DEATH, TAXES, AND A NEVERENDING STORY

Dearest Friends,

I guess I've been dragging my feet when it comes to winding up this tale. Perhaps you noticed? It's partially because I have so enjoyed reliving these experiences through your eyes, that I hate for the fun to end, but there's a lot more to it than that. Here's the thing. How do you end the never-ending story?

You may think this story ended as soon as we packed up our belongings and boarded the plane, but that's just not true. These stories came home with us -- became a part of who we are, and who our children grew up to be. They reshaped our beliefs, our ethics, our politics, our philosophy, our world view...broadened our tolerance for some things, but narrowed it for others. They made it impossible for our kids to fit back into their old roles in their old cliques when we moved back to the town where they grew up, but they opened the door to many new friends and new experiences. It affected not only their food preferences and love of travel, but also their learning styles, their creativity, and their open mindedness. In fact, those three year's worth of stories have probably colored most every important decision they have made, and always will.

That being said, we still have to put this baby to bed at some point. So, I thought I would give you  John's last letter home today, share a couple of more stories over the next week, and then I suppose, we will call it a day.

April 13, 1994

Dear Mom & Dad,

This has been a pretty rough week. Saturday morning Mike called and informed me about Nub's cancer. Then shortly after that I got a call that John Tankersley was killed in Qatar in a boating accident. I've know John and worked with him since I came to work with Mobil. He was my counterpart at Mobil's field operations here. They had just moved back to Dallas last year. It had everyone pretty much in a state of shock the whole weekend. Then Alan Silverman's dad died before he could get home Saturday. Plus his secretary's father died this past weekend also. I tell you, it just seems to come in bunches.

I finally received Mike's last letter. He was talking about going to the family reunion and was wanting to hear about our plans. I doubt we will have time this year to attend. If we do, it will have to be a last minute thing. I won't have quite as much time at home as I did last year. I'll be saving a week's worth of vacation in case I need it during the fall.

Report cards for our kids came out this past week. Alexis' teacher seems to be real pleased with the effort she is putting out now. She seems to be focusing a little better on the task at hand. She was doing a great job on her science project until she lost her display posters. Can't find them at school anywhere and she insists she brought them home, but we can't find them around here either. Austin seems to be breezing along. He needs some more kids to give him some competition.

Becky is finally getting close to finishing her quilt. In fact, she has to be done by next weekend. Everyone is going to display their quilts at a fair. She has really done a good job, but I doubt she'll ever do another, particularly when we move home. Putting one of those things together takes a lot of time and she probably won't have much of that back home.

P.T. Arun has just undergone a reorganization and things around here are more confusing than usual. About half of the engineers in my group are going out to another section. Still remains to be seen exactly what I will be doing. Probably pretty much the same thing. It will be a little harder for me to keep in touch with the engineers in a different group, but that's what I will have to do.

Well, guess that's about it for now. Thanks for taking care of my IRS stuff. It's just real iffy trying to mail that kind of thing from here. But from what I saw on CNN, doesn't look like the US mail system is any safer. Give everyone our regards.

Love,
John

A CHRISTMAS CARD, AND THE PINEWOOD LESSON

Cards must be ordered rather early when you live halfway 'round the world,
so I had to use a photo from the previous year.

From our 12/93 Christmas Card:

Dear George & Theda,

Only 12 more days! If you get a mystery package delivered from Spiegel, it's from us. Lex and I made a really neat gingerbread house with see-through candy windows, that you place a candle behind. Austin and John are making a pinewood derby car for Cub Scouts. I finally finished quilting my beautiful new tree skirt, then promptly covered it up with a mound of presents! (what was I thinking?) Found a cook and decided to give it a try, just for the fun of it -- she starts tomorrow. Tuesday night is the kid's big Christmas party with Santa -- Lex finally gets to be one of the elves! School lets out Friday at noon, and we are having 16 for dinner, Poker (for the guys) and Bunco (for the gals) that night.

This very happy elf-girl is holding a somewhat faded elf doll that my family always put out each Christmas when I was a kid,
and whose outfit was almost identical to hers!

Love,
Becky

About that Pinewood Derby. Well, this was the first one we'd ever participated in, and we are firm believers in being there to answer questions and assist with the hazardous parts of our kids' projects, but never directing or outright doing it for them. So John let Austin design and paint his own car, which had a shape that resembled the modern, sleeker version of a VW bug. He was over the moon about it. John and I both started getting nervous as soon as we walked through the door, and discovered that every other car there was shaped like a simple flat wedge of cheese. If you are a parent, then you know what it was like to watch Austin being deflated like a pricked balloon, and having to work harder and harder to fight back the tears and quivering lip with each successive race. Ahhh, life's lessons can really suck sometimes!

LAKE MANINJAU, SEEN THROUGH NEW EYES

To market, to market...

Dearest Friends,

Here is what I love most about blogging: it allows you to enjoy one adventure over and over again, each time with new eyes! Take this trip to W. Sumatra. Tucked into the pile of photos I have from this trip were many of a large lake -- a lake I don't much recall.

I remember this photo. This was one of the more "rustic" hotels we stayed in on this trip, and, hard as that was to believe, I remember everyone charging into our room wanting to see it, because it was so much more luxurious than the others! Perhaps we got the bridal suite? That, however, is just about all I remember of this leg of the journey -- nothing about the lake, not even its name. So, I had to do some research. I am now fairly certain this must be Lake Maninjau, the largest in the area.

Drying Fish

In the process, I discovered a lot of stuff which probably went in one ear and out the other of my forty-year-old self (who knew less than nothing about permaculture or local food systems) but which just delights my fifty-eight-year-old self no end! I read about how the lake not only provides hydroelectric power to the area, but is also an entire food system in and of itself! They practice aquaculture in the lake, using floating net cages. There are rice fields on the lower swampy areas. Then there are forest-like tree gardens on the slopes above, where they grow fruit (durian, jackfruit, rambutan, etc.), spices (cinnamon, coffee, nutmeg, cardamum) and timber.

The School Bus

Is that awesome, or what?

BOTH THE BEST, AND THE WORST, OF GROWING UP OVERSEAS

Back to School Open House

Dearest Friends,

Know what I love about this picture? Check out the two boys center front. Look at the way little Travis, one of the youngest kids in the school, has his arm draped over older boy Jamie's, as if they were brothers. In a community this small, our kids made friends with everyone, and they soon learned that friends were not a disposable commodity. If you ditched your friends whenever they pissed you off, you'd end up very, very lonely, so they learned how to compromise. They learned that they could have friends of all ages and nationalities, and of both sexes -- kids whose interests and beliefs weren't necessarily the same as theirs, and who wouldn't always agree with them on every little thing. They learned that people could like them just as they were, even if they didn't have the "in" toys and clothes. Heck, they no longer had any way of knowing what was in! They learned that it's actually far better to have a teacher who makes you work hard, but stimulates your imagination, than it is to coast along in utter boredom. They also learned that it was important to balance that hard work with plenty of physical activity and creative opportunities. They thrived on being able to move about the classroom, and interact with the other students, including those in different grades. Most importantly, they learned that the universe was a very, very big place, and they were not the center of it -- that our way of doing things was not the only way, or even necessarily the right way. All this was the best thing about growing up overseas -- and it was the worst thing too, for it was going to make it very, very difficult to go back to the old way of doing things, and all but impossible to go back to the old way of seeing things!

LIFE CHANGES: HOME LEAVE '93

Hangin' with the Price kids in Oatmeal

Dearest Friends,

When we first took our kids to live in Sumatra, we knew that the school only went up through 8th grade, and since we didn't plan on sending Lex away to boarding school, we knew we'd be wanting to move home about then.  After spending our entire first summer living out of suitcases, hopping from one house to another, we came up with the brilliant idea of purchasing a little cottage in the Hill Country that could be our vacation home for now, and eventually, our retirement home. Instead of our bouncing around all summer, the friends and relatives could come spend time with us in the Hill Country!  Brilliant, no? So, early on in this year's home-leave-planning, we made sure to include stops in Doss and Oatmeal, to scope things out, and even found Lex a camp to go to in San Marcos, which was near another favorite town, Wimberley.

No, he doesn't have a wandering eye. He's just at that stage where he felt the need to cross them for every photo.

Our first stop was in Ohio, where it was much cooler than we expected. Good thing we had sweaters in our carry-ons! John had a week-long school to attend in Cincinnati, and his brother's family lived not too far away in Middletown, so we got to spend lots of time with them while there.

John's twin brother -- who happens to be several years older than him. I could always look at him and say "OK, this is what my hubby will look like in about 5 years!"

At the end of the week we flew to Dallas, where we had left our Taurus station wagon with my folks. John drove straight out to Odessa the next day, but wanted the kids and I to stay in Dallas a little while longer. The reports we'd been getting regarding his father were so dismal, I think John needed time to adjust to the situation alone. He was probably worried about breaking down in front of the kids, and wanted to have his happy face in place by the time we got there. Not an easy task, since they had given up on trying to rehabilitate George in any way, and he had steadily deteriorated into a mean-spirited, over-sexed, wheel-chair-bound, diaper-wearing toddler -- not uncommon for someone who's had multiple strokes.

We arrived the following weekend, just in time to send Theda, who was in desperate need of a vacation, off to Ohio for a few days, to attend our nieces high school graduation. The kids went to a sports day camp over at the local college each morning during our 3-week stay, we took turns going for physical and dental checkups, and we met up with some of our old friends from Midland (just 20 minutes away) whenever we could. Apparently I didn't take a single photo while we were with George and Theda. I guess it was just too depressing. By the end of our stay there, we needed some serious cheering up, so we headed straight to College Station, to spend time with our dearest friends, Paula and Tim.

They were just what the doctor ordered! From there we headed to the Hill Country. First stop was spending the day with our friends Mark and Ann, who lived in the country near a cute little town called Oatmeal, which is near Bertram, which is near Burnett, which is near Marble Falls...if you keep going, you'll eventually reach a town you've actually heard of.  Anyhoo, when we first came to visit them here as newlyweds, I remember saying "Well, it's a great place to visit, but I don't think I could live there. It's just way too far from a mall or a movie theater!" The more we visited though, over the years, the more my opinion began to shift.

(to be continued)

CAMPING INDO-STYLE

Dearest Friends,

I have a very vague memory of Miss Laura and I needing to take our little scout troop camping, in order for them to earn a particular badge. I remember making those sit-upons the girls are holding in the picture above; I remember setting up tents behind one of the houses up on the hill, though why any of us would have brought tents or camping equipment to Sumatra, I haven't a clue; and I remember a gully-washer storm that came in the middle of the night, threatening to sweep our tents right off that hill! The rest is a blur.

Since my memories were so hazy, I sent word out to the rest of the Indo Crowd, asking if anyone could fill in some of the blanks for me. This response came from friend AnneMarie:

"The campout was just outside our backyard. It started to pour so we moved the campout into our sunscreen. This worked well at first, then it also started to leak and make some of the sleeping bags wet. We then moved further into the house and used all the sofa's, plus a few of the girls ended up in a bed. Not really a camp out, but l think we gave them their badge for this anyway. We did make situpons while hiding from the rain in our garage, or at least l think we did. I also recall our driver starting to dig a big hole in the nice grass area so we could make a fire. Fortunately someone was thinking and put a stop to that before Bruce Jones fired my husband! The girls loved the s'mores. That's about all l can recall."

Ahhh, it's beginning to come back to me now.  Thanks AnneMarie!

THE BIG BLOW-UP

Dearest Friends,

In some ways my hubby and I are a lot alike. For one thing, we are both extremely non-confrontational. We'd do just about anything to avoid an argument -- our own, or anyone else's. In my case it was so extreme that just watching things like the Three Stooges or Abbot and Costello could make me twitchy. Part of this, I'm sure, is that neither of us has a glib tongue. John is a good listener, a great audience. I'm the one who thinks of brilliant rejoinders -- hours after the fact when it's too late to do me any good! Hence, we would surely lose in a battle of words, especially with someone who could think on the fly. Anyhoo, since we both hated arguing, and had not yet been taught how to handle disagreements productively, a lot of stuff was still getting swept under the rug in those days.

In other ways we were polar opposites. It was that classic half-empty/half-full scenario. No matter how bad things got, I usually managed to stay fairly cheerful. No matter how good things got, John still managed to stay fairly glum -- which created a nice balance, for the most part. While living the ex-pat life, however, it actually led to one of our biggest fights.

Miss Becky's nest in the Indo-house, where she did her thinking and writing.

You see, I did such a good job of making the best of things that, eventually, John would always forget that there was any down-side to my situation -- that I had given anything up, or made any trade-offs to be there. All he saw was that he had to go to work every day, while I stayed home with a maid and a driver. As if that weren't bad enough, I had the nerve to be all chipper when he got home each day, wanting to tell him about all the fun things the kids and I did while he was at work! Anyway, things finally came to a head one weekend when John went to make a peanut butter sandwich, and discovered we were out of bread. He blurted out something rather hurtful, on the order of "You'd think a woman who didn't have a damn thing to do all day could at least manage to keep bread in the house!", then grabbed the kids and headed off to the snack bar, leaving me standing there with my mouth agape.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, words finally came to me, but of course, I had no one to say them to. They didn't come in a gentle way, either. It was more of an eruption. I had no choice but to grab a pen and start writing a letter to my hubby. I don't remember exactly what was in that one, but I do recall it as one of my better letters -- one where I was able to open his eyes to a few truths, but in a humorous way. I think I started out apologizing for the error of my ways, and telling him he deserved much better. Perhaps he deserved one of the wives we knew who stayed drunk all day long, because it was the only way they could deal with the tedious monotony of their lives here. Or perhaps he should be with the one who was sneaking off to sleep with her hubby's best friend while he was at work. Then again, maybe he would prefer one of those who seemed to be back in the states or away on trips more than they were ever here on the compound, or, better yet, one who refused to come to Indonesia in the first place, even if it meant death to her hubby's career. Oh wait, here's an idea! Maybe I should trade in my part-time maid and the ordeal of fixing my whole family three meals a day, from scratch, almost every darn day, and get not only a live-in maid and a cook, like most everyone we knew, but also a nanny for the kids, like a few others had. That way I could devote every waking minute to his needs.

OK, maybe I didn't really say all that. I think I got a bit carried away there towards the end. Skip that last part and jump ahead to where I closed by saying something like "Silly me! I never knew I actually had a choice in any of this. I thought I had to quit my job at Chez Vous, say goodbye to my friends and family, and a home and a church I adored, to follow you to the ends of the earth. I thought it was my duty to make the most of the situation, and to stay as busy and cheerful as possible. I thought that was what you wanted! Was I wrong? If so, there is a simple solution. Book those tickets and we can be on the next plane outta here!"

His reply? "Damn, Becky! Did you have to go and make me laugh? Couldn't you let me enjoy my righteous indignation a little bit longer,  just this once?"

TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER

The Candlelight Ceremony

Dearest Friends,

While our friend Teri was busy wrangling all the younger boys into a Tiger Cub scout group, my friend Laura and I were doing our best to handle all the little girls from kindergarten up through 8th grade in a one-size-fits-all brownie/girl scout troop. Needless to say, we had to make a lot of compromises when it came to, well, pretty much everything! Fortunately, the Girl Scout officials were pretty flexible regarding  troops like ours, out in the middle of the jungle somewhere. I guess they had to be. Who was gonna come check up on us?

I don't know how many badges the girls actually earned, but I'm pretty sure they must have earned one for crafts. We were really, really good at crafts!  We can thank HearthSong for that.  HearthSong, at that time, was a fairly new catalog that specialized in educational toys and such. Before we moved to Indonesia, Lex had spotted something like a cooking club in their catalog, where each month they would send your child a package that contained an apron or some child-sized cooking utensils, along with instructions and recipes for several different things you could learn to make using those tools. Unbeknownst to her, I arranged to have all twelve kits sent to me at once before we left for Indonesia, then doled them out to her one per month all year long. She had so much fun with them that, the following summer, I did the same thing with their craft of the month kits. Then I checked to see what kind of supplies were needed for each craft, and purchased enough extras for us to teach the crafts to all of our little Girl Scouts. The main one I remember required us to cut hundreds of long thin triangles from various magazine pages, which we then rolled up around a toothpick, creating colorful beads that we made necklaces and bracelets out of.

Our Christmas Party

Another thing we were pretty good at was parties. Even when we were doing something utilitarian like a beach clean-up, it somehow ended up turning into a party. And, though we may not have toed the line when it came to all the G.S. rules and regulations, I think the girls got a lot out of it nonetheless. I know I certainly did.

PHUKET

Dearest Friends,

Up to this point, we had only taken the kids to Singapore and Penang -- both places were we never strayed too far from our hotel or resort, and where we seemed mostly to be surrounded by other expats. During the fall school break of our second year, however, we decided to be a little more adventurous. We took the kids to Thailand! Our destination was Phuket (no, that's not an F sound, it's poo-ket').

Of course, we were still in a nice hotel filled with tourists (we had to ease them into the real world gradually) but Thailand as a whole was much more, well, raw, than anywhere else we had ever been. The poverty was less hidden, the disparity between cultures more obvious, and the people weren't nearly as happy and easy-going as the Indonesians -- or maybe they just weren't nearly as adept at hiding their dislike of all these foreign intruders.

On the other hand, there was magnificent beauty to behold, and so much history to be absorbed. I'll share a bit of that with you tomorrow, along with a funny story that somehow made it into the newspaper here in the states, when we head over to Phi Phi Island (again, not an F sound).

THE HELP

Dearest Friends,

After more than a year in Sumatra, I still wasn't crazy about having staff, but I had learned to live with it. And, if I had to have a housekeeper, there could have been none better than our Asnah. What a jewel she was! My kids adored her, and I think she was pretty crazy about them, too. Because I didn't want them turning into spoiled brats who expected to be waited upon, the rule at our house had always been that Asnah could dust and mop in their bedrooms, but she was not to pick up after them or make their beds. That was their job. It wasn't until years later that one of them admitted to her picking up their toys all the time, and keeping it their little secret!

Asnah, Mrs., and Fatima

Another special person, who came into our lives that second year, was Fatima -- the baking lady! I still hadn't hired a cook, like most everyone else had, but when I heard about Fatima (that was her name wasn't it?) I just couldn't resist. You see, so much of what we take for granted in our supermarkets here just wasn't available over there, and therefore had to be made from scratch. Not just cakes, cookies, and pastries, but also pizza crusts, tortillas, even dinner rolls. Fatima could make all of these, and more!  I think she had a pretty long waiting list of prospective clients, but she happened to be best buds with our Asnah, who must have told her I was easy to work for (a patsy, in fact) so she squeezed me into her schedule. She came to our house every other Friday, if I remember correctly -- the very best days of the whole month, for not only were the aromas emanating from our kitchen beyond delicious, her presence always meant getting pizza for dinner that evening (a night off from cooking for mom!) and waking up to her sumptuous cinnamon rolls the next morning. Oh my my. Those cinnamon rolls.

One day that fall, Asnah came to me in tears, mumbling something about a terrible accident. A car accident? Had someone been hurt? Killed! "Oh no Mrs., a laundry accident!" As I mentioned before, our washing machine was a piece of crap, and it must not have dispensed all the bleach properly when she did a load of whites, for the color load that went in afterwards came out covered in white splotches. Compared to the horror I had been envisioning, this was not a big deal, but poor Asnah was so distraught, I thought I'd never get her calmed down!

After supper that evening, we were supposed to go up to the school yard to play volleyball with the older kids. John and I both decided it would be rather humorous if our whole family showed up clad in our polka-dotted clothes. We did get some good laughs out of it, but one woman actually said,"If she were my maid, she'd be out on her ass right now." I felt like telling her,"Well, if I were your maid, I'd probably bleach your clothes on purpose!" Jeez, people. Sometimes, you just gotta know when to laugh!

END-OF-THE-YEAR MADNESS

Dearest Friends,

The final weeks before everyone headed off were a mad flurry! There were all the usual end of the year activities at the school -- the handing out of yearbooks, reading lists and summer assignments -- but with the added trauma of knowing that many of your best buddies and half the teachers would not be coming back.

Austin's teacher, Mrs. Poulin (right), with the help of Ms. Patti, takes the pre-K/K kids on a field trip.  From the looks of it, a rather smelly, noisy field trip.  Perhaps a fertilizer or cement factory?

Alexis' class, with their teacher Mrs. Nybakke

A photo-collage for the yearbook.  With a school this small, you could afford to give each child lots of space!

Lexi's official yearbook photo. Dig those ginormous earrings!

Summer assignments from Lexi's teacher, and then she has the nerve to say "RELAX"? I hope you can read the cartoon at the bottom (click on image to enlarge). Quite humorous, considering how everyone reads books now.

Then, of course, there were the going away parties for all those who were leaving for good. There were preparations to be made for our unexpected housing move; arrangements to be made with our staff; plans to be made for the Girl Scout troop that another mother and I had decided to start, and for which uniforms, books and badges needed to be purchased in the States; advice to be gathered from all the home-leave veterans, covering everything from what we should pack (Nothing! Take empty, lightweight rolling duffles!), to what we should bring back with us, and which airlines and routes were best. I had to finalize arrangements for the Disney trip and meeting up with my sister; change plans for meeting up with my hubby, and all our other friends and relatives, to allow more time in Odessa.  It looked like Theda would be needing our assistance, since John's father was on the verge of getting kicked out of rehab for refusing to cooperate with any of the therapists, in which case their house needed to be made wheelchair accessible, and we'd need to bring in some help for his poor mom.  Whew! We were exhausted before we ever left home!

The biggest Hash of the year -- the one that ended up at the river -- where all the kids and dads had a blast, and most of the moms stood on the banks, keeping an eye out for snakes and yelling "Whatever you do, don't get that water in your mouth or ears!" (deadly parasites, you know)  You can see how much attention they paid to us.