Tradition revisited

Another turkey day in the books. And this year didn't disappoint. But with 15 members of the Abrams, Cohen and Leadholm clan in Tucson, how could it?

It was great reconnecting with the not-so distant branches of our family tree and meeting the fast growing army of budding acorns.

Those little rascals are growing up fast and being able to see them before they're old enough not to give a shit who I am was worth the jet lag alone.

So I don't think I'm going out on a limb in saying that Thanksgiving is arguably the most traditional of traditions. A day crafted around a single meal that seldom varies. On what other day of the year do we know exactly what we're going to see when we sit down at the table? Sure, I guess you could argue International Ice Cream Sandwich Day (August 2), Gazpacho Day (December 6) or Waffle Day (March 25), but you get my point.

We did our best, however, to uphold those traditions yet turn them on their collective head. A grilled chipotle turkey? Why not! Mole sauce on your mashed potatoes and stuffing? Hell yeah!

It was an unusual Thanksgiving, yet in the end, what more do you need than a comfortable setting, a room full of good food and family? Oh, wait. Booze! Copious amounts of booze.

After a week of golf, gin and tonics, and desert hikes, the party unfortunately came to an end and the clan disbursed.

I, on the other hand, was not as eager to dive headfirst back into a northeast winter and stayed a few extra days with my friend Christina from El Salvador who, as luck would have it, lives in Tucson. Small world.

Christina and her friends went out of their way to show me what you might call the "real" Tucson, a mix of university hang outs, authentic mexican restaurants and your typical psychotic, sexual biker bars where patrons brave enough to get branded by the owner receive 50 cents off drinks for life. I wish I were joking.

<<< The Meet Rack >>>

Wow.

We also had the chance to hang out with Christina's stepdad Phil who, as you'll see below, happens to be a 30 year member of the Tucson Glider Club...

Un Techo Para Mi País

A few weeks ago, a group of us went out to Jimbo's site to work with the international relief organization Un Techo Para Mi País.

In total, about 15 of us PC gringos showed up to work alongside 65 San Salvador college students in constructing pre-fab houses for families who lost theirs during the November landslides.

I'll fill in more details later, but check out some pics for now...


The walls and platforms are constructed by carpenters and local professionals, while the laymen like us merely drop in the posts and line everything up. They don't have pressure treated wood down here which means a lot of adjusting needs to take place to fit all the sections together. Here's Brock kickin' it with his team.


Here's a shot of the chaos of the early morning jobsite. In the background, you can see the grey army tents that families have been living out of for the past four months.


At night, one of the women from the community came to the casa comunal where we were staying and spoke with us about life in the community since the landslides. In an emotional speech, she thanked us for the work we were doing, mentioning the theft and ever-increasing levels of violence and machete attacks prevalent in their makeshift tent city. Man that's frustrating. These people have suffered enough.

Here's a photo of Grant, sitting on his ass.


You may be wondering why Grant's sitting on his ass with a look of "what the eff are we doing here?" Well, at times it was all we could do!

It was definitely a challenge working with so many college students who, for the most part, lacked basic carpentry skills. And especially watching our team leader, a 21 year old economics major, micromanage the project and ignore the homeowner's suggestions.

I should mention at this point, I'm no Bob Villa. Far from it. But listening to some punk tell a grown man whose house we were building and who had previously built two of these houses just frustrated the hell out of me. Needless to say, my friends and I took many a coffee break to blow off steam, and eventually the home owner began to assert himself more.

Here's the home owner getting in on the action, shadowed by the scars of the landslide.


Nearby, a farmer burns his fields to prepare for the upcoming corn season.


Alright, time for a little fun. This next section I'm calling "Hot or Not" where you the lucky four readers of my blog get to decide who's hot and who's not. Go ahead, no tengo pene, as Chuck would say. I'll post your comments, and offer myself up to the chopping block first...

Stylin' I know


The wolfman, Karl


J-bo and our buddy Brady. Award winning smiles.


Some of our salvo team members. Almost positive we're in the initial stages of a nipple grab/purple nurple. You be the judge.


Ty guy rockin' the bandana, floppy hat combo. Bold.


Hoop, in all his sweaty, afro glory


And finally, my homeboy out east, Dave. Hey, somebody get this guy a cafe koolattaah cuz he looks hottttt.


Ha. Well, there you go. That was five minutes of fun. Looking forward to your comments. Okay, back to work.

Here are Dave and Brady gettin' it done on Day 2


And clowning around with some locals


One of the bichos from the pueblo helping out


The happy homeowner


Hightower holding things together






At the end of the weekend, our groups assembled a total of 11 houses. A drop in the bucket compared to what needs to take place, but a good start.