Thursday, April 19, 2012

Long time no see

Well, I sort of forgot I had a blog. (The actual date of this posting is May 19, not April 19).

I really have to ease myself into this. I'm thinking: Blog = word vomit. So I just have to go for it.

Well, IT'S OFFICIAL. I am going to Kigali. It was never un-official, except that I had a Plan B in case I couldn't raise the funds in time. But now that I'm good on $$$, it's back to Plan A.

As I settle upon the cusp of packing and reading for class, I want to take this moment for some super-deserved THANK YOUS. This is my version of the Oscar speech. Because truly, I could NOT have done this without the support of so many generous people.

I want to give all of you a big THIS (hug).













This endeavor has been marinating for a couple years now, and this summer was le moment ideal. Ideal times, I've learned, are only completely ideal if something strong and tough and reliable is provided to secure the flawlessness. The money I've raised has been that base for this beautiful opportunity, and I want to say thank you to all of the beautiful people who are sending me to Rwanda.

Sam, Ali, Megan and Ben in Columbia, thank you. You guys are the best.
Elizabeth and Margo in Idaho, thank you.
Grandpa and Michele in Idaho, thank you.
Paula in Iowa, thank you.
Steve and Scherrie (my surrogate parents) in Columbia, thank you.
Gabbie (my favorite dance partner and babe) in New York City, thank you. <3
Cliff and Stephanie in Iowa, thank you.
Stuart and Dana in Iowa, thank you.
Uncle Tim and Aunt Lydia in Texas, thank you. I cannot describe the amount of love and thanks I send to you for your generosity.
Tom Duffy and the Duffy Fund Committee from the Journalism School in Columbia, thank you. Thank you for seeing the journalist in me and recognizing this as an opportunity for me to grow.
Brian Brooks and the Friedham and Field scholarships from the Journalism School in Columbia, thank you. Thank you for seeing this opportunity as necessary for my character and professional growth. I cannot thank you enough for your support.
Kerry Chao from Yogoluv in Columbia, thank you. Thank you for helping out an old employee who may or may not have eaten one too many yogurt samples.
Katie Worzel, Renee Reed-Miller and Vessels International, Inc. in Columbia, thank you. Thank you for working with me and recognizing my potential as an asset to the program and to your organization.
Dr. Bea Gallimore in Columbia, thank you. Thank you for inspiring me to join the program two years ago and thank you for supporting me as I worked toward my goal. Thank you for your grace, generosity and tenacity.


Now, to my friends and boyfriend, Scott. Thank you. Thank you for holding me up as I raced around, wild-eyed and strung out from lack of sleep. Thank you for the toasts (extra shout out to Em). Thank you for the hugs. Thank you for the inspiration. Thank you for the advice. Thank you for the dances. Thank you for being proud of me, as I am proud to be your friend. Extra shout out to Alex for Smangin'. Extra shout out to Lucy for the "jogs." Extra shout out to Scott for all the back rubs and long talks. Y'all are my life. I love you.

Finally, to my family. I may be a bit of a Black Sheep at times, with my head always dreaming of something, but thank you for recognizing my passion and commitment to this program. And thus, thank you for supporting me. Thank you for offering the logical voice, and for working for ways to support me. Gabe, thank you for working with First Rate for a donation. Grandma, Jacek, Mom and Brian, thank you for your donations. Most of all, thank you for believing in me. Thank you for recognizing my capabilities and encouraging me to press on. I cannot articulate how lucky I am to have fallen onto this planet surrounded by all of you. I love you.

And now, a big breath. That definitely exceeded the Oscar committee's maximum speech time. But I cannot stop saying it, thinking it, living it: THANK YOU.

Yanna

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

A poem for my grandfather

I wrote this poem for my grandpa, Zenon, who lives in Poland, and whom I've never met. I wish my wanderlust would have led me to you.


The Mountains

if I met you now, we’d go to the mountains
you’d drive me in your little yellow European car to the summer house, with Gypsy and Cuba, even though I keep forgetting that Cuba died years ago
nevertheless, she’d come too
because dogs and cats and people alike love the mountains
and we’d cook sausage, but first you’d pour me vodka, and we’d toast, and we’d speak in Polish, and I’d know all the words

if I met you now, we’d go swimming in the Baltic
and my dad would be there, too
and I’d ask about the time when you were in a rock band, and when you wore leather pants
and I’d ask if you liked my dad’s hair in the ‘80s when it was long, when he liked metal
and I’d ask you about Joanna, because that’s my name, too, and she was beautiful
and I’d ask you to tell me the story about how you met, and how she liked reading, how she worked in a castle, and how you were in a rock band
because I don’t know that story, but I know you met in the mountains

if I met you now, we’d meet in the mountains
and I’d comment on the cultural differences, but it wouldn’t matter because
you and I wouldn’t have cultural differences
and my dad would be happy that we were together, and he’d pretend I was his sister, and he’d have that time back with you, and we’d play card games, and Gypsy would sit on my lap

if I met you now, I’d meet Zosia, too
and we’d cook dinner and gossip together, and I’d say I like her new haircut, and she’d say I was beautiful, and she’d say I look like Joanna
and then we’d go out into the living room, and you’d show me the place where you’d Skyped with me, and then we’d laugh because we were together, and Skype was a material device that plasticized my face and plasticized your face, and we’d admit
we never liked doing that because it was never enough
and then we’d watch football, and my dad and I would yell at the same times, and I would notice I look more like him than I thought
and then we’d fall asleep, and Gypsy would snore, and you and I would sneak out into the dark night, and you’d show me the way your garden beams from the starlight, and the flowers would brush against my ankles
and we’d fall asleep, and we’d wake in the morning, and that’s where we’d be


Yanna