I have added this link to my blog's sideboard:

http://chatrat.977mb.com/

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A few more months to go - and I'll be coming home for a while. But work still won't be over and done, yet.

Some of you already know - and why - I chose the work-study program in a third-world country. It was more because I was feeling burned out working at the hospital. Trying to help severely abused children sometimes takes it's personal toll.

Taking a job teaching underprivileged kids in a rural place is my sabbatical. This has only been the second time I have ever had to do this (third - if you count the summer I took off of work seven years ago to head for Guatamala on an archeological dig. Pfft - some dig. I'm still not convinced that those were relics my group had found. I still think someone was murdered several decades ago - and the bones weren't old enough to be considered ancient. Cold case, indeed.)

Last month - I got more news that my sixth grade choir master - a respected priest - had (allegedly) got arrested and charged with molestation and solicitation. I say 'allegedly' because I've been hearing too many mixed messages about it since the year had started. I'm sick of hearing people - who didn't know him - adding to the story about him. I want just the facts.

I have yet to see a recent photo of the priest. I need to. I want to make sure there is no mistaken identity (given that there were a couple of priests with the same last name within the diocese.)

I also never forget a face.

And I respected and trusted that man when I was a kid. And of course, he gave me good reason to do so. That wasn't easy for me back then - to trust adults; let alone...find the ability to trust a man. That's why I was surprised when his name came up in a news program (I get news updates from the homefront.) And yes- there is plenty of proof that he is a pedophile.

Which, thinking back - I am starting to have my suspicions that he had molested at least one of my classmates.

What frightens me more right now is that I have been thinking about my classmate Michael for several months...But up until today - I couldn't figure out the depths of - and as to - why.

*Makes note to look for class photo upon return.*

The only one who I can talk to will be the head of the diocese. I can't talk to the monsignor (who was also in charge of the school I attended) - he's dead. And I haven't even considered finding and talking to a teacher that had worked there back then. Most of the nuns are dead (or if they are alive - no doubt have major bouts of dementia.)

Some of my classmates have tried to get in touch with me (word of mouth gets around fast in that city. By choice - through the years, I had distanced myself from a lot of them - not only physically, but emotionally as well. But a couple of my childhood friends chose to stay in contact with a good number of our classmates (either by fate or by circumstance.) So I guess, once again - fate is going to intervine when I get home.