ribbs worn shoes.

Driven by a sense of retrospection, I read through the essay that helped to get me selected for this London experience. What I found were words that at one point I practically knew by heart. This essay was the center of my world for a while -- partly because of its importance to my study abroad plans, but also because of the healing that it provided me. I thought I would share the portions of my essay that touched on Mr Ribb so that all of you could get an idea of why I wanted to come in the first place...

As long as I can remember, I have wanted to study abroad. Before I even knew what was beyond my house in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, I knew I had to be out there; out in a world where my comfort zone is pressed, where history and modernity collide, where people can break from the rhythm of their lives, if only just for a moment. I knew I wanted learn things that cannot be taught, which can only be acquired through life. Now, finally, an opportunity has come for me to not only visit a country abroad, but to become part of a larger community.

Community is a feeling I know very well. Since moving from my house in Pennsylvania, I have lived in a string of small cities and towns that offered some wonderful friends. One of the people who I had been closest to in my life was my high school Latin teacher, Olof Ribb. On the first day of class, he put a picture on the board of two girls sitting under a tree. “Puellae sub arbore sedent,” he said to a room full of blank freshmen faces. “Sub arbore sedent puellae,” he said again, as he pointed to the tree and then to the girls. After four or five minutes of this, it finally clicked. “The girls sit under the tree,” I thought to myself. Little did I know that this was only the beginning of what I would learn from Mr. Ribb…

Olof Ribb would appear to be a simple man to those who don’t know him. Though he turned 59 this year, he still sleeps in a twin bed in a three room apartment. When looking around his living room, you can see what he truly values. Books line his shelves with the names Aristotle, Homer, and Isabelle Allende laid in gold on each spine. The books are in Spanish, Latin, Italian and German—all of which he can speak and read fluently. On his walls hang treasures from distant lands, each probing a hundred questions from your mind. A small, funny looking statue sits on his coffee table demanding your attention with its absurdity. It is a wooden relic from India, a place he’s only been once but yearns to return to one day.

Olof does not spend his money on his home or his car. To him, tangible wealth is worth nothing. What Olof thinks made him wealthy, is his sense of the world. Wealth is nothing that can be juggled among fingertips, but rather the blueprints of the life you have lived. When visiting his house, several friends and I made fun of his twin bed. He just laughed saying “Well, I’m not really in it much,” as he pointed to a wall with a world map that was littered with push pins to represent the places he had been.

When Olof travels, he doesn’t miss a beat. Spending most of his summers exploring Denmark or Sweden, he comes home with hour’s worth of stories to tell. He went to a spa in Norway, where after sitting in a hot tub, patrons would recline in the snow until their skin stop tingling. After renting a bicycle in Italy, he biked along the shore until he reached a place so remote that he skinny dipped in the sea. Though all of his stories were exciting to hear, they would also make me sad: I had no stories of my own. Hearing about his life forced me to evaluate my own. With introspection I’ve seen how naive I am about things outside of ‘my world’ and am now eager to expand my horizons.

On the last day of school, Mr. Ribb took our small advanced Latin class to Olive Garden for dinner. While dining on crab stuffed ravioli, breadsticks, and Italian salad, he gave a little speech about how much our class had meant to him. He spoke to the room full of adults who no longer wore ‘blank freshmen faces’ but rather smiling-through-tears faces of admiration. He gave each of us a card with his contact information and a special quote that he picked out for each of us to remember. I recall blinking through tears to look down and read my card.

“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.”
- Saint Augustine
Read on, Olivia!

Why he chose that quote for me, I can never imagine; but, ever since the quote has had profound impact on me. My choice to study abroad is as much educational as it is spiritual. Yes, I want to go for all the educational benefits, but I also want a renewed look at myself and my country. I feel that spending this time abroad will broaden my awareness, making me a more rounded person.

After a short struggle with cancer, Olof Ribb died on January 17, 2006. He was only fifty nine years old.

I was stunned. I was confused. I did not cry right away. Since I was not with him when he passed, it was hard for me to convince myself that he was really gone. Two weeks went by, and still, I had not fully accepted his death. Over winter break I flew to Colorado to see some relatives. On the flight, I was lucky enough to get a window seat, since it was such a beautiful day. I sat with my forehead glued to the window, enjoying the clouds lit golden by the sun, when a song swept through my ears…

“The soles of your shoes
are all worn down,
The time for sleep is now,
It’s nothing to cry about,
Cuz we’ll be together other soon.”

The song is by Death Cab for Cutie and is called “I Will Follow You Into The Dark.” Something about those lines gave me peace. The soles of Olof’s shoes were all worn down. He died a happy man having lived his life well and having seen so many things.

My shoes, however, have yet to be broken in. I am ready to be abroad, to see the world in a new perspective. I am ready to be a Londoner. Having spent years preparing myself to embark on an abroad adventure, I am finally ready to start reading that book.

END

And the good news is, my shoes are looking fairly worn these days...