Letters for Jones 2/2018

26/2/2018

Hey there brother,

My Fiance, Molly, and I moved to Vietnam 7 months ago to pursue a long time goal of living in another country.  Before we moved I started writing a blog with the idea of sharing my traveling adventures with my friends and family with an introspective twist.  I mentioned this to a Venezuelan Entrepreneur on the bus to take my under-the-table motorbike license test (which I failed, but they gave to me anyway) and he said, “kind of like Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance?”  I replied yes. My writing passions are changing though. I still want to update my friends and family, but recently I have begun questioning my writing platform. I am engaged in so many amazing and new experiences as a first year teacher in an east asian country.  With a flood of new ideas inspired by a slight shift in my lifestyle, I desire to make more meaning out of this experience than only occasionally updating a travelogue. I kept telling Molly how I want to synthesize my experiences and make connections between my experiences: the conversations I have with locals and travelers, memoires and historical texts I’ve read, meetings with monks, time touring temples, teaching predominantly Asian students, focus on whole body health, and navigating city life.  A synthesis isn’t the endpoint - it is like mindfulness, a constant process of focusing and refocusing depending on what is most important in the moment. Finding greater meaning out of these isolated experiences, for me, can only be aided and guided by writing.

I’m not sure if you remember this, but I have been writing in a journal regularly since 1998.  In 5th grade I mostly wrote about girls. Ashley Zimmerman and Sarah Park had frequent appearances and my love for you, Johnny, Jeff Ball, and Grant made nearly every page.  I still write regularly, but I think the topics are a little more real and adult. Who knows, in the next twenty years with a teenager or two pushing my parental boundaries I may look back on today's entries as naive and young too.  For many years after your passing I titled most of my entries to you. I wrote to you as if you were reading them. I pretended you had access to my thoughts, emotions, and successes because I knew you wouldn’t judge me from your current place.  For whatever reasons, my entries to you became less frequent. These days I only write to you when you make the now infrequent appearance in my dreams. But when you do, it is always vivid, special, and very personal. We talk. You are aware you are no longer with us, but you are peaceful.  

So last week Molly and I were walking down River Road in Siem Reap, Cambodia. We had been discussing a potential writing platform other than the blog.  She suggested a mini-series titled “Letters for Jones” and I immediately liked the idea. Writing to you brings me back to the days of writing to you in my journal.  It brings back strong memories of you and of you and I together. Before we went to Cambodia, we were with Molly’s parents in Central Vietnam exploring the amazing historic town of Hoi An by bicycle, foot, and basket boat.  During our time there, however, Chuck’s brother, Molly’s uncle Steve, passed away after a long battle with cancer. We were all somber for the better part of a day, but Chuck shared an important insight. Our culture isn’t comfortable talking about death unless it is a recent event.  Chuck wanted to turn this idea upside down and share story after story about uncle Steve and his encounters with Mexican red wolves deep in the dessert, his race fiascos from many famous marathons, and his dedication to his family and spirituality. The sadness was numbed by good memories and the laughs produced by sharing them.

After Mol suggested the “Letters for Jones” idea, I thought back to the previous week surrounding our family story time with Molly's parents.  “Letters for Jones” also seemed like the perfect remedy for something your sister shared with me last time we met in Boise two winters ago; she was afraid people were forgetting about you.  I want to remind your family that I have not forgotten about you and I think of you often. The letters are meant to connect my current experiences to memories of our interconnected upbringing.  I hope you and your family enjoy the updates of my current situation and the memories they provoke of our wonderful childhood and adolescence together.

All my peace and all my love to you brother.  Tears bring happiness to my memories of you.

J