Short Cuts

(Above: marching to shovel snow in Perryville. The NCCC dorms loom in the background.)

Thus far, NCCC training has required little more than for corps members to show up, plunk our butts in seats, and listen to a guest lecturer lead an all-day seminar.

This sort of “activity” does not make for the trademark brand of scintillating, nerve-jangling updates that this blog has built its name on. So instead: a collection of short stories on life in Perry Point, Md., the bayside AmeriCorps campus, and how it feels as one’s mind gradually dissolves.

“The Food Panic of 2010”

Cursed hubris! False lighthouse, shipwrecker of humanity! When I wrote earlier that my team was eating like “minor royalty,” I had not anticipated how dire our pantry situation would become by the end of last week.

As supplies ran short on the eve of our next collaborative shopping expedition, my teammates and I had to get creative. There were makeshift peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on hot dog buns. Random pita bread atrocities prepared by yours truly. Oatmeal, of all things, became an in-demand breakfast dish. One of the other teams ate a dinner with an entrée of collared greens.

We were scrambling like it was the Irish Potato Famine.

When the food came rolling back in, the kitchen exploded in euphoria. BAGELS! GRANOLA BARS! MILK!

And so we began to pillage again, short-sightedly setting ourselves up for another crippling shortage this week.

“The Legend of the White Deer”

In addition to warring factions of seagulls and slovenly geese, deer are the major breed of wildlife on the AmeriCorps campus. But one, in particular, has drawn out our obsessive fascination.

It has been glimpsed only in fleeting, half-blurred moments of twilit transcendence: the albino deer of Perry Point.

I saw it only once as I rode past in a van, standing amidst a copse of trees with its brown-coated brethren. It was a powerful moment. Other corps members swear this deer possesses mystical powers of healing, teleportation, and spiritual insight. I cannot corroborate any of these spectacular reports, but will endeavor to provide photographic evidence of the beast’s existence.

“The Congressional Visit”

How’s this for a sitcom plot: earlier this week, word leaked out that a “congressional delegation” would make an inspection of the AmeriCorps campus. The organizational brass went understandably apeshit about the distinguished delegation that would arrive to judge our facilities. Everything had to be spotless.

That meant mass cleanings of the building in morning and evening. Sweeping, mopping, polishing, disinfecting, bleaching, refurbishing, sweating in anticipation of the big moment. A great mass of grumbling rose up from us poor corps members who had to handle the grunt work, but hey, it was a congressman visiting, right?

Not so fast. Turns out, it was only a congressional aide. Grumbles gave way to hysterical laughter. The plot twist was too absurd not to enjoy.

My roommates and I began to speculate as to the true identity of our great visitor. Was it Timmy, the congressional intern? Gus, the congressional janitor? Peepers, the congressional kitty cat? I never got to meet the delegation (only a handful of clean-cut and respectable Corps members were hand-picked for the honor).

But the experience, for all of its desperate stupidity, bonded me and my roomies all the closer in bemused outrage. Many running jokes sprung from the experience. AmeriCorps continues to resemble a ramshackle, half-improvised road show, but I still have the feeling that things will continue to work out here.

Prove me wrong.