Lake Ohrid and Greece

oskarmaxim.blogspot.com is a website that has some pictures from this trip.

It was like waking up faced with another day of work, but then realizing it was Saturday. Sure, I had brought my swimming suit, but that was just because I am stubborn and try to go swimming everywhere possible. I must admit that I was looking forward to the shower's hot water enveloping my numb extremities more than the swim. I had already seen that rather than the hand held shower head that we have in Tirana, the hotel on shore in Pogradeci had a shower curtain.

Two Donkeys and a Moped

Two Donkeys and a Moped

A bus with spare jet engines strapped to the top, another with a living room set of furniture, another with a live goat, mountains spiking skyward from the water’s edge, the boat heading directly into a wall of rock, a wedding party, and a dozen calves. Highlights from our 2-hour ferry ride in northern Albania last week.
We had left Tirana at 5:30 am for a three-hour drive to the ferry launch

maggots and chicken

The guy at the closest market totals up our purchases with a pencil and paper, the nearest restaurant is called, "The Chicken Shack," and right across the road nearest major road is a huge park that is stuffed with every manner of walker or jogger from the national soccer team to elderly ladies with canes walking around a track;

RAGBRAI

RAGBRAI— I love this quintessentially Iowa biking tradition—it's a week of no work encased in physical exercise wrapped in togetherness inspired by common struggle. We went to Truro, Iowa to meet up with the bike route

I had double vision

Our eyes are a deceptively valuable and complex organism. As with many things, it seems that we don't understand its value until its not there. Last fall, I spent 8 days with double vision. Never before, and not since, have I heard of such an illness befalling on someone who hadn't received a knock in the head.

eye glasses over 40

About the time I turned 40, my eye troubles became serious. I was checked out at a fancy eye clinic and I was fitted with one pair of glasses for $350. Ouch. I was pleased though, because for the first time in several years, I saw things that had been hidden from me.

We were out planting pumpkins today. Maxim was at the top of a plastic slide/climbing mechanism when he said, "Papa, do you want to see what I can do?"

"Sure."

He jumped, landed squarly on his feet but kept going and instead of pumpkin seeds, he planted HIS FACE into the grass.

He got up and said with a puzzled look and said softly, "THAT doesn't usually happen."

Glutony

The assignment: Here are the seven deadly sins: lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, pride. Pick one and write about an episode from your life using one of these sins as your theme.

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"Are you hungry?"
"No, I just want to eat."

School Memories from Baku

The world has become digital. Though we might be shocked to realize the explosion in blogging, chatting, and social networking sites, we will have to accept it. I firmly believe that it is not all bad. My wife and I taught in Baku, Azerbaijan from 1997 until 2001. One Saturday this spring in Almaty, I received four invitations to join people on Facebook. All four were students I had taught in Baku when they were 7 or 8 years old. The kids featured in the pictures below are 15 or 16 years old now.

Podcasts

Do you use iTunes? My wife bought me an iPod some time ago and I was a bit afraid to use it for a while. I didn't want to jump in with all the thousands of people who were using the latest gadget. I also didn't want to spend money for something (like subscriptions) that I might not use. Before I came back to Iowa this Christmas, I downloaded my first free podcast. When I got back in January, I wanted to increase my knowledge about foreign affairs, US politics, because I was set to take the Foreign Service exam in February.

Tractor Accident 1985 2

The assignment was to write dialogue in which the participants understand some issue in a different way and they are talking around the subject.

May 30 (Mom writing) Said lots of words – repeats – but also asked “Are those my shoes?”

I had had a nightmare and had been magically transported to this place. I noticed my clothes.
“Are those my shoes?" I talked with the sluggishness of someone who has recently been unconscious.

“Well, yes" she chuckled. Of course they are your shoes. What, do you have brain damage?
“I don’t want them here.”
“Well you need to wear something, and you don’t always want to wear hospital gowns.”
"Take my shoes away." I didn't want all that stuff. I knew I wasn't going to be in there much longer. Once I had my dream and was transported back to Peggy's, the clothes would just complicate things. I'd need my shoes once I got home. This was all temporary.

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Jeff Dicks, Rod Bodholdt and his brother Mike, a pre-teenager, came to visit one day in the middle of the week. They were tentative, like they didn't know how to treat me.
"Hi, James," Rod said.

I looked at them blankly. "Oh. Rod." I continued to stare at Mike.
Jeff Dicks came in.

"Hey, Nitram, how's it going?" That was the nickname they gave me when I wrote my name as it would be seen in a mirror and stuck it on my helmet on the first day of football practice.
What are these guys doing here? They need to leave. I need to sleep.

"What do you do all day?" asked Rod.
"I go to therapy once in awhile." Can I tell them I'm going to be gone soon? I better not.
There was a Cubs game on TV. Rod would watch any program that had the word ball in it. Rod, Jeff and Mike kept themselves busy with the game while my mind was racing. Why are they here? Did they have nightmares, too? How did they get here? I need to sleep.

"The Twins are in first place."
"Are you sure? They never start very good."
"You remember last summer when we went up there to Minneapolis, James?"
"What are you guys doing?"

"Just coming to see you, ya dork."

I could think of nothing but the fact that I was not going to be here much longer.
"I really appreciate that you guys came." I need to sleep.

Yashamax on Youtube

Follow this link if you want to see some videos:

http://www.youtube.com/user/yashamax

Newell Panthers Football

We strode onto the field for the last time. We wore $300 worth of football padding and uniforms. For four years, I had heard the coaches tell the seniors that they should play their last game—even their entire final season—like it was their last. Made sense because for 99% of us, it was our last football game. My team of the Newell-Providence Panthers would take on the Wall Lake Comets.

Kissing Instructions

The assignment:
In just a paragraph or so, describe a memorable moment from your childhood. For example: A birthday party / An awkward moment at school / A romantic moment during puberty

Write about this moment in the voice of yourself at that time. In other words, make it sound like something you would have written then, at the time. / Next, write about the same thing, this time using your adult voice.

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Last night, Louise taught me how to French kiss. We were in the Fun House at the park. Louise told me that I need to open my mouth a little more. When I saw people in the movies kissing, I could never understand what they were doing when they kissed. They kept their lips together, and I didn’t know what else.

During the FFA (Future Farmers of America) Sweetheart dance, last winter, after one song, the DJ said, “OK, you can kiss her now.” I kissed Randi Jones and her lips touched my cheek and I kissed thin air. I didn’t know what she was doing. We didn’t try again and we didn’t say anything about it. Now I realize that she was giving me a French kiss. I’d only given regular kisses before.
So that was a French kiss…cool. Now that I know how to French kiss, I will be able to move my hands around, too.

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“Open your mouth a little more,” she said.
We were in the aptly named “Fun House.” It was a wooden barrel, tall enough for a person of five feet to stand without ducking. The idea was that person would step into the barrel and start to walk. The barrel turns and the person does an impersonation of a hamster. We were doing our best to ‘hide’ in there on a Saturday night. It wasn’t hard in a town of 800 people. Louise was teaching me how to French kiss.

One great mystery of sexual interaction had been solved that night. I had heard of French kissing during which the two participants put their tongues in each other’s mouths, but I never imagined it was any more than some kind of 3rd grade gross-out rumor. When people in movies would kiss, I could never understand what they were doing. Were they simply touching their lips and moving them around?

Randi Jones was the first girl to personally experience my innocence. At the FFA (Future Farmers of America) Sweetheart dance, we had been dancing as if there were a phone book between us, with my hands on her shoulders and hers on my hips. After "Love in the First Degree" by Alabama, the DJ said, “OK, you can kiss her now.” I moved forward to give her a peck and then see what happens. Randi's lips touched my cheek and chin; I kissed thin air. She was trying to swallow my head. We left it there—unsatisfied and confused. Neither of us said anything about it.

French Kissing-- A whole new world of action had suddenly been laid out in front of me for my enjoyment.

newspaper article from Cairns

Australian Crayfish

Nineteen years ago. I was backpacking up the eastern coast of Australia. The flight from Auckland dropped me in Sydney. I grabbed a pamphlet from a well-placed shelf of lodging advertisements and took off. I soon found I was living next door to prostitutes, strippers, and drug addicts.

This is great.

Tractor Accident 1985

It had been a spring loved by frogs and mosquitoes everywhere. All farmers were behind in their fieldwork. My brother-in-law was more behind than most so my dad loaned him our colossal four-wheel drive Allis-Chalmers tractor with dual wheels as tall as Wilt Chamberlain, and our 32-foot disk.

Marathon

My goal was to average 7-minutes per mile—a pace good enough for a man of my age to qualify for the Boston marathon. The first couple of miles passed quickly; we were filled with adrenaline and the excitement of starting a race. A marine-type fellow inspired shouts of excitement as he played reveille on his bugle. A one-legged man wore a roller skate as he propelled himself with crutches.

Peace Walk 1988

In late summer, 1988, I traveled to Ukraine, part of what was then the Soviet Union, to take part in a Peace Walk. We traveled from Odessa to Kiev, walking through tiny villages that would explode with people who came out to see the Americans in our tented campgrounds. The goal of the Walk was to promote peace through person-to-person contact, unfettered by politics. I was there for a month with 460 other American and Soviets marching through the countryside, carrying banners, discussing politics, giving out autographs and eating watermelons.

Dad's hands

“Pipe down, you guys!” he said with an irritated scowl. We should have known better than to talk while the news was on during supper. I sat right beside my dad at the dinner table since the day I graduated from the high chair. He was at the head, facing the TV, and I was to his left; I felt honored to occupy that seat. During my adolescent years (there was even the trace of doubt in high school) I realized that he didn’t actually see any insects in my ice cream when he said, “Hey, there’s bug. I better eat it for you.” 

You did what?

I am ashamed to write about this. It seems to be something that is particular about me—or at least no one else ever talks about doing such a thing. At first thought, it seems to be a symptom of an unsatisfied, unloved, maladjusted childhood. To describe my childhood, I thought, would be the portrayal of a fairy tale existence—huge family, lots of toys, parents who care—all hallmarks of a fine life.

Why are you a teacher?

In 1999, I was in my first year of graduate school. One of my courses asked me to write a short autobiography with a concentration on why I became a teacher. I thought I could easily do this and come up with a lot of nonsense about being filled with a yearning desire to help younger generations. As I began to write, however, something inside me made me want to play it straight—to write the truth. I would search my soul and find the genuine reason that I became a teacher. I decided that I didn’t want to fudge this one.

A Boy Called Jamie

Everyone called me Jamie until I was 5-years-old. I think I was thinking at the time that ‘Jamie’ was not sufficiently masculine. This seems strange because I don’t remember myself as being overly macho. I didn’t play with G.I. Joe and the most dangerous weapon in my juvenile arsenal was the gun formed by my thumb and forefinger. Many pictures from this time show me with a dorky smile, hunched down by a group of cats who are ignoring me as they devour the latest pile of table scraps.

Mini Bio of James Martin

I grew up on a farm in Iowa. I read somewhere that Iowans are fiercely proud of their state—so much so, it’s almost like they have a pathological love for dirt and pigs. I certainly fit this description. Until quite recently, I used to say that I was proud to be from Iowa, but not so proud to be from the US. Yes, I am happy about our new president.

My wife and I have been living overseas for 12 years—4 in Azerbaijan and the last 8 in Kazakhstan—working as teachers. This year, I am enjoying a year of sabbatical while I study ideas about teaching literacy. Oftentimes, I like to write. Many times, though, I am sick of it. So...I’m taking this class to explore the possibility that I might actually be able to write something that is valuable.

There is a slim chance—practically NO chance—that I will have to take some time this spring to go to Australia for a personal interview. If you are interested, you could follow this link to my 1-minute—video application.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BVGz9CrUHqY