54

Thursday was my birthday, and now I’m 54. I remember George Carlin talking about the AM radio dial, and how 54, down at the bottom of the dial, always with a big 5 and a little 4, represented some kind of netherworld where decent radio signals do not go. And that’s where I have finally arrived. Of course, as I move into the decent part of the AM radio dial, I’ll become even more decrepit, but I suppose I’ll have to live with that trade.

The day didn’t get off to a great start. A parent complained to one of the teachers about the way I manage the computer room, instead of complaining directly to me, which is always annoying. I did catch up with her later in the day, and found, as I suspected,, that the problem was not so much one of computer room policy as difficulty managing her sons, who are a handful. We agreed that they wouldn’t have permission to go to the computer room until 6, unless I knew that they had permission to be there earlier, and that problem went away.

I won’t even dignify the other problem by describing it, but I will note that it is fortunate that bitter, selfish people are a small percentage of the world’s population—even if they seem to be in charge much of the time. What they fail to realize is that the rest of us can live perfectly well without them.

But good news also arrived. Carolina, president of AVANTI, my employer, has been talking to me about the possibility of working for the YACHANA foundation in the Amazon. I think this would be teaching work, but perhaps more focused on agricultural topics. Needless to say, working in that environment is the sort of adventure I thought I would need years of low level toil to achieve. I have an interview in the Amazon on April 8th, and will need all day the 7th to get there (and all day the 9th to get back). The last half hour of the trip will be by canoe. I’ll just let that sink in.

There was a great birthday moment during my class with the sixth graders. I mentioned that it was my birthday, and they asked how old I am. I told them that I was 54. One of the kids looked at me and asked, “So why are you such a muchacho?” I said that it was probably just because I’m so silly.

After an afternoon in the computer room, Freddy and Florencio invited me for some celebratory beer at Francisco’s store. I was a bit hesitant, because I had heard that something was brewing in my house (no, not beer, some sort of fiesta). But, looking back on things, I think they were part of the plan. So we had a few beers, and bought some more just in case, and headed for the house. You’d think, knowing as I did that something was up, that I couldn’t really be surprised. But I really was. It wasn’t so much that there was a party, but that there were about 50 people at it. They were mostly people that Narcisa must have rounded up from among the folks who work at the train station, the cafeteria people and the folk dancers. But there was also a big bunch of my school kids, for the 6-60 effect.

And what a party it was—I don’t think I’ve ever celebrated my birthday with such enthusiasm. I certainly can’t remember the last time that I spent several hours dancing, but I suspect I’d have to look back to the Peace Corps years. And it took all night, because, as the birthday person, I had to dance with every woman present (not that this was a burdensome requirement). The kids who have been taking folk dance lessons with Mario, who teaches as part of his AVANTI university scholarship, also did their thing to great effect. Most of the adults there had not seen the folk dance class, and they were really impressed, if only by how cute the kids are, and how serious they get when they’re dancing.

I also have to mention the great contribution of the Belgians, Rafael and Geraldine, to the festivities. First of all, when I got to the kitchen in the morning, they had left a loaf of bread which was a highly accurate sculpture of my face. I’ll probably laugh every time I remember this for the rest of my life. They were also outstanding party people, dancing to great and cheerful comic effect. I think that they will be leaving at the end of this week, and I’ll miss them. They’re really a lot of fun. I regret any negative thoughts I ever had about their coming, because they’ve made a wonderful impression on Tolte, and accomplished a lot in a short time.

The party continued in increasingly haphazard fashion until 2 or 3 in the morning, until I truly felt that my faraway problem really can't touch me here. It really was wonderful in every way, although getting up at 6:30 to work on Friday was not easy. And, in a fit of I’m not sure what, but probably something to do with a desire not to look as old as I now am, I went ahead and shaved off my moustache, which Allie, at least, regards as great news. If all goes well, I’ll upload the first clean shaven picture of myself since my Bar Mitzvah. Forty-one years of hirsute splendor. I suppose it will return one day, if I ever come to terms with how old I really am.