THE APPLICATION

I went to my apartment and pulled out an old application to the United States Peace Corps. I wasn't too lazy now to fill out the forms. I sent them. Then one day, I opened a letter. It was from Washington, D.C. The letter said to call on that same day, and so I ran to the closest pay phone and called. They told me I had to call back a few hours later or I would be rejected. I called and was told, "Mr. Squier, your college references are old." I quickly replied, "Yes, but they're my only references from college! How do I get new ones?" (Go back to college?) I was asked to call back one more time. I did.

"Mr. Squier, would you like to teach English in Afghanistan?"

Without a blink I exclaimed, "Yes!", and I ran to my apartment to find a map. I had often stared out of this apartment's big bay window, looking at the soft stomach of Chautauqua meadow, or at the tall red flatirons of the Boulder front range, and wondered, "What am I doing with my life?" The day I quit my construction job posed the same question, and now I was on my way to find out in a new and strange world.