Set in Concrete

Dearest Rachel –

So yesterday was our last day of actual work. Today, we’ll be on what they refer to as an ‘adventure day’; another nod to the ‘volun-tourism’ concept we discussed the other day. But with my work as an educator over with, this last day was spent doing manual labor – which, to be honest, was actually something of a break from the nerve-wracking duty of speaking in front of a class. Honestly, what’s the point of having knowledge when it scares you to try to share it with others?

But that was behind me, even as early as when I was preparing my tracks for karaoke night. Now it was time for something that didn’t require a whole lot of thought, but did require some muscles that I hadn’t been putting through their paces over the course of the week (and wouldn’t otherwise be exercising until next week began). A pair of brothers (one of whom, Harrison, I’d mentioned in an earlier letter) who had passed through the Just One program and were now working on staff with the organization were in need of a concrete floor, to replace the dirt one they and their family had been living with.

Now, I wouldn’t exactly call it mindless work, as such – there is a technique of mixing a certain amount of rocks and gravel with sand and cement powder – but those weren’t proportions I had to worry about. All I had to do was to wield a shovel or a hoe (whichever was called for in the moment) to assemble the dry ingredients, mix in the water, and scoop it up into buckets to be taken down the hill to the house proper. It was hard work, yes, but also refreshingly easy.

I’ll be honest, I’ve no idea how long the family had been living with that dirt floor, but considering the property included several small houses for members of the extended family, it may have been quite some time. Then again, one of the boys mentioned that the house we were mixing concrete for was actually built by their father, so maybe it hasn’t been all that long. Although I have to confess, any length of time having to deal with having a floor made out of dirt feels like too long; it was high time this family had something at least a little more sanitary under their feet, if nothing else.

But this was a considerably larger project than constructing a pila; whereas one of those water basins generally required four bags of cement powder (plus amount of sand and gravel that seemed to each be approximately equivalent in volume to the cement), the floor of the house would require something like twenty-six bags of cement, and a virtual mountain of sand and rocks. In addition, they needed a lot of people on this job, and since my teaching work was finished, I had been asked to help out as of Wednesday evening.

Which brings me to a preparation I’d made even as I was packing to head out here to Honduras; I brought you along. Ever since last year’s cruise, I’ve made a point to bring the shaker with me on my travels, so as to leave a little bit of you in each of the places I make it to that you never had a chance to get to (or, in the case of Japan, get back to). While I’m still planning to bring you on today’s “adventure” and leave a few ashes in the river or lake (I wasn’t clear as to what type of body of water we’re kayaking on), it occurred to me yesterday that it might be nice to leave a little bit of you behind in a more, well, concrete fashion.

It occurred to me after the fact that this might actually be the most durable memorial for you. While shaking your ashes over one place or another would normally result in your remains being taken away by the wind or the tide, this little bit of you will stay there for might as well be forever. This is as close to a permanent memorial for you as I can expect to give you through this process, by having you set in concrete like this.

And while it may seem like a humble fate, it seems particularly fitting, considering what you and I were doing the day I had planned to propose to you, now nearly thirty-four years ago; we were helping build (or at least repair or upgrade) a family’s home and barn. It may not be as much of a fun place for you to spend eternity, compared to swimming in one body of water or another, but I suspect you wouldn’t disapprove. In fact, you might agree that it’s one of the more noble settings for you to be (reduced circumstances notwithstanding), as you’re part of something that helps others – and you were all about helping others.

So I hope you enjoy your new place, and that you can extend your blessing to Harrison and Marvin’s family. Wish them luck, too; for all that I say that I need it, their situation makes what I go through pale in comparison.