Skin and Bones

I never broke bones growing up or seriously injured myself. I cracked my clavicle playing touch football, though. I remember we were at Woodstock, the first condominium complex my dad lived in after he moved out, ostensibly, to be "closer to work". Woodstock was named after the little yellow bird in the Peanuts comic strip, Snoopy's sidekick, and not after the music festival. That wouldn't have suited my dad who didn't believe me at first I broke a bone. I don't remember how I convinced but we did, eventually, go to the hospital where I was put into a sling and sent on my way.

But breaking a collar bone hardly counts. I've never been in a car accident, either, or experienced the type of jarring event where the universe seems to slow and fold in upon itself, creating a moment where two objects attempt to occupy the same physical space. 

In the last two weeks, I've been in two bike vs car accidents and I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a little fragile and a lot lucky. 

Last week, I was coming home from work when the bumper of a car caught me from behind. I felt like the bike folded in half beneath me.  My chain came off, and I wobbled across three lanes of traffic to the side of the road, ducking into an alley beside a jewelry store. The car followed me. 

He pulled behind me in the alley. The driver stepped out if the car, a man fully half again as tall as me and twice as wide in nondescript shirt and tie laying across the front if his belly like a wide welcome mat, eyes bulging behind eye glasses in rage, his thick neck straining the collar of his dress shirt as the veins in his neck pulsated.  He came an inch from my face, blood running down my shin, and, completely unhinged, screamed at me about "common decency", "humanity", and "how I should behave as a foreigner", all from someone who just hit a cyclist with their car and showed me no common decency or humanity. 

I took a step back to put the chain back on my bike and the man grabbed my bike by the top tube, yanking it out of my hands. My initial reaction of attempting to flee the scene quickly evaporated; I would need help extracting myself from this situation.  He called the police (who would never show), and I called security personnel from my office who arrived within 15 minutes and ran interference for me so I could get home. 

I remain stunned how someone could be so devoid of compassion that a busted fog light meant more to him than running a cyclist off the road, a reaction completely divorced from rationale thought. 

Earlier this week, I was riding into work in the driving rain, just having dropped the car off for service at the Ford dealer in Battaramula. I rode between a long line of stopped cars and the curb. A BMW sedan traveling in the opposite direction took a right turn in front of me. Neither of us saw the other, and I hit my brakes. I skidded immediately on the wet road, and I distinctly remember having time to think, "I'm going to hit this car." I slammed into the side of the car, my right shoulder taking the brunt of the impact with the car door, and crumpled into the road. 

Unlike the previous accident, this driver was instantly apologetic, though not at all at fault. He hopped out of the car and loomed over me -- along with a half dozen bystanders, security guards, policemen who showed no ability or interest in assisting, and men on scooters -- spraying Apologies down upon me until I was able to pull myself off the pavement. He even offered for me to come I to his house and ice my shoulder. 

After a few moments in which I determined my shoulder was still in the socket, I had to decide if I rode home or kept going to work. Having just gotten into my second bicycle accident in as many weeks, I knew Elise would not be sympathetic, so I decided to continue on to work. I would insure Elise's wrath anyway, because as soon as I got to work and stumbled into the nurse's office soaking wet, banged up, and bleeding they sent me to the ER. We picked Elise up on the way. 

A Letter to My Children on Learning We Are Moving to Egypt

Peter, Clementine, and Sam, 

I know you are probably feeling a million different emotions right now. You might be disappointed, sad, anxious, nervous, happy, excited, relieved. And you have every right to feel every one of those emotions. I will never tell you how to feel about anything. You are entitled to your own emotions and to feel the way you feel. And nothing I can say will change that. 

I know I will be very sad to leave Sri Lanka. I love living here and I love the lives that we have built here. I'm so proud of you guys. And I'm proud of all that we have experienced and achieved over the past three and a half years. We lived through a global pandemic, an economic crisis, fuel shortages, and political upheaval. It hasn't been easy, but we persevered and grew stronger as individuals and a family as a result. There is no place in the world I would have rather been and no one in the world I would have rather been with.  

There is no responsibility mom and I take more seriously than to figure out where to move our family next. And there is no factor in that decision that is more important than to consider what will be best for you three. 

Early on, mom and I decided it would be best if you all continued your education overseas instead of moving back to the U.S. You guys have grown up in overseas schools. It is where you are most comfortable and it is what you are most familiar with. Similarly, we also decided early on we weren't going to bid on posts that required me to learn a language. For me to take a year to learn another foreign language would have meant you all would have gone back to school in the U.S. for one year which could have been disruptive or difficult. It also could have been really good, but mom and I felt that it would be an easier transition to move directly to our next post. 

Of all the factors we considered, finding a good school was the most important. We only bid on posts with really good schools. We even got a chance to bid on posts with SAISA schools. But when I bid on a post, I am competing with 10-15 others who are competing for the same post. Sometimes, they pick me. Sometimes, they will pick somebody else for the job. Unfortunately, I didn't get picked for the jobs in Mumbai, Muscat, Seoul, or Taiwan. I didn't even get picked for the first job I applied for in Cairo. 

There are jobs available in Chennai and Dhaka. Both posts have really good SAISA schools. But running outside and cycling are two things that are really important to mom and I, and we wouldn't have been able to exercise outside in either Chennai or Dhaka. (Especially Dhaka) In addition to making sure our next post has a good school, mom and I also want to make sure it is a good fit for us, too. 

The thing is ... no matter where we go, I know we will make the most of it. Whether we go skiing in the Alps, shop the souks of Cairo, scuba dive in the Red Sea, climb Kilimanjaro, go on safari in Tanzania, or swim with the whale sharks.  

I thought it fair to explain the process to you and our thinking and rationale. I know this won't change the way you feel but I want you to know mom and I are always here for you.

I love you very much. I hope you have a great day and a good practice. 

Dad