What is this...Grouchland?

I lay peacefully relaxing this morning, my last in UB. The only drawback to my rest was the fact that the room was a bajillion and seven degrees...Celsius, that and my ribs still hurt a bit from the costal condilitis. When suddenly a glorious sound came to my ears...it was ice cream truck music! Surely I must be dreaming...I know Mongolia finally got delivery pizza (I've yet to try it as I hear its rather expensive and not that great), but an Ice Cream truck...in winter? No, no, no, just not possible it must be in my head. Then my friend Shuree came in.

"Cass, get up the truck is here!"
"REALLY?!?!?!?" Now I knew I must be dreaming, maybe a side effect of all the meat and onions I ate right before bed last night.
"Yes, hurry please I have class, can you get the trash?"
... O_o? ... "Trash?"
"Yes, the trash truck is here, can you take the trash out to it, don't forget the front room can."
... O_o? ... "Oookay...?"
"Thanks babe, it will be parked outside, just go right."
... O_o? ... "No problem...?"

So I gathered up all the trash from the training center, the whole time listening the the whimsical childlike music making the situation all the more surreal. The was just no way, maybe this was all a joke, maybe I actually was asleep and would wake with no memory of this strange dream except for an odd craving for ice cream. But sure enough, there it was...a big ol' garbage truck, emitting the dulcet tones that make children's mouths water all over America (or at least used to...are their even Ice Cream trucks anymore?).

It was bizarre, you could see people pouring out of the surrounding apartment buildings, their hands full of trash, all slowly meandering towards the siren call of the garbage truck...the Pied Piper of Grouchland. I got strange looks from both the garbage men and my fellow flockers...I am a gadaad khun ("foreigner"), yet there I was in my Mongolian Deel Jacket and pink house slippers (with no socks :::gasp:::). If only they could read my thoughts their confusion would have reached a whole new level...

"Why does the trash music make the foreigner want ice cream?"

Curse Mongolian Internet

So I wrote a long detailed wonderful entry about my Tsagaan Sar ("White Month" aka Lunar New Year)...it was witty and insightful and lacked any referance to poop or outhouses...thus, inevitably when I went the post it the internet freaked out and POOF ... baikhgui ... gone

So I sighed a massive sigh...and despaired of rewriting it...thus I present you the Cliffnotes version of my glorious entry:

Was supposed to be in my small town and experience first hand a real traditional Mongolian Tsagaan Sar...yey!...Anthropologists dream! ... but I was exausted from being sick forever and decided to "hide" in UB and "skip" Tsagaan Sar :::gasp::: ... did celebrate with Shuree's Family and Ganaa's Family (who gave me a traditional Mongolian Jacket and a watch respectivly...that oddly enough happen to match)...made buuz ("steamed dumplings" traditional Ts.S. food) and ate quite a few of them ... only had 3 shots of vodka the whole week! ... took many showers, made no fires, rested, relaxed, missed Gregory, but was happy overall ... the end!

Sorry its a lame entry I know...but I'm tired and want to nap and then do laundry!

Updated List of "Needs"
AAA Batteries
DVDs
Crystal Light Instant Drink mix pouch thingys
No-Bake Cheesecake
Bite Sized Assorted Candies
Books (for me...the kids have TONS of new books)
Love ^_~

For those who don't have Facebook...

25 Random Facts about Cassandra ... The Mongolia Edition

1. I haven't been online in over a month. Blame my town's internet center that is equipt with all the latest in computer technology (for rural Mongolia), but is located in a spot that doesn't get internet service. Good one.
2. Overflowing toilet...gross. Overflowing outhouse...you don't even want to know.
3. I got a tattoo here in Mongolia. It on my inner left arm, a G serves as a sun setting into the ocean, its about the size of a Sacagawea dollor coin. G=Gregory. The Mongolian tattoo artist studied business in NYC and believes that the end of the world will come in 2012.
4. My Mongolian name is Anu. Translation=USA.
5. I have met BX ("Mongolia's Justin Timberlake") twice. He isn't very impressing.
6. There is a cat that prowls outside my ger every morning. Its meowls sound like a baby crying. It scares me.
7. Velicoraptors come from Mongolia. That scares me even more.
8. I always blush when my 11th graders ask me what is my favorite kind of Boov. I pretend they are talking about the delicious tea time pastries, even though I know they are being evil and talking about "Man Boov" (a weener). Even in Mongolia I can't escape male genetalia jokes.
9. I've a Mongolian boyfriend. His name is Ganaa. Translation=Steel. He has a Mongolian equivilant of a rat-tail. Its not as bad as it sounds. The first English word he ever asked me to teach him..."poop".
10. I enjoy intestines if they are fried in a hot pocketesq dough pastry...aka hooshoor.
11. I can sware in Mongolian. They think its cute. My anger is not taken seriously.
12. The most frequently refilled item in my medkit...chapstick.
13. When getting my new phone number the lady was shocked that I didn't want to personally choose my last four digets. She gave me 0789...its apparently a nice number. I wish I had G-Mobile service so then I could get the phone number: 8867-5309.
14. In the month that I have had my dvd-player in my ger, I have watched all of my 18 dvd's at least twice, and seen most of the commentaries and special features. If you haven't seen the Comedy Central Tv Series: STELLA...do it.
15. When its too cold outside at night I just pee in a bucket and then empty it in the morning.
16. Everyday I steal a bowl of the elementary children's free snack. If I'm lucky its a delicious soup. If I'm unlucky its a delicious bowl of rice in a sweet milkesq substance.
17. I make about minimum wage...for a Mongolian. They find this confusing, funny, and sad. Volunteering is still a strange concept to many of them. They also find it strange that the family didn't get money for Gregory's organs and what not.
18. I've developed amazing squatting muscles, but Marie Windsor's patented "Elevated Clams" and "Fetal Thighs" still cause me pain.
19. I can type faster in Mongolian than many of my Mongolian Counterparts. Unfortunatly this means that I now often type up both the English and Mongolian work. Touche.
20. My towns people are sad that I lost the ice cream and cheese-it weight I put on in America, as I need more insulation against the cold.
21. Drinking cold water made me sick, not germs. I never knew.
22. I taught the 9th graders spin the bottle for a Valentine's Day treat. We only kiss on the cheek but they would get so embarassed, it was cute.
23. I broke in my new credit card by taking the "family" out for pizza, and buying "American" food goods (including a whole chicken, which was less than the small can of JIF Peanut Butter I decided not to buy) to take back to the soum. Time to break the sheep stomach addiction.
24. Mongolian has two words for you...for elders "ta" and for peers and youngers "chi"...most of my students call me "chi"...this makes the teachers mad as its "rude" but I really dont care.
25. I still haven't ridden a horse in Mongolia. They are convinced I will break something. It's sad.

Happy Valentine's Day

I am sick....again. About 3 weeks ago I got larengitis, and couldn't talk for a week, it was actually kinda funny as they still kinda made me teach. But mostly I just typed up a bunch of curiculum stuff that they then managed to delete. I cried, which was also funny. My voice came back and was replaced by a wicked cough and eternally runny nose...horray chest/sinus infection! The after two weeks of that the docs finally but me on anti biotics...lets hope they work as I've already got costal condolitis (stabbing pains in my ribs where the violent coughing has enflamed the cartalage...fun times). You win again Mongolia...maybe I'm not so sorry for polluting your air with my coal fumes.

Besides the horrific bouts of illness life in the soum has been great. I've gotten my firemaking routein down to an art. I've gotten my schedule cut back to reasonable hours. I've got my students finally respecting me, and by respect I mean they think that what with my cool new professional look (thanks for the wardrobe update Mom!) that they will at least pretend to learn, sometimes. I haven't had to clean or prepare any animal intestines. For Meredith's sake I won't go into the school's outhouse situation :::shudder::: I've lost the excess

Teacher's Holiday was last week. Free food and drink. Dance party with the older students (my Mongolian waltz is getting better, I think). I got an award from the town's Cultural Center. They also gave me a present...checkers, but with sheep ankle bones instead of plastic pieces, not as creepy as it sounds. I gave a speech about how Mongolian teachers should feel lucky because their students love them while in America teachers are often viewed as just another thing in the classroom. Because of my miserably sick state I was allowed to leave at 10pm (after the fireworks show), while the rest of the teachers partied in the library until 6am. That's okay. Gurgi and I had our own party, and by party I mean making it 15 minuets into Lethal Weapon 3 until the tylonol pm kicked in and I passed out.

Tsaagan Sar ("White Month"), aka the Mongolian Lunar New year/biggest holiday of the year, is on February 25th! I have been most busy helping my countryside extended Mongolian family prepare. We made 1000 dumplings this week, and thats just for "Grandpa's" ger. I'm most excited and can't wait for all the delicious food and drink and the random gift socks. This year will be extra special as I get to share Bituun ("Tsaagan Sar Eve") with my "family." I've yet to experience this aspect of Tsaagan Sar as its only for family, and I didn't have that in Dornod.

The weather has been really nice and crisp, windy as all get up but nice. I have been wearing my thin long-johns and only one pair of socks (also the new boots I got...gloriously warm, actually a bit too warm...my feet sweat and now the stench from inside my boots rivals that of an outhouse in summer O_o). But of course for my first trip into the city since coming back to Mongolia it gets cold and snowy again so I freeze anytime I go out, especially since I ride the bus. Honestly, why pay 5,000 tugrugs for a taxi when you can take the bus for 200? Sure it takes you an hour, but you would only spend that extra time on YouTube. I also got frostnip of the ear when I first came back...talk about ouch. At first it was like I had cardboard for ears, and the the week of peeling ear skin. Double layering my hats may look goofy, but its less so that being earless.

Recieved and e-mail from the Country Director...Close of Service is August 18. It seems so far away, and yet I know it will come all too soon. My plan as of now is to stay in Mongolia another year and work with my friend Shuree at her English Center. I'm excited, and it will give me extra time to quit my sheep stomach soup addiction.

That's all for now, the whole interweb thing has overwhelmed me and I haven't even checked my e-mail yet.

The Speech My Dad Gave

I KNOW THERE ARE OTHERS PRESENT TODAY WHO HAVE EXPERIENCED THE LOSS OF A CHILD, AND MY HEART GOES OUT TO YOU AS I CONTINUE TO WRESTLE WITH MY OWN THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. YOU HAVE MY UTMOST RESPECT FOR YOUR STRENGTH AND MY SINCERE APPRECIATION FOR YOUR ENCOURAGEMENT.

TO QUOTE AN OTHERWISE CORNY, BUT IN THIS CASE APPLICABLE LINE FROM JERRY MAGUIRE, GREG “MADE OUR FAMILY COMPLETE.” DESTINED TO HAVE A CHALLENGING CHILDHOOD WITH THREE OLDER SISTERS, HE MADE THE MOST AND THE BEST OF IT. LIKE MANY FAMILIES WE ENJOYED DAILY EPISODES OF “WAR AND PEACE” IN THE WEINER HOUSEHOLD, BUT AT THE END OF THE DAY WERE ABLE TO CIRCLE THE WAGONS AND MOVE FORWARD AS ONE. AS IS THE CASE WITH MOST MILITARY FAMILIES, WE MOVED FREQUENTLY. BY MY UNOFFICIAL COUNT, GREG LIVED IN 12 DIFFERENT HOMES AND ATTENDED 8 SCHOOLS. HE RARELY COMPLAINED ABOUT MOVING AND WAS MORE INTENT ON MAKING NEW FRIENDS AND ENJOYING LIFE.

GREG WAS AN EXTREMELY BRIGHT AND INQUISITIVE INDIVIDUAL. ANY ACADEMIC CHALLENGES HE ENCOUNTERED WERE USUALLY SELF-INFLICTED. AND WHILE WE WILL NOT BE SHOWCASING HIS FIRST SEMESTER REPORT CARD FROM VIRGINIA TECH UPSTAIRS AT THE RECEPTION, I AM PROUD TO ANNOUNCE HE EARNED A “B” IN CHEMISTRY, BY FAR THE BEST PERFORMANCE IN THIS SUBJECT BY ANYONE IN HIS IMMEDIATE FAMILY.

GREG HAD A GREAT AFFINITY FOR THE WATER. THIS FIRST BECAME APPARENT WHEN WE HAD TO PLUCK HIM FROM A FOUNTAIN INSIDE A MALL IN PENSACOLA, FLORIDA WHEN HE WAS 4 YEARS OLD. HE SPENT COUNTLESS HOURS IN THE POOL, AS A COMPETITIVE SWIMMER AND LIFEGUARD, HE ACQUIRED A PASSION FOR THE SPORT OF WATER POLO AND DEVELOPED VERY SPECIAL AND LASTING BONDS WITH MEMBERS OF THE CUMBERLAND VALLEY, VIRGINIA TECH AND UVA WATER POLO TEAMS – MEN’S AND WOMEN’S. GREG ALSO HAD AN ENDURING LOVE FOR THE OCEAN, AND IT IS ONLY FITTING THAT TODAY’S SERVICE TAKES PLACE ON THE BEACH.

WHILE GREG GENERALLY REPRESENTED WHAT IS GOOD IN PEOPLE AND SOCIETY, WE SHOULD NOT BE TOO QUICK TO ENSHRINE HIM IN THE “MODEL CITIZEN HALL OF FAME.” IN THE SPIRIT OF FULL DISCLOSURE, I WILL SHARE A COUPLE EXAMPLES OF GREG’S SCANDALOUS SIDE, A QUALITY NO DOUBT INHERITED FROM HIS MOTHER. WHEN GREG WAS IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, HE WOULD FREQUENTLY RECEIVE YELLOW SHEETS – COPIES OF REPORTS FOR MINOR INFRACTIONS SUCH AS TALKING IN CLASS, BEING LATE OR NOT FOLLOWING SOME ESTABLISHED RULE. KNOWING GREG AS WELL AS WE DID, ALENA AND I WERE NEVER CONVINCED THAT HE WAS SHARING ALL OF HIS YELLOW SHEETS WITH US SINCE IN MOST CASES, SOME FORM OF PUNISHMENT OR REMEDIAL ACTION FOLLOWED. SO WHENEVER A MONTH OR TWO WOULD GO BY WITHOUT SEEING A YELLOW SHEET, WE WOULD RANDOMLY SIT HIM DOWN, STARE AT HIM STERNLY AND ASK, “IS THERE SOMETHING THAT YOU WANT TO TELL US FROM SCHOOL?” THINKING WE HAD SOME FORM OF INTELLIGENCE, MORE OFTEN THAN NOT HE WOULD SPILL HIS GUTS AND CONFESS TO SOMETHING HE DID WRONG AT SCHOOL – COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS TO OUR BLUFF.

THERE IS ANOTHER GROUP OF FRIENDS GREG ASSOCIATED WITH ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS – THE VIRGINIA BEACH POLICE DEPARTMENT. GREG’S ABILITY TO DO SOME PRETTY BONEHEADED THINGS WAS ONLY SURPASSED BY HIS UNCANNY KNACK TO GET CAUGHT DOING THEM. I HAVE HEARD SOME ATTRIBUTE THIS TO THE APPLE NOT FALLING FAR FROM THE TREE, BUT I WILL NOT COMMENT ON THAT. GREG COULD HAVE BEEN THE POSTER BOY FOR “NOTHING GOOD HAPPENS AFTER MIDNIGHT” OR “AMERICA’S DUMBEST CRIMINALS.” WHEN HE WAS 12 HE DECIDED TO “RUN WITH THE OLDER CROWD” AND ENGAGED IN SOME LATE NIGHT EGG THROWING. HE SEEMED SHOCKED THE NEXT DAY WHEN ONE OF HIS AFOREMENTIONED FRIENDS FROM THE VBPD KNOCKED ON THE DOOR TO TAKE DOWN HIS INFORMATION AND STATEMENT. WHEN ASKED HOW THEY WERE ABLE TO IDENTIFY GREG AS ONE OF THE CULPRITS, THE OFFICER SAID, “IT WAS EASY - MOST PARENTS DO NOT SEND THEIR YOUNG CHILDREN TO BUY EGGS AT THE 7-11 AT 12:30 IN THE MORNING AND SURVEILLANCE CAMERAS DON’T LIE.”

ONE THING I ADMIRED ABOUT GREG WHENEVER HE MANAGED TO GET IN TO TROUBLE WAS A WILLINGNESS TO ACCEPT THE RESPONSIBILITY AND CONSEQUENCES OF HIS ACTIONS. WHILE THE EGG INCIDENT HAS AN AMUSING ELEMENT TO IT, THERE WAS ALSO A VERY SERIOUS SIDE AS WELL. THE SECTION OF ROAD WHERE THE BOYS WERE THROWING EGGS AT PASSING CARS HAD A VERY DANGEROUS CURVE. THE CAR THAT WAS HIT AND WHICH GENERATED THE POLICE REPORT INVOLVED A GRANDMOTHER AND HER GRANDCHILD. I WOULD LIKE TO A FEW EXCERPT FROM THE LETTER GREG WROTE ON HIS OWN.

“MY NAME IS GREG WEINER AND I AM 12 YEARS OLD. I WAS ONE OF THE KIDS INVOLVED IN THE ACT OF THROWING EGGS AT CARS. EVEN THOUGH THERE WERE OLDER KIDS THERE, I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THINKING. NOW THAT I THINK BACK I KNOW WHAT I DID WAS HORRIBLE. I COULD OF CAUSED AN ACCIDENT OR EVEN THE LIVES OF YOU AND YOUR GRANDCHILD. I COULD OF NEVER LIVED WITH THAT ON MY MIND. IF I COULD GO BACK RIGHT NOW, I WOULD NEVER HAVE EVEN CONSIDERED GOING WITH THOSE BOYS AND COMMITTING THAT CRIME.”
HE GOES ON.
“I AM WILLING TO HELP PAY FOR DAMAGE TO YOUR CAR AND WILL EVEN HELP YOU DO CHORES AROUND THE HOUSE TO MAKE UP FOR MY MISTAKE. I HOPE YOU CAN FIND IT IN YOUR HEART TO ACCEPT THIS APOLOGY. AGAIN, I AM TRULY SORRY AND HOPE YOU AND YOUR FAMILY WILL GET THROUGH THIS ALRIGHT. SINCERELY, GREG WEINER.”

GREG CELEBRATED HIS 18TH BIRTHDAY BY PURCHASING A LOTTERY TICKET, CIGAR AND ADULT MAGAZINE. WHEN I ASKED HIM WAS IT WORTH THE MONEY HE SAID, “NOT REALLY, MY TICKET DIDN’T WIN, THE CIGAR MADE ME CHOKE AND I COULDN’T BRING THE MAGAZINE HOME.” THIS WAS JUST ONE INDICATOR THAT GREG WAS NOT DESTINED TO BE A GIANT IN THE WORLD OF FINANCE. MONEY HAD A WAY OF BURNING A HOLE IN HIS HAND LIKE NO OTHER. NEVER ONE TO HAVE MORE THAN POCKET CHANGE ON HIS PERSON, HE WAS ALWAYS ENGAGED IN SOME CREATIVE WAY TO MAKING FINANCIAL ENDS MEET. AT VIRGINIA TECH, WHEN HE EXHAUSTED THE FUNDS IN HIS DINING ACCOUNT BEFORE THE END OF THE SEMESTER, HE ENROLLED HIMSELF IN SEVERAL OTHER MEAL PLANS – EMILY’S MEAL PLAN, BRIAN’S MEAL PLAN, JOHN’S MEAL PLAN.

ABOVE ALL ELSE, GREG WAS GOOD AND DECENT PERSON. ANY SHORTCOMINGS HE HAD, INCLUDING THAT AWFUL BEARD HE GREW JUST TO AGITATE ME, WERE DWARFED BY HIS KINDNESS, LOYALTY AND LOVE FOR PEOPLE AND LIFE. TRY AS I WOULD, I COULD NEVER REMAIN ANGRY AT HIM FOR ANY SIGNIFICANT LENGTH OF TIME, AND I WAS ALWAYS ENVIOUS OF HIS ABILITIES AND POTENTIAL.

THERE IS A SAYING THAT “TIME AND TIDE WAIT FOR NO MAN,” AND THE BITTERSWEET REALITY IS THAT OUR LIVES WILL MOVE FORWARD WITHOUT GREG, AND OUR FOCUS WILL SHIFT TO FAMILY, FAITH, FRIENDS, JOBS, SCHOOL, COMMUNITY AND OTHER WORLDLY MATTERS. WHILE GREG’S SPIRIT WILL ALWAYS REMAIN PART OF MY HEART, THE QUESTION AT HAND IS HOW TO DRAW FROM THE MANY POSITIVES IN HIS LIFE, ESTABLISH AND PRESERVE HIS LEGACY, AND MAKE THE WORLD A LITTLE BETTER OFF.

I HAVE SOME SUGGESTIONS.

1) IDENTIFY AND SUPPORT A CAUSE. RECOGNIZE AND THANK A “HERO.” THROUGH THIS EXPERIENCE I HAVE GAINED A NEW APPRECIATION FOR THE CONTRIBUTIONS OF OUR MEDICAL RESPONSE AND HEALTH CARE PROFESSIONALS. THEIRS IS NO EASY OR ENVIABLE TASK, AND I AM ETERNALLY GRATEFUL FOR THE COMPETENCE, COMPASSION AND CARING THEY PROVIDED GREG AND MY FAMILY.
2) BE INCLUSIVE, KIND AND CARING. I HAVE COME TO REALIZE AFTER READING NOTES AND HEARING MANY STORIES FROM THOSE WHO KNEW AND SPENT TIME WITH GREG JUST HOW IMPORTANT AND EVEN LIFE CHANGING A SMALL ACT OF KINDNESS CAN BE. WE WOULD ALL BE BETTER SERVED TO BE LESS JUDGMENTAL AND MORE TOLERANT OF OTHERS.
3) CONSIDER ORGAN DONATION. AS MOST OF YOU KNOW, GREG WAS AN ORGAN DONOR BY CHOICE. AS HE LAY IN THE OPERATING ROOM ON THE DAY FOLLOWING HIS DEATH, FOUR INDIVIDUALS WERE SIMULTANEOUSLY BEING PREPPED TO RECEIVE HIS HEART, LUNGS, LIVER AND KIDNEYS. TODAY THOSE FOUR PEOPLE – SOMEONE’S FAMILY MEMBER OR FRIEND - AND POTENTIALLY HUNDREDS MORE IN THE FUTURE, WILL LIVE BECAUSE OF GREG’S SELFLESS GIFT. AS MUCH AS THE PHONE CALL FROM THE VIRGINIA TECH POLICE TELLING ME GREG WAS INVOLVED IN A BAD ACCIDENT WILL HAUNT ME FOR A LONG TIME, I TAKE GREAT SOLACE IN KNOWING THERE WERE FOUR PHONE CALLS WHICH BUOYED THE HOPE AND SPIRIT OF OTHERS.
4) BE A BLOOD DONOR. WE ALL EXPECT BLOOD TO BE THERE FOR US, BUT BARELY A FRACTION OF THOSE WHO CAN GIVE DO. YET SOONER OR LATER, VIRTUALLY ALL OF US WILL FACE A TIME OF GREAT VULNERABILITY IN WHICH WE WILL NEED BLOOD. AND THAT TIME IS ALL TOO OFTEN UNEXPECTED. GREG WAS A BLOOD DONOR AND RECIPIENT.
5) FOR EVERYONE, BUT ESPECIALLY THE YOUNGER MEMBERS HERE TODAY, UNDERSTAND THERE ARE CONSEQUENCES FOR EVERY DECISION MADE IN LIFE, AND THAT THESE CONSEQUENCES CAN TOUCH THE LIVES OF OTHERS. BY CHOICE, ALENA AND I ALLOWED OF GREG’S FRIENDS TO VISIT HIM IN THE HOSPITAL. WHILE IT WAS CERTAINLY NOT THE LAST VISUAL IMAGE WE WISHED PEOPLE TO HAVE OF GREG, IT WAS OUR HOPE THAT THIS IMAGE MIGHT VALIDATE JUST HOW FRAGILE THE HUMAN BODY IS WHEN SUBJECTED TO TRAUMATIC INJURIES, ESPECIALLY PREVENTABLE ONES.
6) WEAR A HELMET AND ENCOURAGE OTHERS TO DO SO - WHETHER SKATEBOARDING, RIDING A BIKE, SKIING OR SNOWBOARDING. PARENTS AND GRANDPARENTS CAN DO THEIR PART BY LAYING DOWN THE LAW FOR YOUR CHILDREN AND GRANDCHILDREN, AND SHOULD ALSO LEAD BY EXAMPLE. AS MANY OF YOU ARE AWARE, WE ARE ESTABLISHING THE GREGORY WEINER FOUNDATION WHOSE PRIMARY GOAL WILL BE TO INCREASE HELMET SAFETY AWARENESS. IF THIS EFFORT CAN PREVENT EVEN ONE FAMILY FROM GOING THROUGH THIS AWFUL EXPERIENCE, I THINK ALL WOULD AGREE IT IS A WORTHY CAUSE.
7) NEVER TAKE RELATIONSHIPS FOR GRANTED. STAY CONNECTED WITH PEOPLE. IF APPLICABLE, BURY THE HATCHET AND MAKE PEACE WITH LOVED ONES AND FRIENDS. IT MAY TAKE A LITTLE EFFORT, BUT I PROMISE IT IS WORTH IT. WE WERE BLESSED THAT OUR FAMILY WAS CLOSE AND I CANNOT BEGIN TO IMAGINE THE THOUGHTS THAT WOULD BE SWIRLING AROUND MY HEAD WERE THIS NOT THE CASE.

AGAIN MY FAMILY WISHES TO THANK EVERYONE PRESENT IN PERSON AND IN SPIRIT FOR YOUR GENEROSITY, SUPPORT AND WELL-WISHES. WE ARE SO LUCKY TO BE PART OF SOMETHING MUCH BIGGER THAN OURSELVES. GREG’S LIFE WAS TOO SHORT, BUT IT WAS A LIFE I AM PROUD TO HAVE BEEN PART OF. I LOVE YOU SON.

The Speech I gave with my sisters

Meredith:

The Weiner children have always been somewhat of a packaged deal. If you want one of us, you’d better be prepared to have us all. Cassandra, Meredith, Erin, and Gregory. Our closeness as siblings really formed due to the fact that we grew up as military brats, moving across the country every two years or so and spending absurd amounts of time in each other’s presence. We experienced a constant flow of change as kids, another new house, another new school, more new friends. The one constant we had to cling to was the fact that we always had each other, no matter what was going on around us. Over the years we spent so much time together, we went through so much together, that an extremely unique bond formed. The four of us were best friends, though none of us would probably ever admit it. I don’t think we ever truly appreciated how special and rare that is. As our friends may be able to attest to, the four of us have so many inside jokes and experiences that we sort of speak in our own language that no one else can understand. We can tell a joke by saying one word, share a story with a quick glance, or provide sympathy with only a fleeting smile. In a sense we are four variations of the same person. Our brother Gregory, the youngest, the lone boy, was an integral part of our sibling package. He was our constant source of entertainment. When he was a baby we loved him because he was so cute. When he was an adolescent we loved him because he got in trouble the most. And when he was a teenager we loved him because he could always make us laugh. He never sat still. Not for a moment. Always had to be doing something. Having fun was his number one priority. And even though pestering his big sisters seemed to be his greatest source of fun, we for some reason never minded it. That was Greg’s greatest gift: you couldn’t really get mad at him. He tricked me into electrocuting myself once, and even thought it hurt, we both just laughed. Another time he ran me over on his bicycle. And even though that REALLY hurt, we still both just laughed. I can’t tell you the number of hot dogs and slurpees I somehow willingly bought him from 7-11. He would treat me to the movies, but I always paid. Some people would say he was a Ratsicle, but really he was just a charmer.

Erin:

That statement could not be anymore true. When Cassandra and Meredith had left for college, it was just me and the boy. On our drives to high school, despite the driver chooses the music rule, Greg and I would routinely argue about what music to listen to. IN the end, like Meredith said, Greg would charm me into listening to his screamo metal music. By the end of my senior year , I made Greg proud, and was able to decipher most of the words.
Like our music battles, Greg and I had countless bickering arguments. When we were little, everything was my fault. Greg’s reason: I was the only kid with blonde hair. Then, as we were mature adults, we would physically fight over who would get the front seat. However, as we grew older, these meaningless fights over shotgun and music slowly disappeared, and a strong admitted friendship blossomed. I cannot begin to say how great this past semester was, having my little brother at Virginia Tech with me. We hung out so much; I saw Gregory at least six days out of the week. We both played water polo, and I even convinced Greg to take a class with me, although it didn’t take much convincing though, I told him the prof. gave us RC Colas and moonpies on our first day, and he was sold.). Much like in high school, Greg and I had a routine. I would call him every morning to wake him up. Then, five minutes later, I would call him again knowing he had gone back to bed. We would meet up for food, and he would comment EVERY DAY, about “It is a good thing we don’t have matching backpacks, or that would be embarrassing” we did. It was.
Greg would stay over at my apartment all the time with the goal of finishing all of our school work but it always ended up with us going of, watching youtube videos for hours, laughing until we were in tears. I even stayed over on his dorm room floor some nights, staying up till who knows when playing super smash brothers with his amazing hall mates. Come to think of it, we never did get much done. Ever.
. Sitting around, not making sense and just goofing off with Greg, were some of the best times I have had at college. Greg was truly one of a kind. A single semester at Tech and I could see how many people he had met and charmed into loving him, they way we have all along.

Cassandra:

When I first found out about Gregory, I wanted him to be my baby…literally, I wanted him to grow up calling me Mom, and while this was absolutely rational for my five year old self, my mom said no. I was mad for a while but then I was content to have this cute little Buddha bellied brother to dress up in tutus, steal ice cream from after convincing him the sprinkles were really ants, and laugh at when he chased our babysitter around, professing his love her, naked. It was good times. But then, one day, I realized that he wasn’t so much a brother as a friend. I think it may have been the countless hours we spent together as “moving buddies” sitting in the back of the little car while my dad would quiz us about sports trivia that made us so like minded. Whether we were driving around in the creaky old van blasting rap, screamo, or techno music, sneaking into Yu-gi-oh and Pokemon movies, or wearing the exact same pair of pants (although his were 2 sizes smaller than mine) I always knew I had someone who would be there with me regardless. When I moved away to Florida, Gregory was there to help me move into my apartment and eat my entire supply of toaster strudels. When I then moved even farther away to Mongolia, he was there to message with me and admit that he too would have tried the sheep brain. Gregory just accepted you as you were, and worked with it. He had “IT,” knew that he had “IT,” and didn’t care. That’s what made him awesome. He had a five minuet online conversation with my Mongolian friend once…5 minuets…and that was it. She absolutely loved him. She was even going to fly him out to visit this summer, that’s how much he impressed her. Gregory and I would talk a lot about the awesome things he was going to do when he grew up, and while much of it was just nonsense and much of it involved Jackie Chan, we both knew that he was gonna do something special. And he did. He lived his life, his way, to the fullest. How many of us wish that we could do just that? And then, even in death, he made an amazing impact on peoples live. I just get so proud of him when I think how happy he made some family this holiday season by giving their kid that big, loving heart of his. Forget Jackie Chan. Gregory, its you who are most epic…our brother, our friend, our hero.

"Why are you locking the doors?"

It is a dark and misty night, as a van silently pulls into the darkened culd-a-sac of a peaceful beach side neighborhood. They pull into the driveway of a house set slightly back into the trees. A light is on in the workshop above the garage and through the expansive windows you can see a man at work. The lights of the incoming car distract him momentarily and he disappears out of the room. A young woman, clad in black, exits the back of the van and walks towards the house, one that is not her own, and proceeds to enter. The man by this time has reappeared in his workshop and appears to be on the phone. Does he know this woman has entered his home? In the idling car two more women sit in wait, watching as the scene unfolds. Their accomplice paces back and forth between the kitchen and what appears to be a living room. Just what is she doing? Why doesn't she make the drop, or at least contact the man? Is she snacking on something in the kitchen? What is taking her so long? The two women in the car are incredulous and starting to get frightened. The one in the passengers seat locks the doors, and the driver laughs nervously at her. There is no need to be afraid...is there? Sure this looks like a scene straight out of Halloween or Friday the 13th, but those are just movies....right? A phone goes off in the back seat, its the missing woman's but the other two need something to distract them, so they read the message. Its from the owner of the home. She's messaging to say she is not at home, and will be in touch later. Just then the woman in the house turns and makes to leave. The two in the car quickly return the phone, and greet their returning accomplice. All three of them then drive off into the night.

And you want to know what...this is a true story. Erin was the lady who walked into the house. My mom (the driver) and I (the passenger) were dying laughing, because my sister just walks into this house and just hangs around for more than 20 minuets, far longer than is necessary to drop off pictures and write a note. It was also really creepy and I really did lock to doors to protect me and my mom from and psychos who may have been lurking around hoping to steal my Mom's awesome reading glasses she bought at PetSmart (I kid you not, they are red and say "woof, bark, ruff" on them over and over, its so lame its cool. I must admit I'm a bit jealous about them).

Anyway, its past midnight and I need to sleep. America is pampering me something fierce. I'm a bit afraid to go back to Mongolia, I'll be like a newb all over again.