Dev Does NCCC: Historic Washington State Park and wrapping up!

As I mentioned before, the last week and a half of our project was spent two hours south of Queen Wilhelmina in a tiny, tiny, tiny town called Washington--population 141. The vast majority of Washington is owned by the state park, and it's just about the cutest thing ever. Many of the buildings are original or replicated houses from the 19th century, and park guides give tours and talk about the former inhabitants, what life was like, that sort of thing.

We stayed in a schoolhouse dating back to 1914 that's been reconfigured for lodging. Beds the size of beds! A kitchen (despite a persistent lack of oven)! WiFi! Enough rooms for alone time!

The work was unpredictable and varied, though I'm pretty sure that's just the Americorps way. Several days were spent clearing brush and overgrowth from fence lines, along with one of my favorite parts: clearing away brush, thorny vines, and trees from outside of a historic cemetery.

 Though part of the cemetery has been restored already and surrounded by fence, records and ground-penetrating radar show that there are many now-unmarked graves well outside the marked area. It felt really good to help reclaim so many people's final resting place.

We also cleaned out all the historical houses in preparation for the park's annual Christmas celebration, Christmas and Candlelight. And here comes the fun part...

We all dressed up...

In some pretty funky 1850's outfits...

And paired with park workers and volunteers to help with the event, telling tourists all about our assigned houses and life in the 19th century.

In between work, there was lots of play. The staff at the park was super great and welcoming--and fun! With a few of the staff members we did Zumba, played board games, watched movies, and learned to squaredance. Of course Americorps is all about the work, but we definitely found time for fun.

Steph drew this:

To represent all of us, and... if you can figure out what's going on in the picture, it's a pretty great representation. (We had to ask. Just trust me when I say it's good.)

We learned to make Irish soda bread (four tasty ingredients) and went caroling at a nursing home. Ryan and I went to the cemetery around midnight to try and find some spirits--Ryan swears someone held his hand and he heard some freaky business, and who am I to tell him he was wrong? We made scarves and told stories, and got to know each other better than I know some of my longtime friends back home.

Then we packed our bags and went back to Queen Wilhelmina for a couple of days to pack up everything we'd left behind, clean up some of the mess the ice storm left behind, and say goodbye to our sponsor and FOOT with a potluck. After that we headed back to Denver and said our goodbyes for the holiday break.

Our first round was... crazy and unpredictable. I definitely had some "why the hell am I doing this?" days... but then, looking back, I know I had at least twice as many "this is the best decision I ever made" days.

And that, I guess, is the answer.

Dev Does NCCC: Trail Shelters and Bad Weather

Firstly, let me be the first to admit I suck at keeping this up. Limited WiFi access is my excuse, even if it's not strictly true at the moment. I'll probably continue the pattern of no posts for weeks and then several posts in a 48-hour period. Life goes on.

The first two weeks were brutal, in a really good way. We worked with FOOT--Friends Of the Ouachita Trail--which is a group of retirees that have way more beef than I do. We hauled logs, gravel, concrete, and tools down a big, steep hill riddled with switchbacks. We worked 4-6 on some of the bigger logs, while 2 of the FOOT members were able to carry them down without a problem.

The first trail shelter we worked on wasn't very hands-on--we spent most of the time hauling while FOOT did the actual building. Still, the sense of accomplishment was very real when we saw the finished product.

The second was much more hands-on--the team worked on the shelter start to finish, from the post holes to the roof.

Some of us also worked on damming a stream so backpackers would have a water collection point. We named it RADS Dam to go with our initials.

When all was said and done, we said goodbye to FOOT, with many hugs and a sad tug in our hearts. When we heard our project would involve working with senior citizens--I admit--I wasn't the only one who felt a touch of apprehension. But not only did they prove to be complete beasts, they were amazing people overall. Doughnuts or brownies or other treats were an almost-daily gift--and one gentleman brought his dog, Tubby, whose playful spirit kept us going through the hardest days.

Back at "home," we ran into issues pretty constantly. In addition to the first windy night that forced us into campers, we dealt with power outages, leaks (which were duly duct taped), breaking doors... the list definitely goes on.

For a few days, ice kept us on the mountain...

... and, since it wasn't safe to do trail work, we were left to clean the campground bathrooms and clean infinities of rat poop out of the historical house onsite.

But we kept our attitudes positive... for PT one day, we had a dance party in the bathroom--the only place that was warm enough to stay.

We ended up moving a couple hours south to Historic Washington State Park to avoid an ice storm--a wise move, as almost a week later Queen Wilhelmina still doesn't have water or power. But that's a topic for another post.

Though we've had not a little turmoil this round, I'm glad it was the first. If we can survive this project, we can survive anything. And it was definitely good to be able to see tangible evidence of the work we were doing--a shelter for weary or weather-bound travelers, built by our own hands.

Dev Does NCCC: Arrival

We had an eventful first night in AR, to say the least.

We were warned that it would be windy and cold, and that it may rain; armed with two sleeping bags apiece, we weren't worried about it. We crammed into our tents and settled into sleep.

Until the wind blew the stakes from the ground and the tents started to collapse around us.

Our things soaked, our teeth chattering, we dragged the tents to the safety of the bathrooms and hung our sleeping bags out to dry. Thank goodness we had two campers for storage and cooking--we moved our bags around and slept there. The arrangement seems to be working.

This part of AR is so beautiful. I've taken my state for granted, having lived there for thirteen years. I've certainly been to this part of the state, but never stayed here, never realized what a difference in terrain a few hours' drive can make.

Between Denver and Queen Wilhelmina, I don't know if I'll ever be able to live somewhere without a mountain view. It never fails to take my breath away.

We have an orientation today and we get started tomorrow. I can't wait to really get down into the thick of it.

Dev Does NCCC: First Project!

They ordered us into big white vans and blindfolded us. They didn't let us speak the whole way there.

Then they led us out, holding hands, and had us walk for several minutes--still blindfolded. They took us, one by one, away from the groups we'd entered the vans with. No one knew where we were or what was happening.

Were we kidnapped? Nah. Our team leaders are just really, really mean. ;) Instead of just announcing who our teams and TLs (team leaders) were, they decided to make it fun for them and terrifying for us.

My team is Water 2, and I'm really excited--I was on a temporary team with this team leader (Hayley) before and I think we mesh well. I don't know my team members too well yet, but that will come with time. Especially since I'll spend the next six weeks camping with them in...

Queen Wilhelmina State Park in western Arkansas!

My little joke is that I joined Americorps to get out of AR, and they funneled me right back in... but honestly I'm excited about it. It's not in an area of the state I've spent much time in, and the Ozarks are truly beautiful.

We'll be building trail shelters and, I believe, an overlook, as well as educating visitors about the park and NCCC. This will be a totally new experience for me; I've never been camping, never done any real physical labor.

I won't have WiFi or cell service, so blogging will be seldom. I definitely feel mixed about that one: I'm used to being totally connected at all times, so it will be a shock, but I'm excited to kind of bring it back down to Earth and disconnect for awhile.

We leave on Sunday. I can't wait to get started!

Dev Does Life Lessons: Humility

I was very humbled today in downtown Denver.

I went with a few friends so one could get his first tattoo. We decided to take the longer way back to the bus station and explore downtown a little bit. I always try to give a little cash to the homeless people I see on the streets, particularly now that my room and food are paid for so anything I earn is really "extra."

We came up to a person holding a sign. (They were bundled up and had a neutral voice and a unisex name, so I'll refer to them as "they" through this rather than risk assuming their gender and getting it wrong.) I handed them a dollar, the only small change I had, then asked if they needed anything else, if I could do anything else for them. I felt compelled somehow by this person, and wanted to help in any way that I could.

They replied, very sheepishly, "I'm kinda hungry." When I asked what they liked to eat in the area they responded that they liked the burritos from Taco Bell. I promised I'd be right back.

I walked into the shop intending to order a burrito or two. Again, something compelled me and instead I ordered the $10 box of bean burritos (ten come in the box) and one larger one. I figured this would feed the person for at least a day or two, possibly more.

When we got back, there was another homeless person beside the first. I handed the shocked pair the bags of burritos and the free cup of water that I'd gotten. I expected a "thank you," but got so much more than that:

They both thanked me profusely, then the first person said, "This will feed all of us."

That generosity astounded me. It's one thing for me--who grew up without much money but who has never truly gone without--to hand a homeless person a dollar or buy them a meal, then go about my day not really any worse for wear. But this person had nothing but what was in the small bag they sat beside them. No money to buy themselves food, made to swallow pride and ask for help (if you've never had to do it, believe me when I say it's not easy). And yet instead of saying, "This will feed me for awhile," they said, "this will feed all of us."

All of us.

I don't know how many people they were referring to, how they got there, what their stories are. But I do know that this was one of the most amazing displays of altruism that I've seen. To have next to nothing, but share what you do have among those whose need equals yours. It can be so tempting, when you don't have all you need or want (or even when you do), to hoard whatever you collect.

I asked the names of the pair, shook their hands. I can't explain what it felt like; I was shaken. I'm near tears just recounting the event. I could tell that the food, the contact meant a lot to them by their words and actions, but it couldn't have meant as much to them as it did to me. For under $15, I was truly truly touched by another human being. I'm resolving to do my best to be more like them--to remember to put the needs of others above my own. Mahatma Gandhi said, "The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others."

I resolved when I joined Americorps that if I could touch one person's life, the ten-month project would be more than worth it. I didn't realize that, especially so soon after arriving here, I'd be the one who was so strongly moved.

It was a lesson well learned.

Dev Does NCCC: Training and homesickness

I think I've figured out why they call it "homesick." It's not just sadness, not just wishing you were home. It's a very real ache in your chest, gnawing in your gut, swelling in your throat. The thought, "I want to go home," consumes you.

That's not to say that I'm constantly miserable. In fact, most of the time I'm really enjoying myself. I've clicked with a lot of people here and I think the work will be really rewarding and interesting. The other day a group of us went for a three-hour hike, and it's one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.

The pictures don't begin to do it justice. Although we're due for snow tomorrow and this Louisianarkansan isn't ready for that, I absolutely love it here.

We had a training session today called "invitation to serve." We basically talked about different types of service, what inspired us to serve, whether one sort of service is more important than another. I might go into it in more detail later, but I'll just say that it really opened my eyes. We all come from so many different backgrounds, and have so many reasons for why we're doing what we're doing, but we've all reached this same point and have a lot of the same goals.

We've also been changing "temporary teams" every couple days, shuffling team members and team leaders. I'm really happy to say I've liked all my team leaders so far, and that pretty much everyone seems really nice and able to get along. I'm eager to really get started.

At the same time, now and again--when training is over and I sit in my room during free time, or I'm walking alone from one place to the next--I'm swallowed whole by the overwhelming urge to book the next flight home. I miss my family, particularly my mom, my sisters, my nephew. I miss going to sleep curled up in the arms of my fiance. I miss my dog running to greet me and being so happy I'm home at the end of the day. I miss my bearded dragon falling asleep on my chest. I want to go home, and I want it badly.

I've never been away from my family for any real length of time. I guess I'm just not handling it too well.

I'm pretty introverted by nature--while I need a certain level of interaction throughout the day, I go crazy without some quiet alone time. Unfortunately for me, alone time tends to coincide with homesick time. I feel like just about everyone else seems to be adjusting to it, and I'm just not. When I'm okay I'm great, but when I'm not okay it's horrible. Calling my guy and my mom is helpful some, but hearing their voices also makes me want to be with them.

I'm sure I just need some time and I'll get used to it, if not get over it. And most of the day, everything is pretty fantastic and I'm glad to be here. For now, I guess, I just have to keep walking the line and pushing through. I know that in the end, it'll be more than worth it.

Dev Does NCCC: Getting started

The last two days have been exhausting. And exciting. And wonderful, and awful.

The start of the bad stuff was my fault: I got less than an hour and a half of sleep before I had to leave for my flight. I didn't finish packing until four in the morning even though I knew I had to be up by six. The fact that I was drowsy through the whole first day was my doing entirely.

No lie: I did a fair bit of crying the first day. I cried at the airport when Byron (my fiance) kissed me goodbye, and then I cried for a good while on the airplane. I held it together after that until bedtime, when I called Byron to say goodnight. Totally lost my composure for 15 minutes straight--I'm really glad my roomie was in the shower.

Most of the rest of the bad was circumstantial. I came up to my room at lunch today with a friend (I'm making friends! Yay!) to deal with some paperwork stuff. While there I realized my roof was leaking a little bit onto the heater next to my bed. It was a slow leak, so I wasn't too concerned; I went downstairs to get some towels and tell the person in charge about the situation. I grabbed two towels, headed upstairs to find out what the problem was (the room above me had a pipe break in their heater, but the repairman told me he was fixing it), then went back to my room.

Thirty feet away from my door, I could hear the leak; it now sounded like raining.

Apparently the repairman didn't think to shut off the water before he tried to fix the pipe; in a matter of just a couple minutes, my bedding was soaked.

They got my roommate and me moved into a different room, but because we were dealing with that we were late to our uniform issue. As a result, all my tops are one size too big (they ran out of my size), and I don't have several of the things I need (such as a hard hat etc.).

Enough of the bad; let's move on to everything that's been fantastic so far.

I took pictures of the view from campus on my camera, but I don't have a card reader on me, so you'll just have to wait to see them. All I have access to are the pictures I took on my phone--I'll get some of the good stuff tomorrow! But take my word for it--the view is amazing. From the cafeteria, you can see 200+ named peaks. The campus where we're staying is at the highest point of the Mile-High City, and the view is absolutely breathtaking.

And everybody here is so nice. I made a friend in the Denver airport within minutes of stepping off the plane; I've talked to several people since that I really seemed to click with, and have already made plans with. One of the things I was really nervous about was being surrounded by strangers, but it feels less and less like that with every hour.

I also seriously lucked out in the roommate department. Araina is hilarious and super-sweet.

I think I'm really going to enjoy it in NCCC. We're still sort of in the processing stage, so time will tell, but I'm more excited now than ever to really get started.

Dev Does Goodbyes

It's one in the morning, and I have a plane to catch in 8 hours.

I've always been a procrastinator, but when it comes to packing I tend to do it way early. Not this time, though. I'm leaving for the airport in under 6 hours, and my carryon is empty. My suitcase is open and only partially full. My bed has clothes and miscellaneous... stuff, strewn all across it.

It's not that I'm inherently disorganized or that I'm unable to pack. It's just that I feel like, once I'm all done and ready to go, I'll have to start saying my goodbyes.

That's something I'm really bad at, and always have been. I consider myself a fairly confident person, and sure of myself, but the other night when my nephew wrapped his arms around me and cried, I felt all my resolve draining. When he said "I don't want you to go," over and over, I found myself thinking, I don't want to go either.

I do want to go; I just don't want to leave.

Three feet away from me, my fiance Byron plays a computer game. We've lived together for over a year and a half, and have spent only a few nights apart since. How am I going to sleep, night after night, in an unfamiliar bed without my cuddle bud? How am I going to look him in the eye tomorrow morning and know that I'm going on a huge adventure without him?

The hardest goodbye though, I think, is going to be my dog. My nephew is sad that I'm leaving but knows I'm coming home for Christmas; my fiance was the one who encouraged me to chase this dream in the first place. My family and friends understand and support my decision to do this thing.

But my dog?

Max isn't going to know that I left to get things done for America. He's not going to understand that I'm... building trails or keeping up national parks or providing disaster relief, or whatever I end up doing. How can I explain to him that I still love him and am not leaving forever?

All Max will know is that I'm not here.

I know he'll be thrilled when I come home for the holidays... but what about two weeks later, when I leave for another 7 1/2 months? He'll be upset all over again. When I come back for good, I know he'll be happy and get over it... but I hate knowing what I'm going to put him through. He's going to be upset and hurt and confused, and that's going to be my doing.

When I moved into an apartment across town and couldn't keep him for awhile, I left him at my mom's house. Even though I came by to visit pretty often, she told me that Max would lay next to my old bedroom door for hours, or wander around the house whining and looking for me, or stare out the window. How can I knowingly put him through that?

I'm going to go to Denver, and Max is going to be fine, and my family's going to be proud of me. I'm sure I'm going to enjoy and be rewarded by my time served in Americorps. But the next few hours until I leave? They're going to be torture.

Intro: Dev does the waiting game.

You probably know me; if not, you will soon enough.

I'll skip some of the boring stuff and get to the meat: this Thursday, 10/24/13, I'll be heading 950 miles northwest of home to serve my country in a less-than-conventional way.

If you've managed to find my blog, you're probably at least a little familiar with Americorps NCCC (if only because I won't stop talking about it). I'll have training in Denver, then spend 9-odd months doing service projects throughout the six-state area. If there's a national/natural disaster, I may go outside even that broad section of country to help wherever help is needed.

I've had a lot of people ask, "Why are you doing this?"

The answer's not an easy one because there are so many reasons. Because I learned about this years ago and have always wanted to do it (cop-out). Because I want to put off finding a "real job" or going to college by another year (the ultimate cop-out). Because I have a deep-seated need to travel, to have experiences, to "do things." 

Ultimately, I guess the truest answer is that I want to help.

Getting past the "why" leads us to the what, as in, "Devon, you leave the day after tomorrow, what are you doing to get ready?"

The unfortunate answer is, so far, not a dang thing. I kinda started to pack, in the form of shoving things into my suitcase that I need to remember to pack later. I almost started to pick out which clothes I'm bringing; I sat and started a blog instead.

Oops.

This is all just finally starting to feel real to me. I was supposed to leave a couple weeks ago, but with the government shutdown, I was delayed. Since that happened, I'm kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop. While I know nothing will likely happen in the next couple days to delay or cancel my plans (again), I can't help but be a little bit nervous about it. I'm the unfortunate sort who expects it to rain on picnic day despite clear skies, only because she's having a picnic.

That's one of the eighty zillion things I plan to work on in the next year or so. In the next hour or so, though, I really need to work on the packing.