Acceptance

We all have dreams. The altruism and aura of the Peace Corps and the spirit of its volunteers inspired one of mine. I dreamt of joining the Peace Corps from the first time I saw the advertisement with the challenging aphorism:

“If you want to get into the Peace Corps and you think that the glass is half empty - forget it. If you think that the glass is half full - you might be the kind of person we’re looking for.”

Experienced Peace Corps staff, mostly former volunteers or aid workers, knew that convincing the people of developing countries to break with centuries old traditions and look to the future would not be easy. The job required optimists and the Volunteers of India 89, culled from a large group of applicants, were a cohesive gang of clever, adaptable, and resilient, “Glass half full guys.“

1968 when I applied, was a tumultuous time for the United States, but also a time of hope, and like many others of my generation I was inspired by President John Kennedy’s exhortation that indirectly led to the start of the Peace Corps.

“Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country,” he said.

I remember writing to the Peace Corps including that quote and saying that I looked forward to the opportunity of sharing my skills and the chance of helping people in developing countries to a better life.My background wasn’t typical for someone aspiring to join the Peace Corps. The term "working poor" hadn't been coined when I was growing up in a few crowded rooms with my seven siblings in a federally subsidized housing project. It was a 1950s and 60s blue-collar ghetto that supplied the factories of the area with cheap, unskilled labor and the local newspaper with material for its crime section. My father sweated at three jobs, two part time and a night shift in a dungeon like plastic factory, so he was absent most of the time. Despite my father’s hard work, we lived like our neighbors from hand to mouth, struggling to put food on the table and pay the rent.

The “Village” as the housing project was called, was a tribal enclave where incomes were low and birthrates high. It was a place where failure was understood and success if it came to anyone, unexpected, and I spent a lot of my adolescent energy in an effort to keep my distance from the other kids there, perhaps in order to survive, or because even then, I wanted something different.

“Keep your head down and stay out of trouble with the police” was the most memorable advice I got from my parents, probably because they knew what they were talking about.

It was rumoured that some relatives had done mafia related jail time; my mother’s brother and cousin had done hard time in the infamous New York prison Sing Sing for armed robbery. Luckily, and it was mostly luck, and a tough job in an auto workshop every day after school and on the weekends, that kept me off the street and my name out of the police blotter. A record would have been uncovered in the FBI's comprehensive control of all prospective volunteers and made me ineligible for the Peace Corps.

If there was a back-story to my Peace Corps service, it was that I didn’t know when I applied that it was an exclusive organization, and the chances were minimal that a person with my background would pass through its fine mesh of requirements. It wasn't a coincidence that guys from my old neighborhood were doing "search and destroy" missions in Vietnam, or that some went to jail, and that none of us went to college; college campuses were where the main part of Peace Corps recruiting was done.

It didn´t occur to me when I wrote to the Peace Corps to say that I was interested, and then was encouraged to apply, that a person didn’t join the Peace Corps like the Army. I discovered after my first interview that there was a lengthy application process. Job, social skills, education and personal recommendations were assessed before a prospective volunteer was invited to training and that during training there was a continual evaluation of aptitude and deportment.

Trainees, who for any reason were not considered Peace Corps material, were discretely rejected and sent home. Final approval was not only dependent on work experience, language capabilities, and cultural adaptability, but also on social skills and interpersonal competence.

During the late 1960s, radical ideologies were causing a fundamental upheaval of attitudes and politics on the campuses of Europe and the U.S. There were indelible images in the newspapers and on TV showing scenes of a country in turmoil. There were civil rights marches and civil disobedience, riots in the inner cities and anger fueled by the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy.

The Vietnam War had reached its apex. 1969 was its bloodiest year and it was becoming increasingly unpopular. There was violent resistance to it, culminating in four students being shot and killed by the National Guard in Ohio. On the evening news, body counts from the battlefields in an impoverished country that most people couldn't locate on a map were as common as weather reports. Every month 125,000 young men were being drafted into the armed forces, most of them reluctantly, and student deferments were being suspended in an effort to supply the manpower that was needed. Peace Corps service gave one of the last chances for a deferment and greatly increased the competition for its limited amount of assignments. 

The powerful currents of change that were flowing through society regarding race, gender, and class, fostered an egalitarianism that was taking root in liberal thinking. At the same time the Peace Corps began focusing on a “New Direction”, following the principle of alleviating poverty by facilitating self-sufficiency:

"Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day, teach him to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.”

Our project India 89, so named because it was the 89th Peace Corps project in India, was conceived in that spirit and deviated from the usual non-technical programs that consisted of teaching English, basic health, and sanitation. When my application was accepted, I felt as though I had won the lottery. I had survived the primary evaluation of my working experience, recommendations, resume, and background checks and learned that there were openings in several countries that fit my skills.

After a few days thought, I chose a project that would be a forerunner in the “New Direction” initiative, as a mechanic servicing and repairing vehicles and equipment used for well blasting in a chronically drought stricken province of Southern India.Shortly after I made my choice, a manila envelope with the Peace Corps insignia dropped through my mail slot. It was thick with practical advice, a description and time-line for the training program, travel instructions, and some admonishments in the form of form of do's and don'ts.

Excited and expectant, I gave notice at work, sold my motorcycle, cut off a foot of hair and a couple of inches of beard and set out cross-country in my Saab 93 for San Luis Obispo, California.

It was a trip that was the first leg on the crooked trail that was, and is my life.

Afterthoughts: 

I've lived my life looking forward but realized that I can only understand its trajectory, by looking back. With hindsight’s 20/20 vision, I can see my time in India as my rite of passage and am thankful for those years that were a fulcrum into another world both physically and existentially. They gave me an opportunity for personal growth and the chance to do something other than what was staked out for me. Like most Peace Corps volunteers though, I have a long, arduous list of mistakes and fumbles, but also some successes.

If I learned anything during my time in India, it was that progress is the sum of many small contributions, and even if I could have done much more, I think that I did okay.

Was the glass half full? It was overflowing!