Celebrating my second decade in Richmond, my new and bittersweet home

A quaint downtown railroad crossing in Greensboro, NC.

I visited a public health open house at University of North Carolina at Greensboro's Department of Community Health Education. I enjoyed walking through the city's downtown streets and then meeting the public health program's faculty and exploring the exciting public health opportunities that the future might hold. 

I followed the mysterious bubbles in the street to this shop.

Harsh realities of city life offer opportunities for optimism...

After the six armed robberies on a Monday evening in early October and the stabbing on Tuesday night (on/near the MCV campus), I was a bit discouraged about learning to appreciate life in Richmond (and envisioning an extended future here). As I cycled to school the following morning, I saw a man bending over to open up a flattened paper bag from BurgerKing. I’m not sure if he was looking for food or drugs, but my heart ached for the brokenness in whatever systems are involved that cause people to be so violent and unjust to one another. Richmond is proving to be hard to love as a home. However, similar themes are near and dear to any location...Later that day, my sister told me of a childhood friend couple that was processing a divorce because the husband had been seeing other women for at least a year while his wife busied herself with their toddler son and a college education. Although he had not reacted with any remorse, she was being blamed for ‘causing’ the situation in which her husband had an affair. Instead of support and sympathy, she received judgment. How unfortunate it is that we hurt not only those we’ve never met (homeless/criminals on the street) but also those who are nearest to us (family)?

Later that week, I attended a lecture by Rev. Ben Campbell, an Episcopalian priest, who analyzes such a situation in his book, Richmond’s Unhealed History. He suggests that there is a deeply moral and spiritual problem at play in the city: one of denial and hypocrisy. From the time that the first settlers erected a cross in the name of their English king until today, liberty has been juxtaposed with the bondage of others, just as more recent urban development entailed enclosing the city’s development complexes with six-lane highways that served the suburban middle class. All the while, Rev. Campbell explains, the repression of people creates bondage of denial and fear in the oppressor. We are not able to step into the future as a city (or even as authorities of a city) with hope if we are not willing to face the foundational brokenness on which this city has been built. Although I yearn to eventually relocate to a location that is small enough that I can influence these mutually exclusive ‘tiers of existence,’ I appreciated Rev. Campbell’s optimism in advocating to end “discrimination by transportation” by extending the public transportation down the main streets several miles to allow access to 80% of the jobs in the city (as opposed to the current 25% of jobs that are available via public transit).

I visited my parents for an early birthday celebration. My niece and nephew are growing too quickly!

It's great to get help blowing out your birthday candles from enthusiastic family members!

I accompanied my sister for a fall photo session before the storm (Hurricane Sandy) removed most of autumn's glory. The gang studies a flower-petal-filled fountain.

Yes, this is the fountain to which I was referring.

I only ride on the highways and the interstate on the weekends when I go shopping or to worship services but enjoy, even if only at these rare instances, keeping something edible in my car to offer to those that stand at the exits with signs like “need a little help” and “homeless and hungry,” among others. Many of the individuals’ faces speak much more accurately than the signs...others seem to have lost any expressive consciousness that would appropriate their cause. The times that I am fortunate to have something in my passenger seat to offer and a person to receive it, I have marveled at these people. Some explain that while most people think the homeless are dirty people, they shower daily by warming up water with a gas hot plate under the bridge (their residence). Others spill out an emotionless synopsis of their situation, how they became unemployed/homeless, to what violence they are subjected by their spouse/significant other or what they are doing to try to move from their situation. It has been most insightful and touching to hear the recipient say that they will share what I’ve given with “my girl-friend who’s standing across the street” or when I watch them walk off with my gift to a fellow vagrant (I use this descriptive term carefully and respectfully). I have heard of the homeless being very familiar with each other, often knowing each others’ bench or bridge, but I’ve never before witnessed such care extended by such needy. Not often observing similar acts of care in ‘the more fortunate circles,’ I feel honored to enter such a community, even if momentarily on the extending end. On the occasions that I pass one of these folks close to my home without something to offer, I resolve to return to the same place after fetching something from the house. More often than not, I return to a vacant bucket or a lonely cardboard sign on the ground, disappointed that my desire to help was not effected in time. In these cases, I’ve compared these evanescent beggars with angels, disappearing out of sight when I’ve not seized the initial opportunity to offer what I’ve set aside. Using a recently gifted (and growing) potato bread starter to bake sourdough bread, I realize that the two-loaf recipe is not at all inconvenient for this single Richmond-dweller. I hope to develop a tradition of Saturday morning bread-baking with the pleasant thought in mind that I may cross paths with someone who might welcome my extra loaf. I hope this habit will allow me to continually consider my discomfort with the realities of crime and poverty while still remaining optimistic towards each individual that appears on the side of my road.

Classes at VCU were canceled on Monday due to the storm...but it would be too much to ask Lyubov to stay put. I traveled back to Harrisonburg to finalize the purchase of my new interstate sidekick, a Nissan Versa.

As I headed back home on Monday afternoon, the scenic overlook between Waynesboro and Charlottesville still boasted Appalachian beauty, despite the dense fog that Hurricane Sandy brought.

This song challenges me to embrace bittersweet life in Richmond:

Jesus Christ is waiting, waiting in the streets;
no one is his neighbor, all alone he eats.
Listen, Lord Jesus, I am lonely too.
Make me friend or stranger, fit to wait on you.

Jesus Christ is raging, raging in the streets,
where injustice spirals and real hope retreats.
Listen, Lord Jesus, I am angry too.
In the kingdom's causes let me rage with you.

Jesus Christ is healing, healing in the streets;
curing those who suffer, touching those he greets.
Listen, Lord Jesus, I have pity too.
Let my care be active, healing just like you.

Jesus Christ is dancing, dancing in the streets,
where each sign of hatred he, with love, defeats.
Listen, Lord Jesus, I should triumph too.
Where good conquers evil let me dance with you.

Jesus Christ is calling, calling in the streets,
"Who will join my journey? I will guide their feet."
Listen, Lord Jesus, let my fears be few.
Walk one step before me; I will follow you.

Text: John L. Bell and Graham Maule
Music: French traditional; harmonized by James E Clemens (2001)
(Song cited from Sing the Journey--Hymnal: a Worship Book Supplement 1. 2005.)


It's hard to believe that I've completed twenty years of life today. I've easily accepted the fact; now it's only a matter of recognizing what that means for tomorrow and beyond.

Hope you're staying warm during these last chilly and moist days of October : )

Seasonal progress: some things pass away and some open up

After a long weekend, I realized how appreciative I was to be at school past six o’clock; I was eager to be headed home but was content with admitting that here is where I “belonged.” I am determined to enjoy this membership to its fullest during these four years.

3 classes complete

It’s hard to believe that I am eight weeks into my dental school career! The first year class has completed their first three courses (Gross Anatomy, Neuroanatomy, and Operative Dentistry (dental simulation clinic portion). Last week, we began Dental Anatomy, in which we carve teeth out of wax to study their intricate details. It has been exciting to re-enter the world of microbiology in our Infection and Immunology course. We’ve been meeting several new clinical instructors in our Clinical Dentistry class (which includes introductory Periodontics, Evidence-Based Dentistry, and basic clinical skills). We will transition into a non-computerized simulation clinic to continue developing Operative Dentistry techniques. Now that we’re not in cadaver labs for 3 hours a day, we are wearing our class scrubs; all 97 of us in hunter green with our names and graduation year embroidered on the scrub top. Being amidst a mass of green is becoming a comforting norm. It is also becoming comforting to interact with and pass alongside upperclassmen in other colored scrubs, a reminder that they’ve been through all that awaits us. The next few weeks appear busy so that the remainder of the semester may fly by.

After three days (a total of about 11 hours) of work, I submitted my maxillary central incisor (#8) wax carving. The task is tedious but very enjoyable so long as I don’t dwell on the time or the graded outcome of the end product.

MOM Project in Grundy, VA

This past weekend, I participated in a dental RAM (remote area missions) project in Grundy, VA, located in the southwest mountainous region of the state. The VCU School of Dentistry devoutly organizes these Mission of Mercy (MOM) Projects and generously allows several students to take part in the experience.

We were told that Grundy, VA is a town no bigger than 5 miles in diameter, home to around 1,000 residents. The three-story shopping plaza (with a parking garage on the second floor and a Wal-Mart on the third floor) were distinctive recent changes to the town, although quarries and coalmines are still the most prevalent employment options.

I enjoyed assisting with restorations (fillings) as well as washing the suction lines with bactericidal chemicals after each patient and scrubbing instruments after operative use. It was wonderful to be working on teeth on real live people (as opposed to our typodont dummy in the simulation clinics). I was glad to be reminded of the interpersonal aspect of dentistry, a core reason for my pursuit of the career. I also enjoyed seeing and assisting several dentists from Harrisonburg and meeting others. It is great to work with and learn from clinicians that are passionate about helping underserved areas. I am hopeful that my post-dental school NHSC service site will foster more of these interactions.

When visiting the town’s Wal-Mart, I was bewildered to see an escalator at the store (one that carried both shoppers and their carts)...No wonder we have to continue stripping the Appalachians of their gentle slopes—how else would we operate several escalators 24/7?! But the connection between coal mines and the superfluous technology doesn’t seem apparent, despite that the two are less than five miles apart.

Bicycling amidst the mountains

Earlier in September, I visited my parents in the Valley and was surprised by how much I missed the ever-present mountain-scape. I just couldn’t get enough of the sun(rise/set) coloration and the soothing effect produced by sensing the ridges enveloping me round-about. Perhaps I was experiencing that which Weidensaul explains in the introduction to his book, Mountains of the Heart:

“...mountains in general seem to exert an especially profound grip on the human imagination. Whatever the reason, I get twitchy when I spend too much time in a place where the highest point on the horizon is a telephone pole or a grain silo. I need to be able to look into the hills and know that I could disappear into them when the tame world gets to be too much, like a promise of refuge always waiting on the doorstep” (VII, Introduction)

While in the Valley, I participated in the Bike Shenandoah (“cycle for service”) event. I signed up for a 30-mile ride but resolved to cycle from my parents’ home in Weyers Cave to Harrisonburg (where the ride began). Meeting my relatives at a park in Bridgewater after the ride for a family picnic, I totaled 57 miles--I’m glad I didn’t sign up for the metric century ride!

Being in transit or indoors in the city (Richmond), I hadn’t even noticed the mountains’ absence but was still able to recognize my nostalgia for the Valley’s topography when visiting. Perhaps I will act on this affinity and gravitate towards someday settling near the rounded Appalachians.

Fall is in the air

It’s been very exhilarating to catch a whiff of crisp autumn air during these past few days. I am especially eager to welcome fall and winter this year as I left wintery VA in January for temperate Honduras and Peru returned during mid-spring, at the end of April. I await the completion of my twentieth year at the end of the month and hope to catch a bit of the Valley before the trees develop and lose their glory.