When I was in second grade, Daddy hired a grower named Chuck Seward, a kindly middle-aged man. He not only didn't mind having Ed and me hang around, but when he wasn't busy growing beautiful chrysanthemums in the "mum house," or doing other chores, he showed us how to make simple toys like a rubber band gun or a knitting spool, or how to draw. He gave me my first pocketknife.
Chuck could just about make something out of nothing. In the "hot house," a small, heated greenhouse behind the big one connecting the house and the flower shop, he made a "kitchen" out of an orange crate and some oilcloth. He labeled it CHUCK'S LUCK DINER, and used the lower half of the crate to store a few cans of soup, a box of crackers, etc., for his lunch breaks, and the upper half for a hotplate and a pan.
I asked him once why he called it that.
"Because I'm so lucky to have this job."
He seemed like a happy soul, often singing or humming, and sometimes telling us tales of his travels. His favorite song was "Faraway Places." (" . . . goin' to China, or maybe Siam. I want to see for myself those faraway places I've been reading about in the book that I took from the shelf. . . . ")
When I was in fourth grade, Chuck had to go to the hospital. I assumed he'd get better and be back pretty soon. He wasn't old, even to my young eyes. But he didn't get better; he died of cancer that spring. I can't speak for Ed, but I missed him terribly -- all the more so because I had a terrible teacher that year and nobody else had time to listen to my tales of woe.
When I took creative writing in my senior year at Jeff, I had to describe my most unforgettable character (an idea straight out of Reader's Digest). Naturally, I wrote about Chuck, pounding out the story on Mom's Underwood portable, stopping frequently to correct typos. (I never would have graduated without Corrasable typing paper!) As always, I left the finished paper for Mom to look over and critique.
The next morning, it was waiting at my place at the table with a complimentary note that ended:
"P.S.: You're old enough to know now that all of Chuck's 'faraway places' were behind bars." He'd passed bad checks, she told me later.
I think I was interested in travel before I knew Chuck, but after hearing his stories, I was even more interested in foreign lands. I didn't go farther away than California or Canada until I chaperoned an Indianapolis Children's Choir tour to Argentina and Brazil in 1999. But the travel bug bit me hard then, and hasn't let go.
So why blog? Because I can. The option wasn't open to me on earlier trips, though I kept paper journals and plan to on this trip. But I'll have computer access from the school, so I figure this is a more efficient way of letting family and friends know what's going on than trying to e-mail individually.
I leave Oct. 9 and return to the U.S. Nov. 6, but will spend time in Texas/Oklahoma with Phil and Joelle and be back in Indy Nov. 9.
Before I leave, I'll try to blog about the Spanish Institute of Puebla and the city itself. But if you're really curious, check it out at http://www.sipuebla.com .
¡Qué tenga buen día! (Have a good day!)
Ellen
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