Last year, Mary Tucker’s family set off to help out in a Mexican orphanage in an adventure that was intended to ‘make them nicer people’.  As can sometimes happen with such altruistic endeavors, all did not go according to plan, it went better.

However, in this second installment of Mary’s adventures in Empty Nesterland, things are not looking very promising… 

 

The next morning my husband Kirt, our daughters Rachel and Alex, our niece Adrienne, and I squished into a small taxi and arrived at the well maintained grounds of a local boarding school.  The boys from the orphanage pulled up in a series of taxis, flung open the car doors and rushed to our sides.  One boy in particular, Crespin, fixated on my husband.  He had given Kirt a brilliant, yellow and orange friendship bracelet the day before and today hardly left his side.  I noticed that when they walked together my husband stumbled because Crespin wrapped his arm so tightly around Kirt’s waist.   

The boys lined up haphazardly along a low, rock wall which they repeatedly scaled and leapt off.  They asked to use our cameras, tried on our sunglasses and posed for pictures.  As we laughed and played, Laura glared at us coldly.  At one point Amelia asked us to take a photograph of her daughter, pregnant with Amelia’s first grandchild.  Adrienne quickly pointed her camera in Laura’s direction and I wondered if the speed of our compliance could help Laura change her obvious disapproval of us.   

Eventually, we were directed into a large auditorium where we met three young violinists who had organized the workshop.  The leader of the trio, Steve, was a serious looking graduate of Julliard.  He explained that he traveled the world conducting various musical events to help different cultures understand each other and build relationships.     

Early on he described an activity, “We’re going to draw pictures of what sounds look like.”  

 “What sounds look like,” I thought to myself, “….what sounds…look like.”

Steve pulled out a large pad of paper and set it on an easel.  Felix, a boy of about ten, was directed to the easel and handed an orange marker while Steve turned to the other boys, still in their seats, and continued explaining the activity in Spanish.  While Steve spoke Felix popped the marker in his mouth and lightly dragged the point across the surface of the page.   

Finally, wanting to get started, Steve turned to Felix, “Okay,” he said, “draw this sound.”  He played a few notes on the violin and looked at Felix, marker hanging limply from his mouth, staring at the blank paper.  Felix hardly moved a muscle.   

“Listen,” Steve admonished and played the notes again.       

Felix transferred the marker to his hand, but made no other move to proceed.  He did not understand that this was a subjective exercise.  He could not make a mistake.     

“Draw something now,” Steve commanded.   

Felix reached up and rested the tip of the marker on the highest corner of the pad.  We were hopeful with that progress, but he was only fooling us into thinking he was about to end this painful interaction.  He froze again, arm extended straight upwards.       

“Okay, I’ll show you how to do it,” Steve said.  He drew random shapes, lines and small circles on the paper.  This example elicited a response from another boy who wanted to try his hand at the easel.  Felix was told to sit down and Steve played a series of notes for the new boy who reacted quickly.  He drew four arched lines that grew in size from left to right.  

Steve was disappointed.  “Well,” he said flatly, “I’m not sure.”

Mary Tucker has recently transitioned from Mom and wife to Empty Nester. Don’t expect the transition to drag out, however!  With her 2 daughters off to school, Mary is re-directing her abundant creative energies to writing, real estate, and finding ways to make a difference. It’s never a dull moment around this enthusiastic, energetic 50-something!

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