Social Butterfly...

And now for something completely different: a social life. In the last week or so I have made it past the confines of St. Elizabeth; the Jamaican parish in which I have been spending the majority of my time since my arrival. It is not often that I get to travel to the distant capitol of Kingston so when an opportunity presented itself at 2:30 in the afternoon last week to attend a cocktail party at the house of one of the country's most prominent artists, I snatched it up.

The artist, Susan Alexander, is a friend of the priests of the Mission Society. Exactly how these distinctively different paths crossed I have no idea. The fathers tried to explain it to me and I followed the story right up to the part where "a miracle happened," and I lost it after that. Regardless, this party was planned by our hostess and after it was discovered that Fr. Sam was returning from a family vacation in Europe around the same time as one of the guests was planning to visit Jamaica, it was decided the party would be moved to coincide with everyone being in Kingston on the same night and just like that, everything fell into place.

It was a lovely night punctuated with live performances by some of the most preeminent musicians in the country, not to mention a few numbers by the priests of the Mission Society. We even had a vocal performance from the wife of a former Prime Minister. Bottom line: an enjoyable evening with some very lively and generous people. It was definitely a unique accent on my time here.

And on the following day, the social pendulum went the other way.

In the not-to-distant past I have come to know and spend a good amount of time with a Peace Corps volunteer named Claire who lends her time and talents as a civil engineer to the Diocese of Mandeville. Being plugged into the social outreach of the island she had let me know about a "fun day" sponsored by Food for the Poor wherein children from various orphanages around the island all descend on a beachfront complex for a day of, well, fun. Music, food, games, beach time, dance contests - you name it, they had it. And I was lucky enough to be one of a large group who volunteered to help with the nuts and bolts of the day. I can't remember everything we did but I distinctly remember being part of the crew that photographed each child as the buses arrived. Their photograph would be sent, along with a letter, to their sponsor and once all of that was out of the way, the kids were let loose at a place aptly named, "Fun Citi."

For eight hours 300 kids either played on the beach, took part in whatever organized activity was going on at the moment or attempted to make use of the run down roller rink on the premises. This rather dilapidated concrete rink had large trees growing in the middle of it (by design, of course) and tied to them were the "egg crate" mattress covers easily found at a store like Bed Bath & Beyond. The selection of Rollerblades was measly and in many cases, kids only had one skate on and were pushing with a bare foot and having the time of their lives as they tried not to completely wipe out. I was reminded once again of how kids can easily take whatever is right in front of them and have a blast with it despite any circumstances which might otherwise be deemed "less than" or "imperfect." I was also acutely aware that in a twelve hour span I had gone from socializing with some of the good and great of Jamaica to socializing with a group who hardly ever has more than the clothes on their back. Neither one is better than the other, more preferable or insert-whatever-label-you-want-here. They were just drastically different and a great reminder that at the end of the day we, as humans, have not been hard wired to be isolated or solitary. We are meant to interact with others, to be in community, and be involved in each others lives and that joy can be found in the exquisite playing of a violin as well as in the exhaustive jumping in an inflatable air castle.

Three days later, while still kicking these experiences around in my head, I found myself on the road to Kingston once more. I was headed there at the invitation of the daughter and boyfriend of one of the guests from the cocktail party. He, Jeffrey, plays in a band and seeing as how Wednesday of this week is Jamaica's Labor Day, and thereby a national holiday, (and since the remainder of the week is the school's mid-term break) I could not pass up their kind invitation to take in some live reggae and some of the island's social life.

For those of you familiar with it, the place reminded me of the rooftop setup at the Rock Bottom Brewery at State & Grand in Chicago. The biggest difference was that this place was more expansive with a bit of roofing to cover the actual bar. Aside from that, though, it was your typical watering hole jammed packed with young adults all looking fashionable with drinks in hand. It had been so long since I had been in such a setting that I almost didn't know what to do.

Then I saw the bottle of Jameson behind the bar and it all came back to me.

The two bands which played were great and sounded exactly how you would expect live reggae to sound. For some reason I carried the idea that it would get old quickly but it never really did and when the whole thing came to an end at 1:30am, I was disappointed that it was over but that disappointment was brought to a quick halt when I was able to satisfy a midnight craving for a burger and fries.

Incidental Plug: The band Jeffrey is a part of is Roots Underground. Check them out. They currently have one of the top singles on MTV Tempo and have a great future ahead of them. What's more, Jeffrey is just a really cool cat with an easy going attitude.

So let's recap: Cocktails and performances with some lovely and talented adults. A day of fun with 300 kids surviving via the generosity of many. A night out with people who, like me, are caught somewhere in the middle. It's very easy to fall into the trap of either wanting to have the luxury of the first or feeling sorry for the second. I have to wonder if it's just as much of a trap to believe that it's somehow the job of the third group to try and bridge the gap between the two extremes.