It is a long book. I have about five more chapters to go. It is about a Third Culture Kid named Jim. He is a white boy who was adopted by a Crow (Native American) tribe. This book is about his quest to find out who he is and where he belongs.
My husband read it out loud to my children and my children loved it. Somehow, they were able to identify with Jim, the main character. They read several pages each night as part of our bedtime routine read-a-good-book-aloud tradition; so once they were all done, I decided to read it for myself. It has been difficult to put it down. I can also identify with Jim.
This is Nilla at our outdoor porch sale a week before we moved to USA.
Nilla made it! Our cat is now in the USA. What did we do to bring her back with us? Continue reading
A very useful tool in preparation for our departure has been the book Third Culture Kids. In Chapter 4, the author writes about the following five stages of transition: Involvement, Leaving, Transition, Entering and Re-involvement. I will summarize each stage:
Involvement: comfort, belonging, familiar, settled. Our status is clear and we know our place. We know and follow the social rules, customs and traditions.
Leaving: ending, detaching, pain, backing away, confusion, denial. Our time is coming to an end and we begin to detach from responsibilities and relationships. Continue reading
Sometime after Thanksgiving 1984, after almost 3 years of living in Boulder, CO, we left for home (Read 6 Ways We Were Welcomed to the USA.) Four kids under the age of 10 were loaded in the back of a blue Subaru station wagon with most of our possessions in the cartop carrier. We were driving 2,865 miles back to our house, our family, our home in Tegucigalpa, Honduras. We stayed a night or two in Houston, crossed the border to Mexico, stayed in a few hotels along the way and made it to Mexico City by Christmas. We spent an unforgettable Christmas with Honduran friends, had the best flan I can ever remember tasting. Continue reading
I just found this handwritten note that my youngest daughter wrote. After correcting misspelled words, I had her write it down again and asked for her permission to post it on this blog. She has come a long way from the first time we announced to our kids that we were moving. She was not thrilled,at first. She expressed sadness and disappointment. “Mom, I’ve lived here all my life,” she said. We brought her here as an eight month old chubby baby. This is where she learned to walk, talk, read, write, ride her bike, swim, meet her first best friend and so many other things that mark a child’s life. Continue reading
It has been more than 30 years since my parents took their four children on a journey that would change our lives. We left our home country, Honduras, and traveled to Boulder, Colorado in the winter. One of my first memories of that journey was looking through the airplane window down at the endless white of winter snow. I had never seen snow before. My dad, who had been awarded a scholarship to study at CU, was waiting for us at the airport gate with all our winter coats. He had gone six month ahead of us to begin his ESL (English as a Second Language) studies before commencing his master’s degree in economics. Those three years in Boulder, as I recall them, were pretty amazing. Why? What made them special? Here are some suggestions of what I am able to remember: Continue reading