Underground Adventures

On Saturday after Thanksgiving, Ana and I went to Mammoth Cave National Park. We sped down empty Kentucky highways for two hours to reach the park that boasts the world's largest cave system. We had bought tickets for the historic tour the afternoon before, so we picked up tickets and then set off to explore the park for a few minutes before the tour started.

After turning from the paved path to a lower road, we meandered into a cave entrance. I fell in love with the water dripping from the top of the large cave, creating green growth and a small stream. The same water flow helped to create the caves thousands of years ago. Enchanted, Ana and I skipped down the stairs and into the cave. We walked back a solid few yards until a door of wood and Plexiglas stopped us. We turned around made our way up to the tour's start, promising to return to the nearby trails.

The Historic Tour caps at 120 people, so we head a large group, but after starting the back, Ana and I skipped up to the front of the group. Our guide was the fourth generation of rangers in his family and told us this in the most adorable Southern accent. (There were a lot of those in Kentucky.)

Because we took the Historic Tour, we started from one of the seven natural entrances to the caves. As it turns out, Ana and I had discovered it, and we went behind the door that I had determined was "not for us." Very quickly, we ended up in a huge cavern that still held the remains of a saltpeter mine. I didn't know, but most of the crowd was able to answer our guide's question : saltpeter makes gun powder. From 1812-1815, Mammoth caves produced the saltpeter for the gunpowder used in the War of 1812. The actual gunpowder was produced by DuPont in Delaware. When a woman asked about what happened to production during "The War," the guide stayed in his own place and answered about the War of 1812; she had meant the Civil War. However, the North-South divide did not bother the saltpeter mine; it had stopped production after the War of 1812, and Mammoth Cave was now used for tours. Since Kentucky was divided for the war, I wasn't surprised to hear that Northern and Southern people took tours during that time.

A tour of the caves was a big deal, so ladies would come in hoop skirts, high heeled boots, and corsets. In later years, rangers found discard boots and corsets in the passages. That's not all they found either : while our guide only told us about one mummy found in the cave, when I poked I discovered that other bodies had been found, preserved by the refrigerator-like climate of the cave. The story we got centered around a Native American who had died in the cave in the 4th century B.C.

Our tour group heard the story of the mummy when we had made our way to another larger cavern. After telling the story, our guide turned off all the lights (the caves are lit; the rangers in front and back pressed buttons as we went) and we had a moment of darkness in the cave. It's the complete darkness you can only find in a place like that -- if you hold your hand in front of your face, you can't see it, though your mind wants to find the outline. We had a couple of slower people in the group, though, who had to be told to turn off cameras at this point.

After submerging ourselves in darkness, we began the fun part of the hike. We climbed down narrow stairs, wound around various passages, and admired the formations of the rocks that spiraled and piled and toured in ridges and pillars. One passage, called "Fat Man's Misery," took us through a narrow gap, barely as wide as my hips, and sometimes not even. It led to a low passage, just lower than the one I described in my previous post, where even I had to duck. Then we took a brief respite and waited for half the group to catch up. I realized here that I needed to be up the front of the group. I would be very claustrophobic and impatient in the middle of a slow-moving group.

From our break, we headed up flight after flight of stairs into the "Dome," a high room that doesn't naturally let people climb it; they had to build a whole lot of stairs to help with the exit. I barely noticed the stairs though, because at each landing another sight of rocks towering like cathedral spires.

From the Dome, we came into the Audubon passage that resembled a Subway tunnel. We ended the tour there, with talk about "cave sings," when musical groups give a holiday concert in the caverns. Ana and I explored a trail afterwards, finding the Green River and the River Styx, which flowed out from underground. Yay, classical allusions!

In a final education note, the Native Americans mined gypsum from the caves. No one knows what they used it for. We use it for dry wall today. Also, it is used in Twinkies.

Kentucky: Where I'm Short

Virginia is far away from St. Louis, and the Thanksgiving holiday is short, so I did not make it home. Instead, I went home to Kentucky with Ana. We left the city roads of St. Louis after school on Tuesday and swiftly left any signs of urban life behind, replacing them with country roads and open skies. I immediately felt at home with Ana's family, which was good because we spent most of the time here hanging out with them.

We celebrated Thanksgiving day with movies and Tripoly, because of how scheduling worked with Ana's family and had the turkey dinner on Friday. Today, we went to Mammoth Cave National Park, the world's largest cave system. I promise another blog about that, but I want to make one point about Kentucky.

When Ana's brother came in Tuesday night, he hugged Ana and me and the first thing he said to me was "Wow, you're small!" When we were at Mammoth Cave, as Ana and the ranger giving us the tour ducked through a passage, I had the revelation that I could stand up straight! Because I had the revelation out loud, this gave the tour guide permission to mock me when we emerged from the passage and he saw me: "You are short!"

So apparently, I'm shorter in Kentucky.

I Don't Wanna Grow Up

After a hockey game to wipe away a difficult week, I had quite a Saturday ahead. First, five of the six of us headed out to Anheuser-Busch brewery. They offer free tours with samples at the end. I don't care too much about large businesses or beer, but the site is old and has some historical significance. So after seeing the Clydesdales, I still had interesting things to see and hear. I saw the parts and pieces that go into beer. While I'm still not 100% sure what hops or malt is, I have seen both of them. Also, I enjoyed hearing their account of Prohibition. They had a crazy fox-man, Bevo, who represented non-alcoholic beer, and sold yeast.

Following the beer tour, we rushed home to unite with Em and head off to City Museum. Oh. My. Goodness. The most magical man-made place on earth. We started by climbing up a ramp that led onto wooden barrels as large as the metal ones at Anheuser-Busch. They led us into the ceiling, through wire tubes, around giant forests, inside tree houses, and down an elephant slide. Next, I peered into what looked like a fountain that had been turned off and discovered a tunnel. It was approximately narrow enough for me to fit through and took us to a cave system beneath and behind other rooms, including a small aquarium. It also took us to a slide seven stories high.

Long story of our adventures short, we ended up in a giant ball pit, an old falling apart airplane, bird cages above the ground, a Romeo-and-Juliet balcony, and more slides. Then on the roof! There we found a school bus suspended above the parking lot, a giant rope swing, more slides (including one to climb), and a Ferris wheel.

After five hours of running, climbing, and sliding, we were worn out. We headed home, tired and content.

Hockey!

Last weekend, the Six Pack went to the one sport in which they use time-outs to make athletes behave. To my everlasting shock, our one north-eastern member had never been to a hockey game! Free tickets, however, brought us to FRONT ROW SEATS! for a Blue's Alumni game and St. Louis Bandits game.

The alum game consisted of old men grinning away as they went back onto the ice. The crowd was sparse but enjoying themselves as fake fights broke out and former hockey players joked about their hearts needing help. (The game was a fundraiser for SLU Hospital Cardiac Unit.) The host, alum Kelly Chase, auctioned off several signed jerseys that went for between $700 and $1000. How crazy is that?

After two periods of out-of-breath slow skating, the real game started, bringing together the St. Louis Bandits and Northern Iowa Outlaws. Only pirates versus ninjas could to Bandits versus Outlaws. Sitting in the front row meant up that every time someone got checked near us, I jumped back about a mile and Triss lunged to protect the small child who had moved near us. After baseball, hockey is my favorite sport to watch, so my bad week melted away as we screamed at the players. Ana and I quickly got out of teacher mode and cheered on the aggression that makes the game appeal to men. Triss did not; she wanted people to be nicer. While Ana and I told the small child who was the "good guy" and the "bad guy," Triss tried to explain that we're cheering for one team, but the other isn't bad.

I decided while watching the game that my job is like being a referee. You run all over the place, watching the kids go at it with each other, until something is about to explode. Then, you're allowed to step in. Most of the time, you just step in-between and shove them apart, distracting them by something more fun going on. But every now and then a fight breaks out.

After an hour and a half of exciting play, the Bandits one! So of course, we went out to celebrate, using a gift card Byrd had won. It was a perfect night -- free parking, free game, free food : the epitome of simple living.

Rule of Thumb

Popular myth (that is likely just myth) traces the origin of the phrase "rule of thumb" to the days when husbands beat their wives with the blessing of the law. According to the myth, a man could not beat his wife with a stick larger than his thumb. The same concept, I assume, could apply to discipline for his children.

Today, parenting experts and marital counselors offer a different school of thought. One that involves no sticks at all. It's generally legally acceptable, and best for all parties involved.

This Is What a Feminist Looks Like

A friend shared this blog with me earlier today. Apparently, I am not supposed to exist. That was a news flash to me.

I like the idea behind the post. Smart, educated, strong, pro-woman, pro-life, religious women exist. I am not the conservative princess that she makes her invisible woman out to be, but I am the strong, pro-life, Catholic woman she finds. Women are more than reflections of the Democratic party and products of the anti-Victorian sexual revolution. We have minds of our own that can synthesize the best of the various worlds that we experience.

My issue with the post (besides the poor organization) is this : I do exist! I know people do not think that women think, feel, act, and vote as I do, but here I am! I would rather an article that proclaimed boldly : I DO EXIST! HERE I AM, AND HERE'S HOW I PLAN TO ROCK YOUR COZY LITTLE STEREOTYPED WORLD! than an article bemoaning the fact that people don't believe their eyes when they see us.

People don't expect us, and while our current position under the public radar certainly does a disservice to our causes, our element of surprise can be our greatest advantage. If we prove the exception to the "rule" that the world sees, we force people to see that the "rules" are not as hard and fast as they might like to think.

What happens when you meet living proof that your worldview simply is not true? You have to form a new worldview to account for that anomaly. My goal : to be the anomaly that keeps people on their toes, until they realize everything that this world can be.

That is what a feminist looks like.

A Very Me Day

... and I didn't even do any of it!

My day started off with a Panera bagel picnic at Wash U to soak up some vitamin D, at the suggestion of Ana. Then we had plans to watch old episodes of The Office with some of the Gateway Vincentian Volunteers. They texted to see if we wanted to go on a brewery tour beforehand. Um, yes.

We piled into the car and took off eagerly. We even successfully navigated the detour where I-64 is closed! But because of the detour we were (unsurprisingly in my life) running late. We got to Schlafly Bottleworks slightly after the 2pm tour we'd hoped to take. As we opened the door, someone remembered -- "Where's my purse?"

We came to the conclusion that she had set it on the ground in the attempt to get everyone settled into the backseat of the 2-door car, and we had driven off without it. She and I ran in to try to find the GVVs and let them know. As we were discovered that they were on the tour, the other 2 girls got out of the car, closing and locking the door behind them. I emerged from the building to see an unfamiliar man trying to break into the car : we had locked the keys in it.

I now know how you use a wire coat hanger to unlock a car door. I'd never seen it done before and had always kind of wondered. I also know that cars with locks like Ana's are very difficult to break into. It took the better part of 45 minutes, as we agonized over missing purses as well. It was a race : Triss was on her way home from another adventure and could bring us a spare key.

At last, the Good Samaritan unlocked the door and went in for his tour. Triss called to let us know that the missing purse was not in the street. So after we got home and knocked on a few neighbors' doors, the police came over to take a report of what was in the purse. We all kind of hung around outside and waited as moral support.

And then -- as the officer took the report, one of our neighbors came outside, holding the missing purse! He had found it and picked it up, unsure to which house it belonged. Seeing us outside with the cop clued him in. He told us it was the 2nd purse he'd returned today!

Not long after this, a couple of the Gateways showed up on bicycles to watch The Office. We played a rousing game of Super-Uno and started on Season 3. This is after I climbed on a counter to close a window and nearly knocked down the light from the ceiling. (Note to Nunnery inmates: there was no computer underneath.)

To conclude this day, Triss and I walked the Loop in the evening and came across a large hippie van emitting bubbles. We played in the bubbles, watched in awe as the bubble man made on large enough for both of us to fit in, and talked to the bubble man's assistant. Apparently, they are http://teknobubbles.com/ and do black-light bubble shows. Who knew that such things existed? Triss got a wristband from them -- a perfect ending to an adventurous day.

Change of Heart

40 Days for Life recently got some great coverage from Fox News. In addition to offering women loving help rather than abortion, the 40 Days vigil participants have been there for clinic workers who have changed their minds. Apparently, 26 clinic workers have left their jobs as a result of 40 Days action. Here's an interview with a clinic director and Shawn Carney, one of the directors of the national campaign.

While I can't say that I approve of all the questions -- O'Reilly can definitely phrased them in his favor and even when I agree with the blatant bias, I don't like it -- I am so glad that this made it onto something like O'Reilly. It's not the sort of thing that's going to win over people on the opposite side, but it can help motivate those people closer to the middle of the road. Or it can help put ideas of acceptance into the minds of the less tolerant pro-lifers. Responding with anger to those people who work in abortion facilities certainly seems easier; but stories like this emphasize the need for love, prayer, and revelation.

Bright Points

In the more challenging weeks, I appreciate the bright moments more. For example, this week. If Wednesday had been Friday, the weekend would not have come too soon. However, Thursday, the plant manager set up a new desk and chair in the library for me. I now have a small cabinet that locks! Then, today, when I was sorting through a chart that someone in a past life left in the library, I discovered a box of school supplies: dry erase markers, post-it notes, pencils, washable markers, white-out... A fantastic surprise!

Yes, that's right. My bright moments come in the form of school supplies.

Of course, some bright moments are teacher-moments. In our 6th grade reading group, we spent a little bit of time discussing if the teacher was black or white, initiated by a child's question. First of all, I was glad that someone was processing the book on the level of thinking about characters and visualizing them. Secondly, the question got them talking about race. I can tell from overhearing conversations that they talk about race among themselves. But they avoid it with the white girl. I've mentioned it in non-threatening, off-hand ways, for example, when the girls ask me about my hair. Also, when we compared "scarlet" to "scalding," I told them that if you scald your skin it can become scarlet, but had to add the proviso that it might just be if your skin is as pale as mine. We're reading Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry, which I think, like To Kill a Mockingbird with 8th grade, will inspire safe discussions about race.

Race and diversity at the school should be a separate post, but I will say that safe discussions of race with a person not from their demographic will be as beneficial for them as for a sheltered upper class white kid.

Myers-Briggs

This weekend led our house on a beautiful retreat to the woods west of St. Louis, where trees talk and you can see stars. The Franciscan retreat center provided a roomy yet cozy house, a statue-studded forest, and a pond that held fish and reflected the night sky. For W&M/EWC readers, it was like Bethel and Eastover had a Catholic baby.

While on retreat, we spent most of the time talking about our Myers-Briggs personality types. We'd taken the test a little while ago, but finally got results this weekend. If you don't know about Myers-Briggs, basically it divides people into 16 "types" based on 4 categories with 2 options each. You end up with a 4 letter code: for example, I am an INTJ. (My opposite, and the other 4 letters, is an ESFP.) Each type has a distinct way of relating to the world, themselves, and other people, which can have career, relationship, and other implications. A friend of mine called it "horoscopes for smart people."

Surprisingly, our house has only 4 types, in spite of our 6 people. We have no Ps (spontaneous, open-ended people) and 6 Js (routinized, like-closure people). We have 5 Feelers (make decisions based on values) and I am the lone Thinker (make decisions based on logic). The Daughter of Charity who provided our results and analyzed with us pointed out that this could make me feel the odd one out. True story in some ways, but looking at my life over the past, oh, 8 years or so, I have been closest mostly to Feelers. So I'm used to it.

Our house types: ISFJ, ESFJ, ENFJ, INTJ. 5 warm, people-oriented women, and one stubborn, independent, driven woman. My being in VSC at all proves that Myers-Briggs may be helpful, but is not the end-all, be-all. A year of service is not exactly an INTJ thing, but it is definitely a me thing.

Interestingly, I think the volunteer last year from my college was an INTJ.

Prisons?

Hello again, Stephen Colbert! In my daily dose of news and satire, today (though it's yesterday's show, played online) I learned that Arizona is privatizing their prison system. I knew vaguely that people talk about such a thing, but I had no real thoughts on it. Luckily, Colbert makes me think.

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From disciplining kids, I know that punishing people is not fun. I do it because it's necessary and I care enough about these kids to want them to grow into decent people; and learning action = consequence will help. A problem comes about when someone wants to punish another person. That's twisted and, well, sadistic. And it's the danger that privatized prisons run. Or else they could simply dehumanize prisoners. Even the worst offenders are still human, something our society has a hard time remembering.

Books, Gender, and Paradigms

Today for the first time, some of the kids took some of my favorite books out from the library. One of the 6th graders chose The Boxcar Children, a favorite from elementary school. Around 1st grade. Granted, I read above grade and he is reading below, so it probably is a good fit.

But the one that really startled me was an 8th grade boy who picked out a Dear America book. He's a sweet, but typical eighth grade boy. A goof, athletic like all the kids, pretty easy going. Definitely not effeminate. I didn't want to create stereotypes by telling him that Dear America books are "girl" books, but I was surprised that he didn't realize it, and none of the girls in the library corrected him. I like it; it's just was a weird moment.

Oh, Bipolar Virginia

Last year on Election Day, I didn't even have to turn on the television or touch my computer to tell when VA went blue or when Obama took the election. The cheers and screams of joy from down the road let those of us who were quietly mourning in my apartment that we had lost.

Today, I barely remembered that it was Election Day. I'd voted absentee last week, so I didn't think much about it. Until I got home a little after 6 here... which means polls had just closed at home. I made myself workout, eat dinner, and socialize before I let myself check election results, however.

No surprises, but Virginia went red. What's up with this, O state of mine? I won't complain too hard, but you are like me; sometimes one color, sometimes another. Sometimes you go against pick; sometimes, you win!

Happy Birthday!

At the beginning of the year, the VSC volunteers received a book of wisdom from previous volunteers. One bit of advice that we read was to make a big deal out of birthdays. In keeping with this advice, we planned a shin-dig of a dinner today for Em's birthday : fondue and cookie cake.

After a long, hard day at school, I stopped at the grocery store on the way home. I picked up necessary ingredients, including cheese, cream, cookie dough, bread, and beer. Considering the last three items, I figured I looked like someone who'd had a really bad day. I need chocolate, carbs, and alcohol for healing!

Instead, we put on some music and had a fondue making and eating party. Fact : mushroom fondue, especially in that state of half-way ready mushroom puree does not look appetizing, but the finished product is delicious!