Notes from Cottonwood

We decided to give out candy, since the kids are here and it's home. Linda taught the Iradi guard and his kids what trick-or-treat means, and by 6 p.m. there were forty children at our door. Most of them Iradi, from the lanes across the road, dressed as wolves, the Iradi flag (!), one in a kalpak with a plastic sword. A girl of about six said "Trick or treat" like a prayer.

We ran out at 7:30. Mark went to the garage and found a bag of old candy from the move. Sorry, kids.

Cottonwood in the dark. The porch lights were on all street long.

Quick question for anyone local. I want to write the names right and I can't find the ö, ü and ñ on my keyboard. Is there an easy way? And is there some website where Iradi people write about their own lives? I found the Kündölük front page and I've been reading for two nights.

We found the Catholic church. St. Tomas is in town, built in 1996 with American money, and it looks like a church back home: pews, a spire, statues. The surprise: half the people in the pews are Iradis, and they sing in three languages. The homily was in English and Iradi both and Father Daniel apologised that he'd mixed them up. Nobody minded.

After Mass an old lady took Lily's face in both hands and said something to her for a full minute. I asked what, and a man next to me said: "She says your daughter has a good forehead." I think that's a compliment.

St. Tomas after Mass.

For those who asked: yes, I'm teaching them myself. The curriculum came in six boxes via APO and we spread it over the dining table. Mornings are reading, math, writing, then lunch, then science or history, then outside. Sam builds things. Lily draws horses. Both of them draw horses now. Everyone here draws horses.

Mondays and Thursdays we go to the homeschool group at the base chapel hall: eight families, all contractors. It's the only reason I'm not crazy.