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Guancascos in Honduras

In Honduras I pick up bits of the culture. I eat an empanada, and the memory is stored on my tongue. I see a boy riding bareback downhill to the bridge, and my calf muscles contract as if trotting along. I’m amazed at the bromeliads growing like spikey lily...

El Cristo Negro de Eschipulas

The terrain going southeast from Chiquimula is a mix of chaparral with valleys of cultivated fields. Guatemalans here dress in western style, with a Butch Cassidy swing. The harvest is good here with melons, watermelons, fruit trees, honey, and ofcourse lots of maize....

AVP cradled by the Ipala Volcano

The workshop of AVP glided into the lives of Magdalena, Marco and Eunice like a stream of clear water in the dessert. I want to share here with you the thrill of an AVP (Alternatives to Violence) workshop, held at a Quaker school, with 16 Guatemalans and one Bostonian...

Psalms for a New Palestine

I. The pool of Bethesda is dry; Apartment buildings tower above the gap in the Old City; Mourning doves eat refuse on the Tower of David. Pilgrims, stop your wandering. Scholars, stop your scrutiny. Children, stop your spinning wheels. Underneath the walls of Herod a...

Navigating, WWII & My Dad

My father risked his life several times as a pilot in WW II. I think of him often now that he has left me, left this earth. My father traveled to see the marvels of the world, and loved returning to his home town where he lived for 85 years. My father loved wild...