Chaparral Summer 2010

A College of DuPage Student Magazine

Summer 2010 Volume 17, Issue 2

INSIDE

MY ALASKA: ICE, WIND & FAIRBANKS AT

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650 Pasquinelli Drive,Westmont, IL 60559 (630) 942-4800 For more information, please visit

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College of DuPage

2

Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

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Summer 2010

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Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

“Benedictine is truly a place where you can be you.”

Deema Ramadan, who graduated from a small private, all-girls school in Bridgeview, wanted to attend a college where she would feel welcomed and where she could make a difference. That college was Benedictine University. “The school’s main concern is genuine learning and not so much ‘prestige’ per se,” she said. “It’s truly a place where you can be you. The caring and close-knit community feeling is something that is not so prevalent in other Universities these days. The students, faculty and staff are very considerate people.

A member of Benedictine’s Scholars Program, Ramadan is active in the Muslim Students Association (M.S.A.) and the University’s work-study program. She plans to launch an M.S.A. newsletter in the near future while pursuing a position on the organization’s leadership board. She also keeps busy by writing for the Benedictine Theatre Club. “All of these activities have made me become more independent, determined and time efficient,” Ramadan said.

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Ramadan carries the light every day by being true to herself and others. “I have a responsibility to represent myself the best I can, not only as a Muslim-American, but rather as a human being living in harmony with everyone on campus,” she said. “Treating people as I would like to be treated and promoting what should be natural human character is also a way to carry the light. It is the light of humanity that needs to be seen and shared. Maybe when the world sees how it is actually possible to live in harmony with various individuals, we might set an example for them to follow,” she said.

Deema Ramadan — carrying the light that was passed on to her, and sharing it with others so that they may pass it on to future generations.

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Deema Ramadan

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Class of 2012 Health Science/Pre-Pharmacy Major Chicago, Illinois Aqsa School in Bridgeview

Summer 2010

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A COLLEGE OF DUPAGE STUDENT MAGAZINE SUMMER 2010 VOLUME 17 ISSUE 2

C O N T E N T S 26 A deep breath of Alaska – 8

A frigid setting leads to an interesting lifestyle

By Rebecca Elkins

10 But I couldn’t shake the feeling – Gambling troubles unfold into a fiancee’s loss

By Melissa Pointer

14 INDIA: Steaming oriental spice flavors volunteer’s venture into the poverty and simplicity of rural living – New parts of a known country gives a different perspective

By Vikaas Shanker

8

Foreign Attraction: An American in Shanghai – Visiting Grandma proves to be a valuable cultural mayhem

By Hattie Buell

36 Parasailing through paradise in the blink of an eye – The prospect of flight in Mexico excites a teenager

By Bianca Garcia

38 Family instincts – Orion was the dog she didn’t like, but he was still family

By Paige Pignaz

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42

Grandpa Glenn: Beach and beyond, guardian serves as rock of ages – A trip with Grandpa reveals frustration and love

By Kristy Pearson

Somewhere between the Military and a haunting bout of indecision – A struggle to join the armed forces makes way for a new path

By Matt Wells

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C R E D I T S Hattie Buell Rebecca Elkins Bianca Garcia Kristy Pearson Paige Pignaz Vikaas Shanker Melissa Pointer Matt Wells Steve Bert Steve Bert Vikaas Shanker Steve Bert

Joanne Leone Cathy Stablein stablein@cod.edu College of DuPage 425 Fawell Blvd.

Glen Ellyn, Ill. 60137 Castle PrinTech, Inc. 121 Industrial Drive DeKalb, Ill. 60115 Chaparral is a student magazine published through the Courier Student Newspaper and Journalism 1115 at College of DuPage.

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A DEEP BREATH OF

1I could go to sleep at six in the evening the night before because it was already as dark as midnight...2

Two college students at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks brave the minus 40 degrees Fahrenheit cold in nothing but boxers, socks, boots and winter hats. UAF dubs itself “America’s Artic University.” Out of the 9,282 students that attended UAF last year, only half were residents of Alaska.

M

ALASKA

y first impression of Alaska when I got off the plane in December and looked out the airport windows was, Look at all that snow!

Thick and white, the snow fell more like big dollops of rain rather than fluffy flakes. It iced the earth like smooth vanilla fondant on a cake.

Outside the Fairbanks airport, I experienced a cold far different from sweet home Chicago. No wind or bonechilling pain to make my insides shiver.

The temperature felt as if I had just stepped into a giant refrigerator and only would be able to handle the extreme temperature for a short time. As my mother, sister, my new mother s husband and I drove through Fairbanks, all of the Christmas decorations, lights and with every square inch of ground being completely white, I could not help but feel like I was now driving through a giant Christmas card.

My mother s husband was not kidding when he said that during certain months of the year it was dark all day. 1Give it a year or two,2 I remember him saying, 1Then you ll get used to it.2 I never did.

I moved to Alaska when I was fourteen, and by the time I got to college I felt the effects of winter as I never had while I was in high school.

In high school, there was always a Junior ROTC practice, competition in Anchorage to attend and friends to talk to, but no responsibility to take care of the car.

Now in college, I had a car, a job, class, and responsibility to get out of bed on time. None of these things

by Rebecca Elkins

were too hard to manage during the spring, summer and part of fall, but once November set in I could feel the winter3s breath hitting me hard.

Getting up to go to class at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks, in the middle of December should not be the chore that it is. I could go to sleep at six in the evening the night before because it was already as dark as midnight, and wake up at nine in the morning, still feeling as if I had not gotten enough sleep.

When I looked out my bedroom window, it was still as dark as midnight and I would have to check my clock numerous times before I believed it actually was morning.

Alaskan late falls and winters made my getting-up ritual sluggish, although I normally am a morning person.

As I slowly arose, I had trouble finding some motivation to get moving, with times so bad that I had to force myself just to sit up in bed.

For five years, it was strange to have no sun to signal my morning wake up schedule. Cabin fever hit me hard, too, making the house feel smaller than it was, even for one person.

After I got dressed, I trudged outside to warm up my car. Before I even opened the door all the way, the cold hit me like a bullet, causing me to stumble backward. As I assessed the temperature, I determined whether to let my car run for thirty minutes or less

see ‘icebox’ page 44

Icouldn

shake feelin the

n’t

ng

S didn’t feel right. It

omething

wasn’t that I couldn’t reach him; he could have been tied up with something and lost track of time.

By Melissa Pointer

L

a rr y = s b o d y w a s f o u n d i n h i s c a r j u st a f t er m i d n i g h t o n A p r i l 3 0, 2 00 1 , b y a f or e s t p re s e rv e o f f i c e r r e t u r n i n g t o t h e st a t i o n af t e r a n e i g h t h ou r s h i f t .

W h e n h e h ad s e e n t h e c a r p ar k e d n e ar t h e r i v e r e ar l i e r t h at af t e r n oo n , t h e o f f i c e r t h ou g h t i t b e l o n g e d t o s o m e o n e w a l k i n g a d o g . S ee i n g t h e ca r s t i l l t h er e a t mi d n i g h t , t h e o f f i ce r i n v es t i g a t e d.

A s t h e o f f i c e r k n o c k e d on t h e wi n d ow , h e g o t n o

r e s p o n s e f r om L a rr y = s re c l i n i n g b od y i n t h e p a s s e n g e r s e a t . He op e n e d t h e u n l o c k e d c ar d o or t o a wa k e n L a rr y , b u t i n s t e a d s a w a n a s h e n f a c e a n d f e l t t h e c ol d d ry s k i n w i t h h i s f i n g e r t i p s .

T h e r a d i o w a s s t i l l on , f i l l i n g t h e c a r w i t h t h e s m o ot h c ou n t r y s o u n d o f T i m M c G r aw . A s p a r am e d i c s r e m o v e d L ar r y = s b od y f ro m t h e c a r, a d e p u t y s aw t h e h an d wr i t t e n s u i c i d e n o t e

see ‘suicide’ page 12

Larry goofs around to the fullest sporting a woman’s cheerleading skirt. During his college days, Larry got top notch exercise as part of Marquette’s cheerleading team.

Larry often visited Blackwell Forest Preserve in Warrenville for a bit of fishing.

‘suicide’ from page 11

wrapped around his driver=s license in his shirt pocket.

Larry=s parents, Edie and John, knocked on my door at 8 a.m. My heart began to race as I searched Edie=s face for a clue as to what she wanted to talk about.

It looked as if she had been crying, but she was calm.

I asked if they had heard from Larry. ;Is he at the hospital or in jail?< I asked as tears welled up in my eyes. She took my hands and said, ;Melissa, he=s dead. He killed himself last night.< Her words echoed in my head like a gunshot. I stood up and backed away, dropping to my knees as if someone had

12

punched me in the stomach.

I couldn=t breathe. Our wedding was less than three months away. Edie hugged me as she knelt down. I moved away and told her she was lying. Larry would never take his own life. He wouldn=t be that cruel.

I demanded to know where he really was. Edie just put her arms around me again and told me everything would be okay as my thoughts drifted back to a couple days before.

Larry had the day off and pleaded with me to call in sick so we could spend the day together. It had been months since we had a mutual day off.

I convinced myself that my job would survive a day without me and made the call. My kids were at their

Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

father=s house for the weekend, leaving the two of us By 6:30, I figured he didn=t wake up on time, so I to do as we wanted. called his cell phone. By 7:30, with no answer from We curled up on the couch with our coffee and a his phone, I took the train home. After a short walk newspaper for most of the morning. The sun began from the train, I arrived home and saw my car in the to warm the outside air as we packed a lunch and our driveway, but not his. fishing gear and headed to Blackwell Forest Preserve I went inside to see if there was a note, but found in Warrenville. Fishing was Larry=s favorite relaxno clue as to where he was. I called his cell again but ation. there was still no answer.

Our fishing lines dangled in the murky water, as we Something didn=t feel right. It wasn=t that I couldn=t sat on the warm rocks by the lake and talked about reach him, he could have been tied up with somethe future. thing and lost track of time. I couldn=t shake the feelI had three kids already, but he wanted a full house. ing, so I decided to check our favorite fishing spots I agreed to maybe one or two more. Somehow our without finding him. conversation drifted to the distant future and each of I then realized that the cash for our rent was missour funerals. ;You can just put me in a pine box and ing, which meant that he had gone to the casino to send me down the river,< Larry said with a smile. I gamble. I went back to the car, hoping to find him smiled back at him as I told him I wanted a big funerbefore all the money was gone. al, unlike the small wedding I preferred.

As I walked into Hollywood Casino, I saw a woman Larry laughed as he pointed out that I wanted more we had seen gambling many times. She said Larry of a celebration for my death than my marriage. I had been there but had left around 5 p.m. She said he told him that I would be dead at my funeral and didn=t look too happy and figured he had lost that wouldn=t have to make day. Larry was a habitsmall talk with boring ual gambler so we had people. to limit his funds to Larry agreed I had a curb this problem. I I wanted to to touch him, to kiss good point but still shouldn=t have left the insisted on a big wedmoney in the house. him and wake him from his sleep. I ding. We returned By 10 p.m., I fighome after dinner to ured he was sitting watch a couple of somewhere feeling wanted this to be a bad dream, a movies before bed, but guilty for gambling spent a sleepless night away our rent money, nightmare from which I would in each other=s compaunable to face me. I ny…. drove around until Edie=s voice brought midnight looking for awake. me back to the present him, finally going with talk of funeral and home to rest. burial arrangements. We selected red and white carSomething needed to be done about his problem. He nations, in contrast to the red and white roses Larry was a gambling junkie looking for his next fix. Why and I had planned for our wedding. did I not see this before?

Edie suggested cremation, pointing out a beautiful After the funeral, I was given a few minutes alone urn. I told her that Larry didn=t want to be cremated. with Larry before the burial. I wanted to touch him, He wanted to be buried in a Catholic cemetery. She to kiss him and wake him from his sleep. I wanted put her arm around me and asked what casket I liked this to be a bad dream, a nightmare from which I best. would awake.

We finally decided on an elegant pine box, one that I wanted to go back to Christmas morning, before matched Larry=s childhood bedroom set and still fit his gambling became an obsession. I reached into his into his joking wish of being put in a pine box. casket and touched his face, remembering the morn…Only the day before, Larry dropped me off at ing he asked me to marry him… work and promised to pick me up when my shift was …The warmth of the light radiates through the over at 6 p.m. He was going home to rest and knew I window of the quiet house as the aroma of bacon would be tired after working all day and not sleeping and eggs tempts me to begin the day instead of snugthe night before. gling deeper under the covers. His footsteps come After my shift I walked outside and didn=t see him. see ‘suicide’ page 45

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Summer 2010

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India

a S

teaming

oriental spice

flavors volunteerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s

venture into the poverty and simplicity of rural living See story on next page

The Bhagirathi (Ganges) River is considered a holy river that harbors spiritual cleansing powers. Nestled in the Himalayas, Vikaas chose this location in the town of Uttarkashi to take a serene dip.

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Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

2008 after my sophomore year in college so I accepted the invitation by my friend Pooja to join four other students from across America in a one-month volunteer effort in Sidhbari, India, a village of villages.

India.

It would be Pooja, her older sister Poonam, her friend I had spent two days crisscrossing Delhi with the six Supriya, me from the Chicago area, PoojaOs cousin sister women IOd be traveling with to the Himalayas. Endless Ekta from Florida, Toral from Texas, and Veena from plots of rice fields beyond the current mountain unfolded California. amid little brick huts meant to be wells and temples to We volunteered for specific departments in an organithe Vedic gods, Devi Matha and Hanuman Ji. zation called Chinmaya Organization for Rural Despite the loud, tense roar of the bus engine, I was Development CORD located in the state of Himachal calm and resolute as I felt this was how the world should Pradesh. We would accompany paid workers on assignbe. All I could think was Lshanti, -pronounced Nshan-thiO. ments in the villages to provide solutions to village-probshanti, shanti peace, peace, peace .M lems and improve logistics and infrastructure within the More than 70 percent of India lives in rural areas and I organization. never had a chance to see the heart and people of the The goal was to help the villagers in Himachal Pradesh land when I had visited my relatives in the urban areas. become more literate, healthy and self-sufficient.

This is one of the things I pined for most. I wanted to see We lived near the Chinmaya Mission Ashram, a relipeople farming rice. gious community in the beautiful backyard canvas of the I wanted to hear herders screech LYAAHPPPM to mounlower Himalyas. tain goats. I wanted to Sidhbari village sits smell the spicy potatoes by mountains that wafting with monsoon formed a protective wall rains. Being a devoted against harsh weather, practitioner of Sanathan I wanted to feel the presence of the nomadic invaders and Dharma Hinduism , I culture clash for the wanted to know how vilnorthern garden of lagers with very little Himalayan sages who formed the Ashram. It is a perfect monetary wealth lived setting for great sages and how they practiced spiritual doctrines thousands of to meditate.

Hinduism. Did religion I spent the first week have any effect on their on a mini-internship lives? years ago by which I live my life with my uncleOs engiI needed to experience neering company, the answers myself, and today.

Global Economic although I never told my Advantage in Delhi. It parents about my desire, opened my eyes to the I secretly wanted to tratechnical perfection verse outside the cities needed to plan power plant pipes, but also built my longand towns of Delhi, Allahabad and Hyderabad and live ing for something that took me out of my comfort zone with the Indians I admired most: those with close to of air conditioning, e-mail, and smooth ground. nothing.

During the second week, I met with my extended famiWhether I went with my mom and brother, or my ly and got to see my three lovable cousins, Shubham, whole family, Bharath Matha Mother India has always Raghav and Manas. been about meeting relatives and visiting the middle Raghav constantly asked me, LViky D chalo, cricket class places of my parentsO upbringing. khel-the! LetOs go, letOs play cricket! M He brought his I always visit my uncleOs two-story home in Allahabad well-even bat and weOd play with practice rubber-core with as much square-footage as a small elementary cricket balls and a stack of bricks for stumps. school in the United States.

Playing cricket was always one of my favorite things to A small garden with tropical plants in front of his house do whenever I visited India. ItOs the sport of the country, adds brilliant color to the black and white exterior. Of all and to partake in the rush of taking a wicket striking the massive rooms, my favorite has a long ramp leading someone out , hitting a sixer like a home run , or avoid to the second floor, acting as an indoor balcony. getting hit by a bowl pitch made me feel like a breed of Like most middle-class homes in India, it has a small front the nation my parents and cousins called home. gate that has to be manually opened. Servants maintain the place. see ‘India’ page 20 I wanted to see the Lother IndiaM in the summer of

D

ark red dust hit my face as I stuck my head out the withered bus window and sniffed the distinct aroma of dew, diesel and nature in northern

“

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Summer 2010

17

Conversing and enjoying mango in a bungalow near the Chinmaya Mission Ashram, four young volunteers relax after a day’s work.

Nearly empty, the bungalow has bare rooms, bare walls and no appliances.

‘India’ from page 20 It all felt familiar to me.

I longed for the moment when we would get on the bus to smell the three states of India weOd be crossing before reaching Dharamsala. I wanted to feel the presence of the Himalayan sages who formed the spiritual doctrines thousands of years ago by which I live my life today.

After I met up with Pooja and the others in Delhi, we spent two days roaming the city sights, and then traveled by night bus to Dharamsala, a major city in Himachal Pradesh.

We took a winding cab ride around grassy, farmed hills and mountains to Sidhbari to begin our volunteer work.

I slowly woke from my peaceful nap on the bus as Toral, a small med-student from Texas with a bright, constant smile and a joyous personality, accidentally nudged me.

We were almost at Dharamsala, and I rubbed my eyes to see the changed landscape since passing the state of Punjab. My hands were covered in a layer of dirt rubbed off my face, the effect of an open window during a night-long ride.

After we reached Dharamsala and took the hour-long cab ride to Sidhbari, I witnessed the small entrance to the reclusive, reverent area that was the Chinmaya Mission Ashram. The ground was either brown with a dirt path, or green with long grass and weed-strewn plants.

Outside the gate, a small shack with tin roofing sold fried foods in the calm village center that barely contained five small shops.

We were assigned to a small, half-finished, four-room bungalow next to the Chinmaya Mission Ashram in the company of wasps, army ants, parasite-infested snails, spiders the size of a computer mouse, and geckos that routinely roamed the walls to feast on the smaller critters.

The bungalow was sparse K bare rooms, bare walls, and a bare kitchen, and no appliances. But we had three bath-

18

rooms, only one of them with a sitdown toilet. The other two were squatting LlatrinesM that posed quite a problem for the women.

LI donOt have a problem,M I said, drawing their ire.

LYou can aim!M said Supriya, a med-student in Chicago.

SupriyaOs bubbly yet sarcastic humor kept us entertained through the clash of cultures.

As the only male, I got a room to myself while the women split two rooms among the six of them. We slept on foldable metal cots in our barren, white-painted rooms with just a couple of bed sheets and a small pillow.

Outside the house, we discovered stairs to the flat top of the bungalow that joined a small path to the big road connecting CORD, the Ashram and the house.

Despite the nightmarish rain I heard about on the way, the weather was hot, dry and full of life. The hum of unknown insects muffled a distant cowOs mooing.

Outside the bungalow, a long field reminded me of Springbrook Prairie near the Department of Motor Vehicles in Naperville, but with a serene quality that the Illinois park could not emulate.

It was a feeling of wildness that only nature was in control over here, untainted by the human hands in my LgoodM U.S. life.

I got my first taste of living in the bungalow on the second day in Sidhbari when I washing my own clothes…without a machine.

My aunt in Delhi had

During a “Mahila Mandal,” or a ladies meeting, Poonam gets feedback on how to make meetings more effective for villagers.

Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

Workers from Chinmaya Organization for Rural Development (CORD) discuss ways to educate select villagers on certain topics so they can disperse knowledge and techniques to the rest of the village.

showed me how to wash clothes using water, a bucket, powdered detergent and a scrubber, but I still felt completely useless. I was nervous about hanging my clothes next to those of the women for fear of them finding out I was washing-disabled.

After morning prayers at the Ashram, I took out half my clothes from the lone hiking backpack, filled an empty bucket with hot water from the geysers in another bathroom, soaked my clothes, and took out a blue shirt and dropped some detergent on it.

I didnOt particularly like the shirt, so it was okay if I completely screwed up.

I scrubbed the shirt hard with a rock I found and cleaned outside. If I had only known that the women had scrubbers already.

Occasionally, I squeezed the shirt and smacked it on the concrete floor. My knees hurt from bending over the task. My face flinched from the soapy water, splashing all over me in the 10 square-foot bathroom.

Very similar to weeding the lawn, it was physically taxing as my knees ached from bending down, although it brought certain calm to my mind. After the blue shirt was done, I proceeded to my boxers, jeans and undershirts.

The next day after hanging them out to sun-dry, they reeked with a stench worse than when they were dirty.

At this point, I found it appropriate to call my friend, Ruchi, who was living in India from the nearest village

Summer 2010

center as soon as possible to solve the mystery.

It took her two minutes to stop laughing after I told her about the rock. LFungus, silly!M she laughed.

Eating Indian-style took some adjustment. A day later in the dining hall, I saw Kapila Mausi take some hot, creamy lentil soup, or dal, and pour it onto my plate. I was used to eating roti bread and kadu sabzi cooked pumpkin with my hands, but never dal, the delicious chunky soup.

As Toral sat next to me, I observed how she cupped her hands and folded her thumb firmly into her palm. She scooped the dal mechanically as a hungry construction crane would dig into industrial dirt.

Quickly, to preserve every drop of dal on her hand, she raised her fingers to gently lie on her lower lip, slightly angled her hand upwards and let the watery-part flow on her tongue. She sucked slowly to help the liquid reach her throat. Her thumb gently swept the chunky lentil out of her scooped palm and fingers into her mouth.

After the beautiful demonstration, Toral tore a piece of roti and went about the rest of her meal.

I looked at my bowl and wished I could just ask for one of the three spoons the kitchen actually had. But I didnOt want to go back. I was here and wanted to live like villagers to savor the experience of my forefathers.

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see â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Indiaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; page 22

Waste from the brick enclosed latrine funnels into one of two drums. Waste is diverted from drum to drum every five years to allow for the waste in the filled drum to decompose.

â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Indiaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; from page 21

Imagining a psychological beatdown if I showed everyone in the dining hall that I couldnOt eat simple dal, I cupped my right hand to make sure the crevices between my fingers were airtight and dove in.

The dal was relatively hot, but I was immune to the temperature from countless hours spent washing dishes back at home. My hand jumped out and as I brought my fingers to my mouth, I closed my eyes and nearly stuck my whole hand inside.

Despite that, what seemed like tablespoons of dal splattered my nose and chin. Some of the warm liquid hit the

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inside of my cheeks, allowing me to slush it around with my tongue while brushing the remaining chunky lentils into my mouth.

Everyone was too busy eating to note my disastrous initiation into a new-old culture for me. LIOll try again,M I told myself humbly.

Each volunteer was assigned to a different department.

With the most experience in the Hindi language, I was assigned to the Panchayat Raj local governor sector of CORD where villagers are LsensitizedM about how not to get fooled by their elected leaders.

As a LfieldM job worker, I went with CORD worker Ajit Bhaiyya, to the villages in the Kangra District of

Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

wires as it rotated unevenly like a half-spun top.

Himachal Pradesh to inform villagers of the new She offered the customary tea. Sometimes, we visited National Rural Employment Guarantee Act. five to six houses in a day so I would drink seven to eight NREGA guarantees employment from the government cups of the world-famous Kangra Tea. on public works projects for 100 days to eligible villagers We ate our packed lunches in the home while Ajit and I in India. asked about how the village is doing and if there were On the first couple of trips, I dressed in khaki dress any problems. pants and a collared shirt. But the hot and humid climate The Pradhan said that the village was doing much betquickly transitioned me to shorts and a t-shirt. ter after a torrential rain, but that it polluted a source for In the beautiful village of Jheol, we stopped at the vilclean drinking water that was becoming scarce. lage center where a public building sheltered Ajit Bhaiyya Villagers relied upon her to fix any problems in the comand me from the blistering sun. Ajit chatted with some munity. other workers from CORD on the patio about recruiting She brushed off other questions quickly and seemed village volunteers. more interested in me. LYou probably have a bigger The plush green earth protected by the canvas of huge house?M she asked in Pahadi, a local mix of Hindi, Punjabi lemon trees distracted me. Off in the distance, two viland Sanskrit. lage children not above the I knew Hindi and a age of 10 threw rocks at little Sanskrit so I the tree branches to jar the could understand lemons loose.

No matter how small his task most of what the vilTwo horses grazed the lagers said. Most villawn while to the side of lagers could underthe house on a hill, a vilseemed, the goat-herder’s stand Hindi, so I was lager led his goats along a able to communicate narrow path. No matter movements showed a stern love as to them with little difhow small his task seemed, ficulty. the goat-herderOs moveI told her about my ments showed a stern love he set a hand on the cracked wooden house: about the four as he set a hand on the bedrooms, three bathcracked wooden stake rooms, tiled and carwhere he tied the goats. stake where he tied the goats. peted floors and a After the meeting, Ajit garage with three cars. and I set off to find the Her eyes opened wide house of the Pradhan and I saw a look of wonder and amazement sparkle over political-leader of the village. We traveled the goat her face. I was HER role model. I had what she never path with a small shop housing vegetables and a small even dreamed of. garden to the side. A man sat inside drinking a bottle of Despite being the Pradhan, what I thought was comThums Up, the sweet cola equivalent in India. monplace was more than she probably could attain in her Down a winding rock path, we sifted through alleys lifetime. All I could do was think, LThanks, Dad, for giving between small houses and a small stream where two me…stuff.M women were washing clothes.

Her niece sat on the bed next to a wooden stand holdLWhere is the house, Ajit?M I asked him in Hindi. He ing our empty cups of tea. I met eyes with her and she told me to speak to him in English so he could practice responded with an intense smile. Her cute, small nose conversation. flared, moving her gold-colored nose ring that reflected LI donOt know,M he answered. LItOs okay, IOll just ask the intense sunlight seeping through a small, barred winsomeone here,M he said, spotting an elderly woman in dow. LMy god!M I thought, LHimachalis are beautiful!M dark green carrying a copper jug full of water on her We were fortunate to meet other people of our age in shoulder. She pointed us to a bigger house with a large their 20s who volunteered at CORD through separate yard full of yellow daisies. means. Saurabh was a funny and active guy from New A beautiful girl in her upper teens with deep hazel eyes, Jersey who heard about Ashram through Chinmaya a slim figure and a bright yellow and orange sari came Mission in the United States. out and smiled brightly as she saw us. She quickly darted Only a couple years older than I was, he often wore inside to get her aunt who with a similar clean smile, basketball shorts and t-shirts and brought his laptop full pushed us inside the mud-brick house. of Seinfeld episodes and movies. Because he was the only The house was wallpapered with pictures of Vedic gods.

A huge bed spanned at least 80 percent of the room. A see ‘India’ page 24 small fan was hinged to the ceiling loosely with exposed

“

”

Summer 2010

21

Gathering for a collective group meeting in the CORD headquarters once a month, heads of sanitation, government, female foeticide, HIV/AIDS and other sectors give progress reports about work they’re doing in villages.

‘India’ from page

guy from the states besides me, I found him as a relief from the women.

He had a cool swagger about him that made him seem as if he were perfectly in sync with India and volunteering.

After a particularly long day for both of us, we took some chairs up to the flat room of the bungalow on a starry night. We talked about religion, CORD and sports, especially the NBA Finals that were going on at the time.

We had no way to hear the results so we talked about the winning potential of games between the Lakers and Celtics. Even in the lower Himalayas, it was still refreshing to think about something back home, especially sports.

The first day we met Saurabh, he raved about the delicious LmomosM that were served in one of the eateries at Yol. Momos are Tibetan dumplings filled with a spicy mix of cabbage, tofu, carrots, garlic, ginger, mushrooms and vegetables steamcooked or sometimes fried.

22

He took all of us to the eatery in Yol where we all sat around the small table in the 200 square-foot brick shack lined with brown tiled walls, fans and an A/C unit, and a small window with blinds.

Yol was a cantonment military station established by the British and larger town than Sidhbari. To get there, we walked around two kilometers on a rugged path barely laid out with stones through the water marshes of rice fields and a small patch of forest.

Yol featured a number of medicine, shoe and toiletry shops, small Indo-Chinese eateries, two Internet cafe´s, and a Buddhist monastery in the center housing a modern Walgreens-type shop and a small restaurant.

The cook came out in white loose cloth pants and an undershirt blotched with mustard yellow stains of cooking oil. He had a barely noticeable mustache that twitched as he smiled at the customers Saurabh brought for him.

The momos cost ten rupees each which roughly came out to 25 cents. First we ordered 10 steamed and 10 fried momos. It took the cook approximately 15 minutes to

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After a month spent helping villagers understand the impact of new government policies, Vikaas readies his departure from CORD. prepare the steamed ones.

As he brought them out, we were all skeptical of the quality. Saurabh took a momo, dipped it in a spicy green chutney and devoured the appetizer-meal within 10 seconds.

Savory smells of ginger, soy and mushrooms filled the air as Saurabh bit into the momo. It peaked my senses so I chomped on it. The burning hot filling scorched my tongue briefly before it released the irresistible combination of flavors.

IOve had flavorful spicy samosas and tasty Indian sweets, but this simple dumpling drew my love at first bite.

By the end of the day, the eight of us had disposed of 40 steamed and 20 fried momos.

The little snacks became addictive. After volunteering

Summer 2010

in the field, I stopped at Yol instead of getting off the closest bus stop to Sidhbari. I found a cheaper vendor of momos selling them at five rupees a piece. He also was open almost all day whereas the cook at the eatery was on vacation for most of our stay.

The only drawback was that he was a street vendor who used ingredients that were sketchy health-wise. At that point, I took the chance with little to no regret. I needed my momos.

I usually bought an order of ten and ate them as I made the same trek stone to stone in the rice fields with fresh dew hanging in the damp air from Yol to the bungalow.

The month went by quickly under the influence of steaming oriental flavors assembled in a momo.

I left India, knowing that I had experienced her to the fullest. It couldnOt get much better.

23

Grandpa Glenn Beach and beyond, guardian serves as of ages

rock

24

By Kristy Pearson Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

G

randpa Glenn was the rock of my family and the best vacation organizer that I knew. His sense of adventure was legendary in my family circle, but what I most admired was his free spirit.

The summer before I entered eighth grade, Grandpa Glenn rented a house on Lake Michigan for a large family vacation. My friend Kirsten and I left with my grandfather and Grandma Betsey on a Monday morning.

The rest of my family, including my aunt and cousins, were going to meet us there the next day.

The ride took four hours but it felt like ten because we were so anxious to get to our destination.

It would be the last vacation that Grandpa Glenn would organize.

When we pulled into the driveway, the massive front yard overwhelmed us. Tall trees took over and provided shade to almost every inch of green grass.

The hammock between two trees looked very welcoming.

As we walked into the house, the huge bay window kitchen gave us a beautiful view of the ocean. I felt calm lapping at my feet as we saw where the sky met the ocean.

After exploring the rooms, Kirsten and I chose the one with bunk beds on the first floor. We threw our suitcases onto the floor and rummaged for our bathing suits.

We ran down to the lake but found the ocean freezing cold, although that didn1t stop us from running into the water after we warmed up in the sand.

We figured that it would be less cold if we went under right away. The cold eventually wore off and I was as happy as ever, nothing could have ruined that day.

While we swam, my grandma and grandpa strolled along the beach, hand in hand, looking for any interesting colored shells.

As the sun went down Kirsten and I made our way back to the house for the spaghetti dinner that my grandma was preparing.

That night my grandpa made a fire on the beach where we roasted marshmallows and talked about what the plans were for the next day.

We all woke up the following morning and walked along the beach to a secluded pool of water that was swimming with tadpoles.

Grandpa suggested that we go back to the house for a bucket to catch the tadpoles as our pets for the next few days.

I think we tried to feed them fish food the first few days, but we decided that it would be a good idea to put them back so they didn1t die.

Spring 2010

The second day we were there, I got mad at my grandpa for something I can1t remember anymore, but I know it was something silly.

After sulking in my room with Kirsten following right behind me, I decided to go for a run to release some frustration and anger.

In a flash, I was off running down the secluded road, without telling Grandpa or Grandma that I was going.

I ran out of the thick forestry on part of the road into farmland where corn grew on my left and a barn with grazing cows was on my right.

I thought it would be a good idea to run until I got that far, and then turn around so my Grandpa and Gram would not be worried. Unfortunately, they already were.

I think I made it about a mile before my grandparents and Kirsten pulled up in the car alongside me.

Grandpa was furious. He told me to get into the car, but I was still furious and very stubborn as well.

I kept walking, so he had to tell me three or more times to get into the car before I finally obeyed. He said that he was very upset that I had left without saying anything to him and angry that I didn1t bring Kirsten with me.

I started to feel guilty that I had made him worry. I really had thought it was not that big of a deal, but I was mistaken.

It was the only time I had ever seen him so upset. I knew at that moment I would never again do anything so stupid.

Not a day goes by that I don1t think about him, and talk to him all the time. Right after his death, I thought he still could hear me.

I think I just do it for comfort and the off chance that maybe he can actually hear me.

About six months after he died I was sleeping over at my Aunt Clare1s house in her spare bedroom. To keep my feet cool, I had extended them outside the covers.

I was talking to my Grandpa about how much I missed him when all of a sudden I felt someone tickling my feet. It was not just a tingly pins and needles feeling.

It was as if someone were standing at the end of my bed running fingers up and down my feet. I was not afraid because there was a sense of calm in the room.

I knew right away that it was Grandpa answering me. I yelled out to my aunt that someone was just tickling my feet and we both paused in wonder for a moment.

She said she believed me about ten minutes afterward when she felt someone tickling her feet.

25

I attempted to down Shanghai in one day. And the day after that, and the

An American Foreign Attraction

Shanghai

in

How to lose you cultural baggage in two months overseas

A

Above: Hattie and her grandma pose between two Shanghai acquaintances.

Left to right: A child grabs the rails of a train car in the “di tie,” China’s subway system.

A man flies his kite at a “gong yuan” or a public park.

Basketball is extremely popular in China.

Here one man stuffs another’s shot while playing basketball on a public court in Shanghai.

s an American visiting Shanghai, China, last year, I expected only two things: bad airplane food and short people.

I was unbelievably correct on both accounts twenty-five hours later, and was lacking sleep and nutrition.

Without knowing the language, and having a fear of dying in a freakishly foreign manner, I had boarded an international flight to visit my grandmother who had worked as a nurse in a Chinese clinic for the past eleven years.

ChinaKs summer was muggy, very muggy, in a David Copperfield penniless poverty and British dankness with pollution, smog and dirt gone tropic sort of way. I was told later that under Mao s reign, the birds were killed and the impractical shrubbery removed.

The amount of cheerful greenery was unexpected, although China is now on the bandwagon for going green.

While I was there, Shanghai was preparing for the 2010 World Exposition that just opened in May. All over there were roads being torn up, construction being completed, renovations being added. It was awfully noisy.

But China is intent on making a good impression on the world.

Polluted air blocked the missing sunlight with dust and exhaust, although I still managed to alternately burn and tan amid Chinese attempts to shield my pale skin with umbrellas.

Pale is still very much Hin,I in China, along with being tall and American. I

by Hattie Buell

wasn t as cool as much as I was a novelty with reddish-blonde hair, Grandma said.

One man almost crashed twice while passing us as he rode his bike. Grandma said the Chinese used to say hello to her when she first arrived, but not anymore. I replied to their HhelloI with Hni haoI Chinese for HhelloI , which made them stare all the more.

The only place I could get away from curious eyes was in my GrandmaKs apartment. The building had six apartments to a floor, and we lived on the sixth floor. There were two elevators, but we mostly took the stairs on account of the elevators sometimes smelling like dog urine, and Grandma always wanting more exercise, anyways.

When my Grandma was looking for an apartment, she didn t have much choice: it was the only one available. It was a small, two-bedroom place with golden wood flooring and painted white walls.

The leather couch used to be white, but was joining the floor, color-wise.

The kitchen was as large as our small living room area with short, awkward shelving, which gave us back cramps every time we washed up.

We had a short fridge and freezer, a common Chinese convenience these days, and two gas burners. The kitchen was square, leaving a lot of room in the

see ‘Shanghai’ page 28

day after that, and that... and I still donKt believe IKve got enough of China.

Typical fashion for young women is often “the more the better.” This means adorable heels, fantastic color palettes, and lots of accenting with accessories.

‘Shanghai’ from page 27 middle for people to watch while you cooked, I guess.

We had a washing machine on the little porch outside of the kitchen, and there are no dryers in China.

So we hung out all our laundry, despite my initial embarrassment about the idea. We had to remember to bring the clothes in before night, otherwise the city would fill them with its industrial stench in the darkness.

Our bedrooms were off of the living room. Each was filled with an enormous bed for reasons that remain a mystery to all.

I cannot say enough about the stress of trying to take in everything on the first day. My grandmother wisely told me to relax, but young, foolish people never listen.

I attempted to down Shanghai in one day. And the day after that, and the day after that, and that… and I still donKt believe IKve got enough of China.

Every morning, I slept in until whenever, sometimes waking up to the sunshine, and other times to the noisy jackhammering just outside.

If both my Grandma and I awoke early enough, we walked outside of the complex there are no subdivisions or individual housing, only walled compounds complete with guards and a gate .

Street vendors sold my favorite Hjian bing,I a savory crepe sort of breakfast filled with what looked like thin, deep-fried crisps, pickled vegetables, egg, and a semisweet sauce similar to molasses.

Although I thought at first that it was odd walking in our silk pajamas to the vendors, it was a very Chinese custom in the early morning and evening. I became used

28

Typical fashion for young men is often a clean-cut, button-up shirt with faux designer jeans.

This young man is waiting for a bus and is planning to surprise his girlfriend with flowers.

to the idea of rolling out of bed and onto the street.

By ten oKclock, Chinese people changed into street clothes. Being a foreigner, I could wear whatever I wish because it was widely accepted that foreigners never know what they re doing.

The Chinese, especially the young ones, take great care to look good. I felt bested by their perfect skin, jet-black hair, and fun outfits. The Chinese fashion philosophy is, Hthe more, the better.I For girls, this means adorable heels, rich layering of patterns and fabrics, fantastic color palettes, and lots of accenting with accessories.

For guys, itKs a clean-cut, button-up shirt all unbuttoned except for the middle one! with faux-designer jeans, and a large, patent leather purse.

After breakfast, whether from the vendor or made by

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me or my Grandma, we would just sit with a cup of hot water and decide what to do that day. The water is unsafe to drink in China, so it all must be boiled or delivered by the water man.

My first experience with the water man was fairly stressful. Grandma and I were sleepily chatting on my bed one morning. And then! Someone knocked on the door. Grandma said it was probably her friend Maggie, and she rolled out of bed to get the door.

Then she stopped. HItKs the water man!I she said. We both panicked. Neither of us was dressed to get the door, much less for a strange Chinese man.

The man kept knocking and knocking. Grandma jumped back into bed. HYou get the door!I she told me. I ran into my room and grabbed a sweater and tried to put it on while running to the door and making my hair presentable. When I got to the door, I found it locked.

I didn t know how to do the most basic things in China, primarily because Grandma did it all, and one thing I never learned was how to unlock the doors.

I knew that it involved lots and lots of turning, and in GrandmaKs case, muttering and then re-turning in the other direction. So I kept twisting and twisting doggedly.

I tried the door every couple of turns, but to no avail. He kept knocking and knocking, I kept hollering at Grandma, HHow do I open the door?!I, and she kept saying, HSay JLile, lile!K and turn it to the left!I So I stood there, shouting Hlile lileI wait, wait for all I was worth and I turned that lock to the left. Turns out, Grandma actually meant my other left, so that rather put a damper on things. But I finally got the door unlocked, and opened it to see a small, old Chinese man, browned by the sun. We smiled at each other, both very relieved that I had finally opened the door.

There s no cold water in China. In fact, you re hardpressed to find a cold beverage at all because the Chinese say itKs very bad for your health. Lynn, whom I adopted as my Chinese aunt, told me that the Chinese believe cold will make the food in my belly congeal, resisting digestion and making my body weaker, and my skin worse.

They were always so worried for my skin. I suppose I should have felt flattered. Instead I felt like an uncouth, ugly foreigner.

After we had relaxed and chatted for a bit, depending on the day, we either prepared the house for guests that evening, went shopping at Carrefour, visited Grandma s friends, or went to meetings at the international church that my Grandma attended.

No Chinese people were allowed to go to the international meetings, although internationals are allowed at Chinese services. The Chinese government has designed its own Christian service that is non-threatening to the government.

Inspectors will drop in unannounced to check up on the

Summer 2010

Hattieâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s teacher Chu Laoshi provides an unforgettable music experience as Hattie learns to play violin through a tremendous language barrier during her twomonth stay in Shanghai.

Chinese church. I visited the Chinese church twice, not understanding a single word either time.

Some days I had tutoring from a lovely Chinese girl called Tiffany. She worked in the apartment complex as a secretary, and was very excited to meet me. I became good friends with her, joining her on some shopping excursions.

My favorite memory was when she and her friend took us to the Walking Street, a place without traffic rules, and thousands of people. Car and human pushed equally for dominance along the shop-lined streets. We won, probably because there were more of us walking, and we create a bigger fuss when hit.

I picked up helpful phrases from the Chinese I met, who were all very thrilled to have me try speaking those foreign words. Most of the younger people knew rough English because it is required in Chinese schools, although fluency is rare.

Once a week I would go to PuXi which for the Shanghainese just means the-other-side-of-the-river for violin lessons. One thing had stood in the way of my going to China that I would miss two months of practicing my violin I couldn t take my violin along, but borrowed one while I was there . Thankfully, my Grandma s friend has a son my age who also plays the violin. During my two-month stay, I took his time slot for violin lessons for which he was grateful I found out later.

My teacher, Chu Laoshi, was tall for a Chinese man meaning taller than I was , who didn t know one word of English except for HOK!I It was always a relief when one of us said HOK,I which meant we were finally on the

29

see â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Shanghaiâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; page 31

On Walking Street in Shanghai no traffic rules apply. Cars and pedestrians vie for dominance along the shop-lined streets in search for food, beverage and fashion addendums.

‘Shanghai’ from page 29

same page.

When he wasn t saying OK, he was jabbering in Chinese to Lily, the woman whose son also took lessons from Chu Laoshi, or he was pinching my arm very hard to illustrate the need to play more vigorously.

Although I had assumed the Chinese as cold and reserved, I was surprised at their warmth and personality. They were happy to be able to help me. After all, I was from America, land of dreams.

My grandmotherKs influence in their lives helped my transition into their hearts. Because they loved and respected her, they loved me just as much. I wouldnKt have received as many gifts and as much special attention from my Chinese acquaintances without their warm feelings toward her.

Not only did her white hair earn respect, but the fact that she was a foreigner also made her more intriguing.

Old habits, old traditions, old beliefs, old ways all remained. Walking through Shanghai streets, I saw tiny old women bent with age and hobbling on even tinier feet.

These women are from the old days, where a small foot was a sign of status, and foot-binding was how you got there. Although foot-binding has been illegal for three generations, long-living reminders are evident.

While small, wrinkled women are fading, bright, attractive young women of modern Shanghai are proliferating in Westernized customs from America. They are more public than previous generations in their displays of affection as couples. They sit on each other s laps in the subway, they kiss, they do everything the generations before them would keep private. While old traditions still are respected, they are declining.

I found my Americanism exhausting because I wasnKt used to walking everywhere. Try walking around your block for most of the day. It gets boring after a while, and your soles will turn against you. ThatKs how I felt.

Betrayed.

It took an hour to get almost anywhere, with complicated transfers mostly because no one spoke fluent English. The Chinese would point in a direction for us to follow, without a guarantee the second person would point the same way.

The Chinese never admitted to being wrong, or that they were at fault. Ever. If the builders put the Pearl Tower in the wrong place based on where they pointed, it wasnKt their fault.

Throughout the trip, my grandmother and I kept subconsciously building up to the day where I would venture out on my own. Grandma suggested that I go to

see ‘Shanghai’ page 32 Summer 2010

31

A child clutches an interior rail during a ride on China’s suway or “di tie” during an atypically spacious commute.

‘Shanghai’ from page 31 violin lessons by myself, but the closest I got to that was going with Lily, and not Grandma.

Finally, the day came after much planning. A meeting place was decided through texting, and Grandma continued to remind me of the route. I would walk to the 69 bus stop, take it to the Hdi tie,I or subway, go on line 9, transfer to the green line, and then wait at a stop to meet up with my friend TianKen. I gave myself two hours to get there, but it only took an hour because I left before rush hour. So I sat and waited, watching the fascinating people around me.

During rush hour, people are everywhere, pressing against you and looking at you. I ended up flushing and blushing from heat and embarrassment. Special people are hired by the subway authority just to push people into the cars so the doors will close.

The subway was incredibly stressful for me almost to the point of panic. We were packed tightly so no one needed to hold onto anything. With the entire train full, there was no room for anyone to fall.

In Chinese society, each person must

32

make room for himself or herself. Younger people do not need to give up seats to older riders out of courtesy, although I did.

Two working classes ride the subway. Men who worked in offices wore short-sleeved dress shirts, often carried briefcases, had a pale complexion, and tended to be tall. Men who worked outside in manual labor jobs all wore blue linen uniforms, sometimes rolled up at the sleeves and pant-legs. They were very dark brown from the sun and muscular.

Often they didnKt bother with shirts, and I found them to be more attractive than the boyish engineers. The rest of the people were giggling schoolgirls going home, cute couples, and older people with parcels.

After waiting an hour, my friend called to tell me sheKd be late because of the people jam. So I took a nap.

TianKen was going to take me sight-seeing, in hopes of buying some Converse shoes cheaply. I could only shop with someone else. With my linguistic skills, the conversations with a vendor would go something like this: HHi, how are you? This one is different. How much? Hi! How much? This is different. What? Hi! How are you? Ten!I I didn t know many helpful words for bartering.

When I finally saw TianKen, I wanted to jump up and

Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

hug her. But the Chinese don t hug too much so I just smiled.

She took me to a popular eating place where you line up to order a number of soup- and meat-filled dumplings, and then stoop over and peek through a hole in the wall to get your food from the cooks.

Once you get your food in a bowl, you get chopsticks and continue to the back of the small, rectangular restaurant to sit wherever thereKs room. I sat at a table with an older, rushed man and a woman with a large bag.

TianKen sat at the table next to me with some young people, but we leaned close to talk. After some of the people had left, we scooted together to finish our dumplings.

I had some smaller street dumplings before with Grandma that we ate while standing up on the bus. After we had finished eating, we walked to another street-side shop for more dumplings.

I love dumplings! Imagine really good potstickers, but with delicious meat soup filling, surrounded by a thick, rice dumpling. I ate like a queen in China.

Afterward, we went shoe shopping where I was tempted by all the bright colors and clever styles. But I stuck with the knock-off, powder-blue Chinese Converse from a shop that sold hightops that TianKen bargained down to the equivalent of ten dollars Tian en recommended wearing them as soon as possible, for Haren t Converse supposed to be dirty and used looking?I She had definite opinions on all subjects.

We went to a posh restaurant on top of an old building, and sat there for so long that TianKen

An array of exotic Chinese foods line the table. Hattie’s personal favorite dish is fresh dumplings.

To her they’re like “really good potstickers, but with delicious meat soup filling, surrounded by a thick rice.”

Summer 2010

didn t have time to take me home. The buses stop running at 11 . So she took me to my bus stop and saw me on.

HDon t get off until the end of the line,I she repeated several times. Apparently, it is Chinese custom to walk your guest to their transportation, or their house, after entertaining them. Grandma and I would have walked our guests to the bus stop, but they always felt so bad about it that we would just stop at the elevators.

I met Grandma just inside the complex. She was worried about me and came to make sure I was okay. We said, HNi hao,I to the guards and tiredly walked back home.

I always said HNi haoI to the guards, especially the young, cute one. Grandma spoke to some of them, and they were always jolly to be around in their hats and white gloves. One always was at attention, while one or two relaxed in the gatehouse.

Sometimes they went on rounds about the complex, but the only time I saw them in a building was an unfortunate time for me. I was moving frozen food from someoneKs apartment on the second floor to ours on the sixth floor.

I didn t want to make lots of trips so I pushed the elevator button with my elbow, and teetered in. Elevators usually are empty during the day, but on this day there were two men and a guard in the elevator.

Standing in the corner with my frozen food, I realized that they were asking me something.

HShenme?I I asked for HwhatI in Chinese. They gestured up with quizzical faces. I nodded furiously and kept saying HTwo! Er! Two! Er!I alternating between Chinese

see ‘Shanghai’ page 34

33

Above is a bowl of tofu soup..

is to be constantly guessing what the people around you are trying to say. and English.

It leads to a phenomenon I shall call, HForeign Idiot After a short time filled with awkward, cross-cultural Syndrome,I a problem that I think leads civilizations to miscommunication, I realized that they were asking me if assume that all other people groups are subhuman, and it was okay that they were going up, and if so, which ripe for conquering. floor would I like? I shut my mouth, leaned over and When I spoke Chinese, I sounded like a two-year-old smacked the H6I button, refusing to make eye contact. It and people naturally assumed I had a brain to match. was a quiet ride up to my floor.

We are heavily restricted in interacting, which can be China was a continuous adventure of bumbling awkvery frustrating. I had grown accustomed to assuming wardness for my grandma and me. We added a level of that I really didn t know what other people were truly hilarity to everything we did. Even walking would give us saying, and that they really didn t understand what I was the giggles, for neither of us are straight walkers; we trying to communicate either. sway from side to side, knocking each other out of our Even to the point that when I got back home, I found trajectory paths, and bumping into hapless Chinese. myself continuing to speak in very basic, short words, Add to this my grandma s semi-deafness, and you get a slowly and clearly with many hand gestures. I have only lot of very interesting situations. One day, taking the bus recently regained my extensive, working English vocabu HgonggongchicheI in Chinese to the subway HditieI , I lary. was chatting to my Grandma about getting ready that At times, I felt Shanghai allowed parts of my brain to day. die because I wasn t communicating complicated ideas or She suddenly looked using words with specific at me, shocked, and and detailed definitions. I began to laugh. I sighed, am now combatting knowing she had misHForeign Idiot SyndromeI heard me, and asked with my Chinese classes.

It leads to a phenomenon I shall her what she thought I The two months had said. Turns out, she that I toured Shanghai call, “Foreign Idiot Syndrome,” a thought I had climbed was just enough time to onto the counters to flip-flop on my desire to problem that I think leads civilizaput on my clothes. stay there or come home.

Because it was utterly In the end, I was very sad ridiculous, we laughed to leave. I had fallen in tions to assume that all other quite a lot. Bemused love with my life in China, stares from the Asian and I miss it still. people groups are subhuman... passengers made it hard Every day I wish that to stop laughing. I think I could go back. As my we even got our corner time drew to a close, I of the bus to start laughing awkwardly along with us. became melodramatic and wistful as I wandered around Sometimes we had very unfortunate luck on the subthe apartment, thinking everything I saw or did would be way. Doors on either side of the subway alternately open for the last time. at each stop, so you have to listen for the automated After the initial wave of insecurity and fear in traveling voice to say HzuoI left or HyouI right to queue up for to a foreign country, there comes a period of rejoicing the proper door. when your mind finally unfreezes to help you out with Unless you re facing the back of the subway. Then, living in a strange place. My mind kept supplying me magically, your right becomes the left, and your left, the with Spanish and laughter, which wasn t very helpful. right. We never could get this right, and so we would I learned to understand the basics of the culture, the end up standing patiently in front of a door only to turn most important rules, etc. and I had the marvelous freearound to see everyone staring at us and the doors dom of doing whatever I wanted with the excuse of behind us about to close again. being a foreigner.

We then rushed frantically across the aisle to leap out I had a hay-day when I realized that I could pretty the door and hide behind pillars, laughing out of intense much do anything I wanted with my excuse of being a embarrassment. foreigner. But then, after glutting myself on doing Language made everything more interesting, and bizarre and pointless things such as taking forbidden picexhausting. We don t usually think about how draining it tures, arguing about prices for bad rickshaw rides, bribing

‘Shanghai’ from page 33

“

34

”

Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

Being a foreigner in China definitely attracts a crowd. People would come up to Hattie quite often for a chance to grab a picture. As Hattie put it, â&#x20AC;&#x153;I got used to stardom as a faux blonde.â&#x20AC;?

the guards to get into a restricted access exhibit, laughing hysterically on the subway while the stoic Chinese watched us try to go out the wrong doors, etc. , I suddenly discovered that people were watching me. I mean REALLY watching me.

Everything I did, they noticed. Even if I didn t do anything, they still looked at me. ItKs very unnerving, and extremely embarrassing. I would sometimes just sit on the bus or subway, quietly blushing, wishing that I could crawl out from my skin and hide in a corner.

The Chinese don t blink enough. I wished they would blink more. I also wished that I hadnKt dyed my hair blonde. I wished I wasn t so tall. I wished that I didn t have huge hips. I wished that I could just fit in, and that they would please stop staring.

At one point, I refused to go out for a couple days because I couldnKt take the looks anymore. It was a far cry from when I was reveling in my glory as a foreigner.

But, once again, my mind adjusted. I realized that both the Chinese and I were like a zoo animals on display, each staring at the other.

As the time neared for us to leave, people stopped by more frequently, bringing me more gifts, exchanging emails, and taking lots of pictures. They wanted to know if I was coming back next year, and I would always say, HOh, I want to! I want to SOOOO bad!I That made them feel better, although I still felt sad. I had no idea whether I d make it back to China.

Packing was no fun because I bought lots of cool things and people gave me many presents. I had shoes, dresses, skirts, shirts, jewelry, books killer for luggage weight food, and lots of random, cutesy Chinese things.

We went to the airport using the shuttle bus, where we loaded our own heavy bags. The driver watched us struggle, face totally emotionless.

Summer 2010

I appreciate AmericaKs impulse to help others whether itKs giving up a bus seat or helping someone with a broken car, or holding open a door.

That doesnKt readily happen for strangers in China. If you are a known friend, everything is different. My friend Ming from Shanghai says itKs because her people are only nice to others if they think that they can get something out of them.

My memory of the last few days of my stay is very blurry. I remember that we had a solar eclipse, where the land went pitch-dark for about three minutes. That was incredible. We stood out on the porch, watching and listening as the sky grew incrementally darker, and the birds and dogs began to stop their noises.

I was thankful to be there, though there was a cloud cover.

On the flight home with Grandma, I was depressed at leaving China so it was a horrible ride. I didnKt like the food and I couldn t sleep.

When we finally reached Chicago, I felt strange about seeing my family for the first time in two months. I played out potential scenarios in my head, gauging the proper amount of love and exhaustion to show.

The adrenaline built as we got through security. I couldn t believe it that I was panicking about meeting my own family. I kept berating myself. And then I saw them.

I saw two people running toward me G one huge, the other small. At first I didn t recognize them, which surprises me now, my 6K6I uncle and my tiny sister.

And then I did know them and started screaming with joy. I hadn t realized how much I missed my sister. I just hugged her and jumped and screamed. And she laughed and jumped. As the adults watched, bemusedly, I became an American, again.

35

PARASAILING T

wo grandparents, four aunts, two uncles, and five cousins went for a morning walk down the beach in Acapulco, Mexico.

It was paradise as we enjoyed a most beautiful shade of ocean blue water contrasted against tiny light tan pebbles of hot sand under the bright Mexican sun.

Acapulco;s beachfront also was home to hotels, little shops, restaurants and, beach vendors.

As we walked along the expanse, a Spanish-speaking local Mexican offered to take us parasailing. His business attire included swimming trunks and a t-shirt with some Spanish writing on it.

Much shorter at 5;2: than my height, he stood shoeless in the scalding sand. It is not an unusual sight for locals to approach tourists with some recreational opportunities. I;d seen it about dozen times on family vacations to Mexico and was quite familiar

THROUGH PARADISE 36

Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

BY BIANCA GARCIA

â&#x20AC;&#x153;

In the blink of an eye... with the sales pitches.

My instant reaction this time at sixteen years old was 8 absolutely yes!

I had seen people parasailing on the beach and always wanted to try it, but my parents said I was too young.

On prior vacations, the adventurous ones always were my cousin, sister and me. We never were scared of heights or the ocean as were many of our family members. We had jet skied, gone on every ride at amusement parks, and even ventured onto a sky coaster that was similar to bungee jumping.

Without the need for my parents; permission this time, I seized the opportunity after talking it over with the rest of the family.

The fee was 400 pesos, the equivalent of 40 U.S dollars. I went first because I was the most excited and the least nervous.

Five men fit and tied me into the parachute harness and readied the boat while I stood on the beach for about 10 to 15 minutes. Two men connected the parachute to the harness while two others revved and backed up a speed boat 30 feet away from the shore.

The one man who approached us walked back and forth between them as my family stayed nearby at a little restaurant. Coronas and tacos made the time go by very quickly for them.

I waited in the hot sand with my sister who kept me company while two men next to us stepped and adjusted me into the harness that went only around my thighs and waist.

Two pieces went from my waist past my face to connect the parachute behind me. I became extremely apprehensive as I waited in the hot sand, as if it had been hours.

As I looked around, many people surrounded me as if they were about to witness something amazing.

I started to second-guess my decision just as the harness was fully adjusted. It fit tightly, but I wasn;t sure whether that was a good or bad thing. As I began to perspire, I didn;t know whether it was nerves about flying hundreds of feet in the air with my feet dangling, or the hot sun beating down.

I could fall instantly into the ocean if my harness happened snap.

Before I knew it, the man who had approached us began telling my grandfather in Spanish the signs I needed to know in order to take off and land safely.

My grandpa repeated everything back to me in English and I nodded my head in response due to the

Summer 2010

As I began to perspire, I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t

â&#x20AC;?

know whether it was nerves about flying hundreds of feet in the air

with my feet dangling, or the hot sun beating down.

fact that I couldn;t speak without sounding ridiculously nervous.

Looking off into the ocean, I saw the closeby boat starting to pick up speed. I gripped tightly around the harness straps that went past my face.

It felt very uncomfortable having a harness rub against the life jacket I was wearing over my bathing suit. Seeing that I had nothing else to hold on to, I didn;t have much of a choice.

Turning around, I saw my parachute looked like a very large yellow sheet lying in the sand behind me.

The rope attaching my parachute to the boat became shorter and shorter, which meant I would be up in the air soon.

Two men stood beside me, holding onto each side of my harness and yelled, 9Run!: In the blink of an eye I went from running about 15 feet on the beach into the ocean, to being lifted up into the air by the parachute. I tried to look down as little as possible so I wasn;t reminded of how high I was.

When I looked straight ahead I saw nothing but a clear sky and the ocean which was so clear you could almost see the bottom. I heard speed boats and jet skis below along with people yelling in Spanish.

Being that high up with so little to hold onto felt like the closest I;d ever get to flying. After a few moments of being completely terrified, I quickly felt an unbelievable rush through my body.

After only six or seven minutes, I glanced down at the boat pulling me and saw the man give me the signal to pull on the right side of my harness which meant it was time for them to get me down.

Pulling on the right side turned the parachute into the direction the wind was blowing so I could face the beach. My family smiled and waved as I slightly glided back toward the beach.

My feet hit the sand and I ran back onto the beach in the reverse of how I took off. I wished for a longer ride, but as my feet hit the hot sand again I knew this would not be my last parasailing adventure.

37

Family Orion was a Rhodesian Ridgeback, a breed of dog meant to hunt lions and avoid crocodiles in the rugged terrain of Southern Africa.

I

was six years old when I first saw Orion wasting his killer instincts on a chewed-up ... â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;Orionâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; continued on next page

by Paige Pignaz

One of Orion’s favorite pastimes was waiting by the window, perched to bark at whatever came by.

‘Orion’ from page 39 coffee table. My family and I got him as a three-month¬old puppy on Christmas Eve 1997.

He was a wimpy puppy with floppy ears, a round belly and skinny little legs. Rhodesian Ridgebacks receive their name due to a strip of fur on their back where the hair grows in the opposite direction, giving it the appearance of a Mohawk haircut.

Despite OrionDs goofy demeanor, his ridge gave him a regal presence.

Even though we called Orion our family dog, he really was just my dadDs dog A the son he never had. For me, he was the annoying little brother that stole all of the attention.

Orion was the biggest pain in the butt that you could ever imagine. Ninety percent of the time he dozed off in front of the sun and licked his butt. The other ten percent he spent barking in front of the window at every single person, bird or car that passed by.

One time, while going crazy over a couple of kids who stood outside our driveway, Orion jumped into the window so hard that it cracked in several places.

At my soccer games, other kids brought their Golden Retrievers and Chocolate Labs, all friendly dogs that loved to give and receive affection.

Meanwhile, my dog stood fifty-feet away, restrained by a thick leash and my dadDs strong grip. Sometimes IDd be in the middle of a game A running, panting and

40

unaware of anything other than soccer.

I still would hear Orion howling at a toddler who just wanted to pet the Bnice doggy.C What drove me the most nuts about Orion was his ability to Bcounter surf.C On the countless occasions that my mom cooked a hot dinner and let it cool on the kitchen counter, Orion would devour anything within reach of his front paws.

Before I or anyone else in my family could taste MomDs dinner, it already would be in OrionDs stomach.

He was the Danny Ocean of stealing food.

Orion could couch nap on the sofa for several hours, but at nearly the exact second that we left the kitchen unattended, he would stand on his hind legs with his front paws on the kitchen counter to down casseroles, pasta, broccoli, and one scary time, several dozen chocolate bonbons.

He even licked the muck off the dirty plates in the sink.

Orion wasnDt sly about stealing food. I was the easy prey in the house compared to my older sister and parents. One minute I could have a donut in my hand, just inches away from my mouth, and in a split second, it would be gone, quickly making its way down OrionDs esophagus and into his already-bulging belly.

Orion was a hundred pounds of pure muscle. I know this from the time that he dragged me across the street after spotting a rabbit during a walk. I was scratched and burned all over my arms and legs.

By age ten, I had had enough of Orion and was search-

Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

ing in the classified section of the Chicago Tribune for a dog that better suited my taste. I also convinced my parents to get me a subscription to Dog Fancy, which I would feverishly flip through in search of a breed of dog that didnDt a bark at my friends, b steal my food, and c pee on my favorite shirt.

I even saved up my $3.50 a week allowance to splurge on a dog leash and a dish. I was so convinced that I would get a new dog. There was only one problem: my parents refused.

BTwo dogs are too much,C my par- O rion fre ents said. quently sunbath BSo what?C I thought, BLetDs just ed, ofte n with take Orion to the pound.C Apparently, manDs the ultim ate goa best friend was not mine.

Orion l of an outdoo After several years of incessant begging, my parents away to the vet, it r nap. finally caved in and we added Phoebe, a pudgy little bullfelt like one of the worst days of my dog with a stubby tail and lots of fat rolls. life. I cried unstoppably, along with everyone else in Phoebe was everything I ever thought I wanted in a my family. dog. When I came home from school, she gave me the Orion seemed a little scared; he hadnDt been out of the rock star treatment. I took her for walks without any fear house for awhile, but he still curled up on his bed in the of being hurled across the street. trunk. Before my sister shut the car door, I fed Orion a She was my dream puppy. Meanwhile, I continued to piece of cantaloupe, his favorite food. place Orion on the backburner, like a discarded toy that I He nudged my hand for another piece, and I was so had never really been all that fond of. mad at myself for not having one. But it was nice to This all changed several months ago when Orion know that despite being old and in poor health, Orion began to show his age. At eleven years, his fur coat, once still had his signature monster appetite. a brilliant wheaten-red color, was reduced to a pallid I guess I could say another great thing about Orion is brown. that he saved me thousands of calories from all those After we installed hardwood floors in our living room donuts he stole from right under my nose. and study, Orion could barely navigate his way around I miss Orion. IDm definitely not used to not seeing him the house. I jokingly referred to him as BBambi on iceC lying around on the couch, and sometimes, even now, I because he slipped and slided across the surface. mistake a pillow for him.

He couldnDt even walk to the front study to bask in I know more than almost anything else in my life that the sun in his usual spot. He was basically confined to a Orion wasnDt my dream dog. To be completely honest, he 10x16 foot rug spread across the floor in our living room. wasnDt even a very good dog. But things just arenDt the OrionDs inability to move got progressively worse. My same now that heDs gone. It feels like a giant chunk of my parents said he was losing all the sensation in his legs. family is missing. And even more overwhelming than the This made it extremely difficult to get him outside to go awareness of OrionDs absence is the guilt that I feel for to the bathroom. Even though he couldnDt help it, IDd still not always treating him kindly. get upset with him for taking ten minutes just to walk If I hadnDt set my standards so high and envisioned outside. having a dog like the one in My Dog Skip or any other Eventually, Orion began to lose his bladder and bowel silly movie, then IDm sure Orion and I wouldDve gotten control. HeDd mess up all over the rug, and even though along perfectly well. I just wish I had given him the we wouldnDt get mad at him, heDd still look painfully chance. ashamed.

Luckily for me, I now know not to make the same misThatDs when my mom said that it was time to consider take twice. My dadDs on the lookout for another putting Orion to sleep. It felt like a huge punch to the Rhodesian Ridgeback. I donDt expect this next puppy to stomach. I had known for a while that it was coming, but wait for me at the bus stop or go swimming, but I am hearing my mom say it made it one hundred million planning on getting along with him and treating him like times worse. The dog that had been a part of my family the way I shouldDve treated Orion. for nearly my entire life was going to die.

HeDs not going to my dog, but I already have dibbs on And so when my parents loaded up the SUV and took his name: Gunther.

Summer 2010

41

THE MILITARY

BETWEEN

SOMEWHERE

INDECISION AND A HAUNTING BOUT OF

By Matt Wells

years before my cousin Joey joined the A couple Navy, he studied hard for the Armed Services

Vocational Aptitude Battery ASVAB and made the whole military idea sound interesting to me.

I had a litany of reasons. I was tired of being at home. I wanted an actual work ethic. I wanted to get in better physical shape. I wanted to travel. And frankly, Joey was very convincing.

JoeyEs stories about the Philippines, Australia, South Korea and Japan made the military sound like a fast track to a really exciting career.

Preliminary research on the jobs the Navy offered yielded two areas that really intrigued me: news media and firefighting. I wasnEt nearing any decision, so without thinking twice about it, I signed up to take more classes at College of DuPage.

When the fall 2008 semester started, I realized that maybe I liked college as much or more than the idea of the military. Maybe it was the environment, or maybe it was the attitude of fellow students and the whole college feel. Joining the military where you have no real control for four years didnEt sound so great anymore.

42

I planned to earn a transfer degree to a big state university, but my grades began to slip early on in the semester from the 3.4 that I had my first year of college to a dismal 2.6. My parentsE impending divorce and the anger I heard caused me to lose my focus.

Classes became the least of my concerns, and I fell back into the same academic rut that forced me to go through five hellish years at Waubonsie Valley High School.

I was almost as lazy from that point through the end of the spring semester as I was in high school. However, I put in a lot of effort for one class B Feature Magazine Writing for CODEs Chaparral student magazine.

Although polished writing didnEt come easily to me, the class forced me to focus on my own life in the articles that I wrote. At the end, I had two published articles for my resume and some additional self-confidence about my ability to do well in college if I tried hard.

CWhat doesnEt kill you makes you stronger,D might be the phrase that best illustrates in a quick, easy way, my total situation.

Frequently during the academic year, I logged onto

Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

over 11 miles. I twisted and turned up one street and the U.S. military sites to find jobs that might appeal to down another for three to four hours almost all the way me. After the academic year ended, the military attracto and back from the town of Montgomery. tion grew as a better option to extra work of math and My best jog at one point during that run was between science. five and six miles.

The military sounded better every day - an alternative I was so fatigued that as I dizzily straggled home, I had to the frustration, pain and anguish from parental to rest somewhere on the grass alongside McCoy Road divorce squabbles. around the Fox Valley Forest Preserve near my house.

However, my path became clearer mid-year in 2009 With my legs too tired to crouch or pace while replenishafter I met with a Navy recruiter who said the combinaing my fluids, I sat down for about five or ten minutes to tion of my poor eyesight and other difficulties would predrank the rest of my water as I panted and wiped the vent me from joining the Navy. fountain of sweat off my forehead.

Still wanting to join a branch of the military, I made an I was nearing the Air Force requirement of 160. I didnEt appointment to speak with the Air Force recruiter who think my eyesight would be a real problem. I donEt think was straight with me about my eyesight, weight and my that a recruiter would waste his time talking to me, stayother difficulties. ing on me about losing weight and then setting up a I weighed about 170 at that time and was told I had to time for me to drive to Des Plaines to take the ASVAB get down to 160 in order to make the Air Force weight test. requirement. The recruiter printed out a diet used to After taking the ASVAB test on July 15, I ended up scorminimize caloric consumption and, according to the Air ing a 94 percent, which basically would set me up with Force, slim down before surgery. any job. I was excited and ItEs called the told my recruiter right Sacred Heart Diet, a away via text message. disgusting blend of I had visions of living in stewed tomatoes, Southeast Asia, Australia, green onions, beef The military sounded better every Europe or maybe in an broth, Lipton Chicken exciting town out West or Noodle soup mix, celday - an alternative to the the eastern seaboard. ery, green beans, carThe only problem rots and peppers, through all of this was the which is supposed to frustration, pain and anguish pesky bump in my midsecbe made into a soup. tion just below the ribs that I took the sheet I had for several years. I with the week-long from parental divorce thought it was just someschedule and altered thing I was born with that the diet to suit my squabbles. just got bigger as I got bigown tastes. I donEt like ger, but no big deal. stewed tomatoes or I was diagnosed with a green peppers, and hernia. My cousin Joey much less the idea responded to my inquiry about what would happen if I blending everything into a soup to eat all week. showed up to the Military Entrance Processing Station in Instead, I ran three miles a night and drank water by Des Plaines with this thing that barely hurt. If I showed more than a liter at a time. I think the bottle was 1.8 up with a hernia, he said, the military would reject me. liters. I ate green beans, carrots and grapes and, in addiAfter consulting with a surgeon about the risks, I tion to that, as well as food with high fiber for that extra chose laparoscopic surgery on September 1. My recovery help. time included fall enrollment at COD. The plan was to Even with meat and cereal still on my diet, I weighed join the military in the winter or early spring. about 162 or 163 pounds within two or three weeks and Instead, I took on additional responsibility as the had better endurance from the running .

Courier student newspaper sports editor after a surprise During that summer, I even started to be more invencall in August before classes started. Those Chaparral artitive with longer runs, using Google Maps to find places cles had paid off. with sidewalks so I wouldnEt be killed.

After two years of thinking, running, almost joining I ended up having big scrapes on the inside of my the military, eight months of doing a job and recently thighs due to the friction of the shorts and the sweat on winning two journalism awards, I know my indecision one particular run. had become an absolutely perfect decision for me.

Turning into Forrest Gump one boring July day, I decided Cfor no particular reasonD to run and walk a bit

â&#x20AC;&#x153;

â&#x20AC;?

Summer 2010

43

Stretches of road in Alaska may be scenic, but theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re not entirely desolate.

Gasoline stations are available on an average of every 50 miles.

â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;iceboxâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; from page 9

before I went to class.

My car was plugged into the house all night so the cold didn5t sap energy from the battery. Before I could start the car5s engine, I had to unplug it from an electrical outlet in the house. Cars in Alaska, especially anything made before 2000, must be plugged in to keep the oil warm and the battery charged during extreme temperature drops.

To open the car door, I had to use the car keys to chip away at the ice in the lock. It only takes a few moments for this routine task. As I start the car, the engine groans as if I caused it some pain by inserting the key into the ignition. As the groaning subsides, I quickly run back into the house to pack a lunch.

I usually left for class at ten in the morning when a hint of sun turned the sky a soft pink.

Ice fog thickened the air as I drove to the college campus.

The fog was much like any other fog, but its cold hurt if you breathed deeply. As it hit the back of my throat, the cold air forced a cough as it crept into my lungs.

The road was covered in glossy ice and small grey and black pebbles where the city dropped gravel to add traction for what sometimes became a wintry Slip5n5Slide.

It only took fifteen minutes to go anywhere in Fairbanks, including my college. By the time I got there, I was a little more awake thanks to the smattering of twilight and the radio.

I think the college men standing in forty-below weather on campus as an annual stunt in nothing but their boxers also had something to do with waking me up.

Student parking lots sported cement poles lined up in military fashion with outlets poking out for car engines to be attached. Thankfully, I do not have to pay to plug in my car. I don5t think anyone would be able to go to college in Alaska if they had to pay part of the electric bill.

44

A chilly winter day in Fairbanks can easily freeze car batteries.

As I headed to my biology class, I didn5t pay much attention to the growing pink sky that will be visible for only a couple hours. My interests turned to osteology, but I still sat near the window to absorb as much sun as possible. It depressed me a little to only see trees covered in snow when I looked outside day after day.

After class was over by three in the afternoon, it was dark again as if it were eight in the evening. Walking to my car through this giant ice box, ice tears from the cold formed in my eyes, freezing just as they hit my eyelashes and making it difficult to see.

I was too hungry and cold to allow my car the suggested ten minutes to warm up so I drove off at the speed of a baby learning to crawl. Cars don5t even like these extreme temperatures.

After the ice fog cleared later in the day, it was a little easier to drive, but there is still not much to see. A McDonalds, Denny s, Wendy s and Pizza Hut are all noticeable through the snow.

As much as I find Fairbanks to be boring in the winters, it is not as bad as North Pole, which is twenty minutes away. The only thing one can do in North Pole is go to school, hang out at Safeway which is like a Dominick5s or a Jewel-Osco store , go to Wendy s or rent a movie from Blockbuster. Well, there was Santa Claus house, but even when I went there I was always severely disappointed.

I was already a little tired by six when I headed for my waitressing job at Pizza Hut. I probably would have fallen asleep on the bench if it weren5t for the energetic people I worked with.

Even without a lot of customers, my shift goes by fast and I want to head home for bedtime, and for one day closer to that twenty-four hour sun.

Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

‘suicide’ from page 13

closer and the bed creaks as he sits next to me, kissing my forehead.

-Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,. Larry whispers in my ear. -Santa has prepared you a Christmas feast..

-Sleeping Beauty can/t wake up until her prince kisses her awake,. I whisper to him.

L -Well, we can/t have Sleeping Beauty staying arry and in bed all day,. he whispers back as he kisses me.

I slip my hand beneath my pillow and pull out a small, thin box wrapped in shiny red paper.

-Mrs. Clause must have left this here for you,. I say as I hand him the present. He opens it and pulls out the Tim McGraw CD he wanted but didn/t buy because his car stereo was broken.

-Thank you, now I guess I have to go and replace my stereo so I can listen to this,. he says with a grin.

I just smile at him, thinking he/s probably already peeked inside the package under the tree that holds his new stereo. Oh well, I peeked at my present, too.

I can still feign surprise when I open the beautiful diamond ring he bought me. I have decided that I

Me l i s sa co nver will se ov er co say yes… ffee befo …I leaned toward the re L a rry p casket and kissed Larry/s cold asse d on . forehead, wishing he would open his warm brown eyes. A tear slipped, landing at the corner of his eye, which looked as though he had shed the tear.

My future with Larry for better or for worse also had slipped away, and my tears of sorrow at his passing were as much for me as they were for him. I kissed Larry one more time and then the casket was closed.

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FLEXIBLE

Evening, weekend and blended classes Accelerated format—many complete their degree in 18-24 months • Ability to complete equivalency exams or a Prior Learning Assessment Portfolio • •

Curriculum designed to be practical, “real world” in nature • Faculty are chosen for their knowledge, as well as ability to effectively teach adult students •

PERSONAL • •

Individual advising and counseling Class sizes are kept small to facilitate interaction among peers and with instructor

GRADUATE

Lewis offers 22 graduate programs in business, education, criminal justice, nursing, psychology, and school counseling.

For information visit us online at www.lewisu.edu, or contact us at grad@lewisu.edu, or (815) 836-5610.

Summer 2010

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Your

College of DuPage

Library Card

Get your Card to Rent movies!

Feature films on VHS for $1 or DVD for $1 per week.

Use your Card to Check it out!

Get books, music CDs and other great stuff.

Get It. Use it.

Stop by the Circulation Desk and get your card today!

Call 630-942-3364 for more information.

Located in the Student Resource Center 2nd floor. www.cod.edu/library. Use the Library 24/7 online.

Library Regular Hours: Mon.-Thu., 7:30 am to 10 pm Fri., 7:30 am to 4:30 pm, Sat., 9 am to 4:30 pm, Sun., noon to 6 pm

CHECK THE WEB FOR CHANGES IN LIBRARY HOURS.

46

Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

Read it here.

Browse our magazines, newspapers and more.

Study here.

Quiet study space and group study rooms available.

Find a career and choose a college.

At the College and Career Information Center.

Get information.

We始ll get you the answer you始re looking for. In person, online or on the phone.

Access databases.

Electronic access to thousands of fulltext journal articles.

Get research help.

Visit the Reference Center for help with your research project.

Learn about the Library.

Sign up for classes on using library resources and the internet.

Get connected.

Come use the library始s wireless network.

Summer 2010

47

Aurora University Transforming Lives U Complete your bachelorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s degree U Choose from 40 undergraduate majors U Experience a smooth transfer of credit U Learn about transfer scholarships U Compete in NCAA Division III athletics U Explore AUâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s adult degree completion programs 630-844-5533 admission@aurora.edu

www.aurora.edu

Rewarding Excellence with Scholarships Your college education is an investment in your future.

Its value is priceless ... and its cost should not be out of reach for deserving students like you.

Q

Transfer scholarships up to $11,000 per year*

Q

Phi Theta Kappa students receive an additional $2,000 scholarship per year

Q

Outstanding internship placement!

Q

On-the-spot transfer credit evaluation

APPLY NOW!

* Academic scholarships vary based on academic grades. All transfer students are considered for Concordia scholarships and grants.

Find out today if you qualify.

Contact us at: 877.CUChicago (877.282.4422) Admission@CUChicago.edu or CUChicago.edu/transfer

7400 Augusta Street Q River Forest, IL 60305-1499 Q Admission@CUChicago.edu Q CUChicago.edu/transfer

48

Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

North Central College Be central. Be yourself.

We think it makes sense to continue your college career at a place where people put you at the center of everything they do. So why not be central?

North Central offers College of DuPage students: V?ËÄ Í ËÍÁ? ÄwjÁË wËWÁja Í V ÜjÁËyyË ? ÁÄË VjÞW Í ~ËÄÍÖaßË?MÁ ?aË ¬¬ ÁÍÖ Í jÄ V~Áj?ÍËÄÖ¬¬ ÁÍËw ÁË j~jË wË Ö+?~jË students

V?W?aj WËÄW ?ÁÄ ¬ÄË? aË jja M?ÄjaË~Á? ÍÄ VzjÞ M jËW ?ÄÄËÄW jaÖ jÄ V! Ë Ü Ä Ë Ë?Í jÍ WˬÁ ~Á? Ä V? ËjÞWj j ÍË W?Í Ëw ÁË ÍjÁ Ä ¬ÄË ËË? aË MÄ

To learn more, visit www.northcentralcollege.edu or call 630-637-5800 to set up an individual appointment.

Summer 2010

49

50

Chaparral Student Magazine/College of DuPage

Summer 2010

51

MY COURIER SPACE

Free Ad Space for Courier Annual Customers in Spring & Summer Chaparral Magazine

$100 My Courier Space

We’re in your neighborhood!

Westmont Regional Center

(630) 942-4800 www.cod.edu/RegionalCtrs

$100 My Courier Space

LOCAL HEALTH CLUBS!

TRANSFER NOW! APPLY ONLINE AT ROBERTMORRIS.EDU

$100 My Courier Space

$100 My Courier Space

www.cod.edu/RegionalCtrs

We’re in your neighborhood!

“GOT JAVA?”

(630) 942-4888

Cafe Arbor Vitae

Naperville Regional Center

(630) 942-4700 Drop by Library

www.cod.edu/RegionalCtrs

$1BASE-APPT 4 . 00 FULL & PT WORK

We’re in your neighborhood!

We’re in your neighborhood!

Carol Stream Community Education Center

STUDENT WORK!

READY TO TRANSFER!

For details call 630-942-3379.

• Customer Sales/Service • Conditions Apply • Flexible Schedule • Scholarship Opportunities

C a ll Now!

Naper ville: 630- 756- 0169 Oakbrook: 630-758-0001 ww w.wor kforstudents.com

PIZZA PLACES!

$100 My Courier Space

Great Services in person or online

Visit in person at IC3040 or

Bloomingdale Center

(630) 942-4900 YOUR AD

www.cod.edu/RegionalCtrs

COULD BE HERE!

We’re in your neighborhood!

West Chicago Community Education Center

YOUR AD COULD BE HERE!

LOCAL COFFEE SHOPS!

We’re in your neighborhood!

Addison Regional Center

(630) 942-4600

(630) 231-3348

www.cod.edu/RegionalCtrs

www.cod.edu/RegionalCtrs

YOUR AD COULD BE HERE!

COD Tutoring Services

Visit online bb.cod.edu Click User Login to see “Ask a Peer Tutor” link.

$100 My Courier Space