I spent the last two weeks in Columbus at the Ohio Expo Center, performing with the All-Ohio State Fair Band.

Overall—as far as the net “funness” of an experience can be quantified—I would judge the last two weeks as being very enjoyable. The first four days were spent rehearsing over 60 pieces of music which were to be performed throughout some 80 or so performances during the rest of our stay. In lieu of a drawling description of the mindless minutia of my experience there, here are a few of the better-sounding tracks from our live concert at the Celeste Center, recorded Sunday, August 3rd.

Queen City March

I Got Rhythm

Highlights from “Jersey Boys”

Across the Field/Buckeye Battle Cry

Let Mortal Tongues Awake

Further information, including photos and such, can be found at www.aosfb.org.

This is an e-mail I sent to those who are keeping me in mind as I travel in China. I’m simply posting a copy, as I have no time to do real blogging or diary-keeping. For those of you who don’t know, I was in the countryside for a week doing some “M” work. Photos may follow, depending on how inclined the webmaster feels. He has a few, after all.

Hi all,

I am pleased to announce that

a) I’m back in Beijing, safe and sound

b) The countryside trip was absolutely wonderful

c) I bought a jump drive for $65 RMB, which means that I can bring pictures to the café more easily instead of borrowing others’ all the time.

Firstly, thanks to all those who kept us in your thoughts during our trip. It definitely showed. I’ll talk about various aspects of the trip, but even the most mundane detail was touched by gcracee and so I want to make it clear that anyone who interceded to him on our behalf played a huge role in the accomplishments of this past week. Thank you.

The village: We went to an extremely rural area, although conditions were much better than I expected. I was expecting to share a plank of a bed with a few rats, eat plain rice for every meal and to work all day with crazy kids relying on a handful of Chinese phrases. Only the third expectation proved valid, because we stayed in clean rooms with decent bamboo-mat beds and ate delicious meals. The weather was incredibly hot; I sweated more in the village sitting down than I ever did at any soccer practice in the American summer. (No hyperbole!) There was no air conditioning and there were no showers, but water was always available to drink and we managed to bathe just fine (though I suspect some group members didn’t do so every day).

The kids: There were a little over thrrity kids, but the numbers grew as word spread that there were foreigners running a camp nearby. The youngest, “GW”, was as sly as a fox and received lots of attention from all the older kids, so I think everyone both loved and hated him. You know… The kind of kid that steals your heart with his cuteness and then steals your wallet. He was in my class, as I taught the youngest along with Nick (a team member as well). We gave them all English names and his, of course, was Rascal.

All of the children had backgrounds involving either deceased or imprisoned parents, but the effects of such a background were diverse. Some children were very resilient and many seemed emotionally healthy by all appearances. Others, however, had emotional and intellectual problems. One girl that especially touched my heart was Rita – she was in our class and we named her as well. She seemed very happy and healthy at first, but early in the week took me aside and began crying. She spoke a local dialect I couldn’t understand, so I got one girl to translate into Mandarin and another into English. I learned that Rita’s father used to beat her, and perhaps her older brother as well. The father is now dead, but she clearly still suffers from her upbringing and claims that other kids in the village hit her as well. After crying and sharing with us, the principal blew the supper whistle. She stood up immediately, wiped all her tears off, and skipped to dinner looking completely normal. But for the rest of the week I kept her story in mind, and began to notice some very bizarre behavior. Firstly, none of the kids really played with her. The attention she received from them was pretty much in the form of taunting and getting reactions out of her (crying, yelling), after which the kids would laugh. Secondly, she exhibited self-destructive behavior. After a rainstorm, she found a pile of broken glass and tried to cut her wrists. She also often hit herself in the face with lots of force. Finally, she often talked loudly and angrily to no one at all (this became obvious when I was almost alone with her in the classroom). Please pry for this girl; she is only 8 and has already suffered so much. The village is a great place for her in some senses, as she can get good lodging and food, but I don’t think she receives the individual and special attention she needs to flourish and develop healthily. Pry that “he intervenes in the village through the new believers there and that helpers arise who could show her love and his mercy. She is only one example of many children like her, though most of them spent their summer vacation at hospitals.

The Body grows: In a thirsty dry place, fire catches quickly. 14 children heard about the father and desired to believe that he is exists, is good, and ought to be praised. They gave their lives to him. All sharing with children was done in informal settings; teaching was sometimes monitored and gvt officials visited several times during the week. The kids who believed were inspiring; the process didn’t involve repeating a mere pyrer. Many were really eager to read the word and many pryed with knowledge that hadn’t been shared to them by us, but with knowledge and authority that could have only come from the h-sprit. Because I don’t know enough Chinese to say very much, I pyred a lot and tried to simply contribute in actions and fiaitth and intercession for the kids and teachers. I believe every single person on the team was used to bring about his harvest and not a single person’s limitations got in the way of him accomplishing his will. He is so good to let us participate in his work!

Your prayers: I know that a few of you were prying for our saffety. All week, we thought that we had done a decent job of obscuring our turue motivvess for our trip. At our last supper, some higher-ups came to eat with us and bid us goodbye. Lots of Chinese was spoken, so it was hard for most of us to understand everything that was said. By all appearances, the atmosphere was festive and everyone was happy. However, our Chinese-fluent team mates told us later that the principal and his bosses knew exactly why we had gone, had lots of infomratoin about us, and pretty much could have had us kicked oot. Instead, they were cvering for us (probably to protect themselves as well) and even want us to return to the village. PTL.

Thank you all for your continuing pryrs and e-mails. This one has a few typos and jumbles but sometimes things should be hard to read if you catch my drift. I LOVE getting news from home, so please do keep in touch and tell me about your lives if you feel so inclined J

Best,

Stephanie

Tags: China, labor, travel

Way back in June, I had the awesome experience of going to see a live taping of A Prairie Home Companion. It was nothing short of amazing; to be able to finally connect with my demographic of fellow public radio listeners was almost overwhelming. (What happens when you put a bunch of socially inept NPR fans in an enclosed space?) For those who listened to the show broadcast live on June 21st, it was the memorable show when the power went out for a few seconds at the climax of the freak thunderstorm roiling around Blossom Music Center (the interrupted segment was re-recorded later, so those who heard the encore broadcast on Sunday were none the wiser).

So it finally occurred to me today that I neglected to post the photos I had taken while there, and so here they are, in all their blurry, poorly-lit glory, for your enjoyment.

I’m standing in line at Akron-Canton, tapping away in Pocket IE to pass the time. Something like generic Beach Boys is wafting down from a speaker above our heads.

Today Steph is leaving for China for three months, essentially the whole summer. She will be flying to Chicago, and then thirteen hours and seventeen minutes later she will be arriving in Beijing. Assuming the government there hasn’t blocked Crunching Numbers, she might find an idle moment in which to provide updates via the blog.

My battery’s running low, and I don’t know how much more airport music I can stand.

I am now one year older.

There’s really nothing groundbreaking associated with being 17, except that you’re another year closer to being 18. The additional year doesn’t feel any different, as much as people keep asking how it feels to be another year older. Banalities have been spoken ad nauseum, among other birthday formalities I would very much like to avoid.

Tonight the family will dine at Olive Garden, a kind of safari in itself, like a bunch of rednecks at a science museum. We go nearly every year, and the experience doesn’t ever get any less awkward. I am always thankful for the waiters, the blessed patient people they are when it comes time to order. It’s already a stretch that we’re eating out (Mom: “Why pay money to go eat somewhere else when I can make the same thing better at home?”), and the parents don’t usually make a point of being all that gracious with the waiters; the scowl on their faces whenever anything extra is suggested (May I interest you in our desserts this evening?) is equally mortifying and amusing. And the waiters are awfully understanding and patient with them.

The great difficulty I have with birthdays, particularly my own, is due to my resolve to be as unremarkable as possible. Considering how inconvenient other peoples’ birthdays are to me, I figure the same is true for mine. It’s not humility so much as it is a dislike of scrutiny. Whatever critical interests people have are magnified ten-fold on a birthday, to the point where I am left in a sort of emotional limbo, trying to sustain a universally acceptable posture and facial expression. And then I’m told to relax and not be so tense.

Opening presents is always an adventure, especially this year since I didn’t request anything in particular. I can’t say I’ve ever really gotten a “bad gift” as defined by most normal people. Practicality is usually a plus when opposed to something nice but completely useless. As much as the giftee is scrutinized, the gifter is impressed upon immensely as well: a good indicator of what people think of you is what they get you on your birthday.

I don’t anticipate anything remarkable this year, just an occasion to mark another year of life. I also don’t plan to waste blog space and wax sentimental for those who crave sappy inspirational birthday memories. I’m going to eat Italian with Brazilians, that’s all the exciting it gets.