November 7, 1974, I arrived at the Hotel California in San Francisco, ready to embark on a two year journey to the Philippines to become a “rural public health” U.S. Peace Corps Volunteer, or as I would be known in the village, a “fish corpse”.

There was no email or skype or Internet. I had no digital camera to capture selfies and a thousand gorgeous images. There were no cell phones or affordable long distance phone calling options. I knew it would be a long time before I received any letters, and two years before I saw any familiar faces or heard any familiar voices. That day, 40 years ago today, I met 27 other volunteers about to join me in this bold undertaking. These eighteen young men and nine women would become friends, some lifelong friends.

About three years ago, when the Peace Corps celebrated its 50th year, I unpacked my journals, poems and about a hundred letters I’d written to my sister, assorted photos, cassette tapes, and mementos from my Peace Corps days. As I read the journals and letters, I met a brave young woman who had grown up, become part of a Philippine family, and learned so much about life and humanity. The stories captivated me. While my memories are vivid, I half disbelieved them because they seemed too poignant, too raw, too colorful. But reading my own words, written in the clarity of the moment, opened my eyes to what an extraordinary time it was. It was hard and beautiful and funny and sad and spectacular and ordinary.

1. My plan is to share these stories, more or less chronologically, through this blog. The stories will feature the places and people in the words of my young self, with annotations tempered by 40 more years of living. During this time I intend to return to the Philippines and visit the people I love and the places that inspired and tested me. I will include my fresh insights in this blog.