That will never happen to me: Fast Drying Underwear in three weeks of America

August 25, 2003

 

It didn’t start well. My family bet on much weight I would gain on the trip. It might have been WISE, but it wasn’t SUPPORTIVE.

 

The transition from Africa to America is never an easy one. You are surrounded by people who have so little, and it’s so easy to feel guilty.

 

The flight attendant asked if I wanted the steak or the shrimp, and I started weeping. He responded by saying `It’s ok; you can have both.’ I struggled to compose myself, but that guy is convinced I’m a loon.

 

I should pause here and say I ate both.

 

Without incriminating myself, I am a magnet for odd people on airplanes. I made it all the way over (almost 26 hours) without any unusual encounters. Surely the curse was over.

 

I’m waiting for my luggage in O’Hare and this old guy sees me haul a large suitcase from the luggage carousal and we have the following conversation which is ALL true:

 

Old Guy: That will never happen to me.

Me:  What’s that?

OG: Just came from three weeks in Europe and I brought was THIS. (Points to a small suitcase)

Me: That’s nice.

OG: Wanna know the secret?

ME: (fear rising up) Sure.

OG: I only brought three pairs of underwear.

Me: No response

OG: I bought this new underwear and you wash it in the hotel and it dries overnight. It’s amazing.

Me: I’m 48 and I’ve NEVER had ANYONE tell me about their UNDERWEAR in an airport before.

Wife of Old Guy: What are you two talking about?

Me: His underwear.

WOOG: Oh, it’s great! It dries so fast!

 

In 21 days, I stayed in the same bed once. I had determined that if I would only spend one night with someone, how annoying could I be?

 

I was the guest from hell.

 

Highlights include:

 

• Traveling 7000 miles and not winning the person who has come the furthest to the high school reunion (Australia) and not being the oldest father (someone had a ten month old)
• Hadn’t seen my aunt in decades and falling asleep in the lovely dinner she made for me.
• Shouting loudly in a Wal-Mart `These Snickers have ALMONDS’ and frightening an old woman, possibly the one whose husband has dry underwear.
• Managing to lose my phone list with hundred of names of people I was going to call in the first five days.
• Missing a flight and missing out on a birthday party of a dear friend and missing my one opportunity to see one of my best friends in the whole world.
• Sitting next to two very nice Tupperware distributors on their way to a Tupperware convention and trying to explain why Africa might not be their next big market.
• Having spent 48 years dodging the bullet, summoning up my courage and admitting to my younger sister that I needed her help to do clothes shopping for the children. ( She is a force of nature in regards to shopping)
• Seeing an old friend who I hadn’t seen in 20 years and being afraid to eat her peanut butter pie because it was so wonderful 20 years later that it couldn’t possibly meet the demands of my memories, and having it be so good that I asked for it for breakfast.
• Getting in late from a delayed flight and being picked up by a kind friend who asked if I wanted a sandwich and instead whining `I WANT A PIZZA WITH AMERICAN SAUSAGE’
• On the fourth day of three breakfast meetings, wondering if I had overbooked this trip a little bit.
• Speaking at the sixth place in a day and preparing to say `You’ve GOT to be sick of hearing me speak’ and realizing that they hadn’t HEARD me speak; I was sick of hearing me speak.
• Being capable of leaving dirty clothes in a pristine hall while yelling `I’ve gotta catch a flight; can I pick this up on Monday?’

 

There are so many wonderful memories of this trip; friends driving for hours to say hi, seeing family, having someone give a huge check for the computer centers and for once in my stupid life being speechless, having the amount of schools we can feed almost double, staying up late and catching up.

 

It was also hard; hearing bad news, sad news, and the pain that life brings. Calling someone who is getting married and knowing you can’t be there; friends out of work, friends going through tough times. I went by the cemetery, and was surprised by how much it still hurts.

 

On my last day in the states, I stopped by my bank. There were three tellers at the bank. I waited 15 minutes in line.

 

My teller had been the funeral director for Stephen. I hadn’t recognized her, but she remembered me. She had left the funeral home years ago, and was now working at the bank. She told me how much his life had impacted her, and how she had started making changes in her life after the funeral.

 

I don’t know why, but when you lose a child, you have this fear that no one will remember them. It was such a gift to have that right before I left. As I left, I was reminded of something I had written several years ago:

 

He has gone to a place where babies never die, where the only tears are tears of joy, and there are no more separations and no more goodbyes.

 

It was so hard to say goodbye to Nancy and the kids, and then so hard to say goodbye to friends in the states. Thank you all for a special three weeks. I’m sorry for overbooking and not calling everyone I wanted to, but I’m so grateful for the chance I had to see so many.

 

There is a place, and there will be a time where we won’t have to say goodbye anymore.

 

All that being said, saying hello to my family again made it all worthwhile. JT continued his holiday growth spurt and is now an inch taller than me, Matthew is doing great and the twins are growing like weeds. And Nancy is greater than ever, if such a thing is possible.

 

They told the staff that we needed to be in touch with today’s youth, I was able to purchase a cd for 75 cents on line called `Forever in Bluegrass: The songs of Neil Diamond performed by a bluegrass band.” I think you will agree that with THAT in hand, I’m ready to take on the next group of students when school starts tomorrow...

 

And no, it’s none of your stinking business how much weight I gained.

 

 

 

Your pal

 

Steve

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Steve and Nancy Peifer