I don’t know how I came to buy into the poetic notion of spring being a gentle awakening of the earth with green buds shyly appearing after the cold of winter but I can state with certainty that it isn’t so!  There is nothing slow, shy or stealthy about spring around here!  It is a dramatic, exuberant, forceful and almost frenzied season.   Overnight the brown wizened landscape was thrust aside as blades of grass exploded out of the ground, and leaves popped out of tree branches.  Great armies of bugs appeared, crawling, flying, spinning webs and nibbling on flesh; birds sang loud frenetic songs from every bush as they competed for the attention of prospective mates; peeper frogs joined the chorus, overwhelming the distant sound of the farmer’s tractor plowing the muddy fields.

Green vines appeared alongside the road, covering the ground and twining around tree trunks.  On our way up to the barn we eyed them uncertainly, sure that last summer someone had pointed out the poison ivy to us but not recognizing it after the winter break.  Wracking my brain for the mnemonic I paused, finger in the air for dramatic emphasis and stated “Leaves of green, plant is MEAN!”  My children stared at me dumbfounded. “Mom, all the leaves are green!”  Hmmm, maybe it was ‘three leaves of green’?  “How about ‘Leaves of three don’t eat me’?” one of them offered.  Unenlightened I told them, “Just stay out of the viney area and you’ll be fine.”

Plants are one thing, bugs are another.  We could stay out of the viney area, but avoiding bugs just was not possible.  “I wish it were still winter,” my son said.  “Really?  Why?” I asked.  “Because of the bugs!”  He replied.  Flies, ticks, spiders, mosquitoes, bees, and wasps surrounded us, both outside and in the house.  Worms appeared in the damp under the old barn timbers we were clearing out, prompting a trip to the neighbor’s pond and my son’s first fish.  The temperatures soared right along with the clouds of gnats and the barn swallows darting through the air and flowers dotted the fields and hillsides.  Spring had definitely sprung!

But more than any other sign of spring it was the green – light green, grass green, deep green, everywhere you look the landscape is drenched in green – that impressed me. We had green in California but it’s so much more subtle there – gray greens, olive greens, drab greens, brown with a hint of green – just a dust or brush of it in a landscape of tans, ochre, terracotta, and sun bleached white. Here the green of spring drips, oozes and enfolds you.  It is a comforting color, full of life and new beginnings, leading you to feel all is right with the world, even while news stories of carbon dioxide reaching 400 parts per million hover on the edge of your consciousness.   Unfortunately all isn’t right with the world (check out these time lapse photos from of the earth from space if you doubt me) and the verdant landscape should remind all of us of what’s at stake.  Maybe that’s why I detect an underlying urgency to the season.

Some of you have been with us since the beginning, when the combination of medical issues that required a move to sea level, a nefarious scammer who “rented” the house we were unable to sell, and the job-ending Great Recession teamed up to drop kick us off the edge of a steep and seemingly endless abyss.  Since then it’s been one fast and furious headlong plunge momentarily halted here and there as we landed on a narrow ledge or briefly grabbed hold of a tree root before gravity forced us onwards.  The crazy quilt of temporary, part-time, odd jobs, Ebay and Etsy sales, loans I haven’t been able to repay and gifts from friends provided those ledges that slowed our descent, but were never enough to arrest it entirely, much less give us any upwards momentum.  The inexorable conclusion of our path wasn’t one I could bear so we took the drastic step last summer of leaving friends and familiar surroundings and relocating to the Midwest with the aim of finding work, starting a hobby farm and moving into a place of our own.

We have made some small progress on certain aspects of our plan – I now have two part time jobs, one poorly paid hourly position and one that pays only commission.  And we have the beginning of a goat farm with (currently) four meat goats and two dairy goats.

Some months ago (while still unemployed and despairing of ever finding work) I decided to return to school to add a teaching certification to the bachelor’s and master’s degrees I already have and applied to the Transition to Teaching program at Indiana University.  Recently I was ‘conditionally’ accepted to the program and also conditionally awarded a fellowship that will pay for about two-thirds of the cost of the program.

The condition was (quite reasonable given the number of years since I’ve been in school) that I prove I had the appropriate knowledge base in the subject I wished to teach – Earth Space Science – by passing the Praxis 2 exam.  I had until August to pass but if I wanted the fellowship money the first quarter I needed a passing grade by June!  Of course there was no way for me to attend school without the fellowship so I gathered textbooks and study guides and admonishing the kids to fend for themselves and not bother me, crammed like crazy during every free minute for the exam which was scheduled for the evening of May 10th.

Last Friday I downed a triple shot latte at Starbucks, went through my flashcards again and then headed to campus in the rain to find the testing center. Trying to squeeze in just one more round of review and cutting it close was my first mistake. Relying on my clueless GPS (mind you it could find its way around the freeways of California just fine but it’s hopelessly muddled in the Midwest) was my second mistake.  My GPS had me wend my way through campus service roads and did bring me right to the correct address – but to the backside with absolutely no parking anywhere and by the time I’d made my way out of the maze and around to the front and found on street parking, I was no longer early and barely on time.

Leaving everything except my ID and car keys in the car, I dashed through the rain and into the building.  “Here for testing?” asked a lady hovering near the door.  She directed me upstairs, where after a quick stop in the restroom to try and dry myself off with paper towels, I went through the check in process.  It was clear that they took testing seriously, employing all sorts of methods to keep people from cheating, including barring you from taking anything into the testing room, checking IDs, and video and audio taping you while you took the test.  It was a little intimidating!

The test was simple though – 100 multiple choice questions dealing with the scientific method, geology, maps, weather, plate tectonics, the water cycle, basic physics and astronomy – but not easy.  You had two hours to complete it and I finished in about 40 minutes and then went through it a second time.  At the end you had the option of not seeing/not reporting your score or seeing and reporting it.  I didn’t linger over the choice and clicked on the See and Report button.  And I’m pleased to report that I passed!

So, conditions fulfilled, and fellowship papers signed, I begin school the first week of June!  I am feeling cautiously optimistic that our downhill slide is about to hit a plateau!

This blog post is dedicated to our goat Ginger.  Ginger was one of our original goats and she stood out from the very beginning.  Even before we met her the kids had all declared she was their favorite goat – just from the photographs!  Her sister, Nutmeg, and half-sister, Honey, are creamy white in color.  Ginger on the other hand is a light brown with darker markings on her face and body.  Her more dramatic coloring made her stand out. 

Ginger is part Kiko (New Zealand meat goat).  Her dad was Kiko and her mom was half Kiko, one-quarter Boer (another meat goat) and one-quarter pygmy.  Even though the pygmy genes are just a small percent it’s enough to make Ginger (and her twin sister Nutmeg) a bit smaller than our other goat.  She may be smaller but don’t start thinking that Ginger means she behaves gingerly!  There is nothing cautious or timid about her!

Like all of our goats Ginger likes to be involved in whatever is going on – mucking out stalls, building pens, annoying the rabbit – whatever it is she will be there!  And like all goats, Ginger likes to explore with her mouth – she nibbles on everything, including garments, hair, and tools.

She is our number one escape artist and where she goes, the other goats are sure to follow.  If we want to see whether a new pen is secure enough to hold goats, all we have to do is put Ginger in there and come back in a couple hours.  If she’s still in, it’s secure!

Ginger loves to climb, try new things, and is always up for a game with the other goats.  She is the one who is working on how to unlatch the gate, open the feed bin, and escape into the main area of the barn where the hay is stored.  She’s the one who ends up on your back if you bend over to pick something up and who sneaks the gloves from your back pocket. Frankly all her exuberant characteristics have made her a bit less of a favorite (Honey is the sweetest goat so she’s my favorite) but she’s always the one we look to for a good laugh.  She and Nutmeg and Honey are all one year old this month and this fall will be expecting kids of their own.  We can’t wait!

The one thing my kids (and I) unanimously agree upon in regards to country life is that we do not like the ticks! The level of repulsion varies from a mildly irritated resignation to such a deep disgust that the only rational response to finding one embedded in your skin seems to be to run around in circles screaming at the top of your lungs “There’s a TICK on me!  Get it off, get it off, get it off!!”  Luckily, as the designated tick plucker, I fall into the first category and so, after tackling the screaming child and providing some comfort object for the victim to clutch during the operation, I remove the offending parasite. Ticks do not squish easily, at least not if you get them before they’ve gone into a feeding frenzy and ballooned up to the size of a pea on your blood, so we deposit them in the toilet or lock them into a jar of water where they drown.

Even with the nasty beastie vanquished one’s body retains the memory of those tiny feet crawling across one’s skin and PTS (phantom tick syndrome) strikes.  You can’t avoid it.  Immediately after finding and plucking the initial tick, your nerves tingle with a crawling sensation and you swear there are more ticks on you.  PTS is worse if you find a tick crawling on you in the middle of the  night and it is imperative that you turn on the light, peel back the covers and even strip off your PJs for a close examination if you ever expect to get back to sleep!

Ticks are not really that threatening being quite small, and their bite doesn’t even hurt (which is why, combined with their size, you tend not to notice them until it’s too late).  They are not on the level of other dangerous animals such as bears or copperhead snakes or bulls in rut and yet they are far more disgusting and repulsive to us.  They are very prevalent in this area and hard to avoid when you live in a house in the forest.  The dogs, outside during the day, in at night, bring them in and even with the thorough pre-bed tick check doesn’t always manage to get all of them.

Ticks aren’t just repulsive – they can actually be dangerous due to the diseases they carry and spread.  These include Lyme disease (on the rise in the U.S.), Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, Tularemia, Ehrlichiosis and Babesiosis.  Many of these diseases cause flu like symptoms including headache, fever, muscle aches, vomiting and a crater like depression at the bite site.  Some diseases are worse than others and some are harder to effectively treat.

So I’ve been looking for ways to keep ticks away from us and the animals.  The most obvious suggestion “Avoid tick season  completely by staying away from outdoor areas where ticks thrive, usually during  the months of April through September in the U.S.” isn’t really feasible!  That leaves a combination of diligence and chemicals.  “Wear light colored clothing so that ticks are easy to spot, and tuck your long pants into your socks” suggests one website.  Long pants, socks?  In the heat of an Indiana summer?  Time to stock up on bugspray!

On Tuesday evening we were off on another rural adventure – to our first real (the 4H auction didn’t count) livestock auction.  Our goal was to buy a pig for my 4H’er, and maybe, if prices were good, a ‘feeder’ for our freezer this fall.  Knowing we would stand out as rubes I attempted to dress for the occasion.  I put on a t-shirt and layered a long-sleeved flannel shirt (appropriately bought at Rural King, the farm supply store) over top of it.  I added my dirty barn jeans and tucked them into my black rubber boots.  Then I spoiled the effect by showing up in a mini-van.  Two women and two little girls in a mini-van with the middle seat taken out and replaced by a huge dog crate.  Yeah.  We stood out like a sore thumb amongst all those pickup trucks and stock trailers!

Leaving Old Blue in the parking lot tucked between two F150 king cabs didn’t make us any less obvious as the auction barn was largely inhabited by worn and craggy old men in overalls and feed store caps who fiddled with their can of chew as they ambled around eyeing the livestock offerings, nodding to neighbors and commenting in a laconic and unintelligible (to the uninitiated) shorthand on the quality of the animals.  “Humps his back” one muttered as we peered through the fence at a sizable black boar.  “Umm” I replied, uncertain as to whether a humped back was a good thing or bad.  The old farmer just looked at me and then spit a stream of tobacco past my feet before moving down the aisle.  I hadn’t fooled him for one minute!  I directed our party in the opposite direction.

My daughter’s eye was caught by a pen full of half a dozen black and white piglets – not big but not too small and my relative and kids went over to check them out – but I lingered by a pen with three big pink pigs, hefty with large haunches.  They looked like Wilbur on steroids, all pink and plump.  We had been told that the 4H pig had to be born after January 1^st of this year and the idea was to buy a “January” pig.  Our pig would compete against the other 4H pigs and since the point is to grow the pig to around 200 pounds a pig born in January would have a better chance of reaching that weight than one born in March or April.  The black and white pigs were a bit smaller than the pink ones – maybe February or March pigs.  Auction pigs don’t come with pedigrees – you just have to eyeball them.  The other criterion was to pick a male pig.  Male pigs (barrows) get bigger than female pigs and most of the black and white ones were gilts, or females.  Two of the pink pigs were males.

About this time another farmer sidled up next to me and looked over the pink pigs.  “They look good,” I said.  He responded with a noncommittal noise and then turned and looked me over.  “4H?” he asked.  Since my daughters had just rejoined me it wasn’t much of a guess.  And so began the conversation that was part information and part sales job.  He also had a daughter in 4H swine club and quickly ascertained that we would be showing at the same fair this summer.  So in a good neighborly fashion he offered advice to the newcomers – just what to look for in a good pig, what sort of price each would fetch (the pink ones would be pricey), what breed was the friendliest (not pink pigs), explained that female pigs were just as good as males (his daughter took reserve champion with a gilt last year) and so on.  The girls wanted me to see the cute black and white pigs and he walked over with us – proclaiming them to be one of the friendliest breeds it was possible to find.  I suggested they were on the small side compared to the pink pigs.  He pointed out that the pink male pigs hadn’t been ‘cut’ and I’d have to find and pay someone to do that. That could raise the price by an additional $40.  And the pig might die!  He told me horror stories about ruptures complete with graphic descriptions.  I eyed the cute, friendly, smaller, female black and white pigs with more interest.

Before long it was time to thread our way through the crowd and find a seat in the arena.  We were reassured to see Katie, my daughter’s 4H swine club leader, sitting at the podium.  She was going to point out the good pig in group for us. The auction started with the smaller animals – chickens, ducks, rabbits, and even a pot belly pig.  I kept my bid number tucked securely in my pocket!  Small animals out of the way it was time for equipment – feeders, tack, even egg cartons – and then, finally, the mid-sized animals.  Goats went for great prices I was happy to see (although I hope to not sell ours at auction as the animals were very stressed out and unhappy).  Then, my daughter tensing beside me, the doors opened and in ran a posse of pigs – small black and white pigs.  We were up!  There were about ten pigs in total, all running every which way, pursued by the auction assistant who slapped them on the rump with a big flat plastic paddle while the auctioneer warmed up the crowd and got the bidding going.  The bid was buyer’s choice meaning the high bidder would choose the pig or pigs he or she wanted and then the bidding would begin again on the remainder until they were all gone.

Starting around $15 the price quickly rose in $5 increments.  There was a lot of interest – the deadline for having your animal in hand for 4H is quickly approaching and there weren’t a lot of pigs on offer.  The spotters kept scanning the crowd, picking out bidders and I made sure the one on our side of the arena saw me (while at the same time attempting to play it cool, just flicking my card up rather than leaping about and waving my arm) as the bids climbed.  Finally the last bid was in. The price had reached $55 and I was the winner!  As the auctioneer asked which pig we wanted, Katie leaned over the podium and pointed “the spotty one,” she proclaimed and that one was quickly cut out of the group and the action restarted.  We were now proud owners of a small, friendly, female, black and white pig!  Oh, and those pink pigs – you can probably guess who got one of those!  4H can be pretty competitive.

First off – Doty!  Doty now weighs 5 lbs 4 oz.  This is the typical weight of a newborn but since she started out at barely 3 lbs it’s a nice gain for her first week!  Mom (Tinker) had a rough go of it herself, developing mastitis in one teat which is still lingering but on the mend.  Because of that she doesn’t like being milked and during a milking attempt jumped sideways and landed on little Doty.  That was 2 days ago and Doty is still limping.  I believe she is just bruised so for now we are just keeping an eye on her.  This goat keeping isn’t for the faint of heart, that’s for sure!

Secondly – school!  I received my official acceptance letter – which spells out the ‘conditional’ acceptance I received.  I must get a passing grade in the Earth/Space sciences content knowledge test (Praxis 2/0571) by August 1st.  This makes perfect sense given the length of time that has passed since I’ve been in school.  Yesterday I was notified that I have been conditionally awarded a fellowship for science teachers – same condition but now the date has been moved up to June 2nd (the start of school).  Since the test is only given every so often I will have to take it between April 29 – May 11th.  That doesn’t give me nearly as much time to study, but on the other hand if I can manage it I will have that out of the way and can concentrate on the rest of my schooling.  The fellowship will pay $7500 a quarter which is about two-thirds of the cost.  I haven’t heard about any of the other financial aid for which I applied.

And thirdly – our house!  We are on track for filing for the minor subdivision (lot split) which will allow us to install septic, dig a well and put a mobile home next to the goat barn.  We file tomorrow and the county government slowly grinds along and we should get approval at the meeting at the end of May.  Once that is set, we get the septic approval (approved in principle now but can’t be officially approved before the lot split).  Then comes the hard work of actually digging, purchasing, installing, etc.  Hopefully that will come together in June.

If you don’t follow Boxcarkids on facebook you might have missed this – I have been admitted to the IU program Transition to Teaching (or T2T) beginning this summer, and landed a part-time job with the local prosecutor’s office.

The teaching program is only one year long – classes this summer, then classes and two days of classroom observation in the fall and then full-time student teaching (plus one class) in the spring.  I’m getting my certification so that I can teach science (Earth/Space focus) in grades 5 through 12.  I’m looking into adding English as a Second Language (ESL) certification concurrently.  There were many more students applying than they had room for this year so I’m glad I got a spot.  Most of the other students are recent grads in other subjects adding teaching certification or Master’s Degree students doing the same.  There are a few (very few) older adults – a lawyer who was a public defender and an older woman returning to school whose previous profession is unknown to me.  But I think I’m the oldest!  I was invited to the orientation for the program before receiving my letter of admission (still outstanding) so I don’t know yet whether I will receive any financial aid.  I hope to hear soon about that.

We don’t get to choose our school placement – we write an application that is part resume, part job application and part sales pitch that the program head takes around to schools in the area.  The schools get to pick who they want.  I’m hoping (and writing my application with that sort of slant) to be placed in a high school in Columbus (about 45 minutes away) that is a problem based learning academy because that style of teaching appeals to me (hence the textbooks I’ve added to the Boxcarkids Amazon.com wishlist).  They have an interest in enviromental sciences so that would be a good fit.  But I could end up anywhere.  They do try to place you within about an hour’s drive (and you can’t go to the school you graduated from so I won’t be in my kids’ schools).

I’ll admit I decided to apply for this program because I was feeling a bit at the end of my rope and it seemed like it might be the way to get back into the workforce.   But I wasn’t feeling very enthusiastic about it – returning to school at my age just seemed like such an uphill battle!  After attending orientation the other evening I have to say I’m feeling a little more excited about the program and am looking forward to being a part of it.  I do wish my highschooler was taking Physics next year so we could study together though!

Job-wise I applied for a part-time job with the local prosecutor’s office and interviewed for the position on April 5th.  They offered me the job on April 10th and I started on the 11th!  It doesn’t pay well at all ($8/hr, a salary I last made nearly 30 years ago) but the schedule is good – just mornings Monday through Thursday right now and the work is relatively interesting.  I’ll mainly be dealing with the traffic and minor infraction diversion program – that’s where you agree to take classes and pay fines and your ticket doesn’t appear on your record where it will just cost you more in insurance.  There’s a lot (too much) of paperwork involved as well as some new computer programs to learn and a new language of acronyms and technical terms.  It will pay for the phone and utility bills at our new house but not much else so I’m continuing my sales rep job as well.  I’m not the best salesperson but am hoping to improve!

So, along with our new baby goat (and soon new pigs), new house (more about that later), I’ve got a new job and new school program to juggle!  And of course the four old kids   It will be a busy summer.  Oh, yeah, and there’s a garden in the mix as well!  Buy stock in coffee – demand is going up!

Wednesday afternoon a day that was going quite well – I had sold an ad, and signed employment papers for my new part-time job at the prosecutor’s office – turned sour fast when I went up to the goat barn.  My daughter and I had only intended a short visit to drop off some water bottles before heading over to our neighbor K’s as I’d just received a text saying their last goat was in labor.  But when I went into the barn I found Tinker, our dairy goat, standing over two tiny, limp, wet bodies in her pen.  Blood caked her hindquarters and the straw beneath the bodies.  I ducked through the gap in the fence and dashed to her pen, dropped to my knees and began rubbing the bodies.  The larger one was still and cool, but the smaller one shuddered under my touch.  I yelled for my daughter to toss me a towel and I pulled the tiny baby into my lap and roughly rubbed it.  Once it was dry and wrapped up I picked up the limp one and in a last ditch effort to revive it swung it around by its back legs.  Mucus dripped from its mouth but there was no movement, no breath.  He was dead.

Mourning would have to wait – the living one was so tiny (only just 3 lbs we discovered later) and weak.  Despite our encouragement she couldn’t stand – in fact she could barely lift her head.  My daughter dashed off to our neighbor’s to get a goat bottle and I milked Tinker who had nuzzled her baby but stood quietly now, seemingly in shock.  It did not take long to realize that the tiny goat was going to need some intensive care to make it.  Unlike our neighbors’ goat babies who were up and nursing in very little time this baby was just lying there.  We were going to have to bring her back to the house and feed her.

We warmed her mother’s milk and put it in the borrowed bottle but feeding her turned out to be more difficult than we had imagined as she seemed unable to suck and the nipple on the goat bottle was way too big for her little mouth!  Months earlier I had ordered a “Kidding Kit” from Caprine Supply.  It came with things like navel clips, iodine, probiotic paste, a record book and a leg snare to help pull a stuck kid from mom.  After reading up on all the things that could go wrong I placed a 2^nd order – for kid colostrum supplement and a stomach tube for feeding weak kids.  Yes, I figured I was over prepared after watching three sets of kids being born healthy and strong to my neighbor’s goats over the past month but I wanted to have the bases covered. And it turned out to be a good thing that I was prepared – the baby goat’s first successful feeding (and the next 2 or 3 after that) was by tube.  Momma’s milk, a warm dry bed and plenty of attention got her through the first night but the next day was supposed to be my first day at the new job!  I didn’t think showing up with a newborn goat was the way I wanted to start it.

[Preparing to begin tube feeding]

Luckily for us we have fabulous neighbors and K agreed to ‘goat sit’ for the day.  Shades of turning my kids over to daycare!  K got to see the baby goat, whom we were now calling Doty as we were all doting on her, take her first steps and got to give her the first bath!

[Up and walking!]

My day was long.  After a near sleepless night I spent 4 hours at work, then trudged through the rain trying to sell ads, ran into town for groceries, picked up my middle daughter who was at an afterschool meeting for Academic Team, ran home, changed clothes and went to see baby Doty.  Less than 24 hours had elapsed but what a change there was!  Doty was up and walking around and while she still would not suck the tube nourishment was clearly working (as were her elimination functions).  K’s little dog, Daisy, had taken a very protective interest in the baby goat, no doubt providing some stimulation and company during the day.  Then it was back home for a quick dinner, changing back into my work clothes and off to IU for the orientation meeting for the teaching program.

I was very tired when I retrieved Doty at around 10 PM last evening and as she had just been fed I tucked her into a big plastic tote with a headed dog bed and headed for my own bed to catch up on sleep.  She was unenthusiastic at the middle of the night feeding but took some milk from the bottle when I squirted it in the back of her mouth. This morning after the children departed for school, I gathered up baby and the milking bucket and headed for the barn.  Tinker must have heard us coming because she was standing up in her pen, hollering over the fence when we arrived.  Doty clearly recognized mom as she started crying right back to her.

[Mom - that tickles!]

Minutes later the family was reunited and after some loving nuzzles on both side the light bulb went on and Doty started sniffing around mom’s udder.  She still seemed puzzled about how to get the milk she must have smelled out so I reached under and gave her a little squirt!  Mom was very patient as she fumbled around until she caught on.

Our first farm birth – we’d looked forward to it for so long, enviously eying our neighbors’ goat kids, and with such big expectations.  When it arrived it was a surprise and a sorrow, at least initially.  We are still sad we lost the little boy twin, but so happy little Doty has, with lots of attention and TLC, made an astounding recovery and seems on her way to a healthy happy life!

Can you imagine hitchhiking from the West Coast to the East Coast without a cent in your pocket?  Yeah, me neither. In the politest of terms I would call it extremely risky.  But in the mid-1990s a journalist by the name of Mike McIntyre did just that and lived to write a book about it.  It is titled “The Kindness of Strangers: Penniless Across America” and yesterday it was available as a free Kindle download on Amazon.com.  Most of my Kindle books were obtained as free downloads and a lot of them turn out to be worth the price.  This one I might have paid good money to read.

Mike, a well traveled, yet surprisingly fearful journalist reaches the end of his rope just after his 37^th birthday.  A little young for a mid-life crisis especially as in his own assessment he really hasn’t starting living his life; he’s been too afraid.  In a move guaranteed to force him to face his fears and kick start his life he decides to hitchhike from San Francisco, California to Cape Fear, North Carolina.  I’m not sure exactly why he opts to do it with no money in his pocket, and what’s more, to do it without accepting money along the way.  He is going to rely on the kindness of strangers for transportation, food and lodging along what is to be a six week journey.

It’s the middle of a recession, and when he leaves on September 6^th, two men from the Midwest are on a cross-country killing spree, but even so I can’t help but think that you could not do today, what he did now nearly 20 years ago.  I think it’s more dangerous out there now.  Of course the people in Mike’s family thought it was plenty dangerous back then – “You’re going to get raped out there.” His grandmother warns him.  So in some ways it might seem that the most amazing thing about his journey is that he doesn’t get molested, assaulted, robbed, or killed and in fact the only ills he suffers are hunger, discomfort and one or two unnerving situations – close calls with drivers who appear to contemplate harming him or at least seem unconcerned about harming themselves and taking him along as collateral damage.

But it is clear that Mike thinks the most amazing thing about his journey is the kindness of the vast majority of the people he meets.  The drivers who pick him up, the people who buy him dinner or, even more startling, take him home for dinner, who let him campout in their yards or even offer him a bed for the night.  The drunks who buy him a beer; the Illinois contractor who invites him out for a game of golf; the many women who have weathered abuse and privation but who still see the good in people and willingly give him a ride or a meal; the retired basketball coach who lets him camp free at the campground he manages and whose home is a shrine to his ball player son; the potheads, the poets, the proselytizers, and prostitutes over and over again offer him kindness without strings.

I wondered (purely hypothetically) could you undertake the same journey with similar results today? Or has the Great Recession hardened us?  Have we become more self-centered? Have our financial losses made us more tight fisted and less willing to lend a hand?  Or, as some researchers speculate, has the prevalence of scams and the anonymity of the Internet made us more cautious or callous?

I wanted to know – are we less kind now than we used to be?  I went looking for the answers in studies on kindness and this is what I found: kindness is contagious and being kind makes you happier and more popular.  So even if times are hard it seems likely that people would still want to be happy and popular, right?

Apparently the answer to that depends on your age or location.  A study in 2010 showed that college students are less compassionate towards strangers and less empathic in general than were students 30 years ago possibly due to increasing social isolation. A study on kindness towards strangers worldwide found that poorer cultures, smaller communities and countries with a slower pace of life were all more likely to help a stranger in need.

One of the reasons I downloaded (and read in a single day) this book is that kindness has always been a quality I hold in high regard.  Our family motto, as my kids can attest, is “If you see someone in need and you can help, then you do help.”  I believe children learn by example and they’ve participated in putting this motto into action as we have rescued lost dogs and returned them to their owners, stopped for stranded motorists or offered battery jumps for stalled cars, given a lift to a woman who just missed her bus in the rain, and helped and befriended the homeless.

My children have seen kindness in action in many other ways as well, since we began our difficult journey through homelessness and poverty.  Strangers, people who have never met them in person, have sent gifts of food, clothing and school supplies, paid for their sports physicals and glasses, cheered on their successes and worried about their illnesses. Strangers have shopped through the blog link to Amazon.com, bought items from my Etsy store, and stepped in time and again when I thought we couldn’t weather another dark before the dawn, sending the help that got us through another day.

My kids are very aware of the big part my blog readers have played in our journey and I want you to know that they appreciate you.  I hope I am imbuing my kids with a variety of good character traits – resiliency, fortitude, flexibility and a sense of humor.  I hope they take after me in those ways.  If they are kind adults then they will be taking after you as well.

Is suddenly a lot closer to becoming reality!  As most of you know we have been sheltered in a variety of different abodes over the past 3 or 4 years.  We once owned a very nice house – 5 bedrooms, 2.5 baths, full finished basement, big back yard.  But as the realtors say it’s “Location, location, location” and that house was located in Colorado at a rather high altitude which unfortunately proved detrimental to my young son’s health.  If you haven’t already, you can read more about that on the “About” page.

Since sliding into the chasm of the Great Recession we have lived in tents, a 27-foot travel trailer, a 38-foot trailer and now we shelter (four in one bedroom) with a relative.  This was meant to be a short term solution, lasting until I found a job and could save money for a place of our own.  Jobs have been scarce, although I have recently begun selling ads for a small local publisher on a commission only basis and I have an interview for a clerk type position with the prosecutor’s office tomorrow.  Nevertheless, saving money for a house has just not been possible (if you’ve been following my successes at ad selling on the Boxcarkids facebook page you’ll understand).

Now, with my acceptance into the Transition to Teaching Program at the local university I am hoping that in time (like a year from this fall) I will have a regular paying job with benefits.  And joining me in that belief is a long-time family friend who has come forward and offered to help us get into our own living space.  She will match the money I earn and raise as a no-interest loan that I will not have to begin to repay for several years.

This will allow us to move forward with our plans to put a mobile home on property owned by a relative (and located right next to the goat barn).  I have begun the steps necessary – getting soils testing done for the septic permit, getting the minor subdivision (a required step) underway and starting the search for contractors who can install the septic system and dig a well.  With any luck, and a lot of help, we will have a home to move into this summer (which is just when my program starts)!

I finally feel as though I can see the glimmer of a light at the end of the tunnel.  With the T2T program lasting only a year (thank goodness I’ll be out of college before my teenager starts) I have a concrete timeline.  I can look ahead to very likely employment in fall of 2014.  There is still a fair amount of work ahead of me but at last I can anticipate positive movement!

If you can help us move into our own home, where we have some more space, privacy and autonomy, it would be greatly appreciated.  I will have more information about costs as soon as I get the estimates on septic and well construction.  If you have suggestions about fundraising possibilities I’d love to hear your ideas!