Dia de Independencia

Today, the 15th of September, Honduras celebrates 193 years of independence. Actually, all five Central American countries; Costa Rica, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, and Nicaragua celebrate their independence from Spain. In 1821, on September the 15th, Central American leaders accepted a plan drafted by a Mexican, Agustin de Iturbide, that established their independence, but left them united as one country called the United Provinces of Central America. This lasted until 1838 when Nicaragua seceded from the Union and the region became embattled in civil war.

Here in Honduras, Independence Day and the several days leading up to it, are marked by parades of marching students. It is obligatory for all schools to march in the parades. These can be long and tedious for the students who stand in the hot sun all morning. I feel really sorry for those who live in areas like San Pedro Sula where it is very hot and humid. The air is filled with the beating of drums and the clash of cymbals in the weeks leading up to the big day as the schools practice for endless hours.

One of the many schools carrying flags of HN and other nations.

Luis, too, had to march and had the "honor" of carrying a rather heavy banner which bears the quote from Gandhi, "If you want to change the world, change yourself". He attends the bilingual school, American Continental.

Luis (left) and a classmate.

Hondurans recognize their Mayan ancestry, almost more often than they do their Spanish roots.

So as the students fulfilled their patriotic duty, the rest of us lined the sidewalks cheering them on while eating pupusas, baleadas and carne asada from the street vendors. The boys wandered through the crowds with friends while Barbe and I visited with many of our own friends. Even though Siguatepeque has a fairly large population, it still has a very small town atmosphere.

Barbe and Mark with one of the Spanish Institute of Honduras' new students.

We relaxed for the afternoon and later some of us went to the new park in Barrio Parnaso to watch Don Wyatt and his orchestra perform. Very well performed, by the way. As they played, we could see the fireworks show going on in the plaza. The show was put on by the Army and was one of many shows going on around the country, each one synchronized to happen at the same time. All the fireworks for this year's events were supplied by myself and my partners. It was very cool to play such a large part in this year's celebration.

Don Wyatt, directing the orchestra.

Families seated in the small amphitheater listening to the music. 

Nostalgic

I'm feeling nostalgic today. Actually, I have been feeling this way all week...and for even longer than that. If I could, I'd go back 15 years in a heartbeat. I miss my boys being little. I miss the times we spent on the road together. I miss the companionship we shared as we traveled the highways and byways of America.

Ben and Mark

Mark will be heading back to the States soon, the first one to leave us. I'm already missing him...immensely. I'm sure that is why I feel this way. He and I started traveling together when he was 18 months old. By the time he was 10 he already logged more miles with me than most people drive in a lifetime. At 15, he was the best ground man I ever had as we worked together doing disaster relief, cleaning up after hurricanes, tornadoes and ice storms.

My other two boys are also growing and changing. Tall, lean, handsome, they come and go, busy with a life of their own. As it should be. Still, I can't help but remember the days and weeks we spent on the road together, right up until the day we left to come to Honduras. We always had a BBQ grill with us, usually our bikes too. Spending the weekend once a month in Colorado, biking the Platte river in Nebraska, stopping to play catch, working together loading cars on to the trailer, listening to audio books while we drove late into the night. Good, good memories!

Little America, WY

Mount Rushmore, SD

USS Alabama, Battleship Park, Mobile AL

Balancing Rock, Garden of the Gods, Colorado Springs, CO

Gettysburg Nat'l Park, Gettysburg, PA

Erie Canal, Somewhere in upstate NY

For years I lived with the fear that because I did not have a normal 8 to 5 job and wasn't at home every night that I was a bad father, even though at least one of my sons traveled with me all the time. Now that I do have a normal life I know that was not the case. Both the quality and the quantity time I spent with my sons is irreplaceable and a gift that few fathers are ever able to experience. I now count myself fortunate to have had such a rare opportunity.

Yanney Tower, Kearney, NE

Thomas, learning young.

Sharing lunch, somewhere in the USA

Me and my crew.

As I sit here tonight on our beautiful veranda, enjoying a relaxing Honduran summer evening, living the normal life, a huge part of me is longing for the abnormal and the unusual once again. I could go back to it. The boys could still travel with me and in a year and a half Mark will be old enough to driver interstate. I have to be honest, it's tempting at times, it really is.

But life is good here too. Normal, but good.

My veranda where I enjoy the early mornings and late afternoons.

As I went through our photos, walking down memory lane, there were so many I would have liked to share. Here are a couple more of my favorites. 

(All photos by Barbe)

Ben and Mark, truck schooling in the sleeper of our truck.

My three sons on the Jacksonville boardwalk.

Thomas.

Bittersweet

Yesterday I received a call from IHNFA asking Barbe and me to bring Luis to the courthouse in the morning. We had been waiting for this call for over four months, and I was excited that this day had finally arrived. Luis was to be officially declared "abandoned".

We arrive at the courthouse along with the two elderly ladies who had cared for Luis most of his life. We sit with the judge and the lawyers and Barbe and I agree to take legal responsibility for Luis as his "familia sustituta" until he is adopted.

Each of us, including Luis, step up to sign the legal document declaring him abandoned. I smile broadly at the lawyer, "Good job, nice work". She smiles back, relieved that the long process is finally complete, after all, this is what we have all been waiting for. With this declaration of abandonment the adoption process should move forward quickly and Luis will soon be, if all goes well, adopted and a US citizen.

I look over at Luis and suddenly I realize that there is something wrong. Luis is not celebrating. Instead he looks as if he's about to cry. As he hugs his "mothers" goodbye, these two elderly ladies who have raised him for thirteen years, the tears start.

As they drive away, I lean against the car, wrap my arms around him and let him hide his face against my chest. The hot, mid-morning sun beats down on us as he leans in against me, snuffling into my white and green striped shirt, wetting the front of it with his tears.

I realize as I stand there that this moment is bittersweet. What a sad thing that we live in a world where we need to declare any child abandoned. Abandoned, I even hate the sound of it. Abandoned. It sounds so lonely, so sad, so desolate, so...unwanted. Every time I have to use the word with Luis, I cringe. I wonder, how does it make him feel to think that his mother, his family abandoned him.

I talk to him as we lean there against the car. I tell him once again about the family who is already loving him, praying for him, waiting anxiously for news about the legal process, especially for news about this declaration of abandonment. For them, and rightfully so, it is a day to rejoice, to be glad. Today brings them one step closer to the day that they will call Luis "our son".

Bittersweet? Yes, but for me the sweetness far out weighs the bitter. Knowing that soon, Luis will have his very own family that he can call his very own is a beautiful thing and Barbe and I are grateful that we have been able to play a small part in it.