11.29.2009

Heartsick

Of all the jobs that I've applied for and been rejected for in the 19 months since moving to Colorado, the one that hurt the most was the Volunteer Coordinator position at the animal shelter where I've put in hundreds of hours since August 2008. During that time, I've worked in the following shelter programs: dog enrichment; trail walks (for the dogs who are short-term shelter residents); a special program for the long-term dogs (mostly pit bulls); dog-handling at off-site adoption events; and, for the last five months, as the designer for the volunteer newsletter. I've bathed a few dirty dogs and come home soaking wet, and, recently, was one of five volunteers asked to participate in a new program for dogs "with issues" that are awaiting court dates or breed-specific rescue groups.

I was never called to interview for the position; last Monday, I was just told verbally that I didn't get it. Since I got the news in public, several feet from where other volunteers were standing, there was really no opportunity to discuss it.

Since I left the shelter that day feeling heartsick, I sent an email to the shelter staff member who will be supervising the position. She has been the Volunteer Coordinator since I started there (she's moving to another position within the organization), so I've had a lot of interactions with her during my time at the shelter.

For those who haven't had to look for a job in this economy—particularly those of you over 50—the following email exchange (my email to the shelter contact and her reply) is an example of why, some days, I feel as worthless as a used Kleenex.

Hi ----,

Thanks for telling me in person that another candidate had been chosen for the Volunteer Coordinator spot. I didn't want to discuss it in the shelter lobby in front of other volunteers, but it would be helpful to me--as I continue to job hunt--to know if there was something in my resume or in my interactions at the shelter that would have made me a more attractive candidate. (I guess that I was a bit surprised that I didn't even rate an interview.)

I'm not trying to put you on the spot--truly--but if there's anything that you can add to my understanding of the hiring process without making it too awkward for either of us in the future, I'd be appreciative. Thanks much.

Kate

Hi, Kate,

I appreciate your email.

As I think I had mentioned awhile back, we were amazed by the 76 applicants for a part-time position. So I completely understand your surprise with the process. It was very competitive and some of the applicants had a great deal of nonprofit work experience and management/training of volunteers.

There was nothing at all that you could have done differently in the process or with your interactions with [the shelter].

I wish you the BEST of luck with your job search. Thanks for following up with me!

Sincerely,
----

11.26.2009

Our Pilgrim Foremothers

The colonists who came over on the Mayflower believed that women were morally as well as intellectually and physically inferior, and that they should be married off as early as possible so their husbands could keep them on the straight and narrow . . . But it was occasionally difficult to wring the proper degree of deference out of women who had crossed the ocean in small boats, helped carve settlements out of the wilderness, and spent their days alone in isolated farmhouses surrounded by increasingly ticked-off Indians.

from When Everything Changed: The Amazing Journey of American Women from 1960 to the Present by Gail Collins

11.22.2009

Great Sand Dunes


In Michigan, we had Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, with its 400-foot high mounds of fine sand overlooking Lake Michigan. In Colorado, we have Great Sand Dunes National Park, with its 750-foot high mounds of slightly coarser sand in a valley below the Sangre de Cristo mountains. We stopped at the park on our way home from Mesa Verde.

I can't even begin to understand how 19,000 acres of sand dunes ended up sandwiched between endless plains—an "Open Range" where the cattle wander unfenced—and a line of mountains. The only water in sight is an unimpressive creek. Words like "sand deposits," "Rio Grande and its tributaries," and "ephemeral lake" (a lovely phrase that I picked up at the visitor center) have something to do with it.

Going up the dunes was dreamlike: no matter how many mounds of sand you scrambled over while fighting strong winds and shifting sand below your feet, the top still seemed no closer. After failing to summit, I was left with a) a lot more appreciation for Lawrence of Arabia and b) the feeling that my face had just undergone a 100-percent natural microdermabrasion.

More pictures from Great Sand Dunes

11.18.2009

Mesa Verde

We'd been talking about visiting Mesa Verde National Park since we arrived in Colorado, but always found reasons for not going. It takes a minimum of eight hours to drive there, depending on your route. During the summer, it's pretty hot that far south. No matter which route you take, you have to go over some mountain passes, which makes for a dicey trip during the winter months.

But two weeks ago, the weather forecasts were promising, we had roofers hammering away above us, and life was wearing us down. We tossed our suitcases in the trunk and drove. And drove. And drove. In the three-day round trip, we travelled over 1,000 miles through ever-changing, jaw-dropping scenery without even leaving Colorado.

Mesa Verde, Spanish for green table, offers a spectacular look into the lives of the Ancestral Pueblo people who made it their home for over 700 years, from A.D. 600 to A.D. 1300. Today, the park protects over 4,000 known archaeological sites, including 600 cliff dwellings. These sites are some of the most notable and best preserved in the United States. (National Park Service)

The decision to visit Mesa Verde during the first week in November was serendipitous. Judging from the size of the parking lot at the museum/visitor center, the place is mobbed during the summer. We shared a tour of the Cliff Palace—one of the biggest settlements at the site—with about 50 delightful fifth grade girls from a Denver charter school.

Cliff Palace

The rest of the day, we saw few other visitors. We were the only hikers on the Petroglyph Trail that afternoon. The silent canyon heightened the drama of coming face-to-face with our first-ever petroglyphs, including the small handprints of the artist(s).


More pictures from Mesa Verde:
http://picasaweb.google.com/Katharine.Gillette/MesaVerde

11.17.2009

I'm not a cyborg

. . . but when I'm without my computer, as I have been for most of the last two weeks, I feel as though I'm missing a vital body part.

(My machine has been in the shop. It caught a virus, was fixed and sent home, and two days later, caught a different virus and went back to the PC Gurus. It may be time to invest in a new box, but I have a lot of emotional attachments to the old one. Clearly I read way too much science fiction during my formative years.)

11.11.2009

In Flanders Fields: Armistice Day

During one of our last weekends in Belgium, we spent a day in the area most Americans know only as Flanders Fields, from the poem by John McCrae, a Canadian soldier in World War I. The city of Ypres, which was under horrific siege by the Germans, now houses the In Flanders Field Museum and other war monuments. The surrounding countryside, the site of many battles and—still—the trenches so closely identified with the Great War, is dotted with military cemeteries holding the dead from the British Commonwealth.

I never had a chance to blog about that experience while we still lived in Belgium. But today, the official end of World War I, seems like a good time to share the photos. Unlike the more uniform markers in American military cemeteries, the grave markers in the British cemeteries in Flanders are engraved with the regimental symbols of the dead soldiers, which adds to their poignancy.

Pictures from Ypres, the military monuments and cemeteries, and the now peaceful countryside:
http://picasaweb.google.com/Katharine.Gillette/FlandersFields

John McCrae's poem "In Flanders Fields"
http://www.greatwar.co.uk/poems/john-mccrae-in-flanders-fields.htm