!?). And while I'm pretty sure this helped, I'm also near certain that they pretty much understood that I needed a place to be and that they would always open their doors to me for however long I needed.  That's love.

The love that I have been shown during my stay here continues to blow my mind and brings tears to my eyes pretty much at least once a day these days. I have been trying to figure out some sort of way to appropriately but ceremoniously honor both Granny and Gramps for this great gift. Obviously it'll be something simple and requiring the minimum level of energy output- I'm thinking coffee and chatting on the back porch. With Gramps, and with the showing up of Spring, it's definitely gonna be golf. But I think what I'll do is pretty much a fancier version of what I've done a couple different times already- make a nice meal with Grannie's favorite foods and bake Grandpa's favorite dessert. Just the three of us. 

As of now, I am planning on coming back to Moscow at the end of my stay in Atlanta in order to take the few earthly possessions I have with me to my next destination. So I know that I'll get a chance to see them both (hopefully?) before making my way from Moscow for the foreseeable future. This feels nice that I don't have to try to force some sort of just-in-case-goodbye with Granny. And I know that one of the things that bolsters her spirit is knowing that she has things to look forward to. 

Well, being as that I started this as a dog, as a dog I shall go out. I get all worked up about things. I get all anxious- tail awaggin'. And when I finally just let myself out to run it all out- I feel so much better.

Now if I could just get someone to scratch my belly.

Think I may have found someone.

Finally

Finally.

Spring finally showed up. Saturday I came home from work and there was a warmth in the air that was different than the day before. The birds were chirping with just a bit more life and the sun shone just a bit brighter.  As Granny would say, "It's like Heaven!"

Grandpa and I loaded up the Toyota with the ply-wood that Uncle Dave had salvaged from the neighbor's garbage pile a couple months back. It was quite the sight. Grandpa and me putting these really heavy, awkward sheets in the truck, and then me tying them down with the same shitty rope that Grandps has had for thirty years. I tested the one piece I thought looked like it'd actually hold up and felt good about it. I packed up a back pack with my ski clothes and a few other odds and ends and headed out to pick up the lovely young woman that came into my life two weeks ago- Caroline. Destination: Sandpoint.

We made a quick stop at the Co-op and picked up a little snack  and hit the road about 7:00 pm. And what an evening to be on the road (that road in particular). The sun going down over the rolling hills of the Palouse still sprinkled with snow- couldn't have been more beautiful (or "beauty-full" as Granny would say). We prettty much vacillated between silently admiring the ending of Winter so perfectly punctuated by this long, warm Sunset and chatting about our funny families. Seems to be the theme these days. The two and a half hours flew and all of a sudden we were at Dave and Janeens' place. 

It being 9:45, I figured they'd be in bed, and we'd just quietly sneak into the Loft and see them in the morning. But as we were unloading, there was Janeeno out on the porch calling us in to come say hello. We came in and had a cookie (well, I did) and some water and just chatted for a bit. Caroline had a real twinkle in her eye getting to see the simple organic elegance that is Dave and Janeens' place. And it was great to be with someone who's never been there before because I was more aware of just how truly amazing and beautiful that place is. Even now, I think of all of the times that that place has been this stabilizing, calming rest stop during the rollercoaster adventures of my life. I told Caroline before we pulled in that it's a sacred place (not that I needed to actually say that). It was nice to truly experience that again...in some ways for the first time. Thanks Dave and Janeen.

So now I'm sitting here back in Moscow on a gorgeous Spring day- Granny is chatting at me and doesn't recognize that I've got my headphones on and am attempting to escape into my music while I write this. Sorry for the abrupt segue way- Granny has been having one of those mornings where she really feels the need to free associate and boss everything in sight around and around. Truth be told- I got up from writing because all of this is still really hitting me hard and I started crying and felt called to just go and sit and hug and cry with her. So I did. And this morning has been yet one more reminder of the beautiful and mystifying blend of joy, sadness, hilarity, and absurdity that is my relationship with grandmother Mary Nell. 

She and I sat together while I rubbed her legs and she telling me about the pictures from the family reunion from last August. She's so connected to her family. The touching part of our time together this morning was remembering all of the different people she has met and the bittersweetness of having uprooted from family and having lived most of her life away from them.  She told me a story she has told me several times before about having to leave her friends in Vancouver. It's clear that that was a difficult move for her (and I'm sure that you all have more direct experiences with her in regards to that period of time)- and it's just interesting to me that it really has stuck with her. That is the sadness and some sort of guilt at not having been able to tell these women she'd apparently cared for that she was moving to Moscow. 

Now the truly beautiful part of our chat was listening to her describe have overcome the mental and emotional hurdles in her way. For her, coming here wasn't easy. And, as we all know, change for Grandma is NEVER easy. I mean, she can't stand if I wash the dishes from left to right. In fact, when I got up this morning, I started to get a sermon on regular hair washing (which I quickly squelched). Anyhow, she talked about having grown up on a farm; free and without traffic, shopping malls, and too many damned people (she didn't say that).  And she talked about how much she  (as we all know) has grown to love Moscow for  a lot of the same reasons she loved where she grew up. I don't know that I ever truly connected the dots with that until this morning with her. I saw how the great circle of life has come 'round for Grandma and how, whether be it from God, Fate, Allah, the Universe, she has a sense of destiny and acceptance about this place.  What a gift.

Well, it's 11:20 am and I've got to get ready for the Tristate countdown. I've got exactly 5 more shifts left at Idaho's Most Interesting Store. I think that may be the only part of my life right now that, when I think of it, doesn't start to get me all teary and emotional. Although selling shoes at Tristate has been a dream fulfilled (thanks Mom)- I can say with absolutely no reservation- the dream has been fulfilled. Funny part really is just how amazingly opportune and fortuitous this job has been. It's provided absolutely everything I needed in a job: low stress and consistent but flexible hours. I couldn't have asked for anything more. 

I went for my usual run this morning after my chat with Granny. And I had this feeling come into my body that was a blend of warmth, joy, release, and sense of big things to come. 

Spring is here...

Finally.

April's Fool

Mother Nature is a complete and total instigator.

Seriously.

March 21st is supposed to the vernal equinox: the beginning of spring- the coming of light, warmth, growth. Well, ok, maybe it's fantastical and ridiculous to expect my desire for the cold and wetness of winter to simply disappear on command. Still, it'd be nice. It's snowing right now.

Truth be told, when Dave and Janeen visited this weekend, Janeen said something to the effect of wanting winter to last a bit longer; saying something like she wasn't done with the inward path that winter pushes us down. And as much as it would be nice to have Mother Nature flip the switch- the gradual, unpredictable, and messy transition of winter to spring has been what I need. With so many transitions happening so abruptly in my life- it feels like Mother is somehow in tune with my need to simply slow shit down and keep perspective. 

I've been thinking a lot about transition. What is it to transition? How does one transition with grace? How can I find away to appreciate the process and not simply be annoyed by the uncertainty of it all? Why have I pretty much sucked ass at transitions so far in my life? How much of the chaos and unsettledness that I experience with transition do I myself create? What can I learn from my previous experiences so that I can master the art of transition (instead of getting my ass kicked by it!)? 

Seriously though- as I look back on the last 6 years of my life- I have gathered some serious experience with transitions. I moved from Tacoma, WA to Kathmandu, Nepal. I moved from Kathmandu, Nepal to Tacoma, WA. I moved from Tacoma, WA to Seattle, WA. I moved from Seattle, WA to New Orleans, LA. I moved from New Orleans, LA to Seattle, WA. I moved from Seattle, WA to Bozeman, MT. I moved from Bozeman, MT to Moscow, ID. And now I'm getting ready to move from Moscow, ID to Oaxaca City, Mexico (and then from Mexico to Atlanta, Georgia for the summer before moving to wherever I end up for grad school). If last 6 years of my life were a movie it'd be titled: "Lost in Transition". Seriously though- when I look at that list- it gives me some perspective on why I honestly feel so relieved about sinking myself into the earth in one spot, doing one thing, for the next 5 years. As Grandma would say in her high pitched, Wisconson-accent: "Heaven!"

I can hear you all already: "What's your point Brandt?" I'm getting there- just hang in there with me. I guess that the things I notice about this next transition in my life that make it feel so different from all the others, is that I have a specific destination and a focused purpose. Well, at least a focused purpose. I'll have the destination in two weeks. But what I also notice is that even though I'm so excited and relieved to be heading in a real purposeful direction, it's still stressful. It's almost like because I feel like such a spoiled little shit for all of the opportunity, privilege, and generally ridiculously ease with which I have been able to live, that I don't feel like I should let myself get stressed. I think of a John Steinbeck quote that has always stuck with me: "Change is always difficult. Especially change for the better." I think that on a national and global level we see this clearly through the example of Barack Obama and all of the obstacles and resistance he has faced in such a short time. Alright- what the hell was my point?

What I have noticed helps me in transition (aside from the obvious psychotropic and mood elevating drugs available in college towns across the world- just kidding mom) is exactly what I have lived these last months here in Moscow- rigid regularity. I still marvel at how regular Grandpa and Granma keep their lives. From eating at exactly 5:30pm to previously mentioned pooping patterns- they keep it regular. With everything else really and truly up in the air- it's super important for me to go for my usual run, come here to the cafe for my typical typing session, and, yes, to sell shoes at Tristate. 

I'm running out of steam.

Anyhow- all this transition has me so emotional which has made things both great and difficult at 489 Paradise Dr. Some mornings just seeing Granny makes me so sad. She just looks so old and tired sometimes. And then others, like this morning, she's so lovely to be with. This morning we chatted about the houses she grew up in and then she broke down about just wanting her tired old body to die. Then, of course, two seconds later she's on to a different subject (this morning it was flowers outside). She's so funny. 

Gramps and I went and got what presumably will be our last load of wood together. We have gotten so efficient with our little pitch and catch system that I think we both set a time and quantity record. This has been another little routine that I grown to love. Between getting wood and watching basketball- our time together always includes Granny. So it's nice to just be together- just the two of us. 

The other thing I think I'm getting better at in all the ostensible chaos is to simply follow the flow of things. In the past, when the chaotic nature of transition sets in (which is, of course, its own interesting illusion), I've felt freaked out by it. Again, I think this has historically been true for me because there's was no sense of foundation at all- so I experienced everything as chaos. Now, it's more like there's a storm blowing in, but I've already got a fire going and enough food cooked up to last for a long time- I'm actually looking forward to experiencing the storm. 

It's snowing outside.

I'm smiling inside.