Three Cups of Tea

My fantabulous friend Patrick in San Francisco sent the book Three Cups of Tea to me a few months ago and I finally took the time over my awesome vacation to read it. Whoa. Talk about inspiring.

In a nutshell, an American mountain climber, Greg Mortenson, after a harrowing (read: failed) attempt at ascending K2 basically stumbles, completely ill-of-health and frozen solid, into a tiny town in the mountains of Pakistan where he's catered to until his strength returns. And it changes his life. He witnesses the boys and girls of this town attending "school" in extreme outdoor conditions and promises to come back and build a school for these students. But this true story isn't one of the rich American guy coming back and tapping into his wealthy friends for financing. He's an otherwise unknown nurse who works the night shift, sleeps in his car and denies himself any/all modern conveniences in order to save every penny he earns for these poor, Muslim kids on the other side of the world.

He's a man on a mission and this dangerous adventure takes him repeatedly into Pakistan and Afghanistan during pre- and post-9/11 turmoil. The book allows us to experience the obstacles he encounters along with the riveting political, cultural and social dynamics of the region that our news coverage doesn't provide.

Most importantly, it shows how the simple act of providing the poorest students with a balanced education, is making them much more willing to trust Americans and, in turn, difficult for the extremist Islamic religious schools (or madrassas) to recruit.

And it shows how one man can, in fact, change the world -- one village at a time.

Lastly, although the following pales in comparison with everything else the book describes, there was something mentioned toward the end that stopped me in my tracks once again. A friend of Mortenson's named Julia Bergman heads to Pakistan with him to lend a hand in some extremely hazardous conditions. She shows up wearing a necklace that reads, "I Want To Be Thoroughly Used Up When I Die."

I simply love that. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die.

Gotta dime? Call someone who cares.

Went to IHOP this a.m. with Son #2 because he wanted Horton Hears a Who pancakes and a Beezlenut Splash drink. This is the stuff that dreams are made of for kids. And dentists.



On the way out the door, there were a couple of phone booths.

Son #2: "Whoa, look mama! They have phone booths here."

Me: "Tell me you've never seen a phone booth before!?"

Unreal.

Sometimes it's easy to forget just how much the world has changed.

When September Ends

Whenever this time of year rolls around, I want to make a big change in my life. I’m guessing it comes from years of going back to school in September after a glorious summer off. My body, my psyche, is conditioned to change. The trip to FL, albeit brief, satiated my hunger slightly. And the fact that the sun is pouring in my window right now helps curb my need to move on.

But, the truth is, I have wanderlust. I was born with it. My godmother, who was my father’s sister, was a world traveler in the era when it was much more expensive to travel than it is today. And my maternal grandmother picked up and traveled to Europe as a young nurse which was then unheard of in her family. Neither of these women came from money; they just had traveling souls. I definitely inherited that gene from both sides.

In direct contrast to my desire to pick up and move all the time, I want to put down roots everywhere. Experience everything. And I’m not just talking about my desire to travel to Thailand or learn to surf in Costa Rica. I’m talking about living in every cute neighborhood in Rochester or tiny town in the countryside. It drives my mother crazy.

“You want to live everywhere you go.”

I want to watch my husband thrive in the Austin music scene. I want to breathe in the crisp Maine air every morning. I want to wake up and swim in the warm FL ocean waters. I want to live in an old home, with architectural integrity, on Park Ave. in Rochester and walk to local restaurants. I want to live on Gramercy Park and sit on a park bench in the afternoon and read. I want summers in Quogue. Or the south of France. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

But, for now, my kids are happy and surrounded by friends and my hubby is playing with a number of fun, local bands. So I have to remind myself that I actually have roots here and enjoy the evening chill as we sit around the fire pit drinking wine with our neighbors.