November Missive

A Missive from Mesopotamia

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Welcome! / mar-Ha-ba! / مرحبا!

October is upon us, and up here in the northern hemisphere that often means shorter daylight hours, cooler temps, changing leaves, and post-season baseball.  We can watch the post-season ballgames here on Armed Forces Network, but it’s tough to watch live given the time difference, although I can sometimes catch the last few innings of a game with my morning coffee, if it was a night game.  (Being a Milwaukee boy originally, I was up at 400 am to watch the Dodgers ruin the chances for the Brew Crew to get back in to the World Series.)  And while daylight hours are shortened, there aren’t too many leaves to change (palms don’t drop orange and red fronds to the ground), the temperatures are still high, and we have seen only about five days which were not bright, cloudless sunshine.  If the weather app on my phone is accurate, today will be the very first day since my arrival more than 130 days ago with a high temperature under 100 degrees Fahrenheit:  99 today and 98 tomorrow, and then back up over 100 until next weekend.  Later in the month we should see highs only in the 80s.

Time to break out the parka!

Baghdad from the air.  When traveling to and from the embassy, we take a helicopter (!) to the airport and back - 

and I was facing out to the side THROUGH AN OPEN DOOR.

This is the Tigris River with a power plant in background.

The Tigris River and city of Baghdad.
You can see evidence of the heat from the rotors of the helicopter on the left side of this photo and the next one.

The Babylon Hotel on the right bank of the river is directly across from the embassy compound.
I see this hotel from my apartment window.

A blue-domed mosque nearby as we prepare to land.

The Wedding of the Century

I had one condition upon accepting this job in Baghdad back in January (leaving aside the fact that I actually had no leverage upon which to make conditions):  Of course I needed to be able to return to the US for the big day – The Wedding of the Century.

There are innumerable reasons why I consider myself to be incredibly fortunate, extraordinarily blessed.  One reason in particular in relation to this life and career path I’ve chosen is that I have had the opportunity to be home for important family events.  Some of my colleagues, particularly those in the military, are not so lucky to be able to return for major holidays and life events.  So far I have two university graduations and now a wedding under my belt, and I will remain forever grateful to my colleagues for supporting my time away from post at these critical moments. 

I was among hundreds of family members and friends who invaded the small town of St. Peter, Minnesota in late August to join Jenna and Tommy on their big day.   It’s hard to imagine events surrounding the wedding and all the supporting activities going more perfectly, in large part due to the efforts and planning of Jenna and her family.  Their meticulous planning and hard work over the many months prior to the wedding all came together smoothly, and with basically perfect weather on the big day, meant a nearly flawless event.  Maybe a napkin was folded improperly, or a flower lost a petal or two, but if that happened I didn’t notice, and I don’t think anyone else did either.  Everything about my time back in Minnesota was perfect.  We were able to see and spend time with so many friends and family members, and we had more fun than should be allowed under the law.  What a blast.

If you were there, thank you for your support of Jenna and Tommy, and for spending your time with us.  I certainly appreciate it, and am certain they do as well.  Thank you.

Bachelors, Beers and Bogies.

Meeting up with his brothers from BUD/S after several years.

All the duffers at the 19th hold.

Rehearsing.

Rehearsing.

The Team picked up a 'ringer.' 😀

Cousin, Grandma and Aunt.

Aunt Amy, Uncle Eric, Cousin Danny, and Grandma.

Three Mrs. Panettis.

The Best Man and his gift - a broken paddle from
BUD/S, signed by their crew.

Everybody’s Working for the Weekend

Big hair, headbands and cut-off t-shirts of the early 80s rock band Loverboy notwithstanding, it’s basically true amongst all of humanity that we work to live, particularly for the weekends, rather than live to work.  Or we should, anyway.

But how does one define a weekend, anyway?  And was it ever even up for debate?  It turns out this part of the world doesn’t follow the same ‘rules’ about silly things like when a weekend should be, actually.  In Islam, the holy day (or gathering day, as described by the Prophet Muhammed) is Friday, as opposed to Sunday in Christian religions and Saturday in Judaism.  Even though our embassies are part of the US federal government, the bulk of our employees at embassies around the world come from the host country, and so therefore we often follow local customs and traditions when it comes things like this.  Here in Iraq, our workweek starts on Sunday and ends on Thursday, and the weekend is Friday and Saturday.  (Although some countries in the region designate Thursday and Friday as the days of rest, and some have adopted the Saturday-Sunday structure.)  This can create some confusion when dealing with Washington, where of course everyone follows the Monday to Friday workweek, but mostly everyone just adapts and it works fine.

Seems obvious to observe that not every country or culture in the world practices the same rituals or behaviors, but perhaps the two of you never thought about the weekend being different before.  Admittedly, I understood Friday to be the holy day in the Muslim world prior to my arrival, but never gave much thought to the practicalities of how it works before.  Like NBC says:  “The more you know.”

Iraq is a Muslim majority country, of course, and some Muslims practice pretty strict rules when it comes to interactions between men and women.  Knowing that, what happens when an American male (or really any adult male) is formally introduced to an Iraqi Muslim woman in a professional setting?  More practicalities I never gave much thought to before.  The answer to this seeming conundrum is actually quite simple:  just take the lead from the woman.  (What a novel concept!)  At the time of introduction, if the woman reaches out to shake hands, then of course reciprocate.  If she prefers not to shake hands, she’ll place her right hand over her heart when saying “nice to meet you” or what have you, and includes a slight bow of the head.  In such cases the male should simply do the same.  It happens quickly, but all one has to do is pay attention and follow her lead.  The same is true when taking leave at the end of a meeting, for example.  Often men will do the same thing even after shaking hands, after the greeting or leave taking is complete and the hands have been shaken, the right hand goes to cover the heart.  It’s really quite a nice gesture.

My part of the United States isn’t particularly diverse, as you might know.  (2010 US Census data indicate Minnesota’s population is about 85% white, 5% black, and 4% Asian, with the balance made up of two or more races, other races, Native Americans and Native Hawaiians and Pacific Islanders.)  Of course like the country as a whole Minnesota is becoming more diverse as time goes by, but nonetheless it hasn’t been particularly common in my part of the Twin Cities to see many women wearing hijabs or other culturally appropriate garments for Muslim women.  Here in Iraq, of course, it’s much more common, as you might expect.  However, it’s inappropriate to paint the entire region with the same broad brush about culture (or anything, really), meaning that many women in Iraq choose not to wear the hijab.  Some of my Iraqi colleagues do, and some don’t.  In riding around the city, I have seen some women wear the niqab (like a hijab but with the more complete face veil), others not; some men wear the dishdasha (ankle length robes), some don’t; some men wear the keffiyeh (a scarf warn atop the head) or other head coverings, some don’t.  Even the words for them are often different based on the country or region.  Like Christianity and Judaism, Islam is monotheistic but not monolithic – each country, each region, each family has its own practices based on a whole host of religious interpretations, historical factors or individual ethnicity or preference.  It’s just the way it is.

If you remember your world history or comparative religion courses from college (or whatever), you’re likely familiar at least a little with the Five Pillars of Islam.  These are the five basic tenets of Islam that the faithful practice, if they are able, and are the foundation of what it means to be a Muslim.  The first (shahada) is a declaration of faith, simply stating a belief that “There is no god but God (Allah), and Mohammed is the messenger of God (Allah),” the essential element in declaring oneself a Muslim.  The second (salah) consists of prayer, typically understood as the five daily prayers.  Third is the act of charity or almsgiving (zakat); if a Muslim is able they are obligated to ease the economic suffering of the less fortunate.  Fourth is ritual fasting (sawm), which is obligatory, if one is able, during the month of Ramadan in order to seek nearness to and forgiveness from God, and to show gratitude, atone for sins, and remember the needy.  The fifth is the pilgrimage (hajj) to holy city of Mecca, which Muslims are to do at least once in their lifetime, if they can.  As in culture or just about anything else, other than agreement on these basic tenets, Muslims belonging to different sects will have different names for them or different practices, specific to their sect or region.

We don’t go live and work representing the United States in foreign lands in order for everything to be just like home; such an expectation is really just silly.  There are many things about living in a Muslim-majority country that might be quite different from the United States, but with security the way it is in a mostly post-conflict, mostly post-ISIS nation, it can be difficult to observe personally.  But culture doesn’t stop at the entrance to our compound just because we have a wall here.  Sound, for example, wafts over the wall, reverberates off the buildings and throughout the embassy grounds daily, and I don’t mean the just the sounds of traffic.  There are several mosques in the Green Zone and nearby to the embassy, and of course historical practice and ritual in Islam is for the muezzin to sing out the call to prayer from the minaret.  Modern life means mostly this is done via pre-recorded song over a loudspeaker, and so five times each day we can hear the haunting, beautiful adhan, or call to prayer, reciting fairly standard phrases such as “God is great, there is no god but God, Muhammed is His messenger, and prayer is better than sleep.”  There is variation in what is recited, but it’s fascinating to hear as we walk to lunch at noon or home at the end of a long day.

You know by now that the majority of employees at any embassy come from the host country, and so obviously they bring their culture with them to work daily.  Our embassy has a prayer room for the devout to use, although it can be complicated to go there since it’s a big compound and can be quite far away from whatever office a person is working in.  So occasionally, I’ll see my faithful colleagues lay out a prayer rug in a semi-private space and perform their daily prayers and rituals, of course facing Mecca as is the rule (since we are actually just north of Saudi Arabia here, prayers are actually performed facing south).

Culture is a powerful force everywhere you go.

The World is Complicated

We all have stories to tell.  And what is history if not stories?  They are really a basic building block of human relations.  Here are a couple of stories that I find worth noting.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It should be clear to you both by now that the local staff who work for the US Embassy in some countries take calculated risks to work with us.  Almost all of my colleagues here with whom I’ve had this discussion have said they generally keep this association very close to the vest, not wanting to invite unwanted attention (at the least), suspicion, or threats.  ID badges are concealed, paths to and from work are circuitous, and security precautions are diligently followed.  One local colleague recently told me that, even though she has been with the embassy more than ten years, neither her spouse nor her father knows the details of her work, and in fact they don’t even know she works for the embassy.  Just imagine that for a moment, and consider that the work she does is not particularly sensitive to US or Iraqi national security or anything, and yet this devoted employee comes to work and does exemplary work for us every day.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sadi was driving a cab in New York, so the story goes, on 9/11.  As an Arab-American, he felt humiliated that the terrorists were Muslim, and he felt a need to do something.  He heard that the US military was looking for linguists and cultural advisors, and he left his family behind in New York to serve in Iraq.  A Palestinian-American and heritage Arabic speaker, he worked as a cultural and political advisor to US Army Brigadier General Frank Helmick not long after the Iraq War began in 2003.  Shortly thereafter, he became a linguist and advisor to David Petraeus, then a major general in the 101^st Airborne.  He has returned to Iraq multiple times since then, due to his invaluable skills and history advising the military and civilian leadership of the United States.  He and I struck up a conversation one evening over cold beers (this seems to be a pattern), and he shared story upon story from his time working side-by-side with Petraeus and others throughout his long history in Iraq.  I tried to buy him a beer but instead he wound up buying me one, and then he proceeded to launch into joke after joke, most of them inappropriate for this family show, but ultimately rather funny given the somewhat surreal circumstances in which I found myself.  Sadi is a unique character, and by all accounts is able to bridge the divide among the various sects and political parties here in Iraq, all of whom evidently will take his call even late at night.  I believe we are quite lucky to have such people on our side.  Perhaps we would be well served by his skills back home at this point in history.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Years ago, “Hamza” fled his home due to violent conflict in his country and was living in a refugee camp in Saudi Arabia.  He is a Muslim, but more secular than not, and occasionally drinks alcohol (incidentally, the word alcohol likely is of Arabic origin).  Living in a refugee camp can be incredibly difficult, boring yet dangerous.  To pass the time and find a way to entertain themselves in a country where alcohol is generally prohibited, he and his friends pulled a “Hawkeye and Trapper” and built themselves a still where they made their own hooch.  Problems developed when their source material, cologne containing alcohol, began to run low in the camp and attracted the attention of the authorities.  It didn’t help that his friend, probably the less bright among the group, made miscalculations causing the entire thing to explode, exposing their operation.  Not so funny at the time, they laughed about it now when retelling the story over cold beers on a warm fall evening.

Hamza later immigrated to the United States, resettling in a major northeastern city.  He recalled to us with a certain amount of wonder how, not long after his arrival in the US, friends invited him out on the town.  Shortly after leaving his apartment, he stopped short and wanted to return to his room since he had forgotten all of his immigration papers.  His comrades all laughed at his naïveté, for he thought there would be checkpoints along the way, or that random police officers would stop him and ask to see his papers as routinely happened in his previous life.  His pals had been in the US longer than him, and of course knew that such things didn’t really happen, and even it were to happen, the consequences would be few since he was, indeed, legally in the country, and therefore free to generally go where he pleased without interference.

The world sure is full of interesting people.

What’s Next?

Perhaps you recall that I’ve written about the somewhat crazy, always puzzling, occasionally opaque, and sporadically transparent process we in the Foreign Service go through for acquiring our next job.   The short summary is that we have a computer application which shows every single job in the world, both overseas and domestic, and if searched correctly, one can see which positions are available at which point in time in the future.  The trick is to search for jobs one is qualified for based on one’s current title and rank, previous experience, and future plans, and then actually apply for, interview for, and receive an offer for that job.  It sounds an awful lot like finding a job in any marketplace, I suppose, and in a sense of course it is.  And once an FSO has reached the mid-level or above (basically the third tour and after), we are no longer directed into positions by others and essentially have to go through all the effort of finding an onward assignment by ourselves.  Every two years or so.  It’s a stressful process; exciting sometimes, but stressful.  Imagine:  The world is your oyster!  The possibilities seem endless!  But sometimes, depending on lots of factors, you wind up with a Rocky Mountain Oyster instead. 

My job here in Iraq is a one-year tour (May ‘18 to May ’19), and I accepted the position in this high threat post (we call them PSPs, or Priority Staffing Posts, which are in places like Iraq, Pakistan or Afghanistan, or not actually in but covering the issues for Libya, Syria and Yemen) without a linked assignment.  Links occur when officers agree to a PSP job, and before they’ve even left for that job have secured the job after that, precisely because they agreed to work in a tough place.  It’s a controversial practice for a number of reasons, but in my case I didn’t have the opportunity for a linked assignment due to the timing of my position becoming available, and so I came here without that security.

There are a number of other benefits to taking a PSP job, but for me the priority was to be able to do the job I signed up for seven years ago, and to do it overseas.  All FSOs know that we are generalists and will certainly work outside our chosen field on occasion, but I had yet to work in my chosen field (Public Diplomacy) since I took my oath, and this was that chance.  My second priority was to be able to find a follow-on assignment that I liked, doing interesting work in PD and in a place I wanted to serve, based in part on the fact that I volunteered to serve in a PSP job, despite not having a linked assignment.  In my case, I had the promise only of “the possibility of an early handshake,” which meant that if I went through the process of finding a job I liked, and getting post and the associated bureau back in DC to agree to hire me for that job, they “might” agree to give me a conditional offer (what we call a handshake) in advance of when the official handshakes are publicized.  Formally, this was my only advantage in the bidding process, that “possibility.”  Unofficially, I hoped that having volunteered for a PSP job would carry some weight with the decision makers, but this is not quantifiable and can’t be known in advance, and obviously is only really helpful if I’m actually doing a good job while I’m here.

So I went through the process of looking for my next assignment like a normal human being, seeing what jobs were going to be available at the right time in the future, calculating the amount of time needed for training (language and the like), contacting the person currently in the position, later contacting the supervisor of that person, contacting decision makers back in Washington, preparing my Foreign Service resume and associated documents, finding people to write letters of recommendation, and on and on and on.  (Recall for a moment we do this every two or three years.)  The standard bidding season, as we call it, starts in mid-September (for those of us who transfer from post to post in summer months), and officially ends by the last week of October when official handshakes are offered, roughly five weeks total.  However, to make the process work to my advantage, as much as that was possible, I started laying the groundwork way back in April, seeing what jobs were available, contacting people to make my name known, assembling references.

About a week prior to when bidding season opened, I had what I considered a solid list of options, in places that fit my criteria, and for which I felt I had at least a decent chance of getting a handshake.  We’re supposed to bid on at least five jobs, but no more than ten.  My list included ten PD jobs in places such as Helsinki, Warsaw, Reykjavik, Tirana (Albania), Bishkek (Kyrgyzstan), Rabat (Morocco), and Maputo (Mozambique).  The Deputy Public Affairs job in Bratislava, Slovakia was our top choice for lots of reasons, and we were really hoping that my experience and our connections (yes, it’s now often about who you know more than anything else, at least to get a look-see) would give us a good chance at this job.  One by one jobs began falling by the wayside as a post would find themselves a solid candidate, and then email me with the news that yes, I was a strong candidate, but “we found someone we like better,” or a variety of other scenarios.  The day before bidding season actually opened, I still had several posts from my list in play and had received some positive feedback from them, but knew they were very competitive and so I needed back-up plans in case none of them panned out. 

Then on the day bidding season officially began, a new job popped up on the list that I had not known would even be an option.  No one did until that day.  I immediately contacted the appropriate people and made my desires known, and then the waiting began in earnest.

Once the season officially starts, candidates for those jobs have to dance the delicate minuet of deciding how much attention to pay to those whom we are courting.  A lot of attention to the right decision maker can be helpful to your odds; a lot of attention to the wrong decision maker (those who are annoyed by being pestered) can kill your chances.  The reverse is also true.  And of course it’s unlikely that candidates will have any idea which decision maker is either irritated or flattered by the amount of attention a candidate gives.  The hardest parts to me are not knowing how much attention is the right amount, and the waiting while not knowing how the machine is churning behind the scenes.

I interviewed for several positions, felt they went well and that I had a solid chance for at least one offer, which of course is all you need.  October 1^st was the first day early handshakes “could be” offered for those of us eligible.  The day came and went and October dragged on with no email notification of a handshake.  I vacillated between wanting to email people to check on my candidacy and sitting on my hands waiting.  I talked to or emailed people who are more senior and who know more details about the process, and practiced a lot of deep breathing.  Days went by and still no news.  Just then I took a chance and inquired with Bratislava, our top choice:  No dice.  Needless to say we were disappointed, but this was the game.  I immediately contacted another post to let them know that their open position was my top choice, and I would be very pleased to accept if they offered a handshake.  Lots of emails and text messages with my best girl about what to do in case I didn’t get a handshake at all:  What would we do then?  Where would we consider?  If we cast our net into tougher places (most of Africa, for example, or another PSP post), would a handshake be easier?  Should we consider DC again?  Is that what we really wanted?

October 29^th was approaching, which was the day official handshakes (distinct from early handshakes) could first be offered by the various bureaus back in DC.  (The bureau and each post work together to make decisions but the bureau makes the formal offer.)  Strong hints had been given (in particular one euphemistically, and unofficially but universally known as an “air kiss”) and I felt confident – but not too confident, that’s the ‘kiss’ of death, haha – about one job in particular (the one no one knew about originally), but still the waiting went on.  Four days before official handshakes would first go out, I received the email I was waiting for:  An “early” official offer of a handshake.  (Not complaining really; early or not I did get a handshake, after all.)

I immediately replied with my acceptance, and so now when I’m done with this tour in May 2019, I’ll head back to DC for a year of language and other training in anticipation of a two-year tour (with an option for a third year) as the Cultural Affairs Officer at the Consulate General in Istanbul, Turkey.

We’re pretty darn excited!

R&R #2

It seems like it’s been months since I’ve seen my Team.  Probably that’s because it’s been months.  Over the course of this one-year tour, I calculated that I’ll only see Kate for about four or five weeks total, and the kids even less.  This is one of the reasons such posts are tough, but of course we knew all of this going into it.  Some folks have it harder, particularly my military colleagues.  But FSOs get three R&Rs from Iraq, and number two is coming up next month for me.

Really looking forward to being able to celebrate the handshake for our next tour with my girl in Germany and Austria while hitting all the Christmas markets in Rothenburg ob der Tauber, Munich, Salzburg and Innsbruck.  And of course drinking all the glühwein, too!  Then I get to spend Christmas in Paris with my Dishy!!  Also some friends, and they are important and all, but … Christmas in Paris with my Sophie!!  J

I wish Tommy and Jenna would be able to join us, but the stars haven’t aligned for us this time.  Maybe for R&R number three in the spring we’ll be able to have the whole Team together again.  Already looking forward to that.

Until Next Time!

Well, if you made it this far and haven’t yet fallen asleep or lost interest, I thank you.  Sorry to have put you through all the rigmarole of the bidding process, but on the flip side if you read it all and now know where we’ll be from June 2020 on, you’ll have a place to stay and a Turkish-speaking guide!  Can’t wait for you to join us so we can share some tea, dolma, sarma or döner kebabs together!

All things considered, we are doing well, despite the separation.  We hope you can say the same.

US flag at sunset on 9/11/18.
Consulate General of the United States,
Erbil, Iraq.

The opinions expressed within are my own and not those of the U.S. Government.

Please do not disseminate widely without permission.

The District Demarche

The District Démarche

И снова здравствуйте! / Ee snow-va zdravst-vu-yetye! / Hello again!

Hello friends, it’s been awhile.  Welcome to the first – and likely only – domestic version of this little home-grown rag.  And given that we’re now in a domestic assignment, don’t look for any more Russian or other funky languages, at least for the time being!

Your head feels better already, doesn’t it?

First Things First

What’s with the wacky title?

Well, since the field in which I now find myself is, you know, diplomacy and all, it happens that once in a while you come across jazzy words in foreign languages.  Hence the word démarche (the French noun for gait, step or approach in English), or other French words we use still today, since it was once the principle language of diplomacy (really the lingua franca of all international trade and relations) for quite some time, and in effect remains one of the working languages of international diplomacy today.  So our use today of said French terms is kind of a holdover to a bygone era of French geographic dominance, and as English began its inexorable march to take over as the worldwide language of choice for commerce and foreign relations, some words and phrases tenaciously held on.

In practical terms, a démarche is a formal representation of the official position, views or wishes on a specific subject, provided by one government or international organization and delivered to another.  A démarche can also register opposition or voice a complaint to another state.  Démarches are written and delivered, usually in person, to the receiving state or organization, and when from the U.S. a démarche can be delivered by anyone serving under the authority of the Ambassador or Chief of Mission.

I’ve never delivered one or been involved in drafting one or anything, but this little publication of mine delivers my thoughts and views on any number of useless and inane things from me to you, and I work in the District of Columbia, so there you go.  Plus it just sounds classy.  You’re free to disagree with my judgment on this matter, but you’d be wrong.

A Tale of Three Cities

No apologies to Dickens.  Evidently he was a grumpy old man anyway, so I have no plans to apologize to such a curmudgeon.  Actually, I have no idea if he was a grumpy old curmudgeon or not, but I’m still not apologizing to him.

Our return from eastern edge of freedom in 2017 brought the entire clan together back to the familiar soil of the Midwest, and once again Team Panetti spent a quiet, pleasant week in the north woods of Wisconsin on a beautiful lake in Bayfield County, outside of the little town of Iron River.

My family has more than a 100-year association with this town, as my paternal grandmother was born in Iron River in nineteen-hundred-aught-something to the town pharmacist, Alva Miles.  My father was born in Milwaukee but spent many summers as a child in the town, on the ballfields, and on the lakes up north, and spent at least part of one school year there in the 50s (probably 1952) in order to avoid the polio epidemic back in the city of Milwaukee, which killed several thousand people nationwide. 

When my brother and I were kids, our parents took us to Iron River many times as well, and we have done the same with our kids.  If you’re driving along U.S. Highway 2 across the northland and you blink at an inopportune moment, you’re likely to miss the little burg of about 800-odd people. (The town does have its share of characters!)

A week on Twin Bear Lake, a couple weeks back at the homestead in Bloomington to round out Home Leave, and I was off to D.C. for the start of Tour #3.  For a king’s ransom, we rented a comfy townhome in Arlington, VA, about midway between my job in Foggy Bottom and Kate’s job at the library in the city of Fairfax, in a nice little district called Ballston.  I would forgive you if you didn’t recall that the two of us have a three bedroom place – plenty of space for visitors – since our plan was that #1 daughter would be joining us here to find a job or an internship post-college.  Prior to our arrival but of course after we inked the deal on the rental, she changed her mind and decided to stay in the Twin Cities where she now has a nice apartment in a duplex with a couple of roommates, and two jobs with the Minnesota Historical Society.  Darn kids.

And so it is that Team Panetti is living a tale of three cities; we’re here in D.C. with Riley the Wonder Dog, Tommy and Jenna are in Baltimore (along with a new Wonder-Pup-Wannabe, Webster), and Sophie is making her way back in Minneapolis.

Maybe not the best of times, but certainly not the worst of times, either.  

Sophie’s place in South Minneapolis, and Webster the mini-goldendoodle Wonder-Pup-Wannabe.

Making a Hard Right at Europe

If you use your imagination a bit, you can easily see that it’s a pretty complex thing to employ 75,000 people to fill every single position for the State Department, both here in the U.S. and also in our embassies and missions in virtually every nation on earth.  Inevitably positions go vacant on occasion, for sometimes funding is consumed or cut, or maybe someone has left a job (for all the reasons a person might possibly leave a job or career), and sometimes positions “magically” appear altogether once funding is approved or what have you. 

On the Foreign Service side of the house, positions that are available to be filled immediately are often known as “Now” positions, which means just exactly what the two of you think it means.  These positions are made known to FSOs via unclassified cable, email from a Career Development Officer, word of mouth, or found simply by conducting a search using our specialized program online for bidding on jobs.

Normally, I just glance at these notifications, if I give them any attention at all.  But lately I’ve taken a keen interest in what’s out there, not only because I would be bidding for my next tour later in 2018, but also because my job here in Washington is kind of sedentary, and a little too free-form for me.  In addition, I have never worked in a cubicle farm before.  Not that I don’t enjoy it or the people with whom I work, but this position is also somewhat new, in fact completely new, and so there was no one to provide me with any handover documents or anything, no one to say “Here are your general duties on a day-to-day basis.”  Enter that double-edged sword of having a lot of freedom to make the job what I’d like, but also the freedom to not know exactly what it is I should or could be doing.  But they hire Foreign Service Officers to make things work and to use our brains to figure things out, and so I committed myself to doing just that for this two-year tour.

And then one Friday an email arrived.  A little more than two weeks ago, one of those “Now” positions entered my inbox consciousness.  And it looked good.  Really good, in fact:  An interesting job in an interesting place, and on the surface I appeared qualified.  Right now we’re a little out of the normal cycle of when jobs come available, so I felt that maybe I would have a real shot if I pulled the trigger and applied, since the number of people actually applying would be smaller right now than if I were to bid later in the spring or summer, when competition for available jobs would be greater.

Several somewhat frantic text messages and a few hours later, and Kate and I decided that there was no harm in trying.  The worst they could say is no.

So I applied.  Despite the preceding factors, I didn’t see that I really had a strong chance, but I knew I had something of a shot, and so I applied.  Paperwork completed, references submitted, application entered into the system, email introductions done, and I was officially a candidate for the job. 

Now the ball was in their court, for if they liked what they read then they would contact me and we might set up an interview over the phone.  If not, a pretty standard email would arrive notifying me that, while I was a strong candidate, unfortunately the relevant office found a candidate who better fit their needs at this time, thankyouverymuch.

Well, I hoodwinked them into setting up an interview a few days later, and another day or so after that I received an email just before I left for work.  It was a formal handshake for the job, and I readily and happily accepted the job!

And so now I will have a mid-tour detour, and in May 2018 I will leave my job as a Planning and Coordination Officer in the Office of Global Educational Programs in order be the Assistant Cultural Affairs Officer in the Public Affairs Section at the U.S. Embassy in Baghdad, Iraq. 

I’m about as excited as one can reasonably be when they just volunteered to go to Iraq.  Which in my case is pretty excited.  If you had asked me in 2008 where I’d be in ten years, well, I wouldn’t have guessed Iraq.

I won’t expect visitors. 

Empty Nexting

We’ve been working and living in the D.C. area since September now, and while mostly life continues as it would for anyone, we are able to take advantage of many of the events and activities of the region now that we are empty nexters, a term coined by dear friends John & Kate M.

You might not really care, but neither do I care that you might not, and so here’s a little snapshot of life in NOVA (Northern Virginia) or the DMV (clever initialism for the District-Maryland-Virginia):

Panorama of downtown Baltimore from Federal Hill Park, overlooking the harbor.  Tommy and Jenna live about ½ mile away on the far left, close to the Inner Harbor, the Raven’s stadium, Camden Yards and Jenna’s office.

Theodore Roosevelt Island is in the Potomac and is a very quiet and peaceful park surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the city.  We visited last fall with some good friends we met in Moldova.

Of course Riley the Wonder Dog keeps us busy as well, and we are fortunate to have found a place to live that is but steps away from a bucolic park with this babbling brook running through the middle, straddled by paths for walking or jogging.  Come and visit and we’ll wander like we’re lost, even though we won’t be.

A friend visited back in the fall, and we enjoyed a nice rooftop drink before a delicious Afghan dinner in the District.  It was a bit strange to realize later that it was 9/11...

Baltimore sits about 45 miles from our place in Arlington, and one weekend we met Tommy and Jenna in Annapolis for brunch at the Iron Rooster, and then we walked it off with a visit to the Naval Academy and a wander around the harbor front.   The Maryland State House is quite lovely, and includes this statue of Revolutionary War hero, the German born Major General Baron Johann DeKalb.

Friends from Bloomington visited DC a little later in September to stage an exhibition of interactive art and photography on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.  After a day in the heat collecting stories that “explore the meaning of peace, one story at a time,” we enjoyed brunch together and then spent the afternoon in the air conditioned Newseum, a fantastic place dedicated to the defense of the first amendment.   We are now members, so come on out to visit and we’ll join you on another visit.

A friend of Tom and Jenna’s was visiting that same weekend, and as things have a way of happening, she’s also a graduate of Prior Lake High School.  We enjoyed a hot afternoon at the Georgetown Food Festival, along with an ice cream from Ben & Jerry’s.

On October 9^th, the federal government observed a holiday for Columbus Day, and so of course we made an excursion to the National Museum of the American Indian, a wonderful relatively recent (2004) addition to the Smithsonian collection of museums.

One Saturday, the three of us (Kate, RTWD and me) hopped in the car and set off on a little marathon day trip. We visited several Virginia wineries, lunched on barbeque, had a short outing to Harpers Ferry, WV (small town and National Park of John Brown fame), and met Tommy and Jenna in Baltimore for dinner that evening. 

(Top) Plaque commemorating John Brown, whose raid on the arsenal in 1859 did not take place at this spot, but rather in the lower part of town, which is the National Park itself.  (Center) The point where the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers meet along a portion of the Appalachian Trail and with the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad bridge and tunnel off the left.  (Bottom) Downtown Baltimore in the Italian quarter.

The entire Team was together in late October for Kate’s birthday.  Sophie flew out and Riley joined us to visit one of our all-time favorite places, Shenandoah National Park.  We had several nice hikes, and at least one rather soggy one, and a very chilly and windswept picnic outside a Visitor Center.  But views like this from Miller’s Head Lookout made it all worthwhile.

One of the programs that makes up part of the Office of Global Educational Programs (the office where I currently work) is the Hubert H. Humphrey Fellowship program, which brings mid-career professionals to the United States for a year of non-degree graduate-level study.  A part of the Fulbright program, Humphrey Fellows come from a variety of nations not typically represented in other programs. I volunteered to assist in the big evening reception held in the Diplomatic Reception Rooms of the State Department, and while there met Andrei who hails from Moldova and is spending his academic year at the University of Minnesota.

November 10^th happens to be an auspicious date, as not only is it my birthday, it’s also the birthday of the United States Marine Corps.  As is our tradition in the State Department, we honor the USMC every year on or about this date with a black-tie event called the Marine Ball.  At the State Department itself this year, the USMC was celebrated with the recognition for all the Marines do protecting us when we are overseas; speeches were given, and recognition made.  Current and former Marines in the hall stood and sang a verse of the Marine’s Hymn (likely you know the “Halls of Montezuma” refrain), and the cake was cut and served.

Here is the 37^th Commandant of the Marine Corps General Robert Neller cutting the cake.  Moments earlier, in his speech in the State Department, he said “We (the Marines and his audience, FSOs and other State Department employees) live out our oath of office every day.”

Tommy had a birthday in November as well, and we celebrated in Philadelphia where we took in a Wild game against the Flyers.  Philly fans were largely fine despite the fact that we all had Wild gear on and the Wild beat up on the Flyers.  Some fans razzed us a bit, but we crushed them with our Minnesota niceness.

Being stateside means we can see family more than when overseas, and we were pleased that my parents made the drive out to DC from Milwaukee to be with us on Thanksgiving.  Unfortunately Sophie was just starting one of her jobs and had no time off, but she also spent the day with family back in Minnesota.  While my parents were visiting we toured George Washington’s Mount Vernon by candlelight.

Are we thankful?  Pretty darn.

In mid-December we participated in the annual effort to place Christmas wreaths on each of the headstones in Arlington National Cemetery.   65 semi-trucks full of wreaths from Maine delivered nearly 250,000 wreaths which were placed on grave markers by the largest crowd ever to participate, nearly 75,000 people.  It was a beautiful, cool and clear day to pay our respects in this annual rite, which takes place at more than 1400 participating cemeteries in all 50 states and Puerto Rico. 

It was crowded, but we highly recommend it.  Simply search for Wreaths Across America, donate a bit of money and then register in order to participate where you live next year.

We’ve had the great good fortune to experience some fantastic musical events this year, as well.  So far we’ve been to the Kennedy Center four times for a performance by the National Symphony Orchestra and to see the Book of Mormon, An American in Paris with our Dishy, and on New Year’s Eve with good friends for a humorous interpretation of A Christmas Carol called Twist Yer Dickens.  We also went to the National Cathedral for Handel’s Messiah, and best of all we had excellent seats to see Andrea Bocelli live.  So much great stuff here in the area!!

Schedules didn’t permit returning back to the snowy Midwest for a white Christmas this year, but happily the Team descended on snowless Washington and we celebrated with good friends and their little guy here in Virginia.  We recreated local versions of family traditions such reading from the Book of Luke in an old family Bible, and gathering to look out for Santa’s sleigh and Rudolph’s nose so the kids could catch him in the act of filling stockings.  Once again we had no luck, but Santa was certainly generous once more.  Our family is unquestionably blessed.

Early in 2018, I witnessed one of the first days in the United States for a group of 64 teacher leaders from around the world as they kicked off their participation in a year-long fellowship across the country.  The program (International Leaders in Education Program) is paid for largely by the State Department, and in the lead up to lunch that day, one Fellow from Uganda stood and expressed the feelings of all the Fellows in the room in an emotion-filled speech.  He thanked not just the organizers, but specifically all American citizens – whether they are aware or not - for supporting financially and otherwise their participation in this life-changing exchange.

So if you didn't hear it already, thank you.

Assane Sow from Senegal says "Thank you!"

In mid-January, we left balmy Washington and flew to icy cold Minnesota for Sophie’s birthday where we enjoyed a relatively quiet weekend home with our favorite daughter.  She gave us an extraordinary tour of the James J. Hill House, built by the railroad magnate of the same name and now operated by the Minnesota Historical Society where Sophie works.  We then celebrated her birthday dinner with family not far from U.S. Bank Field where the Vikings had just pulled of the Minneapolis Miracle.  Every minute spent in the Greatest State in the Union, and of course with our little girl wherever that may be, makes it all worth it.

We continued our tradition of a chili cook-off again this year, and had a fantastic turnout among our neighbors, and a good time was had by all.  Especially after the breath mints and antacids were passed out.

Until Next Time

When I joined the Foreign Service six-and-a-half years ago, I agreed to serve where the State Department needed me.  My mid-tour transition away from home, from family and from the United States will certainly be a challenge, but the people in the Public Affairs Section in Baghdad have an opening they need filled, I volunteered to fill that slot, and an agreement was made.  Lots of wheels are in motion at the moment, and the entire thing can still come undone for any number of reasons, although we don’t think that’s likely.  I’ll be there for twelve months, and one benefit of a tour there is three R&Rs, so I’ll have a chance to get away, most importantly for some wedding I have to attend this coming August.

Generally speaking, the State Department takes pretty good care of us, and in Iraq I’ll be (theoretically) safe and busy with lots of (hopefully) interesting and important work to do.  The rest of my Team will be here Stateside, and that will be difficult, no doubt.  I can’t say with 100% certainty that this will have been a good move for me to take this job, but I think it will.  What I can say with certainty is that I am forever grateful to my partner in crime, my co-captain of the Team, for agreeing to full-membership in this adventure, and for supporting this crazy thing I just volunteered for.

None of this would be possible without her support.

No shortage of twists and turns for us, I guess. But then again, we knew this when we signed up.  For us, life is good.  We hope you can say the same.

The Team.

The opinions expressed within are my own and not those of the U.S. Government.

Please do not disseminate widely without permission.