Volunteer

I made it to the Wendt center a few weeks ago for a training on candlelight vigils, something the center will sponsor if requested. It was a very cold night, and it being rush hour, I took the metro. The center was supposed to be a half block from the Fort Totten metro stop in northeast, an area I'd never been to. I didn't know which way to turn, so I hailed a cab. The cab driver got lost looking for the place, and said that I didn't have to pay for the ride. We had to call, and get directions, and indeed, it actually turned out to be just a half block from the station. Riding shotgun was the cabbie's girlfriend. We had a nice conversation during the 10 minute trip. Turns out the cabbie was widowed 15 years before. Of course I paid for the ride. Take a breath, step into the cold.

One of the speakers, Kecia, a middle aged woman with straightened black hair, while handing out written instructions, noted that at least two volunteers would need to be present at a vigil, and that the police would need to be notified. She also handed out lists of precincts and their phone numbers. 'The crowds can number in the hundreds,' she tells us. Her plum red false fingernails extended a good inch past the end of her finger tips. Holding up a short white candle, maybe 1/2 inch diameter, she said, 'the center provides fifty candles, candle holders, and programs. You might want to call the family to suggest they bring more, if they expect a larger crowd.' She wore dozens of silver bangles on each arm, and dabbed with a tissue at the perspiration on her heavily made up face. She'd said in her introductory comments that public speaking makes her uncomfortable. Ten of us sat around three office style tables, set side by side in a square.

'Depending on who is being memorialized at the vigil - somebody involved with criminal activity perhaps, or a controversial politician - there may be trouble. Before getting started, be sure to introduce yourself to the police. If things should get tense, you may leave. Be sure that at least two volunteers remain. If you all decide to leave, be sure to tell the immediate family members, give them any remaining candles - and candle holders - [these are small round paper cutouts with perforated holes in the center] and tell the police.' She dabs at some more perspiration. 'In the eight years I have been with the Wendt center, only one vigil has gotten out of hand.'

I take off my jacket, sit back in my chair. I had no idea that vigils could turn ugly like this. But this is D.C. after all. We are told that the Center is asked to sponsor maybe a dozen vigils per year. I ask whether it would be okay to use my walker if I were to help at a vigil. I had a hard time imagining passing out candles, holders, programs, verbal condolences, etc. while walking with my cane. Oh, and the p.a. system consisted of a hand-held megaphone. Maybe three of me with canes could manage it. I am assured the walker would be fine. We are thanked, some leave while some others stand around afterwards chatting (or in my case waiting for the proffered ride back to the metro.) We step into the parking lot, and the bracing cold.

Pretty long wait for the next train. Fortunately I had worn our heaviest jacket. I say 'ours' as the boys and I trade off, Miller now rapidly approaching six feet tall. So I get on the train, and exit at Friendship Heights, our station, but come up the wrong exit, which lies a good half mile or more from home. It was a lovely walk, though quite cold. I traded off my bare hand using the cane with the pocketed one every fifty paces. I stopped by Chipotle to get a burrito and two quesadillas for the boys on the way.

I got an email a few days ago from Kecia asking for volunteers for a vigil downtown to be held tonight. The deceased was a homicide victim. I will go unless the predicted snowfall cancels the event.

p.s. i drove for over two hours in the snow and sleet, but never found the place. maybe time for a gps. or make sure to carpool next time.

Huh?

Was having lunch with my sister and niece a couple weeks ago, and suddenly I said I was thinking of going back to school. I think I was as surprised as my lunch companions.

For many years I have been encouraging/suggesting that my oldest son might want to seek a career in something that involved people, given the outgoing and friendly guy he can so often be. (During his teens this side of him is directed mostly to his peers - parents, teachers, and other grownups will often miss it.) A legal career (which would also make use of his considerable bargaining and argumentative skills), a career in psychiatry or psychology, political science, history, anthropology, or social work. The length of schooling and depth of commitment (read: high school transcripts) required for each of these kind of follows a slowly downward path, and reflects his gradual loss of interest in, and success at academics. Nevertheless, though 'father knows best' what his children ought to pursue career-wise (his younger brothers have also been hearing what they would do best at), my encouragement has been all but ignored.

However, turns out that somebody was listening: me! I'm thinking of pursuing a second career in social work, possibly specializing in grief counseling. I am looking for a nearby volunteer opportunity, a chance to see counseling in action, dip my toes in the water, so to speak. I just printed out a volunteer application form for the Wendt Center ("For Loss and Healing"), a non-profit located in northwest D.C. I took the boys there a couple times on the suggestion of a friend a few years back. They would also like to see a resumé. Time to dust an old one off, and add my longest job of all: fifteen years keeping my kids from killing each other, or themselves, 24/7.

Then again, maybe I could become a neurology researcher and figure this MS riddle out once and for all. Or, perhaps anthropology would be more my cup of tea.

Wait, need to focus for a bit, one thing at a time...