The American Dream

Bekir is the American Dream.
His mother was a 17-year-old Bosnia refugee who came to my house in Olympia, Washington while the war in her own country still raged. It was... what... 1993?
She had to finish High School before her College classes started, so she was able to get better at her English and create a support network through the other Bosnia Refugee Students we had brought to the States.
Then, it was off to Culver-Stockton College (somewhere in Missouri's Amish Country) and a life of austerity and shocking discoveries... they got her a scholarship, but you have to bring your own bedding to school with you. And she had medical insurance, but it did not cover prescriptions. And thought somehow they had remembered books, there wasn't any money allocated for travel - which left the holidays a little lonely. And just what do you do when the dorms are closed, the dining hall is closed, you don't drive and your family is living in a war-ravaged house without windows 5000 miles away?
Amela's indominatable spirit is proof that joy, beauty, enthusiasm, success and love will always exist. Will always return to rule the earth.
Anyway.. to make an 11-year story bearable. Amela met Tony in College. They married 2001. And baby Bekir was born in Sept 2004.
I couldn't get to the Baby Shower. I couldn't get to the Birth.
Italy kept getting in the way.
So I went the Weekend before Thanksgiving. I got a 149 ticket.... And a lesson in Bosnian culture.
Amela and Tony picked me up at the airport with a sleeping baby in tow... we rode the 11 minutes back to the house with Amela talking non-stop.
And when we got home (besides having to take off my shoes - not prepared for this) I met her parents. They came 10 days after the baby was born and left just last week.
Bosnians are Muslim, so they do not celebrate Christmas. But they stayed through the Holidays, nevertheless.
Amela's parents speak no English. But her father spoke a tiny bit of German.
Her mother cooks a lot. It was wonderful food. Veggies and Meat and Potatoes... Perfect for a little German girl like me.
We had the noon Dinner meal. Then we chatted. They napped. And I decided to make Mexican that night.
Amela's sister, brother-in-law and nephew were due in from Croatia at 7:30 p.m.
Phew. I made Chicken Mole. Pumpkin Soup. Rice. Beans. Guacamole. Queso.
It was a hit. Even though they did not know how to eat it. And Amela is veggie. She did eat a bite of the chicken tho.
Edib (the brother in law) has Kidney disease and couldn't eat spicy foods, but that didn't stop him with the chips and queso and guac.
Afterward, they drank this horribly dark Bosnian coffee that is not filtered. Amazing stuff.
We opened gifts and went to bed. I slept pretty well.
The next morning, while everyone was still sleeping, Tony and I snuck of Mt. Biking.
I took Tony Mt. Biking when he was here in 2002 and got him hooked. Amela hates me for it.
Anyway... he offered me his $300 full-suspension bike. he keeps it up really nice... BUT... it weights like 400 pounds.
And St. Louis has hills.
So I suffered and pushed up lots of hills. But then when I got the hang of it I rode downhill and that was very nice.
We rode like 12 miles and then went home vis Starbucks.
Amela's family was taking a "walk" to Walmart, so Tony and I were able to have a quiet meal (and some Mt. Dew) before they returned.
As will all travelers who've ever visited me here from Europe, it's all about the shopping. So, we went to Costoc (where I bought Bekir some more onesies) and TJMaxx.... After a while i was completely shopped out.
That night, I slept very poorly. I had to getup at 5 a.m.
I did catch my flight, but it was delayed. i was late to my doctor's appointment. I missed eating.
I was getting a migrane and after stopping by the office, i called it a sick day and went home to sleep.
The migrane explained itself later...as did the sleeplessness... when my dad called to say his brother, my favorite uncle, had died. Shit.
And so it goes. This circle of life.
Bekir has Bosnian blood and American Indian blood. And some blood that no one can identify.
Oh, and by the way, I am responisble for his "religious" education being his Godmother and all..... I choose to think that I'll have him praying to the gods of titanianium wheels and full-suspension Yeti's before he can even ride.