Why Worry?

I got out of the house a little tonight. Saw For the Bible Tells Me So, a documentary about homosexuality and the Bible. Very interesting. Something I recommend for everyone to see, no matter your spiritual and sexual orientations.

Since the movie was played in Pasadena, I called up Mariah, a dear friend, Pasadena resident and LACW '07 Summer Intern. She was working at a cute little coffee shop, and she gave me a delicious soy Mexican chocolate latte (which explains why I am writing this blog entry at 11:30pm).

During our conversation, Mariah mentioned worrying about change and how that worry is more stressful than the change itself. I wanted to start crying. I reached out for Mariah's hand and said, "You have no idea how much that helps me."

I have been blessed enough to be considered for a position with the Holy Cross Associates, a post-grad service program via the Holy Cross Order (i.e.: Nortre Dame, and University of Portland--my alma mater). The placement for this particular program is Santiago, Chile, for a period of 18 months. While details are slowly trickling in, and there are no concrete plans, I am mentally preparing myself for some major changes within this year.

However, along with the preparation comes doubt, fear, anxiety. This is all very similar to my experience during my last two months in Portland this past summer. Looking toward my move to Los Angeles, I found myself distant from close friends, overanalyzing my future, and in constant stress. Instead of embracing the change and taking full advantage of my time and people in Portland, I was focused on the aspects of my life that were out of my control. And I find myself thinking the same things all over again today.

I have always been a control freak. Over a decade has passed, but my family still makes fun of me for "helping" my brothers open gifts on birthdays, Christmas, etc. Our videocamera captured many occassions which ended with my hands around the present and my pudgy face expressing more surprise and glee than the brother who actually received the gift.

Since moving from Portland, I have made a conscious effort for the very first time in my life to let go of control and let life take its own pace. I have forced myself to live day-to-day, or at least try. It has been a difficult transition, but a fruitful one. And I have noticed little changes, ones most likely only noticable to myself.

Mariah's unintentional advice could not have come at a better time. I was ready to, emotionally and mentally, start saying goodbye to the Catholic Worker, even though I might not be leaving until as late as August. I was ready to be at a plateau, seeking no further responsibilities and not making attempts to fulfill a role outside the Worker. But she reminded me of the pain I put myself through waiting for my transition to come when I was in Portland. It was wasted time.

So while I have no idea what will happen to me from here on out, I have to take deep breaths and accept my inadequacy to control the universe. I have to appreciate that I am here in LA, doing incredible work with dedicated and spirited people. I have to remember that so far, my life has been extremely blessed and I have had little control over it.

SOAW Comes to LA!

Getting back to work from a vacation is a tough, and often swift, transition. Returning to Los Angeles from a 26 hour train ride on New Year's Day, I found myself signed up for all the early shifts for the week and some additional resposibilities for the next days. While I was a bit overwhelmed by this, I had no idea that the duties with the Catholic Worker would be the easy part of my week.

In December, Margaret had attended a planning meeting for the SOA Watch Los Angeles chapter. It had been decided by local organizers and activists to bring the SOAW vigil to Los Angeles, and Margaret was delegated the intimidating task of constructing the puppets. The conversation, according to Margaret, was something along the lines of...

Activists/Organizers: We need to have some puppets at this rally! Who has experience with puppets?

Margaret: Well, I've helped people make them once.

Activists/Organizers: Great! You can be in charge! Next item...

The rally was set for Saturday, January 12. When Margaret and I returned from our respective vacations home, we realized that there were 10 days for two large (approximately 8'x4') puppet heads, two pairs of hands, and more. Margaret seemed to have the project, timeline and her stress under control, so I gladly followed her lead in hopes of being more help than a burden.

We started on the last Friday of the school's winter break, meeting at Sacred Heart, a local all-girls high school. Surprisingly, more than 10 girls showed up. We worked through the weekend and entire following week to prepare the larger-than-life faces and supporting pieces.

The two faces were made to represent Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador and Rufina Amaya. Archbishop Romero was a significant icon in El Salvador against the corrupt government and a voice for his people. He was assassinated in 1980 by SOA graduates. Rufina was the only survivor of the El Mozote massacre in 1981. The massacre, in the country of El Salvador, was carried out by SOA graduates, and the death toll exceeded 800. She passed away in 2007, and her courage and message of hope were celebrated this year in the national SOA Watch vigil in Georgia.

Margaret and I quickly found ourselves waist deep in hours of work each day, spending more time with teenagers than we ever anticipated, and flying by the seat of our wheat paste-coated pants. Each day, each task, we looked at what we needed to do and tried to quelch the growing sense of anxiety. But we were saved by many generous people:

--The students of Sacred Heart High School: The young women sacrificed their last days of winter vacation, lunch hours, and even talked their way out of some classes their first week back to come paint, glue, tape, draw, cut, and transport these puppets. Not only were they excited about the puppets, but they were so passionate about the SOAW movement that they affected Fr. Roy Bourgeois, the founder of the movement. They were a workforce and consistent stream of energy.

--The staff of Sacred Heart High School: Without their permission to use their facilities to create and store our more than 20 puppets, Margaret and I would have been forced to push them into some random place at the Catholic Worker. Also hosted at the school was the press conference for the event and two days of Fr. Roy's presence. The staff welcomed so warmly the involvement of the activists and students.

--Arnie (above: far right): Our drum guru drove up from San Diego just days before the rally to assemble the equipment for the drum corps. His sarcasm, musicality and willingness to help us out was refreshing. His coordination of the drum corps brought dance, and a young, bright spirit to the performance. After the rally was finished, he even waited with Margaret and me in the park for our ride home. How sweet!

--Beth (above: bottom left) and Jake (below): Two superb puppetistas who took time out of their busy schedules to mentor Margaret and I in the art of puppet-making. Beth came our second day to help form the heads of Rufina and Oscar, which sounds like a small task; but without her knowledge and handy staple gun, Margaret and I would have resorted to copious amounts of duct tape. And when I say "copious," I mean more than the 4 rolls we went through.

Jake came to us from New Haven for the last 3 days of preparation. He restored our positive energy about the project by exhibiting his own excitement. Not only did he teach us how to construct and walk on stilts, but he reassured us that the work we had done was impressive for novices. He also secured the larger puppets and led the rehearsal session of the performance on Saturday.

--Patricia (above: far right): She let us take over her classroom, which is no overstatement. Mid-way through our 9-day project, the back half of her room was rendered useless and transformed into a cardboard jungle hiding tools, tape, cloth and miscellaneous puppet accessories. Patricia is also an inspiration to her students. During her religion classes, she encourages the girls to talk about social justice issues, highlights the importance of prayer supported by action, and teaches out of books she chooses (her qualifications for a good religion book: must mention Dorothy Day and Oscar Romero). Each year, she leads a small group of Sacred Heart students to the SOAW rally in Georgia.

--Margaret: The brave soul who took on this project with little experience and less sleep. She spent hours researching the necessary steps for proper construction, and even more time reflecting on how to respectfully bring to LA the emotions, message and performance of the SOAW in Georgia. Margaret put her complete energy into this project, and the final result mirrored her leadership, enthusiasm and passion for the SOAW.



After facing problems ranging from paint and paste stains to a useless staple gun to a collapsing Oscar Romero, we completed the two heads, their accompanying pairs of hands, three birds of death, a helicopter, and other painted cardboard pieces to represent village life. In addition, we constructed four pairs of stilts and learned to walk on them. Wow.

Saturday came, and Jake led the rehearsal. The village puppets come in, followed by the drum corps. Then, the birds of death fly in, along with the helicopter and attack the villages.

The villages are injured and fall to the power of the enemy.

Rufina and Oscar enter, bringing with them their spirit and message, to defeat the evil forces and ressurect the villages.

After this performance, Jake instructed everyone to come together to begin dancing and celebrating. "Only one rule!" he shouted. "You need to grab someone's hand and bring them in the dance with you." Margaret and I looked at one another with tears streaming down our faces. The long days and short nights, the paint that wouldn't scrub off of our fingers, the soreness from squatting, lifting, crouching and bending, and the distant feeling of hopelessness were forgotten during the rehearsal. All we saw was our work physically actualized.

The performance was beautiful. The day was clear, and the only reason we stopped the celebration was because the park was going to close for the night. For the first SOAW rally in Los Angeles, it was a success. And now, almost a week after the rally, I am still filled with the amazement I had that afternoon.

You Want the Truth?

In just over a week, I will be on my way to Eugene, Oregon, to spend Christmas with my family! I am so excited to see everyone, but am trying to prepare myself. I know what lies waiting for me in Eugene... the interrogation.

Family, friends, church community... they will all want to know what I have been doing for the past 5 months, and there's really no short and/or safe answer to that question. I walk a fine line in giving some detail but not enough to beg more questions (i.e.: "What do you mean by..." or "Is that really safe?"). It's even harder to make the work I do sound appealing to all persons, all ideologies, all ages; therefore, I will be faced with reactions ranging from kind smiles to rolling eyes. And my response to all must be, truthfully, how much I love the work I'm doing. I already have my pre-recorded response ready for the shoot-the-breeze conversations I'll have where people don't really want to know all the details.

While this will be slightly exhausting, I am excited to see my family, and I am looking forward to sharing my experiences and stories with people. I have worked so hard these past 5 months and the work and lifestyle has pushed my limits physically and emotionally.

I recently realized that I have been welcomed in fully to the community. I started off my living in the back house, a separate 5-bedroom house on the LACW property, and doing the basic work with no extra responsibility or accountability. About a month into my stay, I moved into the main house to be closer the bulk of the community, and then I started taking on more responsibilities: house evenings, Wednesday liturgy musician, line watching, spending the night at the kitchen, driving (that's a new one!). Now, I am going to the Wednesday afternoon meetings for the core community. It's the LACW way of saying, "yea, you're one of us now."

This all did not come without serious doses of doubt, lack of self confidence, frustration, and confusion. The community does not have the time to walk me through, holding my hand in everything that I do. There is no regular positive reinforcement, and little praise. Quite honestly, it was very hard for the first two months. I worked as hard as I could to show that I was committed to the cause of the Catholic Worker. I kept my ears open desperately for words of encouragement, but they rarely came, and when they did, they were dismissible. Was everyone so busy that they did not have time to notice me?

But as I was handed more responsibility, I slowly began to understand that this was the community's way of recognizing that I am trustworthy, hard-working, and valuable to the LACW. There have been few times when people from the house have told me straight out that they are happy I am here, and I can count the instances on one hand; yet each time had a special meaning for me, and I cherish those moments.

I am not saying that the LACW is right or wrong in their ways of introducing new community members. For me, it has been a good learning experience. Painful and difficult, yes; in the meantime, the hands-off method has forced me to become more self-reliant and have more confidence in my abilities.

The past five months have not been what I had expected. The work we do is in no way glamorous. The community life is not smiley and happy all day long. We can be a sweaty, drowsy, grumpy, hungry, impatient and stressed bunch of people--but isn't that the point of this whole thing? To do this all together, to help each other through each day, and to do good work. It's not supposed to be glamorous, smiley and happy... but that's easier to accept when you say it. It's a little bit more difficult when you live it.

Hopefully I will survive the next 10 days so I can go home, share my stories, relax, and return to the work I have committed myself to... Phew. What a life.

Caring for Our Brothers and Sisters

"Sam," a friend from the Hippie Kitchen, and I met during the summer over a uniquely deep conversation about the state of our world. I had sat down in the garden to enjoy my beans and salad, and we just started chatting. Ever since, when Sam eats at the Kitchen, we share lunch together and he updates me on his life. During the past few months, Sam has been struggling with getting housing, food stamps, and government aid. He was been told numerous times that he is just one interview away from his own place, but he was turned down countless times, and his hope was wearing thin.

But Sam is not one to sit by and be screwed by the system. He is an educated man, and is blessed enough to have friends and resources to help him with necessary paperwork--not all people on Skid Row have connections, awareness or capabilities to handle such processes and procedures. And a few weeks ago, Sam developed a plan. "I'm going to be a janitor, Allison," he said with pride and glee. "I'm going to be a janitor so I can start working in the schools, and then I'm going to be a substitute teacher."

Last week, Sam and I shared lunch as we often do, and I asked in my routine manner how he was doing. Sam leaned in, opened his hands in a burst next to his smiling face and said, "It's all happening." He signed up for his janitor test and background check, and registered to take the CBEST test, a prerequisite for all teachers. To top it all off, he finally received his approval for SSI.

And just this Thursday, I saw Sam at the Kitchen. He could hardly hold back all the good news he had for me. I was line watching at the time, and he came back three times to find me and ask when I was going to stop and eat. "I need to talk to you, Allison!" I found a substitute, quickly grabbed a plate of food, and sat down with Sam. I barely had time to start the "how's it going?" routine before he pulled out a manila folder full of papers. Jittered with excitement, Sam began to unload all of the wonderful things that had happened in the past week. He had just received his approval to begin his janitorial classes so he could qualify for a job that would pay $14 per hour and provide him with full benefits. On top of that, he got notice that he is eligible for Section 8 which would pay for a bulk of his rent and utilities. "You thought that was all?" he exclaimed as he pulled more papers out of his manila folder. "Look at this!" He handed me his card for food stamps, his receipt from his latest check from his low-paying part-time job, and his coupon stating SRO Housing eligibility.

I was blown away. Sam had worked and waited for all of this, and everything he needed came to him in one week. As he put the papers away, muttering something about dying if he lost them, he had a mixed expression of exhaustion and fulfillment. He turned back to me and laughed, "Well I'm glad this all happened because if it didn't, I was going to rob a bank." I gave him a look begging for an explanation, hoping that he was kidding. "Yea, I seriously considered it," he continued. "I was going to just pass a note. Not use a gun or anything. They stick you in jail for so much longer if you have a weapon on you. No, I'd just pass a note and say that 'that person by the door' would shoot everyone if they didn't give me all their large bills. You know that some tellers have more large bills than others? Anyway, it wouldn't be violent, no one would have to know, and the guy by the door would just be some regular that I wouldn't even have to talk to. No one would have to talk to him. It kinda works out, huh?"

I could feel my body growing cold with fear in response to his plan. Rob a bank? Is this the true desperation these men and women have reached? They are so completely out of options and out of hope that they would risk their freedom to get some money? And then it occurred to me that Sam is one of the very fortunate people on the Row. He has a place to stay, even if he is not fond of his step-mother. He has a part-time job rather than no job at all. He is not addicted to drugs or alcohol. He is educated. Still, despite all of this, he struggled to qualify for employment, housing, Section 8, food stamps, and SSI. What does this mean for the people who are sleeping on the street, jobless and poorly educated? If Sam fought his way to these services that should be so readily available, how hard would others have to fight?

Sam waited for months to hear back about housing, food stamps, SSI and Section 8; but he could manage to wait. So many people cannot manage to wait like Sam, and desperation grows strongly and quickly. Our society so quickly demonizes criminals, addicts and the homeless because we believe they are capable of achieving the "American Dream" if they only work at it; their failure is their own fault, their poverty is proof of laziness, and their addiction is proof of weakness. But if these people are not surrounded by a loving community or blessed with an education, it is in fact the weakness of our culture that is shown--not that of the individual.

The upcoming weeks will be very joyful for Sam, and I hope that I am able to share in the celebration with him. But the upcoming weeks will be very sorrowful for others as they continue to be homeless during the coldest part of the year, which ironically coincides with "The Season of Giving," "The Holiday Season," "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year," etc.

I encourage all of you, if you are not already involved with service, to volunteer with your local hospitality kitchen, county food storage and distributor, St. Vincent dePaul, and other organizations. And I challenge you to continue the "Season of Giving" so it no longer becomes just a season, but a mindset. Men and women around the country need us, and it is our responsibility to care for our brothers and sisters.

Safe, Un-arrested, and Full

(Fr. Roy Bourgeois, founder of School of the Americas Watch movement, and me at Saturday rally outside Fort Benning.)

(One of the three fences protecting Fort Benning... Saturday, the day before the procession, as the military police watch over the crowds.)

(Margaret as part of the drumming circle on Saturday after the rally.)

(Ignatian Teach-In... thousands of students and young adults gathered to learn from and teach each other about the SOA, the Iraq War, poverty and justice.)

(Beginning of the procession on Sunday... these are participants of a die-in that took place in front of the gates.)

Margaret and I returned on Monday from our cross-country trip to close the School of Americas. It's difficult to describe every demonstration, emotion and experience of the weekend, so please allow the photos to explain some for me.

We stayed at the Open Door Community in Atlanta for three nights during our visit. This incredible community is a "Protestant arm" of the Catholic Worker movement. The ODC serves breakfasts and lunches out of their own home, inviting in men and women from the streets to eat in a warm and comfortable kitchen. They also provide showers weekly to their patrons, as well as clothing and medicine that they might need. The Atlanta community welcomed us so warmly and fed us so well that it was difficult to return to Los Angeles.

During the weekend at SOA, Margaret and I trained for the role of "Peacemakers." Essentially, the Peacemakers are the SOA Watch version of a line watcher: we were responsible for squelching conflict, and maintaining the pacifist atmosphere of the weekend. There were about 36 of us to cover a crowd of 25,000; yet there were no serious conflicts that needed to be addressed. How incredible that thousands of people can gather together and keep to a vow of non-violence!

All weekend, music was everywhere--in the puppetista demonstrations, on stage in front of the Fort, at the Catholic mass, while walking down the street, and at concerts at the local hotels. The movement would not have been the same without the beautiful songs accompanying it.

Most of all, I was struck by the reality of this school. I was able to watch people cross by the fence and lay crosses, flowers, banners and other memorabilia; and during that time a woman passed through, barely able to walk because she was so grief-stricken. She was not mourning over strangers, as many of us were. She was mourning over five of her close relatives that had been "disappeared" in Argentina by a military controlled by SOA-taught soldiers. Her life, her family, her reality were destroyed in part (if not completely) because of the teachings of the SOA.

I talked with a friend of mine before I left for the SOA, and he asked if it was even an issue anymore. This school and the ideology it represents is why there are millions of homeless, less money towards education, deteriorating quality of life in some Latin American countries, conflict around the world, and the rampant spread of the use of torture. This school is not only still an "issue," but it is a cancer of which we must rid ourselves before it takes control and kills our neighbors and ourselves.

Yesterday, we celebrated Thanksgiving as a community, inviting over 50 people to our house to share an afternoon meal. The turn-out was great, and there was so much food! (13 turkeys, 10 gallons of stuffing, gallons of mashed potatoes, many cakes, more pies, and all the fixings!) It was a beautiful day, and while I couldn't be with my family on Thanksgiving, I felt that I had found a very close second.

Back to Benning

Tomorrow Margaret and I head off to the SOA Watch via Atlanta, where we'll be staying with the ever-so-kind Open Door Community for a few days before heading down to Columbus to peacefully vigil in front of the School of the Americas/Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation.

If you have no idea or little background with the SOA Watch, visit the link to the left. Feel free also to look at my blog from last year (or just the pictures). Also, there is a caravan traveling from San Francisco to Columbus, Georgia. Their blog is also up and running, and definitely worth at least a peek.

Keep us in your prayers, but especially for those whom we are standing in witness: the victims of torture, violence and hate; the populations whose homes have been destroyed through the teachings of the School of Americas; those who still live with the traumatic physical and emotional effects of the acts of war the SOA education helped to wage.

Thank you all for your support!

Age Is Just a Number... Right?

I am one of three 20-somethings in the Catholic Worker community of 21 people. The average age of the volunteers/community members living at the house is 43.1 years. This is not said with disdain by any means. Living with people who are older than me and dedicated to, what I believe to be, an amazing movement gives me hope for my continued dedication to the issues of homelessness, war and violence.

While we are connected by our beliefs and passions, the age gap does factor in to the challenges of living in community. Sometimes, in the minds of older community members, the young person is equal to the person with the most energy to spare. I'd like to point out that this assumption isn't really true...if any of you have met Faustino, you will understand my point.

At other points, the "we've been doing this for longer than you've been on this planet" spat, or the "my life experience is double yours" defensive rears its ugly head--most often, they are raised in joking manners.

And being a single young woman at the Catholic Worker isn't always that great either. Each young man who passes through is always seen, again in the eyes of the older community members, as a potential match for poor, single, lonely Allison. While most of this is in jest, it's also strongly persistent. I have actually said, "I'm not as desperate as you think I am," to a few people.

The technology gap also accompanies the age gap. I am helping one of the guests get comfortable with cutting, copying and pasting on the computer. Jeff, now in his sixties, is just hopping on the Internet and signed up for his first e-mail address a few weeks ago. Catherine, in her seventies, is learning to "Google" search. All three are amazed by the vastness of the Internet and continually confused by applications, programs, websites and capabilities outside their normal Internet/e-mail routines.

Despite the age difference between me and the majority of the community, I have found it quite easy to begin conversations, build relationships and enjoy time spent with everyone. I can't imagine having an experience like this later in my life, so I am embracing this gap as just another unique quality to the life at the Catholic Worker.




In other news, Margaret and I are leaving for the SOA Watch next Wednesday (November 14) for five days. We will be staying with our sister community in Atlanta, Georgia, before heading down to Columbus, Georgia, to participate in a weekend of vigiling, prayer and peaceful protest. Please keep us in your prayers, and I look forward to sharing my experiences (and photos!) when I get back!