No One Likes You When You’re 23

I know nothing particularly amazing and exciting is supposed to happen to you when you turn 23, but yet, I can’t wait for this year of 22 to be over. While it feels like just yesterday I was hopping around a bouncy house I rented for my birthday party (it was actually last year, I did that), so much has happened in a year it really hurts my brain to think about all of it. I fell in love, I fell out of love. I graduated college and traveled to Southeast Asia. I moved in with my grandma then moved out to SF. I got a job, then I got a new job. I had an apartment, then I didn’t have an apartment. Then suddenly, I felt the world become still for a moment – before it was flipped upside down again. Crazy when life’s a big bitch, right?

These past few months have knocked me off my feet, and not in a good way. After living with my grandma for two months this summer and having her routinely become such a big part in my life the last four years, I struggle every day with the thought that I will lose her. Not every day does someone get to say their kickass grandma has traveled the world at the ripe age of 86, or that she dreams about Costco hot dogs (they’re kosher) and In n Out milkshakes. It is hard to see an independent and strong-willed individual lose so much so quickly, and cancer is no softie. I have felt helpless at times watching her sick, but raising money is one way I feel like I can make a small difference.

I’m beyond lucky to have all that I have in life. At the end of each day, I know all that matters is that I have a full belly, a bed to sleep in, and people in my life who care about me. I’m constantly reminded of how loved I feel. This whirlwind of the year has been a lot for any one person to handle, and I know I could not do it on my own. For anyone who has dropped what they’re doing to hold me when I’m crying, walk around the block with me, feed me meals, allow me to feed them meals, scratch my back, or send me a card in the mail – you know who you are and I love you.

I don’t need any presents for my birthday, I already have everything I need. I’m ready for 23 to bring on newness – new health, new exciting adventures, new people. Maybe no one likes you when you’re 23, but who cares? 

Donate here: http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/Events/BirthdayPages?pg=fund&fr_id=19690&pxfid=1767701

The Savers

I come from a family of savers. Not to be closely confused with the saver’s first cousin, the hoarder. It’s a blessing and a curse to be an “accumulator.” It means keeping mementos you might stumble upon that can bring tears to your eyes. Or it can also mean opening up a closet of skeletons, or maybe, in the Sommer family, that closet is actually a cabinet full of soda cans from 1970 or a tin of cigarette ashes (yes, I have truly encountered this).

Edith is the Sommer champion of savers. In fact, one time this summer while I was living at her house, I bought Edith a new scrubbing brush for her dishes. Hers was clearly two years too old and past its scrubbing prime and was in desperate need of an upgrade. So I, being a normal sane human being, purchased a new one for approximately $1.99 and threw the old one away. I came back to the sink the next day, eager to try out my spiffy new brush, only to find the likes of the ghost of scrubber’s past BACK in the kitchen sink. “What is this doing here?!” I asked Edith. “Oh, you know me. I can never throw anything away,” she said. “No grandma. This is disgusting. I’m throwing it outside.” And I marched Mr. Scrubby out to the garbage never to be seen again.

I bring up saving for one particular reason. Saving is what we do in our family. For better or worse, it’s something I can’t get away from. I say that this trait gets a little better with every generation, but I can still be kind of a pack rat. While I may have gotten a bit of this habit from my grandma, I also inherited a lot of her other amazing traits: her independence, sense of adventure, and love of all things French. I’m so lucky to have such an inspiring 88-year old role model in my life, and it’s been a rough past few months seeing her lose a lot of important things in her life because of cancer.

For my birthday on January 21, 2015,  I want to help save something a little more meaningful. I’ve done this before and I want to do it again – raise money for the American Cancer Society. I have 23 days to raise $2,300 and I would be so so happy to achieve my goal instead of getting any gifts this year (my apartment is far too small for me to accept more crap). So, for you all-too-generous people in my life, help me donate to the ACS in honor of my grandma, Edith, and in memory of my uncle, Jeremy, who passed away in August 2013.

While my grandma has been getting stronger bit by bit every day, it still pains me to see cancer take away so much in such a short period of time. I say it all the time, but cancer really does suck.

Please visit my donation page here or let me know some other way if you would like to donate.

Donation page: http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/Events/BirthdayPages?pg=fund&fr_id=19690&pxfid=1767701

Sending you lots of love, health, and happiness for this New Year.

Sash

A Year in Review

 

A year ago today, my uncle Jeremy passed away. This past weekend I had some time to myself and decided to visit Glide, remembering him and the time we spent there together. I imagined sitting in the pews with Jeremy as he was texting away on his phone with the font size big enough for an 80 year old to read from a mile away…

What I have struggled with the past year is coming to accept how much Jeremy influenced my life in such a short amount of time, yet the majority of my life I couldn’t quite define our relationship. Only in the past two years have I felt like Jeremy changed me and that so much of who I have become and the choices I have made have been because of him. Sometimes all I want to do is call him up and ask him for a great recipe or hear him yell “OF COURSE” to some idiot when they ask a dumb question. It would have been amazing to share with him my trip to Asia, where I got to see the orphanages he donated so much time and money to and had a dormitory built in my grandmother’s name. I felt more connected to him through that trip and feeling like I got to see a part of Jeremy even though he wasn’t there with me.

I wanted to give my grandma purple tulips today in honor and memory of Jeremy (but actually couldn’t find them at the store.) He planted them in spring of 2012 and got to see them bloom last April just a few months before he died. He wrote about them in his blog, commenting that when he was diagnosed with cancer he thought he may not live to see the spring, but when he noticed the purple tulips in the garden one day, he felt a sense of renewed hope, something these tulips have now come to symbolize for me. I try and look for hope in my own life and embody that spirit in the way Jeremy did with his cancer.

“The price of love is loss, but we still pay. We love anyway.”
-Next to Normal

The Broadway play Next to Normal was one of Jeremy’s favorites, I think he had seen it more than a dozen times. He wrote this quote in his blog one day and it has stuck with me since then. I think back to this often as I think of him, and what it means to lose someone you care about. So many people are afraid to feel the weight of sadness, and often times we suppress that to a point we can no longer ignore. To love is to truly embrace the possibility of loss, and guarding yourself against that loss ultimately keeps you from experiencing true love.

I am glad Jeremy left me with that.

Simpler Thoughts

As many of you know by now, I am making my way through the countries of Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam until July 5. I am currently in Laos, in Luang Prabang and am having an amazing time. Although I am melting slightly…

Coming to Luang Prabang was a bit of a culture shock coming from our last location of Chiang Mai. And then after our first day in LP, I had a bit of culture shock again.

Shonna (my traveling companion/cousin) and I decided to go on a hike/trek for our first full day in LP, guided by one of the hotel staff, Vaht (pronounced Wat). Vaht told us we’d be going on a 2.5 tour trek up the hills where we would stop at a small village and then have a 2 hour trek back down. He also told us we’d pick up some shampoo or soap to bring with us on the trek. When our car stopped at a small mart on our way to our starting point, Shonna and I were a bit confused about the soap situation (the general theme of this trip being confusion with what we’re doing on a daily basis) so we didn’t purchase too much (we didn’t want to carry it, let’s be honest). So we parked the car (about an hour from LP) and started our trek through the jungle. We passed some rice farmers and small huts on our way up. It was a challenging trek, and let me tell you being covered in deet and sweating from every inch of your body makes it even more of a struggle.

When we finally reached the village, we were approached by some small children covered head to toe in dirt. We had brought candy to give to them and would yell “conom, conom,” and hand them each a couple pieces. They were so beautiful and appreciative and not at all shy. Walking around the village we could see that everyone who lived there was wearing old clothes rarely washed, perhaps a pair of flip flops, and in general just very dirty. I suddenly realized why we needed the soap. Vaht told us we’d demonstrate how to use the soap for the children. I would attach pictures, but I look like I had just taken a shower so I will spare you from seeing me at my glossiest moment. After the demonstration we had each kid wash their hands for us, then after we saw their clean hands we gave them each their own bar of soap. The smiles on their faces grew so wide I couldn’t help but smile too. The sad fact is, they were happy to receive a bar of soap, something so minuscule I often forget how important it is to just have a clean hand to eat my food with, something I clearly take for granted on a daily basis.

Dirty (and happy) little boy from the first village

We continued to walk around the village then walked a little ways further to the village of the Hmong people. The smaller of the two villages, these people lived similarly to the first – in bamboo huts, thatched rooves, dirt floors, and roaming livestock around the village. No running water or electricity are found at these villages, yet they actually have satellites for tv.

The little children are what shocked me the most. Almost half were wearing old ratty t-shirts and no underwear. After bringing over 600 pairs with us from the US, Shonna and I were upset to not have understood the need of these extremely poor people, and we didn’t get to bring any of the underwear with us on our trek. The biggest problem for these Hmong people is their health, and their inability to access a hospital or doctor when ill. 20% of their childbirth results in death (of either mother or child), we later learned, which was very obvious once we thought about mothers giving birth on dirt floors without any medical help.

Rice farmers from the village

While these people may not have soap or even toothbrushes, they are still very happy. In contrast with the touristy town of LP, the rest of the country is inundated with poverty, something many travelers may never know if they never leave the sheltered city center.

It’s hard to capture the simplistic beauty of a people who appear so poor but are so rich in culture, community, and life. They are content rice farmers, sustainable livers, growers, and families. They live in an amazing place surrounded by hills and greenery that took my breath away.

View from the trek

Vaht taught us a lot about the culture of the Lao people, as he came from a village another 2 hours away from the ones we visited. It’s only possible to access these villages by foot or by motor bike, so often times the people never even visit the city of LP and may never have left the hillside. We learned a lot about marriage and their spiritual religion and how peaceful these people are together.

It’s a shame comparing the United States with such a third world country where people are so much more content here than I could ever imagine those at home to be. This year I learned a lot about money and happiness, and how often times those who have more are not necessarily happier. Visiting the villages made that all the more clear to me. I want to give what I can, but knowing that it will never be enough. This trip to Southeast Asia was important for Shonna and I for many reasons, but our stumbling upon these villages made it all that more significant why we came.

We decided to give Vaht about 100 pairs of our 625 children’s underwear meant for the orphanages and he will give those out the next time he visits. There are over 400 people living in the first village and some less in the second, so I am sure that not all the children there will receive a new pair of underwear, but we are happy to help nonetheless.

625 pairs of underwear

We visited the orphanages today, Wednesday, and decided to put the remainder of the $1,800 we raised towards sponsoring 3 students who will leave the orphanage and attend university in LP. This will cover room, food, and their education for the next 4 years. Here in Laos, a small amount makes a HUGE difference, something I truly failed to realize until I got here.

It has been an eye opening experience traveling around this part of the world in only one week and I am eager to find out what is left to discover before we leave. Thank you to everyone who supported us with your donations and helped us get here. Your monetary and emotional support is invaluable, and has truly changed the lives of people here. We are so grateful.

Much love,
Sasha and Shonna