Oh, the people you'll meet
Jersey ain't as bad as the movies say. Well, I say this given that the drivers are in fact insane, eye contact with strangers is avoided or, rather, not even considered, and a courteous "thank you" is a rare and precious gift. Everywhere we go we stick out as "not from around here." What the relatively placid (I hope to forever reserve 'quaint' for Midwestern contexts) town of Little Ferry has verified for me is that below these cultural clichés, people are the same everywhere. On this trip, as in life, it is the people I meet and spend my time with that help me grow as a person.
A major influence on our experience here has been Bill Corvelli, the boisterous owner of a mold-removal company contracted by United Way. He has basically molded my perspective of people in New Jersey. He is jokingly abrasive and states his points bluntly – sometimes shortly, but anytime I found myself alone with him he let loose his love of the monologue. He knows how the world works and some "liberal" college kid from Missouri certainly isn't going to teach him anything new. However, It did not take long for our feelings toward Bill to turn from intimidation to affection. We first worked under him on Day 2, where he taught us how to perform efficient "tearouts" of mold-infested basements. We worked under him again on Day 3, scraping mold off of the cement walls and wood ceiling of a basement. The work is stuffy and can be monotonous, but his encouragement never fails to motivate. After working us hard and somewhat mercilessly, he always shows us his appreciation before we split paths for the evening. This culminated in a lunch, courtesy of Bill, at his favorite local Italian restaurants, Regazzi's.
The lunch at Regazzi's served as one of the first truly gratifying experiences we have had with local community members. Hurricane Sandy devastated the restaurant, and the interior had to be completely redone. When the waitress understood what we were doing in Little Ferry, she came and told us her story, swelling with emotion. A few patrons in the restaurant came over and talked to us, sincerely thanking us for our work. It was here we were finally able to get a sense of the emotion and stress that came from the hurricane. And it was here we felt, for the first time, deeply appreciated by the community. On reflection of these feelings we realized that as good as it felt to have that immodest praise, we did not come to serve to get ourselves patted on the back. As nice as it is to know that the community benefitting from our work appreciates us, serving requires thinking beyond the instant gratification that is so much a part of our culture.
Dave Grohl is the creator and director of Project 195, the organization we came to work for. He has explicitly given us a detailed sense of how the various relief groups work (Salvation Army, Red Cross, United Way, etc.), but also serves as a model for how a desire to serve can turn into a lifestyle. A firefighter by occupation, Dave spends his professional and personal life working to better the lives of others. This example of serving day in/day out is unparalleled in anyone I have met before. Several other volunteer coordinators – Chris, Tom, John, Dante – have made our trip much more meaningful than friendships formed over hard work and fun.
John Salov is the self-described "inn-keeper" of the hostel we have made our temporary home. In his black beanie and silver-streaked goatee, he has been a source of wisdom for each of us individually. My conversations with him flow freely from books and movies to ambition, purpose, and contentment. His genuine interest and rich experience of life have a unique way of confirming my values. Talking with John is inspiring because he seems to have always found a way to go through with doing almost exactly what it is he wants to be doing. After a week's worth of limited (but meaningful) conversation with him, I feel empowered to pursue what it is I want and to realize the potential of what I have to offer to the world. In a sense, he embodies what it is to live in the moment.
I am someone who firmly believes that nearly all knowledge – or maybe better put, all understanding – comes from new experiences. As Annie Dillard so succinctly put it: "The way we spend our days is, of course, the way we spend our lives." The greatest gift Alternative Spring Break gives to us is a sense of how meaningful every moment of our lives can be. The growth that I have experienced this week and seen in my fellow ASBers is profound. Our understanding of the impact of a single moment, a single relationship or, in this case, a single week is more limited than we know. The inspiration, perspective, and hope that we have gotten out of this week will seep pervasively through our lives for a long time to come.
Sean McWay
No comments:
Post a Comment