Alma de Color

This entry is long overdue, I know. And with that being said, I will skip formality and jump right into the past. 1-26-10 Tomorrow brings the presidential inauguration of Honduras. Yesterday, my dear friend Marilyn died, and I'm countries away. I feel helpless, though I know there's precious little I could do about any of it if I were in MT. Life keeps moving on, with or without me. Joy remains deep within me, but I feel isolated in my grieving. The past couple weeks have passed me by relatively unnoticed. This year will be over before I realize I'm here! I went to the dump again on the 16th, helped lead worship at Fellowship and the missionary church, spent a lovely Sunday afternoon with Norma, and had a dance party with the girls while Louis was gone to Ceiba with Oscar-(Oscar is one of the guys who's worked at the bilingual school for a few years, and is now being trained to do some hospital work.) Today, I gave my first history lecture on Ptolem...

The past several weeks, we’ve been going through the beginning chapters of Colossians, verse by verse. We’ve been examining the original Greek words, the historical setting, etc. Usually we get through a whole chapter; we only made it to verse four in this discussion, but for your benefit, I will type a larger section of chapter 3: “If then you have been raised up with Christ, keep seeking the things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your mind on the things above, not on the things that are on earth. For you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is our life, is revealed, then you also will be revealed with Him in glory. Therefore consider the members of your earthly body as dead to immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and greed, which amounts to idolatry. For it is on account of these things that the wrath of God will come, and in them you also once walked, when you were l...

I love the intensity with which the rain plummets to the scarred earth beneath! The coolness here-disregarding the poor people here who feel as though they're freezing to death-has made my transition much easier. The lack of consistent internet is sometimes frustrating, but mostly everything else has been going well. A little back tracking, due to the long-time lack of a functioning server: I spent New Year's at Norma's with a Honduran family. They sang Christmas songs together while I searched desperately for an internet signal, and then we ate tamales and cake at midnight to celebrate. The McKenneys had me over for Christmas dinner the following day, served in courses of amazing dishes, and then we went to Río Coco the following day. I happened to be wearing a skirt-(no heart attacks please)-and didn't bother to change into my suit and shorts when I tried to cross to the other side to join Hannah on some rocks. So...I had a bit of an adventure scaling a terribl...

I've done it. I left all that is familiar to me and ventured out into the wide world alone, and yet not alone. I couldn't have made this transition without everyone else. I celebrated Christmas with my family on the night of the 16th, and it was lovely, though I was still packing in between festivities. I said farewell to everyone on Thursday morning, and Dad and Mom accompanied me to the airport. Lee, Brice, Aubrey, Katherine, Marcy, Tim, and Naomi came to see me off as well. That was awesome of you all, thanks! I sat next to a very amiable chap on the flight to Denver, and we talked about a wide variety of topics: Italian roots, food, music, baseball, judo, tattoos, underwater welding, the navy, etc. I was alone for the next leg of my flight, and spent the early morning hours curled up in a chair next to Starbucks in the Houston airport only to discover there was a hotel en route to my leaving terminal. Oh well. More beans and rice, I guess. I sat in between a pilot...

I've been on many family trips before, but never on a plane. And not with 7 of us. It was an experience, if nothing else! I moved all my earthly belongings home from Darby on the 22nd, dumped them into my new room/storage space upstairs in approximately 15 minutes, and then headed to Dillon to meet with an old friend. We visited for several hours before I realized my time was running short, so I continued my journey to Clark Canyon Reservoir to pick up Mateo's girlfriend, Jillisa. We made it back just in time for dinner, and then I had to pack and go to sleep. Not terribly early, of course. My phone alarm decided not to function the next morning, since I don't have cell service out here, so Jillisa and I were close to half an hour late to Helena, resulting in her missing her flight. She was able to get a later one, so I left her there and zoomed back to Butte, where I met up with the rest of my travel companions and we headed to Bozeman for our first leg o the journ...

...for everything under heaven. And now is my season for endings and new beginnings...again. Six years of university now securely under my belt, and the whole world before me; whatever will I do? Which adventure will I embark upon? My grandmother finally passed away last week, so I am without grandparents now. Aunt Ernie also died. It's as if my whole childhood is dying. I guess it's good to completely move on to the present moment and leg of my life journey. Death of any sort always makes me ponder. What stories will people tell about my life when I'm gone? What legacy will I leave? Will I live my moments and opportunities to the fullest, or will I settle for the ordinary? And since I'm teetering on the edge of "career" choices, or at least the next step in my life, I'm trying to decide where I want to go and how to get there...and when to go once I figure out the aforementioned dilemmas. Not worrying, just wanting to see the next step. It...

Massismo D’Azeglio, an Italian statesman, once said of the newly-formed country of Italy, “We have made Italy; now we must make Italians. To make Italy out of Italians one must not be in a hurry.” I feel as though the search for my own identity is very similar to D’Azegli’s statement; “We have made a family, now we must make them Salussos. To make Salussos of a family, one must not be in a hurry.” It has taken three generations of Salussos in the United States to make me. I am the product of culture translated over oceans and time, and, though I have searched to discover my identity, I have learned that I am an unfinished product. I change moment to moment, piecing together the clues to who I am, who I was, and who I may be in the future. I run this leg of the identity journey, but I change, moment to moment, taking my time in fulfilling the next portion of the Salusso legacy.

Barney opened his eyes as the morning light peeked timidly in through the window over the East Ridge. The miners in Butchertown were switching shifts a gain, calling greetings to one another in the streets. Barney rolled out of bed and stretched. He splashed water in his face from the basin and then carefully dressed for another day of delivery, carefully putting on his starched white shirt and tie, like he did every morning. The garden at Bull Run was particularly abundant this summer, and he was grateful. He walked into the kitchen and set about making his customary pancakes for breakfast. His little robin chirped in his cage. Barney chuckled quietly to himself. So nice, his little “pettirosso” or robin. She loved pancakes. He broke off a few crumbs and fed it to the bird between the wires of the cage. It was time to let her out for the day. She would come home just before the sun fell behind the western horizon. He opened the cage, and she flew out the window, and Barney...

A large part of Dad’s drive was a result of his relation ship with his father, George. By the time Steve arrived in ’ 52, George had accumulated heart problems and lost int erest in working. Steve’s youngest sis ter Carol described Papa as being a “great worker, a marginal manager, and a man who sought what he could not a chieve.” His wife, Rut h, described him in a poem titled “The Boxer”: My husband is a boxer---------- Not the fisticuffer kind; But all his papers, legal things, And things that he must find. He averages one box a week, But when stacks begin to fall, There comes the question, Where to put it? Front porch, Back porch? HALL? When something is lost, confusion reins, Each box must then be checked. And I must keep my wifely charm, So he won’t feel henpecked! I love this...

In 1952, the U.S. developed the first hydrogen bomb, following on the heels of Britain’s atom bomb. The Korean War would still continue for four years before it ended. Hemmingway and Steinbeck both published novels, Jonas Salk developed a vaccine for polio, and Superman died. And while all the world writhed in conflict and birthed major events, Stephen Bernard was born in Butte, MT on January 18th. When he was four, his family moved out to Divide, MT. My father has lived an entire life of driven pursuit of provision. Even as a very young child, he was given many responsibilities. He told me of the summers he acted as a human fence, guarding the fields and garden from bovine invasion. He also helped feed and milk the cows while he was in grade school at Divide School. In addition to the hay, they fed potatoes to the cows. His mom, Ruth, would drive into Butte and pick up a carload of people to help with the potato harvest, and then fill large sacks with the tubers and pour them...