Journal, October 27, 1976 AM

It’s remarkable how vivid a dream can be. I just awoke from one in which I was observing Gerald Ford move household items out of a big suburban house in the middle of a midwestern USA winter. After watching President Jerry go on down the road in a pickup, I found myself on a city block, shivering with a blanket round my shoulders, and saying goodbye to Mike Staigers. In a dream it can all seem so logical and appropriate too!

I sent my Christmas package off to the States yesterday morning. I hope it makes it in about 2 months. Last year I sent a package from San Salvador, and they had me fill out all the documentation very carefully. This time I sent it from here in Santa Tecla, and the guy took the blank form, said sign here & here, and without filling out anything but the value of the contents, he typed up my receipt and said, “Give me ten Colones and we’ll send it today.” He hadn’t put a stamp or anything on the package, so I was suspicious. I asked him about insurance, etc. but he didn’t listen to a word I said, obviously convinced he had a know-nothing, smart-assed Gringo {North American} on his hands. Rather doubtfully I forked over the ten pesos and stood around to see what he would do next. He typed up another receipt, for his office, and at length, feigning surprise at seeing me still there, said that was all. Mike Shank assured me later that that was standard procedure for Santa Tecla.

I went to the office yesterday, just to fill my chair I guess. I alternated reading my two books.

Brother Bruce sent me a letter. He implies that the folks aren’t too happy with the news that I’ll be staying an extra year in Peace Corps. He also says that Dad shoves a lot of work off on him when he’s home. Gert wrote one of her standard homey letters.

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