Vastness, wilderness, and silence converge in Big Bend National Park

“Wild country, completely untamed by man, but a good place to come to get your problems in perspective.” Lady Bird Johnson.

Used as we are to the commodities of the United States Highway System, my mom and I drove to Big Bend National Park without much thought. “It is lonely out there. Make sure you have extra gas and blankets” a close friend warned us before we left San Antonio. Winking at each other, we thanked her and went away.

Agave, also called Century plant. 

We had been to west Texas before. We had studied the map (or so we thought!) We knew that we would find a gas station and a hotel in any town along the road, as we had always experienced. Highway 10 lead us west to Kerrville, Junction, Ozona, and Fort Stockton. Yes, it was lonely. Yes, it was a long road. But as we had predicted, the town had its share of hotels and motels. Since it was early in the evening, we ditched motel row in Fort Stockton and headed south, to Marathon.

Weathering and erosion carved the park's mountains. 

Road 385 showed us a new shade of solitude. We did not see a car, a truck or a motorcycle during the whole drive. It seemed unusual, since the estimated 300.00 visitors to Big Bend start arriving in November. Their busy season, we had read, runs from Thanksgiving through April.

Although the sunset greeted us with warm hues of orange, pink and purple, the threat of darkness was looming in the air. Luckily, as the sun disappeared, the first houses of Marathon popped up.

Loneliness was then a thing from the past. People gathered around the historic Gage Hotel; motorcycles roamed the main road, and the smell of grilled food filled the night. Even though Marathon’s population does not exceed 500, visitors seemed to make up for all the activity around.  

Cactus and the Mule's Ears Mountains.  

This exciting scene, however, was not for us. We could not find a room in town. We then headed west, towards Alpine, where plenty of nice rooms awaited hikers, hunters, and workers alike.

In the vastness of the Texas landscape, the sun shone early. We drove the empty road towards the park entrance on the west, and after a quick glance to the map, took the road to Santa Elena Canyon. The landscape welcomed us with its desert vegetation and eroded mountains resembling effigies, ruined castles, or mule ears. The end of the road is the beginning of Santa Elena trail, a rewarding moderate hike that reminded us of the power of water and time.

The end of Santa Elena Canyon trail. 

As a whisper, the canyon walls reminded us also that a whole different country lies behind them. For centuries, Mexican vaqueros and early American settlers made a living there. Farmers, hunters, and cattlemen were the lords of the land before 1944, when the territory became a National Park.

As the sunset light shone against the Chisos Mountains, we headed to the lodge. On the road, a javelina, a roadrunner, a skunk and a coyote showed up. We missed, though, the wild donkeys that sometimes roam from one frontier to the other through the park.  

After dinner, the Milky Way guided our thoughts as we sat quietly in the balcony of our room.

We woke up early, eager to hike Window Trail. However, the possibility of running into mountain lions or bears deterred us from completing the mission. Going downhill, the solitude, the sound of cracking leaves nearby, and our lack of experience convinced us to change our plans. We had heard enough of mountain lion and bear attacks. The Chisos basin loop trail looked like a rewarding, yet safe alternative to being in the wild. The expanse visible through the many views on the trail explained the solitude we felt, despite the fact that the lodge was full.

We left Big Bend longing to see more of the intriguing weathered mountains, the wilderness of the desert and the abundant life around the Rio Grande. 

A sparkle in the land of Kim Jong Un

Yoo Yoon talks to the orphans during lunch time in Wonsan, North Korea

While most of the public see North Korea as an obscure nation ruled by a totalitarian regime, Yoo Yoon sees it as nation of hungry people. When the media focuses on a capricious leader, this South Korean missionary concentrates on what he estimates to be 22 million that live in extreme poverty. That is why, year round, his work concentrates on fundraising to deliver corn and a few other supplies twice a year.

The beneficiaries are about 1200 students from three schools for orphans, and the patients of a medical center in Wonsan, a city located in the Kangwon province, two hours east of Pyongyang. When he is in town, Yoon visits with students, meets with teachers, and quietly prays for the myriad of needs that he sees around. “We are very limited in the kinds of supplies that we can bring. Government policies make it very difficult to reach those in need”, he explains.

While the orphanages are run by the government through a local school district, the supplies are very limited. These 1200 children live and study in buildings that lack refrigerators, washing or drying machines, and even balls for playtime. Besides corn, Yoon is allowed to deliver powder milk and soup, children’s vitamins, appliances, and recreational items like balls and musical instruments. “The teachers would really like to have one or two accordions to teach the children”, he points out.  

Yoon narrates the story of Jesus 'the Great Physician' . 

Yoon’s words for North Korea’s regime and policies are scarce. He is closely followed by intelligence agencies of both the United States and North Korea. “I am working for the people, not for a government”, he tells officers every time they interview him. “I have to concentrate on the ways we can help these children, who need food, shelter, and love”, he adds. 

Yoo Yoon worked for the Korean community in Dallas for 27 years before starting his work with orphans. The North Korean Christian Federation —through North Korea’s UN office in New York— contacted him, along with 20 other ministers, to help the hungry.

“We went to North Korea for the first time in 1995. Severe flooding had ruined their crops for the previous years, and the Soviet Union was not subsidizing them anymore”, he clarifies. Today, only one other minister who started the relief effort still raise funds for the people of North Korea. As Yoon explains, the aid sent by the World Food Program (WFO) does not reach everyone. “The orphans and the sick in Wonsan are the focus of our mission”.

According to a document from the Congressional Research Service, sending food to North Korea represents a serious dilemma for the United States. On one side, it is likely that the supplies end up being sold in markets, instead of being distributed to the people in need. On the other side, it allows the North Korean government to allocate money in other activities, neglecting the obligation to feed their own people.

So far, Yoon has been able to deliver about 60 tons of corn twice a year. It all goes to the orphanages and the clinic. Other supplies are difficult to come by, since it all depends on the generosity of people.

June Yoon visits with some of the 300 preschoolers at the orphanage.  

During her second visit to Wonsan, Yoon’s wife, June Yoon, met with teachers from the elementary school. They asked for a freezer to store the produce that local fishermen donate during the summer months. “It was very painful for her to experience how easy it is to see their needs, but how difficult it is to ask for the money” recalls Yoon. Currently, one church in Dallas and the Korean-American Sharing Movement of Dallas contribute to the mission.

Noodles produced with corn shipped by Yoon's mission. 

Besides collecting money for North Korea, Yoon works with impoverished communities in Cambodia, Vietnam and the Philippines. “It is a joy to visit with them. There is poverty, but they have freedom to worship their God. There is hope in the people of Southeast Asia”, he declared. 

 An unlikely encounter

Yoon’s latest visit to North Korea coincided with the ceremonies honoring Kim Jung Il in the second anniversary of his death. He received an invitation to the services and stayed to see a memorial. While waiting in the hotel’s lobby, he saw Dennis Rodman with his bodyguards. “Without thinking, I ran towards him, greeted him, and said that I was also a Texan wanting to help the North Korean people”, he explained. Even though the encounter was brief, it fueled Yoon’s ideas on how to form alliances to better serve the orphans. Thanks to donations from churches in Texas, Yoon bought 500 soccer balls along with 60 tons of corn in December. The teachers at the schools know that physical activity will benefit the children in Wonsan. “I pray that my encounter with Rodman will be the first step in forming new alliances to reach the people of North Korea”, he concluded.

Yoon's plans to deliver soccer balls and basketballs to the orphanages. 

For more information on Yoo Yoon’s mission, contact kasmdallas@hanmail.net, yyoon6254@gmail.com or glorychurch@sbcglobal.net the phone numbers are 972-897-9830 or 214-587-6254. 

Origami Magic Ball

Thousands of creases are needed to start developing this Origami Magic Ball. 

This is an Origami Magic Ball. Worldwide enthusiasts spend hours folding a rectangular piece of paper to accomplish a unique effect: a flexible sphere that can be molded in several different ways.

This particular model was completed by my brother Ricardo, a medical doctor passionate about origami, films, and nature. After spending many hours interpreting the folding method, he embarked in the project of making a big ball; one he could use as a lamp, or as a standing sculpture.

People who are brave enough to follow origami instructions, either from a book or an online source, understand the challenge that lies ahead. Not only should they be fluent in origami language, but they also need precision, perseverance, discipline, and a lot of patience. Besides, it is crucial to understand paper’s properties in order to use the right one for every piece.

To do this particular origami figure, Ricardo used two full size sheets of paper that he folded over a few days, when time allowed. When finished, he had a gorgeous origami sculpture that could be displayed in different shapes: a sphere, a cylinder, and a V shape design. During the holidays, the magic ball was at my dad’s home. Visitors paid compliments to my brother’s work every time they saw it.

After several conversations about the future of this ball, Ricardo decided that I could have it.  Undoubtedly, it was an act of love and selflessness, since it was his valued treasure because of the time and effort it represented.

In order to maintain its shape during the 2200 miles that separate Medellin from Dallas, he carefully and precisely folded the magic ball. We could not find sturdy enough material to wrap it up, so I it was decided that I would take it alongside my carry-on bag. 

We successfully passed through security checkups, lines, boarding areas, throngs of people coming back from vacation, and two of the flights we had to take. However, between the excitement of using my American passport for the first time, filling the customs form, meeting my mother, and locating the checked bags, I committed the unthinkable: I left the origami magic ball on the airplane’s chair.   

As I waited for my luggage, I remembered the ball. However, according to the United Airlines personnel, it was too late to recover my art piece. They said that the airplane had been cleaned and there were not recovered objects. Despite describing the ball and its value, neither security agents, baggage employees, nor customer service representatives were able to help.

My heart still aches when I think about it. I have not even had the courage to tell Ricardo about it, though I suspect that he knows because he has not asked about it. I have already filled two reports for lost items, but I know my chances of recovering it are dimming. I can only find relief in knowing that my brother has the skill to recreate this sculpture and many more, and that these photographs will always talk about his enthusiasm for creating art with paper.  

Ricardo enjoys spreading around the joy of origami! 

52

I could also write about what I saw that morning of January 1st, 2014

That is the goal. Starting today, I will post a weekly writing on the blogs. There are 52 weeks in a year, each one with 7 perfect days for writing... There is also my full time job, my running goals, dinner time, and saturdays with my mom. But I have procrastinated for too long. Sometimes I take three weeks, sometimes six months to update the blogs. That won't do anymore.
During the last two weeks, only, I have had the opportunity to write about the unplanned lessons that my teachers taught; about Kosin, a man who loved with his smile; about the nostalgia of the disappearing countryside in my childhood neighborhood, and even about the most terrorific flight in my life so far.
Every artist has said it and I should know it by now: Inspiration exists, but it has to find you writing.

From passion to full time job

What do you do with a whole day to yourself? For me, it is always an opportunity to write. Writing is what comes to my mind on the first place. It comes, however, with a mixture of excitement and dread. Excitement, because I just love bringing up words, producing sentences, and pounding on the keyboard; dread, because more often than not, the result falls short of my expectations.

See, I want to make a living by writing. I want to research stories about people and places, and then write about it. That is, in fact, how I started writing. I worked for a local newspaper, writing the weekly neighborhood news. Later on, I moved on to the daily newspaper.  Yes, writing was part of the job, as it was reporting, reading, and talking to lots of people every day. We produced the news, but we also got lots of news. People called to the newsroom and looked for us to publish their stories. There were lots of stories to be written.

Wanting to write out of that sphere has been unfulfilling, to say the least. The timeliness of the stories, the potential audience and the relevance of the topic weigh heavy on me when I start writing. I oftentimes miss the deadline when writing about calendar related events. Not because I have not written in time, but because I look forward to produce a piece that gets published. When I am done, I run out of time and energy for selling it. Then there is the audience. I am aware that there are more blogs out there than there are readers, but I still want to write for someone other than me. That is why any topic won’t do. It has to be, as I learned in the newspaper, relevant, timely, and of wide interest.    

Reflecting on it, I believe working for a newspaper was both the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me. It gave me the opportunity to grow as a reporter, as a critical thinker, as a flexible writer. It also gave me a chance to meet some of the most interesting people I have ever met. However, it imprinted this idea on me that publishing is the goal of writing; it also restrained my thinking to consider just a narrow range of writing topics. Again, if it is not relevant, timely, and of wide interest, there is no point in writing about it.

Re-reading, though, I can see the faults in the thoughts. Any topic can be worthy of publishing. Just look at today’s newspapers: food, fitness, decoration and traveling compete for space with economics, politics and sports. There is no need to be a reporter to be able to write. There is the need, though, to be a good writer to find a job that pays for doing it. There is my new challenge.   

American citizenship in black and white

After getting my Citizenship certificate, I joined the leagues of Albert Einstein, Madeleine Albright, Joseph Pulitzer, Ang Lee, and Arnold Schwarzenegger. For one reason or other, they left their country and came to the United States to live the grand life that awaited them. Hopeful scientists, politicians, writers, and artists do the same thing every day. As they take the steps of the immigration process, their dreams take shape, mature, and wait to see the light of day.

Immigrants are not necessarily expecting that greatness will come with their citizenship. The ‘American Dream’ takes different shapes and sizes for every newcomer: some want economic opportunities; many seek political freedom or religious liberty; others want a peaceful life. Despite its many pitfalls, United States of America is still the land of opportunities. The place where many dreams become true.

Along the journey towards my own dream, I have seen many faces of the life in the US: underpaid workers who struggle to put food in their family’s table, families broken up by cultural differences, entrepreneurs accomplishing what they could not dream of doing in their countries, and millionaires who arrived to the States with empty pockets. Many gave up their social status, but have found comfort in the little they find here. A few find success in their new lives, and several fail to see their dream come true.  

Another hurdle arises when children question the parents’ decision of leaving their country of origin. As a school teacher, I have heard a fair share of nagging and complaining about learning a new language, living in a big city, and growing up far away from loved family. Even though many of my students were born here, they consider themselves Mexican, and dream of the day when they can finally go back home. Most immigrants look for job opportunities in big cities, and their children don’t have any other option but joining the underrated and oftentimes under performing urban school closest to them.   

When my 13 year old nephew learned that my mom and I became American citizens, he lamented that our new country was in decline. After some questioning, he cited political corruption and gun violence as the main triggers in the downfall. I oftentimes consider the implications of that statement, that has been discussed in almost every magazine during the last 5 years. It is easy to see how people would agree with my nephew’s statement. Just go through the news reports about government’s espionage, the weak economy, gun violence, health costs, and poor ratings in education.

However, the greatness of this country is such that it can be accurately portrayed in hundreds of ways. While corruption raises, so do charitable donations. As public education stumbles, American universities lead research in several fields; gun fatalities increase, but street crime rates are lower than ever. This is a country of many faces. Proud Americans show off their foreign heritage without shame or conflict of identity. Second generations are historically better off than their ancestors. There has always been a way out of the issues that this country faces today. 

People from 29 countries became citizens the same day I did. We all know the facts, but we hope for a better future. We get the message: if we work hard, we might achieve the dream.
I am ready to fully live the life that awaits me.

What to do with this new school year?



School hallways are waxed, walls are freshly painted, and teachers as well as students are on their way to a new school year. Administrators and educators in Dallas faced a contentious year, to say the least, but that will not prevent thousands of children to show up again in the coming weeks.
Even if they have a hard time admitting it, most children get excited about coming back: there are the new clothes, the fresh school supplies, and that secret relief of reuniting with friends. How does a Dallas teacher get excited about the new school year? It is not easy when unpopular policies continue, the threat of a performance based pay system becomes a reality, and half of the coworkers are now in different districts, or starting completely new careers.  
It is not easy to keep the spirits up when the looming test scores are presented during the first day of work, and it is disheartening to know that someone from the same grade level might lose a percentage of their salary because her teaching style does not follow the administration’s guidelines. But, at the end, despite all that, the children will still be there. And the teachers will be the ones hearing about their adventures, getting excited about their accomplishments, and cheering them up for the chance to a better future.
Teachers take pride in their work. Most love what they do, and many have had to go through a difficult path to get where they are today. In fact, these professionals repeat constantly to themselves and to others that is not the pay what keeps them doing what they do. However, so much revolves around standardized scores these days that educators do not have time to educate. Test preparation has replaced read aloud time; unison responses have all but supplanted small group instruction; the search for good scores has left children yearning for attention because the teacher is preparing, not only for the lessons and the test, but for rigorous scrutiny from the administration.
Perhaps, this year more than ever, that overused —and many times misused— phrase ‘we are here for the children’ will become a mantra for many, as it seems the only reasonable argument to keep coming back. Teachers will again give hope to troubled teenagers, pay fieldtrip fees for struggling families, and cheer up scared kindergarteners during the first day of school. 
There are two options for the school teachers in Dallas: to perpetuate the district’s terrible image through complaining and resisting, or to look past the administrative roadblocks and continue to do what they know best: giving out their best, so the less favored children in the city get a glimpse of the many good things that await for them.