Peace Corps Week 2026

Peace Corps Week always brings me back to where so much of this journey began.

In 1997, I arrived in Paraguay as a beekeeping volunteer. I thought I was going to teach a skill. Instead, I learned how little I understood about place, community, and what it means to belong somewhere not my own.

Beekeeping taught me patience. It taught me to pay attention to systems I couldn’t control. It taught me that every hive is a community—fragile, interdependent, and shaped by forces far beyond what we can see.

But the deeper lesson wasn’t about bees.  It was about listening.

It was about sitting with people, sharing tereré, and realizing that knowledge doesn’t arrive from the outside—it grows from within relationships. It was about understanding that development, like ecology, is not something you impose. It’s something you participate in.

Looking back, I can see how much of my work today traces back to that experience.

The Geographical Imaginations Expedition & Institute.  The World as a Village of 100 PeopleGlobal citizenship, human geography, civic imagination.  And a love for daily walking!

All of it, in some way, began there—in a place where I first learned to see the world not as a map to understand, but as a community to be in relationship with.

Peace Corps didn’t just shape what I do. It shaped how I see.  And maybe that’s the real work:  Not to “help” the world.  But to learn how to belong to it more responsibly.

To all those serving, those who have served, and to those who support(ed) us—thank you for being part of that ongoing lesson.

#PeaceCorpsWeek #GlobalCitizenship #Beekeeping #Interdependence #Service #GeographicalImagination

The Work Between Elections

In 1949, my grandfather, J. Lawrence O’Toole, ran for mayor of Bridgeport, Connecticut. He was a bricklayer from Black Rock and a labor organizer who came into politics the slow way: through union meetings, community debates, and the kind of civic life that doesn’t announce itself as such. He challenged Jasper McLevy, the socialist who had governed the city for years and built a reputation for frugality and municipal steadiness.

My grandfather lost that election. For a long time, that loss was something my family referred to now and then, as if its meaning were already fixed. Yet as I watched Zohran Mamdani win the New York City mayoral race this week, that story opened back up. Mamdani, a democratic socialist shaped by tenant organizing and neighborhood mutual aid networks, did not win because of a sudden surge of ideology. He won because civic participation had already been happening — patiently, consistently, out of public view — long before Election Day.

This is the part of politics we rarely describe honestly. Campaigns are not really about speeches, slogans, or personality. They are about whether neighbors talk to one another; whether communities build institutions that last; whether people believe that participating in public life is worth their time. Elections are not causes. They are outcomes of civic work already done.

My grandfather belonged to a version of civic participation grounded in labor. Workplaces were where political life began. The union hall was a form of local government long before City Hall entered the conversation. Bargaining was not abstract; it was a daily negotiation over safety, wages, and dignity. To run for office as a labor leader was simply to extend the logic: if working people live with the consequences of municipal decisions, they should help make them.

McLevy’s supporters saw civic responsibility differently. Their version of public life emphasized stewardship — careful budgets, transparent management, and insulation from corruption. They believed that participation meant oversight and accountability. These were not opposing social classes. They were two different theories of how people should work together to govern themselves.

What connects 1949 Bridgeport to 2025 New York City is not the ideology of socialism. It is the recognition that civic participation is a process, not a performance. Mamdani’s win was not spontaneous. It was the product of tenant organizers knocking on doors year after year, of neighborhood groups coordinating across blocks, of residents building trust in one another long before they were asked to build trust in a candidate. The election did not create that civic infrastructure. It revealed it.

And this matters because of what comes next. Winning elections has a way of disguising how fragile civic participation can be. When a movement gains power, the work changes. Governing requires translation, compromise, patience, and the willingness to hold together coalitions that are not as unified as they once appeared. The meetings get longer. The disagreements get sharper. The stakes get more real. The romance fades and the work begins again.

This is where my grandfather’s story remains useful. His loss did not erase the civic networks he helped build. The labor movement in Bridgeport did not end with that election. It shifted, reconfigured, and continued to shape how working people engaged in public life. Losing did not mean disappearing. Losing meant the work moved into another form.

And winning will require the same perseverance. The civic networks that carried Mamdani to office will need to stay intact, not for celebration but for governance. If they become symbolic instead of practical, the victory will be temporary. If they remain functional — if participation continues when the cameras are gone — then something more durable will have been achieved.

The easy story would be to say that democracy spoke clearly last night. But democracy does not speak clearly. It speaks in fragments, in efforts, in partial agreements, in structures people build piece by piece. It speaks through the slow work of organizing, showing up, listening, arguing, and returning to the same room the next week.

If there is a lesson that connects my grandfather’s loss to Mamdani’s win, it is this: Democracy is not what happens on Election Day. Democracy is the work that makes Election Day matter.

The vote is not the end of participation. It is the evidence that participation happened.

And it has to keep happening.

The work is not the victory. The work is the participation.  And the work continues.

 

A Word a Day Keeps the Doctor Away

A Word a Day Keeps the Doctor Away

Today, I guessed the Spanish Wordle in just one turn–something I have never done in my native English. My heavy-vowel, go-to starter word, AUDIO, turned out to be the solution. It was a moment of sheer luck, of course, but it also felt like the perfect time to reflect on something I’ve been noticing for a while now: I might be better at Spanish Wordle than English Wordle.

Wordle has been a daily ritual for me going on three years now. I was a second-wave adopter, not getting hooked until after the quarantine(s) of COVID. Early on, I started to notice a pattern—my Spanish guesses were consistently more successful. I could regularly solve Spanish puzzles in four or fewer tries, while in English, I’d often need five or six. This was surprising to me, especially as a native English speaker who learned Spanish as an adult.

What could explain this unexpected trend? Does playing Wordle in a second language activate different cognitive processes that give me an edge? Could my streamlined, immersion-driven Spanish vocabulary help me focus on common, high-frequency words? Or does the predictable structure of Spanish make its puzzles easier to solve than English’s more irregular patterns? I set off to explore the differences in how I approach Wordle in my two languages. Here’s what I’ve discovered.

Cognitive Processes in a Second Language

Playing Wordle in Spanish activates a different part of my brain than when I play in English. As a second-language learner, I approach Spanish puzzles with heightened focus and logic, applying patterns and rules I’ve consciously learned over time. This deliberate process contrasts with the intuitive approach I often default to in English. While intuition can be quick, it isn’t always precise, especially when sifting through the vast pool of words I know as a native speaker.

In Spanish, my more methodical strategy seems to pay off. I’m forced to think critically about each guess, and this focus helps me make better decisions. Solving puzzles in a second language also feels like a challenge, one I approach with enthusiasm and motivation. This heightened engagement keeps me more alert and careful in my guesses, compared to the more relaxed way I tackle English puzzles.

Vocabulary Size and Active Usage

Another factor is the difference in my active vocabulary in the two languages. In English, I have a massive vocabulary that includes countless words I rarely, if ever, use. This breadth can actually work against me in Wordle because my brain has to sift through a much larger pool of possibilities. I often overthink, considering obscure or overly complicated words.

In Spanish, my vocabulary is more streamlined. It’s made up of practical, high-frequency words I’ve learned through study and immersion. These are the same kinds of words that tend to show up in Wordle, making it easier for me to zero in on likely answers. My familiarity with commonly used words in Spanish gives me an advantage, even though I’m not a native speaker.

Immersion and Context

Living in Spanish-speaking environments has further enhanced my ability to play Wordle in Spanish. Daily exposure to the language has given me a deep sense of its rhythms and patterns. I instinctively know that Spanish words often end in vowels like “a,” “e,” or “o,” and that plural forms commonly end in “s.” These structural tendencies are deeply ingrained in my mind from years of immersion, and they help me quickly eliminate unlikely combinations.

In English, however, the variety of words I encounter is broader and less predictable. English draws from a wide range of linguistic influences, making its word patterns more diverse. This diversity, while fascinating, can make it harder to anticipate solutions in Wordle.

Word Formation and Orthographic Regularity

The structural differences between English and Spanish also play a role. Spanish is highly phonetic, with a consistent relationship between sounds and letters. Once you know the basic rules, it’s easier to guess how a word is likely to be spelled. Spanish words also tend to be more uniform in structure, which helps when narrowing down possible answers.

English, by contrast, is full of irregularities. Silent letters, unpredictable vowel sounds, and an abundance of short, monosyllabic words add complexity to the puzzle. The inconsistency of English spelling means there are often multiple valid guesses for a single set of clues, making the process more challenging and time-consuming.

Emotional and Psychological Factors

Playing Wordle in Spanish also feels different emotionally. There’s a sense of accomplishment in solving puzzles in a second language, which makes the experience more enjoyable and rewarding. This added motivation might be part of why I perform better in Spanish—I’m simply more invested in the game when it’s in a language I’ve worked hard to learn.

In English, I sometimes take the game for granted. As a native speaker, I approach it more casually, which can lead to mistakes or missed opportunities. The novelty of playing in Spanish keeps me engaged and focused in a way that English doesn’t always manage to do.

What I’ve Learned

Wordle has taught me a lot about how language shapes the way we think and solve problems. My success in Spanish Wordle highlights the benefits of immersion and the power of focused, logical thinking. It’s also a reminder that sometimes, working with a smaller, more curated set of tools—in this case, my Spanish vocabulary—can lead to better outcomes.

This experience has even influenced the way I approach Wordle in English. I’ve started borrowing some of my Spanish strategies, like prioritizing vowel-heavy guesses and focusing on high-frequency word patterns. These adjustments have made me a better player in both languages.

Performing better in Spanish Wordle has been unexpected but fascinating. It reflects the unique ways that language learning and immersion shape cognitive processes and problem-solving skills. For me, it’s a reminder of how enriching it is to learn a second language—not just for communication, but for the surprising ways it changes how I think and engage with the world.

International Turkey Day

For USAmericans living abroad, the holiday season often brings a craving for the familiar flavors of home. Bell’s Seasoning, with its blend of savory herbs, has been a staple in New England kitchens for generations, especially in Thanksgiving and holiday meals.

If you’re having trouble finding it locally, making a similar version at home is simple and requires only a few basic spices. Here’s a straightforward recipe to help you recreate this traditional seasoning and bring a bit of home to your holiday table, wherever you are.

This recipe approximates the flavor profile and works well as a substitute for the store-bought version.

Homemade Bell’s Seasoning Recipe

Ingredients

1 tablespoon dried rosemary

1 tablespoon dried oregano

1 tablespoon dried sage

1 tablespoon ground ginger

1 tablespoon dried marjoram

1 tablespoon dried thyme

1 teaspoon ground black pepper

Instructions

-Combine the Herbs and Spices: In a small mixing bowl, combine all of the ingredients.

-Mix Well: Stir thoroughly to ensure the spices are evenly blended.

Get Out The Vote, Get Out AND Vote

Get Out The Vote, Get Out AND Vote

Tomorrow’s Election Day in the United States of America, and here’s a reminder of how much one vote can matter.

In 1994, a Connecticut congressional race came down to just four votes out of 186,000. That’s right—four votes decided the winner, and it became a headline story in The New York Times. As a senior Political Science major, I was working with a coalition of student groups on the University of Connecticut’s Storrs campus.  We registered nearly 1,000 students to vote. In an election that close, those votes certainly had an impact.  This was one of only eight Congressional elections in the entire 20th century won by single digits.

So if you’re debating whether to vote, remember: it can literally come down to a handful of ballots. Make it count.

 

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Cartogram – a type of map in which geographic areas are distorted in proportion to a specific data attribute rather than representing their actual physical size.

The image above is from Bloomberg’s CityLab MapLab, featuring their 2024 blank presidential cartogram, ready for the first results. This cartogram minimizes physical geography and instead highlights election outcomes by resizing each state according to its electoral votes. This approach avoids the visual bias of traditional election maps, which can misrepresent popular support by giving equal visual weight to areas with vastly different populations.

 

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(Note: Yes, I voted by mail from Spain.)

 

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#Vote #MakeYourVoteCount #PowerOfOneVote #YourVoiceMatters #VoteForChange #DemocracyInAction #StandUpAndVote #BeTheDifference #YourVoteYourFuture #HonorYourRight #VoteWithPurpose #ChooseYourLeaders #EveryBallotCounts #OneVoteMatters #CountMeIn #ShapeTheFuture #OneVoteOneVoice #ThePowerOfVoting #ThisIsYourVoice #ShowUpAndVote #VoteBecauseYouCan #TakeAStand #RaiseYourVoice #ElectionDayReady #YourChoiceYourVoice #VoteResponsibly #FutureInYourHands #ClaimYourVoice #VoteForTomorrow #ActOnYourBeliefs #ChangeStartsHere