It’s hot here in Nicaragua. We were living in Granada— very hot, very humid, and not the easiest place to self-isolate with six kids. So we thought maybe we could find an isolated beach to escape the heat and play in the waves. We climbed into our rented, manual transmission, diesel, 16-passenger HiAce van to go explore. Driving in Nicaragua is not like driving in the U.S. On the two-and-a-half hour drive to the beach, we dodged cows, dogs, horses, ox carts, horse carts, people riding horses, and people who walk in the road like it is a sidewalk. This is in addition to more standard traffic like cars, trucks, motorcycles, public buses, and bikes.

Driving in Nicaragua is not like driving in the U.S. On the two-and-a-half hour drive to the beach, we dodged cows, dogs, horses, ox carts, horse carts, people riding horses, and people who walk in the road like it is a sidewalk. This is in addition to more standard traffic like cars, trucks, motorcycles, public buses, and bikes. On that day, after lots of wrong turns, we never made it to a usable beach. On the way home, we drove through a very narrow street in a small village called Santa Teresa. THUD! My front tire went into an uncovered drainage hole

My dad, Dale Sutherland, was born during the American Great Depression. In fact, my grand-mother said about my dad’s birth, “When I went to the bank to get the money for the hospital, the bank was closed.” I still remember that particular sentence from my grandmother, who spoke it directly to me. I remember because I had little one-on-one time with her since I had to share her with a few dozen grandkids all wanting another molasses cookie. It seemed to me Grandma was “A-Okay” with the bank closing—like that was the least of the trouble at that time. I did not find out until later that I was right.