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depressing.
    I clearly erred in repackaging my presentation for this group, or at least in hoping for an enthusiastic response. The room was large and formal, non-descript in its decor, and attendees sat motionless at round tables of ten or so. It was dreadful. I should have felt more at home than I did. After all, they were university women and I was a university woman. But I was feeling more and more alienated from all things university-related. On top of that, I was in the midst of acknowledging that my marriage was coming to an end. I did not want to be there. The thought of standing before a crowd extolling the accomplishments and potential of women made me sick to my stomach. Between greetings, I stared out the window. It was a warm spring afternoon and I knew my kids were at the ball park with their father. If there were anywhere at all I would rather be it was at the park.
    The only saving grace was meeting a delightful woman at my table. Never particularly good at small talk, I was grateful to be seated next to someone so genuinely charming. Her smile and interest in things that mattered kept me going. The meal was fine, but I was not very hungry. After my presentation, I was just glad to sit down.
    "So, you've really been to Cuba?" she asked.
    "Pardon me?"
    "You mentioned that you had traveled to Cuba. That must have been exciting." The talk had been a sort of out-of-body experience. It was a blur, and I couldn't remember exactly what I had said.
    "Yes. Yes, it was. I learned a lot. It is a fascinating place."
    "By any chance have you been to Haiti?" My ears perked up.
    "Haiti? No, why?"
    "It's next to Cuba. Just wondered." I was impressed she knew it was located near Cuba.
    "Yes, it is. I remember being in Baracoa, in eastern Cuba, when our guide pointed to some heavy clouds and told us it must be raining in Haiti. That's as close as I've been. I'd love to go."
    "There is a group planning a trip. If you're interested, I could give you their information."
    "Well..." Any other time I would have said yes without hesitation. But I wondered how I could possibly do it now, knowing my family was falling apart. "I have been wanting to for such a long time."
    "The organization is called the Heartland Center."
    "Thank you," I replied. The Heartland Center. I wondered what kind of group this was, but it didn't really matter to me. I called the office later that afternoon expecting there might be a trip planned some distance in the future.
    It turned out to be a Catholic group affiliated with the Diocese of Gary, which devoted its work to social justice issues both locally and globally. Its director, Father Tom Gannon, answered the phone himself. The exchange was eerily easy, and I felt as if I could talk with him for hours. The chance meeting with that anonymous woman would change everything, as it marked the beginning of a new path of discovery.
    My marriage did end. I found it strange that a professor of mine had warned me years before when I entered graduate school that women who pursue advanced degrees often divorce. I denied anything like that would happen to me. To say that higher education causes divorce is reminiscent of 19th century claims that the rigors of graduate school pursuits caused sterility. "Experts" based their conclusions on the fact that highly educated women tended to have fewer children. There was no logical connection. And I could not imagine holding myself back on the chance it might preserve my marriage. But, for many reasons, we did grow apart. I was very much in love with him when we married, but nineteen years and three children later, we had little to say to one another. Following an argument one evening I asked him to leave, and he was gone by morning. I filed for divorce later that week.
    We attempted briefly, and perhaps half-heartedly, to reconcile. It did not work. Living together again, we went on a Saturday night movie date as we had often done the past and were silent the entire ride