Final Exercise: Contact Zones

Conflict seems to be omnipresent. It pops up at home, at college, with assignments peers, among friends, and even between roommates. In my perspective, the solution isn’t to remove the conflicts. No, I believe that I grow stronger through them and gain experience as well as wisdom. The solution is communication in a safe space without judgement or fear: a contact zone. James 1:2-8 pops into my mind whenever I am faced with conflict, a difficult situation, or stress.

In the class Borders, Bridges, and Boundaries, I have explored many contact zones with national, racial, and linguistic borders. The majority of the material was difficult for me to relate to since I’ve never had to deal with those types of borders. If I did try to talk about them with those who have had experience, I would get the feeling that I was crossing into dangerous territory. I would sense that without experience, my opinion was invalid and would be disregarded from their minds.

In other instances, there are also texts that I could relate to socially, environmentally, and politically. Melvin in the 6th Grade, Summer Storm: Gary, Indiana, and One Today gave me the opportunity to express my voice and opinion with the experiential credibility that would be deemed valid. I also felt as though I could knowledgeably contribute to the conversation and provide answers instead of asking questions.

Since I went to an inner city high school in Indianapolis, I feel as though I can relate to Melvin in an abstract way. I was the awkward Asian girl who was too short to reach the top of her locker and the one who could outrun half of the boys during P.E. class. 50% of the school was African-American, 75% loved hot cheetos, and 90% were loud and obnoxious. Although I didn’t fight anyone and didn’t know anyoneone who wore “lime-green polyester slacks,” (Johnson) I was considered an outcast; my brother and I; the only two Asians.

For some reason, the kids liked me. I’m not sure if our contact zone was our hate of the required Latin classes or the love of our Latin teachers, but we got along. The racial and cultural border seemed voluminous, intimidating, and secure enough so that a small Asian girl (who didn’t even know Chinese) couldn’t successfully cross, let alone be welcomed. The specificity and definition of that contact zone will forever remain a mystery to me, but you can bet that I’m glad it existed.

Using the environment and weather as a contact zone is absolutely brilliant. Everyone on earth lives and breathes the same air and is affected by climate change. Since I have lived in Indiana so long, it’s very easy for me to relate to anyone who understands what it’s like to have a sunny day followed by a snowy one.

I feel as though I can also be a valuable asset concerning this subject since I’m currently in Roots of the Environmental Crisis. By exploring the causes of climate change, I feel as though I have a background and knowledge that not many people can contribute. Although my education about the roots of the environmental crisis doesn’t give me more experience in crazy Indiana weather, I can offer the “why it got this way” aspect to the conversation. I can also provide a glimpse  of what environmentalists have projected for the future.

I’ve also found a contact zone in politics! I hated politics pre college. I figured that my voice was too small to be heard by the government so I didn’t care what happened. But being surrounded by liberal Mennonites has changed that. I enjoy playing the devil’s advocate and challenging opinions and views, even if I agree with them.

The experience of coming to a college full of liberal democrats is, in a way, a culture shock. Facing the Menno wall was even worse. But, perhaps the Menno Wall isn’t a religious divide, but a political divide. Anyways, whatever the border was, I felt it. I couldn’t play the name game and I couldn’t read hymns.

A contact zone that is dedicated to politics is difficult for me to find, but there is one. Richard Blanco’s inaugural poem helped me identify it. His poem stresses that unity is the contact zone. Despite our religious and political differences, “one sun rose on us today.” (Bruce) Blanco’s argument is that material and cognitive differences don’t adhere to the obvious: that everyone is unified through the fact that we all live on the same planet.

To me, unification through physical means is a powerful one. No one can escape earth to form their own uniform and like-minded group. Outer space is an option, but oxygen is absent and (personally, I think that) astronaut ice cream is gross. The contact zone, therefore, is the earth. We are all responsibly for its well-being and prosperity. We rely on it for food, water, air, and shelter. It’s a necessity.

In the end, Borders, Bridges, and Boundaries presented me with a way to define everyday conflicts and occurrences . It has also helped me know to look for, or create, some sort of contact zone to resolve the disagreement. Contact zones are needed in every dramatic and imperceptible part of my life. I know that they will prove useful in my future career, relationships, and social interactions.

Bibliography:

Bruce, Mary. "'One Today': Richard Blanco Poem Read at Barack Obama Inauguration - ABC News." ABCNews.com - Breaking News, Latest News & Top Video News - ABC News. ABC News, 21 Jan. 2013. Web. 19 Feb. 2013. <http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/today-richard-blanco-poem-read-barack-obama-inauguration/story?id=18274653#.UXChusrGvKM>.

Davis, Todd F.. Ripe: poems. Huron, Ohio: Bottom Dog Press, 2002. Print.

Johnson, Dana. Break any woman down: stories. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2001. Print.

Kevin and Carly

Quick Intro:
I was getting kind of bored when I was writing something with no plot for the blog posts. So, here's a little something that  I whipped together. Hope you guys like it. :)

American Girl Dolls and Stains

“No, Sally, that's not her.”

“You don't believe me? Can't you see the similarities?”

I steal another glance at at the girl behind my table and consider the possibility. She has the same eyes, minikin hands, and dazzling smile. But no, it couldn't be. That girl is long gone.

“Just go over there and introduce yourself. See what happens, maybe you two will reunite your childhood love and become the couple of the century!” Sally explodes as she throws her hands in the air.

I straighten my herculean back and begin to walk to my table when I notice My. Kenley staring daggers in my direction. I quicken my pace.

Carly? She sounds so different. Older, more sophisticated, much more developed. But it can't be. How long had it been? 10 years? Did she just laugh? I'd recognize that laugh anywhere. It is her.

I only know Carly as a tomboy. American Girl Dolls, she never owned one. Pants, they all had grass stains. Heck, she was the opposite of feminine. She was puerile. Childish. She was my type of gal.

“No kidding, Carly!” I say to interject myself into the conversation. Carly observes me with her dark eyes and continues to express her thoughts to her partner.

That was stupid, Kevin. You should at least know what they're talking about before you open your mouth again. You can't mess this up!

“Wait, did you just call me Carly?” the girl blurts with a sound of surprise. “Do I know you?” she asks with suspicion.

Yes! This is what you've been waiting for, Kevin! Stop staring at her! Answer her!

“Uhh, yeah. I'm Kevin! Kevin Jackson! Do you remember me?”

Please remember me.

Her pretty eyes squint and her brows knit while trying to search for the memory. She is trying to envisage me and I can tell. I have seen that face before. The memory is crystal clear.

Velvet and Dimples

“Mom, I wanna go home. Let's do this another time,” I plead. The small package suddenly feels awkward in my hands. It is a struggle to keep my fingers around the velvet box.

“Another day. Please?” I try one last time.

“Come on, Kevin,” my mother rationalizes. “You spent your own money on it for her. And we're practically here. You can do it,” she reassures me.
“Go, Kewin!” my little sister cheers from her pink car seat as cheerios fly from her small fists.

I can't do this. How do I get out of this? Should I pretend to be sick? Pass out? Wow, I can't believe I did this. Wait, it's worth it. Carly. She's worth it.

“Hurry up, Mom!” I demand with determination.

Wait. What if she's not home? Or what if she doesn't like it? Or what if she's sleeping? Should I wait there? Or should I leave it on the kitchen table? Why didn't I bring a card? Should I have picked her a flower too? She likes the white ones.

“Out of the car, Kevin! I'll get Sarah,” my mom says.

I carefully unbuckle my seat belt and open the clunky doors of the white min-van. The sunshine on my face gives me confidence and the sweet air gives me courage. Suddenly, the small
package doesn't feel so awkward anymore. I can do this.

I can't do this.

My mom holds out her hand for support and I reject it. It is time to be a man. I lead the way up to Carly's porch and ring the doorbell with confidence.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Oh, hi, Mrs. James. Is Carly here?” I ask in a small voice when she opens the door.

A smile spreads across her face as she yells for her daughter.

Oh. My. Gosh. Here she comes. I can hear her. What if I mess up? What if I-

“Kevin? What are you doing here?” Carly asks as she slithers her way between her mom and younger sister. Instantly, her eyes dart to the box in my hands.

What's that look? Is she confused? Mad? Sad? Happy?

“Kevin has something to give you,” my mother says in a matter-of-fact tone.

A silly smile spreads across my face and I looked from Carly to my towering mother.

Help.

“Here,” I say as I clumsily handed the box to Carly. From my position on the porch, I watch Carly finger the velvet box. The air conditioning of the house sends chills up my back and I inhale in. And for some unknown reason, I have a huge smile on my face.

Finally, after Carly finishes inspecting the box, she pries it open. I saw her eyes squint and her brows knit as a look of confusion cross her face. But only for a second. A silly smile that highlights her tan dimples appears on her face as she looks up.

The next few weeks, she wore the diamond ring everyday. I only knew this because my mom told me. According to her, she showered with it on.

Start of Something New

“Kevin?” Carly asks with a hint of recognition on her lips.

“Yeah!” I smile back.

She remembers.

“What are you doing here?” Carly asks as if questioning my intentions.

“Learning,” I reply with a laugh. “What are you doing here?”

“Learning,” Carly shoots back with a sparkle in her eye.

Her

    Her hair is long and dark. It’s parted in a perfect line on the right side of her head. There are no tangles or split ends. Her ears are small, but they absorb lectures, laughs, and all of my problems. Her eyebrows are angled to complement her defined jaw and loving eyes. Her irises almost match her pupils and her eyelashes match her dark hair.

    Her nose is used to inhale the sweet aroma of nature and the books of the library. Below lie her lips. They’re a window to what she’s feeling. If they’re pressed into a line, she’s puzzled. If they’re convex, she’s happy.  If they’re puckered, she’s posing for a picture. Mostly, they’re apart. She doesn’t try to hide her smiles or laughter.

    Her body is thin. But that’s probably because of her diet: spinach, green tea, and Dum-Dums. Her hands are the perfect size to cradle my face when I get upset and to prop her face when she’s tired. Her fingers are plain and her nails look like they have never worn nail polish. Her hourglass shape is smooth and flawless.

    The science building is her second home. She wakes up at 7 AM in order to make it to her 8 AM classes. Her day ends around midnight or 1 AM after she's completed her homework and labs. When I ask her where she’s going her answer is usually, “The science building.” If she could have room and board there, she would. Her mind is full of the periodic table, isomers, and diabolic acids. Her handwriting is neat and she writes each letter and number with care.

    Her love for life is wonderful. Every time she sees a younger generation, her eyes get wide and her voice gets higher as she exclaims, “You’re so cute!”

    Her possessions are neat and orderly. Her sandals, boots, and oxfords are on her shelf. Her food shelf consists of almonds, tomato soup, nutrition bars, raisins, grapes, oranges and scattered tea bags.Her clothes are folded and arranged by article of clothing.

Her desk doesn’t house a speck of dust. Her pens, pencils, and markers are all in a cup in the corner. Her clean dishes are stacked accordingly with her plastic fork and spoon as the crown of the tower. Three pictures of her family are taped to the edge of her desk shelf in a way that they hang over the workspace. They’re adorned in colorful clothes and each picture paints the ideal blue sky and happy faces.

The best is when I tell her about something that involves our love life. Overreaction to stories results in laughter and the idea of, “Olivia! What if your shorts ripped when you were talking to him?!?!” This is followed by acting out what had happened if my shorts had ripped,  enough laughter to make up collapse against the wall and throbbing abs from tittering.

This young woman is my best friend and a blessing from God. Her smile emanates joy and her beauty is incomparable. Her positive and studious attitude gives me the motivation to write this blog post.

The Window

For my main contact zone, I evaluated The Window which is located on 223 South Main St. This non-profit acts as a free Goodwill and diner. The Window is a contact zone where different social and financial classes can meet up. Those who can afford to donate provide The Window with their food and clothes. Those who cannot afford to buy food or clothes go to The Window and may leave the store without paying a cent. 

The Window is mainly built upon its employees, the community, and volunteers. Without their willingness and can-do attitudes, The Window wouldn’t have been running for 100 years. With these three main components, The Window will continue to serve the community.

The Window has a great program to help feed people who are sixty years or older. The meal is delivered around the noon hour and the meal consists of lunch/dinner items. In order to get these meals, one need to be sixty years or older, unless one has a doctor’s note for the meals, and must contact The Window by email, fax, or phone. By serving those who are sixty years old and older, they have the capability to serve 14.9% of the community!

From the exterior, I figured that The Window wasn’t anything special. The warm colors of the building didn’t stick out from the downtown of Goshen and there were clothes on the wall, shoes on the shelves, and coats on hangers. The pantry was nice, some items were dented, but the item inside the can was still good. My conversation with the workers changed my view, especially the cook. All of the workers truly care about the community and encourage others to do the same by volunteering and/or donating. Their devotion towards the community is definitely something that other communities are missing. For instance, in my community, there is a clear distinction among financial and social classes and I don’t know of any outreach programs that can compare to The Window.

    The Window is most definitely a contact zone for the community! It allows those who are financially stable to help those who are still feeling the effects of the 2008 economic downfall. This contact zone is specific to material needs and necessities in the form of clothes and food. It’s incredible to watch people go into The Window for 20 minutes and then come back out with bags of groceries and clothes. It’s truly incredible.

Grace Community Church

Martin Luther King Jr. once said that Sunday Morning service is the most segregated hour in the American Week. Many church attenders find this true and dislike church going because of it. I've personally experienced going to churches where I've felt excluded before the service, during the service, and after the service. Going to Grace Community Church in Goshen, IN has been an interesting experience for me.
Grace Community Church is surrounded by gas stations, scattered houses, and lots of land. This nondenominational church seems to be in the middle of nowhere compared to my home church which is surrounded by trees, neighborhoods, trails, and the downtown.
The church is a non-denominational mega church which is also becoming an emerging church. The attendees are mainly Caucasian and the generations range from babies in strollers to the elderly in wheelchairs. The lobby is fuller than the parking lot and the double doors are full of people trying to enter and exit. The welcome desk is surrounded by a sea of people. Some are trying to make their way to the coffee bar, some are leading a train of children, and some are nonchalantly socializing while oblivious to how many paths they block.
Each person is dressed casually with the exception of the competing women who wear their heels, clunky jewelry, and turtlenecks. The men, more lax than their wives, are dressed in jeans and a button down shirt. The youth wears T-shirts, and holey jeans paired with Uggs or tennis shoes.
The population of the church is a shocking 2,500-3,000 church goers. They have a separate room called 'The Link' for the overflow to go to watch a live feed of the service as well as live worship music. If you're sitting in the service, you'll notice how perfectly timed the live music is to when the feed comes on.
If you attend the church, you'll also notice a deep contrast of the music against a classic Mennonite church. Instead of hymns, they have modern songs. Instead of books, they have the words projected on the screens. Instead of no instruments or a piano, they have a full band and equipment to project the beat of the drums and the voice of the singers. No natural light is in the main rooms, instead, there are fog machines, colorful lights, and a disco ball to resemble a concert and encourage people to lose themselves in worship.
The staff is composed of Jim Brown, the lead pastor, Jon Rauch, the children's pastor, Jeremiah Olson, the worship pastor, Rich Yauger, the youth pastor, and Jeremy Byng, the next gen pastor. This group of men is in charge of leading the church body each Sunday morning at 8:00am, 9:45am, and 11:30 am. The one service that they don't technically lead is the Spanish translation service which is available during the 9:45am service.
Their statement of faith is composed of 12 main categories: The Bible, The One true God, The Lord, Jesus Christ, The Holy Spirit, Man, Salvation, The Church, Christian Life, Ordinances, Satan, The Second Coming, and The Future Life. Their theology encompass these twelve categories and expects the church to embrace, preach, and defend them. To go along with it, their mission is to preach the word, teach the way, meet the needs, and worship the King.
I interviewed Ben Ganger for a better look at the church and made my questions of contact zone based. His personal experience with the church began when he was about seven and got involved in the kids ministry. The church’s main goal, “to bring as many people to Christ as possible”, is something that Ben firmly believes in. This also includes membership which, depending on the church, may or may not be hard to acquire. “Anyone can attend for as long as they want without becoming a member, but to become a member, you must be baptized, tithe regularly, and be actively involved in one of the church’s ministries, like helping with running tech on Sunday mornings or teaching stories in child care or something like that.”

First Friday: April 5, 2013

It's the first Friday of April 2013. The buildings in the city of Goshen are distinctive from the building on either sides. Different generations and race fill the sidewalks as they all enter and exit Mom and Pop stores. An antique store catches my eye from my car and I make a mental note to check it out.
Parking is difficult. I wasn't sure why I expected it to be easy. Each street I cruse has parking spots, but they're filled with red, tan, silver, and black cars, vans, and trucks. I have to expand my perimeter to find a spot and I park my silver car by a church. I only need to walk a couple of blocks to enter into the First Friday environment.
The corner where I enter is cluttered with racks of clothing to fit toddler boys and girls. The pink ruffles flutter in the spring breeze. Perhaps the breeze isn't from the late spring, but from all of the vehicles driving under green lights and then speeding under yellow lights. The crosswalk sign seems to be forever red; protecting pedestrians or preventing us from crossing?
Finally on the other side of the street, I notice friends from my Mennonite college and greet them. They look so funny in their shorts, over sized T-Shirts, and neon green and black striped tights. The numbers pinned onto their stomachs indicate that they just had a fair amount of exercise. "We just ran the 5k" I'm very impressed since I don't even know what that means, but it must be a lot. "Only 3 miles." Yeah, a lot.
The center of the downtown has fences up so that vehicles don't cause mass destruction. Booths are set up to promote businesses and I smell warm pretzels. One booth catches my attention quickly. An Amish couple huddles over a large kettle that resembles a black cauldron to cook up spells or chili. They're stirring something inside and suddenly pour it into a container. Popcorn flood out of the kettle and into a basket. It's immediately scooped into plastic baggies and sold to Goshennites.

Todd Davis

THESIS: Todd Davis mainly connects with his audience by writing about scenes that many people could relate to. He generally sticks to three main concepts he uses are love, memories, and nature as bridges to connect with his audience.

BIOGRAPHY: Todd Davis was born in Elkhart, Indiana on March 29, 1965. In 1987, he earned a B.A. from Grace College and M.A. and Ph. D. degrees in English from Northern Illinois University in 1991 and 1995. He is currently a Professor of English and Environmental Studies at Penn Sate University's Altoona College. 

He is the author of four books: Ripe (2002), Some Heaven (2007), The Last of These (2010) and Household of Water, Moon, and Snow: The Thoreau Poems (2010). 

Wife Imitation: Husband

This evening

you came home from the lumberyard.

I smelled sweet wood

and perspiration

as you kissed me gently

ticking me with your beard.

Where the sunset cast

its shadow, like a streetlamp,

you kicked off your boots

and hung your hat.

Splinters fell out of your pockets

onto the beige tile.

Now, as I prepare

your dinner,

the smell of you

fills the room.

When I wrote this poem, I had a scene in my mind, almost like something from a painting or a paused moment in a movie. By crossing borders using the idea of love is a powerful one. This certain poem emphasized the love of a husband and wife; a marital poem. Setting the scene while describing it was something that I enjoyed as well. Crossing borders fluently and smoothly is something that I appreciate.

Beginning of The Eighteenth Year of Marriage Imitation: Grandfather

Yes, your wrinkles are

more visible, but that

shows how much you

laughed, and yes, your

skin has discoloration

from the sun, but that

only shows how much time

you've spent building houses.

But I love you more than

gold, I treasure your hugs

and kisses more than I

love eating your chocolate

pudding, and I value your

Godly wisdom more than

this poem can express.

This poem made me visualize my grandfather in an observant way that I haven't done before. Connecting physical characteristics of him to his past life is definitely a bridge! Writing the second part of my poem was something that was at a level past physical traits and his past. It was a way for me to bridge my feelings for him and communicate things that I've never said before.

Summer Storm: Gary, Indiana Imitation: Snow Storm: Goshen, Indiana

Wind howls,

a gray cloud

stretches as far as

the eye can see,

blunt as a scream

of a woman being raped.

A soft medium plummets

from the sky with one mission:

to provide the beasts of the

world with an overstayed

sense of warm chestnuts,

mistletoe, and gingerbread men.

This poem was very easy for me to write since this expresses my feelings about the weather! Using similar emotions and feelings is a bridge that many people can relate to. Especially when the weather should be different than the way it is now. I think a lot of people in Goshen could relate to this poem too. This poem may even relate to other parts of the world other than Goshen, IN.

Bibliography:

Davis, Todd. Some Heaven. East Lansing: Michigan State University Press, 2007. Print.

Davis, Todd F.. Ripe: poems. Huron, Ohio: Bottom Dog Press, 2002. Print.

"Goshen College | Healing the world, peace by peace." Goshen College | Healing the world, peace by peace. N.p., n.d. Web. 28 Mar. 2013. <http://www.goshen.edu>.

Hostetler, Ann Elizabeth. A cappella: Mennonite voices in poetry. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 2003. Print.

Mennonite Quarterly Review. Goshen: The Mennonite Historical Society, Goshen College, and Associated Mennonite Biblical Seminary, 2003. Print.

"Todd Davis." www.personal.psu.edu. N.p., n.d. Web. 28 Mar. 2013. <http://www.personal.psu.edu/tfd3/>.

Davis, Todd. "Tweetspeak Poetry - The Best in Poetry and Poetic Things." Tweetspeak Poetry - The Best in Poetry and Poetic Things. Todd Davis, 25 Feb. 2013. Web. 28 Mar. 2013. <http://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com>.