Author: pritchard.jonathan@yahoo.com

I just found out about a friend from high school who died in a car accident last night. Man. We hadn’t spoken in. . . I don’t know. . . years. Since high school. That’s a shame. He was a good guy. He lived down the road from me then. About a mile. We’d hung out some. Played paintball. Snuck out and met up to go party with friends. Normal stuff for the time.

Now I think about his family. His dad lost a son. Thats rough. His life cut short. I feel youthful. Couldn’t imagine not being here anymore. I don’t think he had any kids. Shame, he was the kind of guy you could see being a good dad. Playful, funny, energetic, smart. It’s too bad.

That’s one person that I now regret never talking to after high school. I’d had the thought before that I should get in contact with him sometime when I went to East Texas. But you always think there’ll be next time. More time. All the time in the world. But there isn’t always.

You live long enough and you’re going to lose some people along the way. That’s just the nature of it. Doesn’t make it any less hard. I hadn’t spoken to him in years so I’m not devastated, but then I start to think of all the other people that will be affected by this loss. His brothers. Other close friends. It’s going to be a hard day for some people, and it’s going to suck, and no words make it better, but I’m sorry for your loss.

It’s interesting in this digital world because I feel like I had kind of kept up with Ross. We hadn’t spoken but we were friends online and I knew he was doing alright. He’d taken hunting trips in Colorado recently. He seemed to like his job and be happy. It was good to know he was in the world and doing well. He was a genuine guy and he deserved a good life. I think he got it. Just not as much of it as he deserved. Until I see you again my friend, rest easy.

There’s always this bittersweet feeling when you give up something you love. Physical belongings are just that and people say you shouldn’t get too attached, but it’s the memories that surround those things that make it an important part of your life. At the end of everything, we’re all just an accumulation of experiences and though physical objects are fleeting, so is everything else.

It’s not the motorcycle I’m about to sale that I’m attached to. It’s the trips I’ve taken on it that I’ll always remember and the thought that I won’t be taking anymore that’s making me nostalgic. It is like losing an old friend in a way. One thing about life, if you live long enough, you’re going to lose people and things that you care about. Some willingly, some, not so much, but you don’t always get a choice.

I’m selling my bike to an older gentleman who’s been watching a close friend deteriorate for the last few months. I get it. That need for something to help you feel alive as you watch a loved one fade away. Something about grabbing life by the balls is empowering. Pushing the limits can be invigorating. Cutting down the road at inhuman speeds with nothing but a layer of leather between yourself and the rest of the world makes you feel vulnerable and powerful all at the same time.

Right now I’m waiting for my wife to wake up so we can deliver the bike. We have a newborn and I’m selling this for some extra cash as we adjust to this new phase of our life. The one certainty in life is change, and I’m having to make adjustments to this new phase in life. I’ve enjoyed my life up to this point, but I’m also super excited about all the adventures I get to share with my kid now.

Words never make a loss much easier, and I won’t compare losing a bike to losing a loved one, but I just want to say to anyone going through anything like this; life can sometimes be sad and hard, but it is also simultaneously a beautiful and unexpected adventure. Letting go of one thing in order to move to the next is not always easy but it is always necessary. How you do that is up to you, but don’t be afraid to embrace a little adventure. This life is a wild ride so just enjoy it while you can.

Last night I had dinner with four Venezuelans. One was a pilot in their airforce who deserted about two years ago. Two have law degrees from Venezuelan universities. Venezuela was never really on my radar before I met my wife (who, full disclosure, is one of the Venezuelan lawyers). It was always just another one of those Latin American countries with an exotic name and beautiful women. (They do well in the Miss. Universe pageants ok. I’m not just being a pig.)

I’ve become kind of obsessed with what’s going on down there, but it’s really hard to get an honest and complete picture. I tend to find two completely opposite sides of the story. I’ve tried to get to the real core of it, but it’s a challenge. Both sides claim the other side is pushing propaganda and that the situation is worse or not as bad as they say. Lately, I’ve had the opportunity to get to know several people from this distraught nation, and I wanted to share some things I’ve learned about the situation. I’ll admit that these aren’t hard facts but my conclusions after reading countless articles and getting to know at least a dozen Venezuelans, some of whom do still live in the country.

Best case scenario: The current ruling party in Venezuela is well-intentioned but incompetent.

I’m sure there are things going on behind the scenes that few people are aware of. I’ve read that the rich have waged economic war and intentionally ruined the economy to spur change. Maybe, but if you’re in charge of one of the most resource-rich (oil, gold, etc.) countries in the world with a year-round growing season and you can’t keep your country from falling into disastrous ruin, you’re incompetent.

I’ve heard story after story of the government seizing property, equipment, and businesses only to run them into the ground. The pilot told me of one instance where the government seized the assets of a private ferry company and ended up sinking the boats due to poor management and lack of maintenance. I’ve read and been told that the blackouts are the result of an electrical grid that has fallen into dire disrepair in the hands of the government due to lack of upkeep. This list goes on and on.

Medium case scenario: The poor people were taken advantage of during the prosperous times in Venezuela and this was their retaliation.

Before the rise of the Bolivarian revolution, Venezuela was the wealthiest country in Latin America. But there was a growing divide between the rich and the poor, and Chavez came to power on the promise of standing up for the those who lived in poverty. He was able to deliver on many promises due to a surge in oil prices at the time but failed to build the foundation for lasting success.

The transition to the current government was democratic. I’ve never seen anything arguing against the legitimacy of that initial election that brought Chavez to power. A surge in oil prices for the first decade of his reign helped bolster the economy and led to a lot of improvements for the poor in the country, but the social programs and government controls proved unsustainable.

It’s like when a poor person hits the lottery and doesn’t make any real investments or plans. Maybe they live the good life for a while, but they fail to manage their fortune and end up right back where they started or worse. The Venezuelan government took the goose that lays the golden eggs and ate it for dinner.

Worst Case Scenario: The current government is a narco-dictatorship that rules through fear and control of resources while plundering the countries wealth, arming criminals, and imprisoning and oppressing opposition.

Some people like to point out that Juan Guido (the opposition leader) isn’t in prison right now as proof that the government isn’t as bad as people say, but let’s not forget that the U.S. has backed him and made public announcements that there will be consequences if any harm comes to him. I’ll be the first to admit that the U.S. isn’t perfect and that maybe it isn’t our place to interfere, but everyone knows we’re not afraid to get involved in other countries, and I think this is the only reason Mr. Guido isn’t being tortured in the Helicoide right now.

The truth is probably some combination of these. But there are some things that seem undeniable:

• Crime has surged.
• Poverty is worse than ever.
• A mass exodus is threatening to destabilize the entire region.

People want to say the U.S. is only interested in the oil reserves of Venezuela. Maybe, but what are countries like China and Russia interested in? They don’t even seem to really care about their own people so I’m going to venture to say that it isn’t the plight of the common Venezuelan that has drawn so much international attention. I don’t see Venezuelans walking to Russia, Iran, or China so I really don’t see why they get a say in the matter. The Caribbean islands have benefited from petroleum trade deals with the Chavez government, but again, how many Venezuelans have these countries played host for? How many Venezuelans has Cuba taken in? Probably not nearly as many as the neighboring countries in South America. It can be argued that the U.S. should take a step back, but the neighboring countries are directly affected by the Venezuela situation and seem to have a lot to say about it. Maybe we should listen to them.

All I can say with certainty is that I’d like to take my son to meet his family in Venezuela without fear of getting robbed, arbitrarily arrested, kidnapped by guerrillas, or murdered by armed gangs, and I don’t see that happening under the current government. Whatever happens, I want the best for the country and people and hope they can reclaim their place as a paradise once more.

With the recent murder of an American missionary who was trying to bring the word of god to a secluded tribe on an isolated Indian island, I feel like it’s a good time reflect on my short time with the peace corp and why I left. 

I can appreciate wanting to help people. It’s a good feeling to follow. But sometimes people get so caught up in wanting to “help” people that they don’t stop to ask themselves this simple question: Am I really helping? 

When I first signed up for the peace corp, it felt like a good option to get out of my comfort zone and make my life about something else for a while. I do have a desire to help people, but after I went through the Peace Corps training and spent some time in my community, I realized how little of that I’d actually be doing.

Ecuador is a developing country, but they’re not very far behind the good ole US of A. My host family had high-speed internet, smartphones, and laptops. What was I going to teach people who have access to all the worlds knowledge at their fingertips? The answer I finally came to, probably not much. 

Just before I was supposed to go to my assigned location in a remote banana farm (where they also had internet, computers, smartphones, and a small team of actual doctors), I stumbled across a wedding at one of the beautiful churches in downtown Quito. This wedding was amazing. Everyone was lavishly dressed and the women were decked with jewels. Obviously, a lot of money went into the whole endeavor. This got me thinking though, what are the wealthy locals doing to help their own? 

Then another thought occurred: Why have I come to a foreign country to give aid when my own communities in my own country could use a hand? Why have I traveled all this way to go live in a remote village for two years just to tell them to wash their hands, boil water, eat a balanced diet, and wear condoms?

The idea that just the presence of an American will somehow improve the lives of people in these remote areas is misguided and audacious. What has struck me about people from isolated places that I’ve encountered: They’re kind. They share. They live in the moment. They seem happier. They don’t need someone else to come tell them there is a better way to live. (It’s debatable if our way of life is even any better.)

I’d say we’re very self-centered in the US. I don’t mean in the way that people get caught up in their day to day routine and don’t think about the way other people live. People all over the world are just trying to live the best they can. I mean that most Americans I know actually think, no no, they know that our way of life is better. Many of us think that people all over the world envy us. Some do. Many don’t care. They’re busy living their own lives. 

America is a great place, but we’re faltering. We’ve fallen behind in several important areas such as education and even economic freedom. Imagine that. Land of the free doesn’t even break the top ten for freedom rankings. 

All great empires eventually fall. Usually right after they stop thinking they can learn anything from anyone else. I’m honestly pretty neutral about our current president (Trump), but I will say he strikes me as the kind of guy who only reads his own book if you know what I mean. We don’t have to continue on that path. 

I do believe that we should take care of our community first, and that just about all foreign aid or military presence is a waste. Missionaries traveling to places they aren’t welcome just to be murdered is a waste of life. We’ve backed the god of war and oppression for too long. Our influence is no longer respected. Our house is a mess. Until we get everything straightened out here, let’s just leave everyone else in the world the hell alone. They’re probably plenty happy and healthy without us anyway.  

Let’s start by saying that I am truly grateful. I have a beautiful wife, a decent job, a comfortable place to live, and a fridge full of food. What more could I ask for? It really is a great day to celebrate the fact that my ancestors had the forethought to come to the new world, full of opportunities, and take their rightful place as servants of the new world order.

I love being an American. It’s way better than being exploited by American interests. When you live in the US, there is so much going on that you hardly have time to think about anyone but yourself. Our culture of consumption and distraction really takes your mind off things like social responsibility.

Sometimes my head swims with everything that goes on in the world, but I have to tell myself not to worry about that.

Don’t think about the fact that we’re slowly destroying all the things that make the earth habitable.

Don’t worry about the alarming rate the population has grown for the last 100 years.

Don’t even consider that fact that no matter what we do, our solar system will one day collapse on itself and if we don’t find a way off this rock then our entire existence will have been in vain.

Just believe that the people in power have my best interests in mind. All I have to do is buy into everything that is pushed on me and I’ll be fine.

The funny part is, that’s actually true. If you just do what you’re told and say thanks for the opportunity to be part of this great machine, you’ll have a pretty good life. I can’t even blame people for going along. It’s a sweet deal.

Who cares about other animals and people all over the world anyway?

Can I really improve their quality of life by giving up things I take for granted?

Is it my fault that animal instinct leaves a deep-seated self-interest in us all?

Am I actually going to do anything to stop the implosion of the universe anyway?

What am I doing? This is a holiday. A tradition. A fantastic example of social engineering. A time to say thanks for all the wonderful things the world has bestowed upon me. Let me say grace and be thankful.

Thank you world for letting me be a white, middle-class, American, man, born in the 20th century, with a functioning brain, and adequate looks. It has made all the difference, and for that, I am truly grateful.

As I watch my wife’s belly grow with our little person inside, I gain some perspective on the passing of time. When nothing is really impending on you, It’s easy to feel like you have all the time in the world. As reality sneaks up, you realize how quickly those days pass and how much there is to be done.

My wife is lying next to me napping on this lazy Saturday afternoon. Building a person must be exhausting. Our DNAs each line up their halves of the blueprint and work together to create something new, some hybrid of us two. When two become one. I always thought that meant sex, but it’s taken on another meaning now.

I never knew if I wanted to be a father. It always seemed like a hard job and far too important to screw up. And honestly, I never would have trusted myself before. Even now I don’t know what to expect. Everyone who has done it has words of wisdom or warnings, but I’m trying to go into it without expectations or too many plans of my own. It seems like the kind of thing that you only understand how to do once you’ve done it. Just like the mixing of our DNA, even after you’ve raised a kid you probably don’t even know what you really did.

We got to see the baby for the first time just a few days ago. Some of our (I consider us all one unit now) family came from Venezuela and wanted to do a gender reveal. This big black balloon took up all the space in the front seat of our car. My wife had to ride in her mom’s lap in the back seat with her aunt and her aunt’s mother in law. The opaque ball blocked my view out of the passenger side window, and I couldn’t help but feel a little worried. What if I didn’t see a car coming and we got into a wreck? What if something happens to my unborn child? These kinds of thoughts reverberate in my head as the laughs of these Latina women echo through this giant bag of air next to me. These once unfamiliar protective feelings are becoming more common every day.

We made it home, just around the corner, safe, and I sigh a bit of relief. One small step for this man. That black balloon loomed in the living room while we put together snacks and hypothesized on the gender of what’s in that little ball of her belly. Is it a he or she or something in between? Things aren’t so simple these days, but then again, maybe they never really were. We’ve talked about the idea that what if our kid is transgender or gay or anything of the sort, and we just want someone healthy and happy, whatever that means.

When we stick the balloon with a needle, a shower of blue glitter and smaller blue balloons rains down on us. I hug my wife and then get attacked with embraces from all sides. Our little ball is to be a boy. Though I may not know what it is to be a father just yet, I’m learning a little every day what it feels like to be a dad.