This, Friday, and Thursday morning I spent volunteering at CRIT, the children's rehabilitation center that is the topic of an earlier post. The trip to CRIT, unfortunately, yet more efficiently, requires me to take the Red Bus, full of commuters and rather professional looking drivers with far less character and pizazz than their Blue and White counterparts. I hop off at Avenida Chapultepec to grab a bite to eat at a place whose name escapes me, but I have popped in each of trips out to CRIT. I am undecided on my true feelings for the place, as they have not had granola to go with my fruit and yogurt the past three of my visits. My favorite part of the trip to CRIT, apart from actually spending time at CRIT, is taking the train. The train in Guadalajara consists of only two lines. The line I take travels North and South along Avenida Federalismo. Not a scenic route by any means, buildings become more dilapidated and depressing as the train moves South away from the center, but I do enjoy watching the more devout of my fellow passengers make the Sign of the Cross as we rumble by Santa Filomena, a notable church along the line. My first visit to CRIT a couple weeks back was primarily a tour of the facility, while my past three visits had me actually interacting with the kids and members of their families. Most of my time has been spent playing Jenga and Dominoes, tracing pictures from various coloring-books for the kids to color-in, and assisting the youngsters with some of the more difficult puzzles while they await for their, or their parent's or sibling's, appointments. My poor Spanish has caused a few minor communication problems, but nothing that couldn't be worked around with a few points and head nods. One instance, from the three days spent at CRIT, that will stick with me for the rest of my life, happened this morning when a boy of about 12 joined our game of Dominoes. His particular handicap is that he does not have either of his arms, thus he played by using his toes to grasp the dominoes while maneuvering his upper and lower legs, all with outstanding dexterity, to place the pieces in position on the table. It just goes to show the creativity that those with disabilities can have to do what they want. It was beautiful. I must say, no matter the occasion, Jenga is always a crowd pleaser. Personally, I may have to take a few months away from the game. The better part of my 3 hours at CRIT on Thursday was spent finding the best block to remove from the tower to neatly place back atop the structure, as well as, once the blocks toppled to the yelps, cries, and hollers of my playmates, rebuilding the crosshatched collections of three across into their complete, Jenga form. No doubt it was a suspenseful and joyous morning watching that tower lean and fall to the dismay of one and joy of all the rest, but when the Jenga blocks were removed from their rolling shelves on Friday I made straight away to the drawing table to trace images of Pooh and Tigger, to which I was and still am quite proud. Both Friday and today, I made friends with the little fella who was most concerned about completing every puzzle available. I found this takes the least amount of Spanish as those who enjoy the puzzles are the most shy and prefer the only interaction to be a High Five after the puzzles completion. As an aside, my birthday is tomorrow, and if anyone would like to give me present I would greatly appreciate a difficult puzzle, preferably of some work of art or great landscape, or if you would rather donate one to CRIT, that would mean even more. Spending time with these more introspective youngsters has restored a childhood pleasure of mine in puzzles. But, more importantly than finding my inner child, I have come to better understand the expression, "Children are our Future." Sure, we have all heard it, but I had always thought that applied to me, "I am the future," and my thoughts of younger generations were that they, "Just aren't as cool." But, that is not the case. It is the kids the age of my Jenga playmates that will be making the decisions when most will think I am too old to even matter. So, in conclusion, let us remember the importance of education, whether for able or disabled, American or Mexican, let us provide it and let us provide a good example for what it can produce.

(Read Dustin Pitts's blog online at http://blogalajara.blogspot.com/)