South Dakota terminology

The Peace Corps advised us to return home mindful that we would find a unique, and at times foreign, culture awaiting us. Here are some takes on life from South Dakota:
1. Theft: When someone takes your purse out of your unattended grocery cart. (In other states, this is called charity)
2. Town: Any place with a name, a grain elevator, an implement dealer, and a bar.
3. High speed information: ladies' society "prayer" meeting.
4. Headline news: "Man catches 63 fish over license limit"
5. Pot Roast Pizza: The local parlor's specialty; yes, corn, mashed potatoes and roast on a hand tossed crust...
6. State sport: rodeo (again, no joke)
7. Old maid: high school degree and STILL no ring...
8. Foreign land: well, you've heard of WESTERN South Dakota...
9. Claustrophobia: excess of 10 people per square mile (state average).
10.Family doctor: a medical doctor who treats children and senior citizens, and delivers babies! (in other states you need a 5 physician team to do all that!)

A stranger in a strange land: me!

The ducks stayed in South Dakota.... maybe I should too

I have, for several weeks, been hoping for acceptance into the University of Virginia's prestigious pre- medical post- baccalaureate program (yes it sounds like an old Detroit church name; too loooong). With experienced advising staff, hands on shadowing opportunities, and an excellent reputation for undergraduate instruction, 85% of the those in the program go on to medical school for a reason. The natural beauty of Charlottsville, warm weather, and the architectural beauty of Virginian mansions to boot cannot be ignored. I had been praying for favor, reading the director's research articles, and perfecting my only suit. Last week, I visited a cousin in Sioux Falls, as her husband, an internist runs the free clinic. I knew something was up when their house was on Euclid; a street always in the older, almost historic and always diverse part of town. True enough, every house on the street was unique and theirs; a purplish brown Victorian, overlooked and blended in with the sunset. Full of books, family pictures, and some well fed cats and dog, the house also had subscriptions to the New York Times and the Economist. My cousin showed me an empty but furnished apartment in the finished basement and told me I was welcome to stay there and do my coursework in town. It was tempting The next day, I was using a computer in the Sioux Falls free clinic as I followed my cousin in law on his patient rounds. As we were discussing prevalent STD's in the area, I opened my email. Yes, I was accepted into the University of Virginia's program. I did not dwell on it, however, because we were off to examine a suspected hernia. I met with the head of the clinic and worked out an internship using my past experience in social work. Could the mandatory volunteer time with other students at the University of Virginia free clinic really be better? The previous morning, I had visited Augustana College, a good liberal arts college in Sioux Falls, to see if they offered the courses I would need. The friendly admissions counselor, with the good Dutch name of Dykstra, didn't reprimand me for tardiness, but brought me to the head of the science department. Yes they had a premedical program; with about 90% of graduates getting into medical school. Yes they had worked with "nontraditional" applicants like myself. And yes, there were some scholarships available. With 5 days to decide; I realize that there are benefits on both sides; I do want to feel at home somewhere. I am tired of moving around. I would love to stay in Sioux Falls. I hesitate, however, to rely on my cousin and her husband and Augustana in place of an officially put together pre-packaged program from the UVA. So far, I feel differently every morning, but I have chosen Sioux Falls for two mornings in a row.....

Deciduous, Decidedly

All red blossoms and leaves verdant green
Fell, rotten, froze
Eventually my guise,
Out identity
If you didn't know me before,
Without,
You now won't glance, see
Only sticks
Stripped twigs thinly remain.
Naked, bare
You'd think them dying, strange
Oh, no.
This is not death,
Everlasting honesty,
Just a glimpse,
Purge,
Fleeting truth,
Look- see
Making way
For spring's bright color
Rest before summer's
Exhausting heat
And a glimpse,
To prepare,
To ponder,
That true fall
That last winter
With Peace.

I am not crazy

Valentine’s day recently passed and I celebrated in my usual manner; by filing my taxes. It didn’t take long because my life is remarkably uncomplicated. While I wait to see where I’ll be in April, study in preparation, and line up shadowing opportunities, I jog daily, bake, and hang out with my grandparents. Despite this simplicity, I do not have the clarity that I did in Uganda. I returned to the states a bit suspicious of the conclusions I reached overseas. I wondered if I could trust such out of context decisions. Cluttered now with my so much well intentioned advice, competing opportunities, chances to compare myself with others, and life details, details, details, many days I often cannot see the big picture. What am I doing? And why on earth? I realize this is the reason I went to Lesotho in the first place and part of what attracted me to the Peace Corps. The ability to think; clarity, solitude—and it is what I experienced. I have begun to respect the space for thinking that I had there. I am not confused about where I am going or what I am doing. I am not bewildered. I am not lost. I am, instead, one of the only people I know who have been able to think about what I am doing, to stop the hamster wheel, get out of the cage and make active decisions.

Cards

When it’s cold outside and you don’t have an ice shack or a hunting license (or even a gun), you end up with--- cards. I have developed my strategy; simply all or nothing. Like in crazy rummy, I hold on to my high cards until I can get them to count for me. If someone else goes out first, I lose, big. If not, I really win. As I was holding my cards, hoping that no one would go out first, hoping that the right card would come my way, I realized that this is my life. My masters’ and Peace Corps are great wild cards but not a complete hand. I have some small cards but am holding my hand for bigger ones. I turned down a position as the County child protective services caseworker. It would have been a decent hand. It would have led to a decent life. Instead, I held onto my cards. I’m turning down the small things that threaten to make me settle; a date with so- and- so; a minimum wage job, anxiety over future debt. I’m giving myself permission to take these three months at my grandparents house to study Calculus, Chemistry and Biology (some with and some without a classroom class) to review my MCAT books, to apply and look into different pre- med and med options, and to read. Paul Farmer, not a good bedside book because it fills me with drive to pursue medicine, teaches me that my background is valid and my future pursuits worthwhile—to keep holding onto these cards, to try for the big ones. I did hold those cards last night and made 500 points in one round (instead of the 20 I would have otherwise). The next round, I lost, also grandly. I do worry that I am throwing away the bird in the hand for the elusive flock in the tree. My life, however, is not exactly like cards. First of all, as a first world citizen, I don’t have to worry as much about someone else ending it for me. No, instead the round is very, very long. Too long to go out settling for what I have in my hand so far.

Men are falling from the sky!

A fellow returned Peace Corps volunteer told me, “Sarah, boys are just falling from the sky, I met Luke at a bar last night and now he’s my boyfriend!” --Not this sky, kiddo; I thought. Between classes (with kids 7 years my junior)

and singing at senior housing communities, I seriously doubt anything but snow from this sky. Yesterday afternoon, my grandfather, who had previously been joking about finding me a lonely rancher sat me down for a serious discussion; “I don’t want you to die alone, Sarah.” “Oh Lord!” I thought, on my way to work “Now I’m dying alone; and here I was hoping for at least a Golden Girls’ house beforehand.” At work last week, a little lady from Laos (mother of 10) put me on a machine with a former marine, not so bad looking. “Sarah, you single?” She asked. “Good; Robert, he single too. He vewy nice boy.” I mentioned this to another girl at work, and found that an entire ploy is in place to get Robert and I together. Don’t worry, she said, If Robby doesn’t work out, Sam over there is single too. I know he’s a good man. He loves hunting and fishing. She then proceeded to list each of Sam’s material possessions (and describe his hunting trucks). After all, she says, I don’t want you dying singe, now. Imperfect though they may be, men are indeed falling from the sky, like half fermented grapes from the very well functioning village grapevine. It won’t be long before I find myself on a date at the shooting range, pheasant field, or ice fishing pond some Saturday afternoon.

Oh Jah! South Dakota

In Uganda, when a young college graduate loses her job and is broke, she goes back home. Home is where your extended family is, where there is always a second cousin or an uncle or a grandparent to stay with and help out. In Uganda, when an astoundingly successful person finishes her career, she buys land and a house at “home” and cares for nieces, nephews and elderly relatives. I don’t know if I succeeded or failed; if I am choosing this or have no other choices, but I have also gone home to my people. I stay with my grandparents who refuse to let me pay for anything and want me to focus on school. I will stay with my cousin this summer, whose husband is an internal medicine specialist supervising USD medical students. Yes I wonder if I should go to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. Yes I wonder if, in this state of 800,000, I could ever meet people to connect to. Yes, I am very annoyed that The Economist is taking so long to be delivered. Yes, my yearly habit of crying has become weekly. Yes, sometimes I wonder what the heck I’m doing. It is especially hard that those in my age group have such vastly different lives and outlooks. My people, however, my family; get it. They have me whether they wanted to or not. And I’ve got them.