Part 4: Up for a Challenge

We had weathered the car ride together, and I learned that Andi had recently arrived from Sziget, Hungary eight months ago. She would be the new employee for Care2Travel, and she was shadowing Peter that day to learn the ropes. She had briefly hinted that she was just settling in and she expected challenges in making friends—although they were not challenges that I could directly relate to. We were able to find some wooden benches and after introducing my phone-recording device, and my camera we lost no time digging into the subject further. Continue reading

Part 3: A Smile Worth Searching For


I spotted this Angi only because I happened to be looking for another Angi that I couldn’t find at the time. Regardless Angi’s big, brown downcast eyes got my attention. I sensed a voice worth lending an ear to for a little while. She was one of the few children that did not find a cell phone enchanting at all, which helped to lessen distractions during out chat. Continue reading

Summer Camp Kids (Part 1)

If you are a prospective IVHQ volunteer or are currently in the bouts of volunteering for a summer in Romania, no doubt you will come across the phrase “summer residential camp.” Without question, it is an opportunity for volunteers that have a specific interest in childcare and English education to place that passion to a beneficial context. I, myself, was not enrolled in this placement, but watched as my fellow accommodation mates said their temporary good-byes and embarked for week-long stays at camp accommodations. There they would immerse themselves in the needs of foster children and their interests. I only know this because I was invited to visit for a day amidst my transition to another volunteer placement. Continue reading


This is my granddaddy’s right hand.  At one time, my small infantile body sat cradled in it.  Before I was born, it gripped baseball bats and captured baseballs in mid air. It squared and doubled onto itself ready for various fights and spats during and on the way back from school.  It was unmatched in victory.  In my granddaddy’s boyhood, it picked through Alabama cotton plants, never lonely of soil and calluses–never lonely until pay day. Continue reading