Awaiting Saint Nicholas

Tonight, all over Europe, children are allowed to leave their boots inside, neatly placed, awaiting the kindy arrival of sweet Saint Nicholas (known as Mos Nicolae here in Romania, Sinterklaas in the Dutch world, and eventually morphing into jolly ol' Santa Claus). Beside our advent candle we read the tender story of the 4th century bishop of Myra who, born to a wealthy family, spent his life quietly helping those in need. "His mother and father taught him to be generous to others, especially those in need. So Nicholas came to see that helping others makes one richer in life than anything else." (I had to substitute goats for girls in the story because Briana sobbed uncontrollably when I read that Nicholas threw gold into a family's window on the night before the father was forced to sell one of his daughters to save the family from poverty's ruin. Goats she could accept.)

Much of the time my mind is heavy with all the things Briana might be missing by not growing up in America, but on this occasion it is made light with the opportunities and blessings made hers by living in Romania. On Sundays when we go to church she sits beside and draws with a girl named Ana, who faithfully attends church each Sunday to worship and to beg for the family's livelihood. Desiring to help Briana to better know the joy of giving than that of receiving inspired this letter left her in the spirit of Saint Nicholas a couple of days ago. It has made my heart glad to watch her spend most of her play time these past two days inspecting, arranging and wrapping the gifts she picked out.

Dear Briana,
Friday, December 5, is the night that I visit all the children of the world to bring them joy, love and surprises, and especially the poor children. There are so many children in the world that I haven’t time to take care of everyone. Can you help me please? I need you to buy Ana and Rares (those beautiful children who visit with you at church) some school supplies and maybe some clothes. Can you do that for me? Leave your presents for Ana and Rares next to your boots on Friday night and I will add some things. Then maybe you can help me some more and take their gifts to church on Sunday. Thank you so much for your help!
See you Friday night,
Saint Nicholas

Some real gems have escaped her mouth lately including, "Mama, Saint Nicholas doesn't just love poor children" and "Mama, are you real or pretend?" Hmmmm.

St. Nicholas' story beautifully told here: http://www.cptryon.org/prayer/child/nick.html

Woodcut print by Mary Azarian

"All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten"

Last Monday I took Briana to kindergarten for the last time. At least this kindergarten. I know that it's so important for her to go. In addition to learning all she'll ever really need to know (argued successfully or unsucessfully by Robert Fulgham in his once trendy book), I take her so that in 2 years she'll speak far better Romanian than I've thus far grasped. But when we leave a morning session and I'm thanking God under my breath that she didn't understand half the Romanian that came out of her teacher's mouth, I'm thinking maybe this isn't the right place. Last Monday decided it. When a little trembling-like-a-leaf boy couldn't answer the question his brooding teacher posed to him and she yelled at him, "You gypsy, get out of here!*" and pointed to the door, I decided we were the ones that would be leaving. I've studied Mr. Fulgham's list of life lessons first learned in kindergarten and ethnic discrimination is not there. (Nor is arbitrary berating, favoritism, and other not-so-pleasant things, things I was not happy with but trying to weigh against the greater benefits of Briana being with other children her age.) So for now the question of Briana's schooling is still a question, but at least this trail of inquiry (this particular kindergarten with this particular teacher at this particular time) has gone cold and Briana is home again with me until we pick up our next scent and embark down a new trail, hopefully with a sweeter end.

*Consequently, this poor little boy isn't of Roma decent, but there are Roma children in the class and I'm sure it's not good for them to hear their teacher equate misbehaving or lack of cleverness with their ethnicity.

Welcome to the Season of Light

We played in the cold Friday night in Lupeni's park,

its newly lit Christmas tree blazing in the background.

"Light your candles quietly, such candles as you possess, wherever you are."

Alfred Delp

Last evening we lit the first of our Advent candles, welcoming the season of light with glad hearts and expectation. From an unlikely source (Uncle Rock?) we enjoyed this song's thoughtful lyrics for child and grownup alike:

The Season of Light is when we see the way...heyho look to the sky.

How we receive love when we give it away...heyho look to the sky.

Coming soon I hope: track to listen to.

(The Season of Light, Uncle Rock, Uncle Rock U.)

Thanks A Lot

Happy Thanksgiving from the Bates'

Happy Thanksgiving! It is good to give thanks and we had a good day of it. 11 students and friends gathered around an abundant table on this sunny, shivery day and 6 more joined us for a second course of desserts. For the occasion, Briana has been learning words and movements to Raffi's lovely song of thanksgiving. She sang out and danced so beautifully for us all as a prelude to our meal's grace - her best interpretation of the week -and wouldn't you know it, just when the song was wrapping up her stockings gave way on our slippery floor and down she went, hard. Gosh darnit. Just before turning in she decided to complete the song. And as we turn in, we sing with her: Thanks for all we've got. Thanks for all we've got.

Goodnight and a Happy Thanksgiving to you.

Here's Briana singing to Raffi's "Thanks A Lot" (Baby Beluga album): Thanks a lot Thanks for the sun in the sky Thanks a lot Thanks for the clouds so high Thanks a lot Thanks for the whispering wind Thanks a lot Thanks for the birds in the spring Thanks a lot Thanks for the moonlit night Thanks a lot Thanks for the stars so bright Thanks a lot Thanks for wonder in me Thanks a lot Thanks for the way that I feel Thanks for the animals Thanks for the land Thanks for the people everywhere Thanks a lot Thanks for all I’ve got Thanks for all I’ve got.

Do They Sell Cemetery Candles at Pier 1?

The first of November marked Ziua Mortilor, the “Day of the Dead” (or All Saints or All Souls Day in other parts of the world) and despite one of our staff members swearing that this was a local holiday, unique only to the Jiu Valley, we know otherwise. In Germany two weeks ago we saw cemetery candles “on special” in grocery store adds, featured in between house slippers and cake pans, and in Cluj last week they were being bought up in a home-furnishing store along with teapots and tablecloths, a piled-high display that greeted customers when they first entered the store.

Maybe no one but a North American, or maybe I should just speak for myself, would even notice the oddity.

Dana just read yet another treatise on the "denial of death" in America, this time in the New York Times. When we first moved to Romania an American friend who'd long lived here referred to Romania's "culture of death." We sit here, somewhere in between those two.

After 9 years, the foreignness of the phenomenon of the “Day of the Dead” has not worn off on me. I don’t know how the day is spent in other parts of the world, but here mums are on sale in droves for the week leading up to November 1. (In Cluj, we saw a Dacia weighted down under hundreds of stem-cut mums, filling the back seat and piled high over its roof, ready for market the following day.) Family members visit the grave(s) of their loved ones the week before, sweeping and weeding, tidying up and then beautifying the site with these mums. (I learned the hard way that mums are strictly seen as flowers for the dead. I took a beautiful arrangement as a thank you to a woman a few years ago and learned quickly by the expression on her face that mums cannot be thank you flowers.)

On November 1 the sidewalks are full, instead of with generational groupings (a cluster of teens, a benchful of white haired men) with individual family units (a teenager, a father, a grandmother) together making their way - a plate of cookies, a sack of candles – to the cemetery where they will pray, gossip, politely offer cookies to the same begging children with mud-smeared faces they may shoo aside on other days, laugh, drink, light candles, pour plum brandy onto the grave, remember, and then return home.

One cannot walk through a cemetery on the night of Ziua Mortilor without being profoundly moved. One cannot not think about death, nor the people they have lost, no matter how far away or long ago those losses may have begun. And after 9 years I can’t shake this thought: it must be hard to remain bitter or hurt or angry towards a person you’ve buried when every year there's a day when you show up at their side and pay your respects. Maybe I’m naïve, but in my mind November 1 has one more name: Day of Forgiveness.

Photos found here http://www.flickr.com/photos/rumunkistan/407186639/in/set-72157600182244059/ and here http://www.jpgmag.com/photos/23734.

“Trust Allah, and tie up your camel.”

- hand-lettered sign at the entrance to the Fifth Squadron airbase, Skardu, Pakistan*

Though it’s not Allah we trust in and we don’t drive a camel, we couldn't agree more. The first year we lived here one of our guests stole a mini-caribeener off of our husky puppy's collar while having dinner in our home. We learned a lot that year (we lost more than the mini-caribeener). And still carry those lessons with us. Our professional lives mirror our personal lives. For the past 9 years we have strived in our work with youth, here in the Jiu Valley and throughout Romania, to develop social capital: the social networks and moral norms that promote cooperation for mutual benefit.

*From “Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace…One School at a Time” by Greg Mortensen and David Oliver Relin.

HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY, SWEET JULIA!

For our cousin and our niece, Julia Abigail Kirchmaier, on her first birthday. Happy birthday sweetest girl. We love you and we miss you terribly.
Aunt Brandi, Uncle Dana & Cousin Briana

Happy Birthday and "Bonjour ma Cousine" ("Hello my Cousin") video:

"Little Red Caboose" video with special gymnastics:

Julia's Birthday Album (compiled by Briana and Brandi):

Little Red Caboose - The Laurie Berkner Band
Julia – Chris Rea
Old MacDonald Had a Farm – Parker Bent (for Uncle Greg)
Bam Bam – Father Goose
Little Pumpkin – David Levene and Judy J
Little Red Caboose – Elizabeth Mitchell & Lisa Loeb
By and By – Father Goose
Flying Machine - Father Goose (with Sheryl Crow & Dan Zanes)
Bonjour ma Cousine – Petit Ours Brun
Free Little Bird – Elizabeth Mitchell & Lisa Loeb
Happy Birthday Julia – Lunchbox & Friends (hope this one doesn’t creep you out…Briana was insistent)