Love + Compassion

As our world has continued to expand, and our societies and communities have followed the trend, it seems we've started to grow apart.  I know I often allude to the pace of the world and discriminate against it for personal reasons, but I have been reminded of why I hold contempt for that pace.

While it's not every day that I meditate on society and the world on an abstract level, when I do have flashes of those thoughts, I see flashes of desperation and a sense of panic that only deepens and becomes more rooted with time.  From more harmless moments like Black Friday shopping, where shoppers elbow one another, push one another and race towards their treasures, to moments of road rage or inconsiderate driving, when drivers cut one another off, carelessly risking the lives not only of those in their own vehicle but those in the others around them.  And then we can travel the spectrum to events like those that unfolded in Newtown, CT, on Friday.  Murderous contempt for our fellow human beings--in this case for the most innocent and promising of our population.

Ironically, what I've observed in the world around me is that as our economy blossoms into a more global one in nature and our individual cultures begin to meld into a more universal and multi-cultural society, we have become more and more isolated.  This self-concern and isolation has started to foster incredibly unhealthy and often tragic trends.  This self-concern and isolation has devalued love and compassion for others and internalized these things so that it's strongest only for ourselves.  This trend has made it so that we celebrate those who still embody love and compassion for others as heroes.  They, undoubtedly, are, but the sadness is found in the fact that that is what we were all built to be.  Without traveling too far down a Christian road, the symbolism in the cross, itself, reminds us of the importance of our relationships and love for one another.  The cross tells us that our relationship with one another is just as important as our relationship with our Maker.  And yet, we so easily and often forget this.  Just as so many faiths tell us that we should go to worship on a weekly basis, they should tell us to worship one another always.  My safety is as important as your safety and well being, so I should care for you--stranger, friend or family--as I care for me.

So many things in our country need to be fixed.  But, coming down from that level--the one where our government and other systems are responsible for change--we need to be fixed.  We need more parents, more people, who can help people like the shooter in Newtown.  We need more people to do this so that we no longer have to watch the faces of 6-year-olds and 7-year-olds flash across our screen because they have been brutally murdered with a semi-automatic rifle.  We need to be responsible for the well being of one another and the well being of our society.  We need to stop traveling down this dark road of isolation, helplessness and lack of concern on a daily basis.  Because all of those days that pass will always lead to a day like Friday and the subsequent days after of suffering and sadness.  We landed on the moon, we innovate new technologies, we find ways to make loads of money.  Now, we need to figure out how to help one another.  How to love and be compassionate again.  

Thoughts on Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving ranks as one of my favorite holidays.  Some of my favorite things are a part of the holiday--like delicious comfort foods and the favorite niece and nephews.  Unlike Christmas, there is so much less pressure.  No frantic gift buying and giving, so no resulting panic over gift buying debt or getting it just right.  No multiple day celebration, wearing everyone out and producing the holiday fatigue cloud.

One of my favorite ways to spend time is cooking and baking.  Without ever really noticing it until recently, I've also developed an affinity for doing so in the company of others.  If you've never tried cooking or baking with your friends or family, you really must.  The kitchen is the equivalent of my adult tree house.  I hide out there with my favorite people, feeling nothing but elation over the opportunity to huddle in the company of others in the warm, delicious-smelling homiest part of home.  Even more, I love creating good eats with others.  Whether we're all individually responsible or working with one another on goodies, it's always a team effort that, in the end, can be appreciated as such.

The smells of Thanksgiving immediately stir good memories and excitement for me.  I know many candle companies capture the individual smells of the holidays, but I really think someone needs to capture the symphony of smells that come together with the roasting turkey in the oven.  Whether it's the stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes or pumpkin pie, they all partner perfectly.  These smells together can take the likes of an empty bomb shelter and transform it into a cozy home, fire burning in the fireplace and the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade playing in the background.

There has been only one occasion when I have not made it home for the holiday.  I was a starving student in Philadelphia, and I honestly don't even recall what I ate that holiday with my out of town guest.  What I recall best is working the aisles of Borders Books & Music (yes, they still existed) on Black Friday, wondering why I had just missed out on my favorite holiday ever at home.

And so this year, as I gather at the table with my family, I will be very thankful for the great privilege of gathering with them in a warm, cozy setting, with all of the smells of Thanksgiving cradling us in our celebration.  And while I usually pause at some point in each day, amazed by my great fortune in this life, tomorrow, I will pause to be grateful for my Thanksgiving Day fortune of being right where I want to be.

Navigating Life's Rivers

We know ourselves best.  This is always a good motto to follow throughout your life.  But, there's also often a lot of noise around us, making it hard to hear ourselves think.  Times of crisis can be especially tough--whether health-related, emotional or otherwise.  I think of these times as having their own currents, like a river, and whether this river is only a river to you or not, it can still carry you away.  

So, I offer two tools below that have helped me recently and that I'm growing to value more with each day.  

• Health Tool.  This past year has offered me a lot of content in the health department.  Lots of downs, unfortunately.  The really great part of this has been my own exploration of how my body and mind are connected and how all of those small things that you write off as small can, in reality be big and, as a result, have big effects on your health.  So, my first bit of advice is to always, always be fully aware of what's been floating around in your mind as you seek medical advice.  The second part of this health tool is to always be your own advocate when you do seek medical attention.  Asking questions should not equate to doubting your doctor's intelligence and competence.  Unfortunately, I think that has become a trending assumption.  In my own case, I was convinced that I had to cave on taking a medication I'd been avoiding for years...literally years.  I caved and ignored my own concerns only to spin into many months of darkness.  And when I say darkness, I mean the type of darkness that makes functioning extremely challenging and a darkness that shrouds all feelings and emotions of the good sort in total darkness.  Along this road, I noticed a difference, so I thankfully kept aware and talked often about what was going on with my family.  Finally, when a health scare of a larger proportion snuck in, my family doctor finally put an end to a continuation of the medication that I'm convinced, at this point, took a downward spin and turned it into a nosedive.  Do not be fooled by the effects of medication.  While this medication was to help relieve symptoms I would really rather go without, which it did for the most part, it left me feeling in the deepest depths of post partum depression.  Not cool. So, ask questions, be curious and always communicate your gut feelings.
• Well Being Tool.  As a result of said medication above, I became desperate for some emotional relief.  Enter Jon Kabat-Zinn and mindfulness meditation.  Kabat-Zinn runs a sophisticated stress clinic in Massachusetts.  He is nothing short of a thought leader in the field, and his tools have helped many people.  So, I picked up one of his books, Full Catastrophe Living, and I started making myself listen to his Body Scan Meditation on a nightly basis.  Between the knowledge in the book, and the calm of the meditation practice, I have gained so much more appreciation for how responsible we all are for our well being.  The world, this day in age, tells us not to stop.  It tells us not to slow down for fear of being trampled.  But, learning mindfulness meditation has taught me not only what stopping and slowing down does for me, but through that, what it can also do for others.  This is not to say that it's easy because it is not.  With work schedules, family schedules, responsibilities, etc., it is so easy to bypass this daily exercise and gain a bit more television time, reading time or just plain down time.  But, I've personally come to adore my meditation hours.  The strength and calm that can be elusive in light of tough times begins to flourish and bring such joy.  On nights when I hesitate, I think of the darkness that that medication brought with it.  And then I ask myself if there was anything else at all that helped me combat that, and the answer is no.  And so, I embrace the lifesaver and, in the end, bring my mind and body relief from the day's challenges and stress.

       

Holidays

This year, as you get caught up in the hustle and bustle of the holidays--because you know you will...we all will--try to remember something important.

Every day...every single day...is just as important as the next.  Granted, important people have done very important things, changing humanity forever and banking some days memorializing their feats. But, we each change humanity--for better or for worse--every moment of every day.

So, perhaps this year is the year to live every day as you do a holiday.  Memorialize the day, a beautiful moment in the day.  These days, it's as good as a holiday if you take a moment in the day to stop.  Put down your smart phone, turn off the television and simply breathe in the day and all that it has so graciously given.  Because this, my friends, is the greatest gift of all.

Generation Z

This past weekend, I had a mildly rude awakening.  It started innocently enough--a simple trip to the movies with my niece, Sydni.  The last time we went to the movies to see the newest Ice Age movie, we had seen a preview for Frankenweenie, Tim Burton's newest creation.  Since then, I think I've driven her completely crazy trying to schedule a time for us to see Frankenweenie.  (This entailed saying that movie name out loud way too many times to count).  In any case, after a last-minute debate between Frankenweenie and Hotel Transylvania, we went with the Burton film.

After about a half hour or 45 minutes into the movie, Syd looked over at me in the dark to see if I had any gum.  Her eyes were welled up with tears, but she was acting totally normal.  I had to ask in a couple of different ways, but I finally got a confession that the movie was upsetting her.  I felt awful, of course, but we were able to leave and continue on with a really enjoyable day.  Why did we have to leave?  Let me explain.

Early in the movie, there is a depiction of a boy who is very close with his dog--does everything with him.  Next thing you know, the boy is pressured into playing on a baseball team, the dog chases one of his balls into the street, and the inevitable happens, killing the boy's beloved dog.  While I knew this was a natural condition for Frankenweenie to be Frankenweenie, I guess I was a bit surprised at how detailed the story was surrounding this portion of the movie's action.  The movie was rated "PG," so I didn't even think about it, and I thought about it even less since the preview had been shown in a movie that would have a pretty young audience (Ice Age).

Unfortunately, Sydni and I have both lost beloved pets in the past year, so perhaps this contributed to our strong response to the sadness.  But, this really made me start thinking because this is not the first time that I have submitted Sydni to a seemingly kid type of movie that made her cry.  Now, I want my niece to be realistic in how she digests the world and all it has to deal, but I also would love to take her to the movies without her crying.  And I have to say that most of the previews we saw before this movie started were more in the dark realm than I would expect for kids.  I compare them to ones I watched as a kid, and I can't really draw a comparison because movies, for me, were a total escape from the real world.  Fun, animated, sometimes with a tinge of real, but never too much.

I worry about a lot of things, but the more I see, the more I worry about "Generation Z" and beyond.  They're exposed to such adult concepts so young, from grown up concepts camouflaged in animated movies to constant networking with the world, and I wonder how that will ultimately play out for them.  I hope that I can resume taking my niece to see youthful and inspiring movies, shall any be made in the foreseeable future.  And I hope more than anything that kids will get to be kids for a good long time--before they get tossed into the real world and see that the dark and complicated are superfluous.  They should have some time of wonder, about how things work and things that they cannot simply have but have to wait for.  Simple is good and kids need a dash more simple and good.    

Furry Friday Edition: Pet Goods

Pet apparel has never been for me.  First, I've always had cats, and they're not so supportive of pet apparel experimentation.  Moreover, though, I've never been able to really appreciate it.  My thought has always been that there are many, many other things to spend money on.  However, this pet apparel pictured at right?  That is a dog shirt, purchased by me, for my 60 lb. goldendoodle puppy.  Obviously, something has changed.

This new affinity for dog apparel is rooted in the discovery of Fido's Fashion Collars.  I didn't even really count this as a venture into dog apparel because every dog should have a collar.  So, it was a little more along the lines of a need.  However, I started to buy Tucker these customized collars when he was just a pup, and being that he weighed in at 8 lb upon arriving at home, you can imagine the number of collars we have gone through.  Add to that the fact that I cannot bear to place an order with Fido's unless I order multiple collars.  Why?  My only answer is puppy apparel is like crack.  It's a terrible habit just lurking in the wings for you to bite.  There are rotations of holiday collections, seasonal collections, just because collections.  And once you've bought in once, it's all over.  

More recently, I've hit an issue that further compounded this situation.  Tucker is a big guy, and he doesn't hesitate to drag me through our walks.  I've found one harness that reels in his power a bit.  Funny enough, that harness is the sole harness on the market that has no padding in a crucial portion of the harness structure, which causes occasional scraping to a dogs skin behind their front legs.  I figured this was like the listing of side effects for any medicine.  There was a 1 in 1000 chance that Tucker's harness would actually rub him wrong.  But, alas, I was wrong.  I was really disturbed the first time I discovered it was rubbing him, so I quickly started to replace the harness...only to be dragged through our walks again.  Then, I had my light bulb moment.  If I place a t-shirt on him, then the harness won't rub!  There will be a protective layer!  You would think that the initial discovery that dog t-shirts run about $25 would have deterred me.  But, no.  BaxterBoo.com reeled me in just like Fido's Fashion Collars, and I have purchased my first two dog t-shirts.

So, remember.  Things change.  One day, you see yourself as a level-headed consumer, aware of the tricks of the dog apparel trade, and the next day you could be in the thick of a brand new bad habit.  All I can say is thank goodness Tucker cannot speak English.  I feel sure he would be pulling me aside for a word after parading around the neighborhood in his new dinosaur-themed t-shirt, complete in fall colors.

  

The Debate Debate

'Tis the high season of political debates.  As a disclaimer, this post will not be a medium to convince you of who should be president.  It's more a commentary about the antiquated debate system and how little help it really lends voters.  The official tradition dates back to 1960, but there are also other instances referenced before that time.  Overall, however, what's learned through these debates is what follows:

1. No matter who is placed as the moderator, participants ignore them.  So much discussion surrounds debate format, rules, etc.  However, this all falls apart once the debate starts.  Lesson learned?  These debates are simply a microcosm of the state of our political system.  Politicians do what they want, when they want, and no rules or morals or laws will stop them. 
2. Candidates spend more time talking about what the other is not doing or not planning to do than they spend time on their actual plans and an explanation of effects of those plans.  When they're not discussing what the other has not done, they discuss their version of what the other will be doing.  Lesson learned?  We could view the endless negative political commercials at our fingertips, learning the same set of information and have 90 minutes more of our life back.  Everyone wins!
3. The debate system is inherently flawed.  Perhaps there was a time, once upon a time in history, when you could take any candidate for his or her word.  Today, however, truth is an illusion.  We have learned this through the plethora of political scandals that have unfolded before our eyes.  So, the fact that some insist that these debates are key to political races is absurd.  I don't want to hear infinite iterations of what these folks plan to do, I want to actually see what they will do or can do.  Give me a list of what you see, as a candidate, as the top 5 issues in our country.  Then, tell me what you're going to do about it...and then?  Tell me what you have done previously that would support that you can actually make this happen.  Using debates to determine a candidate's qualifications, to me, would be like putting together a pro sports team by simply having players tell you what they can do.  Sports, like politics, are about doing.  If you can't do, then you are not qualified.  It seems in today's world, though, that more and more decisions are made by what people say they can do.  I wonder how this has worked out? 
4. Lastly, as long as our political world is dominated by partisan ideals, with no interest in unity, then debates will remain an extension of that philosophy.  We will learn nothing, they will repeat the same stuff we see and hear otherwise, and we will continue to get nowhere.  It's great to know what the Democratic and Republican candidate want to do and how much they detest one another's solutions and ideals.  But, how is that a barometer for how they'll do their job...with those hundreds of others who must help them get the job done?  I would rather see a format where they must sit down with those across the aisle and actually demonstrate how they would walk through solutions together.  Isn't that what they really must do to get the job done?  Where is our common ground?  How can we expand on that...and...in the end...actually benefit our constituents? 

I have always been underwhelmed by politics, and it's for these reasons.  For me, it's more an act of theater than what it should be, which is pretty serious stuff with pretty high stakes.      

The Tech Glitch

As a member of the generation that has essentially grown alongside technology, the internet--the digital age--I have come to accept the years of convincing that technology is good, that it simplifies, and that it's super duper smart.  However, just like us, technology can have its bad days, and now that I've cycled through enough of those days, I've decided to highlight my latest experience so as to eradicate the huge technological elephant in the room. 

I have to say that I don't see our government as a technology "power user."  However, this became even more clear several weeks ago when I attempted to buy a treasury bond for my niece.  This experience was already feeling a bit heavy because it was the first time this idea had come to mind for me, and it reminded me that this was my grandfather's favorite gift to give throughout much of my childhood.  This memory made me realize that only the aged think of this as a gift option, and this would make me aged.  But, then, to make it even worse, the timeless tradition of buying treasury bonds has been catapulted out of the Stone Age and into modernity.  My nostalgia for times past came to a screeching halt when the bank informed us that banks no longer sell treasury bonds.  Why don't our financial institutions sell these financial products?  Well, that is because the government decided to throw the entire process into the trusting hands of...the internet.  This seemed a good idea until I reached the "Treasury Direct" rabbit hole/web site.  In order to buy bonds, you must create an account.  In order to gift bonds, the recipient must have an account.  Regardless, you purchase your bond and then you can only electronically transfer it to the recipient 5 days later.  This is a very brief version of a very difficult process. 

I agree that technology can be super great.  I mean, what would we all be doing with our endless minutes of life if it weren't for the ability to bounce from app to app, site to site and e-mail to text?  And what would I do when I end up in Jebbia's, looking to buy a fresh herb and have no idea what I should be looking for?  Without Google images, these moments would force me to actually speak to a store clerk.  In any case, though, I do think there are some things best left untouched by the digital age.  The treasury bond purchase process would be first on that list...and the up-and-coming driverless car may very well be a second. 

Outdoor Reading, Part Two

Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods is a super delightful read.  He is one of the funniest writers I have read, who also manages to be very educational in his telling of a tale.  I've always known of the Appalachian Trail, of course, but it wasn't until last year that I happened across the National Geographic:  Appalachian Trail documentary on Netflix and became more intrigued.  There are people who can get lost in the woods for months at a time?  I needed to learn more about this.

While the National Geographic film was wonderful for sweeping views of the best parts of the trail, with a little splattering of personal experiences on the trail, Bryson's book is told from the perspective of a completely clueless hiker of the trail and his haphazard companion. His side commentary about just about every aspect of the trail and its quirks is laugh out loud funny.  For instance, as he researches black bears and what to expect of them as he treks up the East Coast, he tells of nighttime reading about black bear attacks, and it's recalled with as much removed fascination as it is immediate concern.  While a grown man is clearly writing of these preparations, it's sometimes a young boy, fascinated by the horrors of nature, that comes through.  And that crack in the narration ends up hilarious.

A Walk in the Woods brings a refreshing reminder of how fulfilling it can be to slow down life a little bit and take in the world around you by foot.  It illustrates that this point is agreed upon by all people of all shapes and sizes, professions and origins.  It also offers the nuggets of history that produced the Appalachian Trail and lots of other natural history that illustrates flattering and not so flattering aspects of government intervention in nature. However, all is told with a small spritz of sarcasm, which helps to make it digestible and entertaining.

If the winter gets you down, and you need to escape from a little bout of cabin fever, definitely keep A Walk in the Woods on your list of possible (and cheap!) excursions.  

Outdoor Reading, Part One

I'm pretty partial to the outdoors in general.  I haven't really found anything that can't be remedied by a little fresh air and lots of nature.  There's so much to distract with a step outside--thoughts of the complexities, beauties, incredible systems of order (and disorder).  When preparing to embark on a trip to the beach earlier this month, I armed myself with some beach reading with the outdoors theme.  While I just finished one of the two and am just beginning the other, I can confidently say that neither has been a disappointment.

The climbing culture is one that fascinates me.  Perhaps one of the most fascinating moments I've had was watching Alex Honnold's interview on 60 Minutes.  This guy was the embodiment of no fear. This way of living is very interesting to me because I would judge that my own personal level of fear at any given moment is pretty high.  I'm the type that always tries to think like 20 steps ahead to avoid disaster--and disaster in my book could be defined as missing a dinner ingredient.  This is probably why I have not become one with the climbing culture.  After years of hearing bits and pieces about Jon Krakauer's personal account of the 1996 Everest disaster, I finally picked up a copy of Into Thin Air.  Before hitting the thick of the storm that would become the disaster, I was partially convinced that life would not be complete without a trek to the top of the world.  After the first-hand account of all that went wrong, along with all of the smaller things that always go wrong but just don't add up to qualify as disaster material, I was humbled by the relative safety of my everyday life--and even what I consider to be adventures!  Krakauer takes time to explain a lot of history, which is interesting, and he also details the evolution of the commercialized Everest climb.  The latter, in fact, was the primary motivation for Outdoor magazine funding Krakauer's trip to make the climb with a guided group.  Much to his shock, it would end up an event that would rock his world, and he'd never be the same.

Coming out of the read, I had a lot of mixed feelings.  I am always a critic of commercializing anything.  The problem with Everest is that it has become something trendy to do (with your tens of thousands of dollars), but unlike piercing your belly button or deciding to go vegan, it can actually consume the untrained (as well as the trained).  In my book, this makes it enough to not do it.  However, to take it a step further, there is also the natural outcome of commercializing--trash.  The mountain has become littered with empty oxygen canisters, among other human refuse.  The counter to these problems, though, is that the climbing industry has brought the sherpa industry, which in turn, benefits local families.  I won't get into the general economic boost for the countries surrounding Everest because as is also par for the course, the cost for licenses to climb has sky-rocketed--I would call this government corruption, but I'm sure others have different labels for it.

Overall, this is an interesting read.  It's a bit of a glimpse into the climbing culture, the climbing guide industry and, of course, Everest.  It does not have a warm, fuzzy ending and is quite unsettling at times, so if you pick it up, brace yourself.  Next post will cover my more recently started and much lighter read--A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson.  

The Gas Auction

As a lifelong (pretty much) consumer, I realize that costs of goods vary--from store to store, state to state, country to country, etc.  However, as the price of gasoline sky-rocketed this past week to $3.99/gallon, I took notice of a consumer puzzler.

Just about every gas station I passed along the main roads of Wheeling--National Road, Mt. de Chantal Road--were advertising their regular gas at $3.99/gallon.  But, as I traveled my super stealth back roads home from work since all main roads are currently under construction (such poor planning), I discovered a couple of outliers.

Schmidt Brothers Sunoco station in Wheeling (2811 Eoff Street) had their regular gas priced at $3.79/gallon.  Now, while a $0.20 discount may not seem like much in the big picture, my concern is that we're really pretty much getting the exact same product regardless of which station we choose.  And the fact that the majority of stations made it seem gas had to remain at $3.99/gallon (I think this time it was because of the unrest in the Middle East) became even more of a puzzler for me when suddenly, I noticed a change in the price at the Sunoco.  Oh no, not an increase, but a $0.05 decrease to $3.74.  I greatly anticipated hitting Elm Grove to see how low those stations had gone in the day, but to my great disappointment...they hadn't budged!  As I finished my drive home, I couldn't stop thinking about how simple getting the cheapest gas is as long as the Sunoco lasts in this phase.  I don't even have to spend more money on groceries to earn points to save on gas.  The automatic $0.20 discount comes at no price.  Shocking!

There's one other station in Bethlehem that also has its gas around the same price as the Sunoco on Eoff, but otherwise, I see the $3.99 price everywhere.  I'm sure that in this area of economics, something alludes me just like in many other areas of economics, but it kind of makes it seem like a huge free-for-all on the outside.  All I know is that for the foreseeable future, I will have to remain a Sunoco gal and victoriously cheer Schmidt Brothers each time I cruise by (using their cheap gas).  

Quitting the Caff

I think I may be one of those people who started drinking coffee out of a sippy cup.  That may be a stretch, but every morning for as long as I can remember, there'd be coffee brewing, and I'd get to take in at least a sip or two.  Most times when I was younger, it was decaffeinated.  But, alas, at some point in the timeline, caffeine snuck its way into my coffee, veins and heart. 

As I've been working recently on a better state of overall health, it came to my attention that caffeine was somewhat of a hindrance to that.  Granted, quitting coffee--or at least the caffeinated variety--would be no small feat for me.  It has literally been the best part of waking up for me for at least a decade.  At first thought, I couldn't even get my brain around attempting this.  However, with some will power, I was able to dive in and begin the adventure. 

I had definitely heard of the headache that accompanies quitting caffeine, and I am guessing there had been a time or two I suffered one due to late intake.  But, as I did this in a more mindful fashion this time around, I was stunned by the force of the headache that did materialize.  There was nothing...and I mean nothing...that was going to soothe this pain.  I tried popping a few Advil, figuring they may take the edge off.  No way.  After getting through day one, on day two, I started trying to "google" remedies for a headache that results from caffeine withdrawal.  The best solution was to take a nap.  I'm not sure about everyone, but speaking personally, I'm pretty sure it will not turn out well if I take a nap midmorning at work.  

So, at this point in the process, I decided that it would be best for my body, state of mind and productivity at work if I decreased my amount of caffeine rather than stopping cold turkey.  This required keeping zero regular coffee in the house.  And at this point, I have managed to go from about 3 cups of coffee in a day to one.  I no longer feel charged by the caffeine in a bad way, I feel far less impatient, and, perhaps best of all, I worship that one cup I do have, so I've gained a new appreciation for it rather than seeing it as a non-negotiable start to the day.  Perhaps in the next blog entry, I can explain my new affinity for Tim Horton's small double-double coffee...   

A Tribute to Natural Health

In recent months, I've had to tackle some routine but inconvenient health issues.  These were things that had been misdiagnosed and, thus, not treated correctly when it came to medicine for several prior months or even years.  Part of this is my own fault because I always assumed I was young and didn't really need a comprehensive look at my health.  So, I'd travel often to the urgent care center, and if I went to my regular doctor, I'd keep it quick and not really take the time to divulge everything.

Regardless of the variables, I just happened to find a new doctor who is a D.O., doctor of osteopathic medicine.  I've gotten very lucky, too, because she's extremely thorough and, from her many suggestions, she demonstrates that she lives by what she teaches patients.

I've always been somewhat enamored by medicine--probably because I'm somewhat enamored by the body and its miraculous ways.  But, more recently, I've noticed more and more how traditional medicine really does rely a lot on prescription medications.  While these can be lifesavers, I really don't want to be dependent on them at 30 years of age...I'm sure my time will eventually come.  

So, given the chance to get established with a D.O., I jumped at the opportunity.  I had been to one other one previously, while living in New Jersey, and she practiced no differently from any other M.D. I'd gone to.  Going into this new situation, as a result, left me pretty pessimistic.  But, to my surprise, Dr. Jennifer Burns is the real deal.  She works as a part of a larger practice, run by local veteran practitioner--Dr. James Comerci.  Her approach has been extremely thorough (investigating all possibilities through simple testing like blood panels), but as she has tried to connect the dots on things, she's also given me amazing resources to work with in the meantime.  While this approach requires a little more patience and time, I feel so much more comfortable adding natural elements to my lifestyle rather than making a trip to the pharmacy for some new addition to the medicine cabinet.  She has started teaching me about incorporating targeted supplements, dietary support and behavioral/lifestyle changes.  Best of all?  Using them in combination has really started to improve the biggest challenges I was facing, and I feel much more energetic overall.

While I'm sure there will be times that require more traditional approaches to health problems, I'm really enjoying this new approach to overall health and preventative care.  It's much more engaging on my part, and it doesn't require quite so much faith in everyone and everything else but me. 

Make It Count

As we grow older, we unfortunately must face the intimidating reality of our mortality more frequently.  It's a natural consequence of age that never grows any easier.  I learned today at work that a longtime colleague had passed away suddenly last night.  John Sincavich was an entertaining character with one of the largest personalities I've known.  He worked on our firm's HelpDesk, so I didn't work directly with him on a regular basis and only really did so when my machine would decide to fail me.  However, John and I shared frequent conversation because we worked on the same floor and, thus, ran into one another constantly in the hallways and kitchen.  John, a seemingly peripheral character in my life, left me with some great tidbits of wisdom.  He probably had no idea that he'd done so, but I think the tidbits could serve a wider audience well. 

One of the most common themes laced throughout our discussions had to do with traveling and seeing the world.  John would share his stories of travel in South America and prod me for details of my meager, in comparison, travels within the U.S.  I'll never forget running into him shortly after my return to Wheeling from working in the firm's New York office.  He made a point of stopping me to let me know how pleased he was that I'd taken the time to move away from the area and embark on the adventures I had.  It sort of framed my experiences in a different light.  As he spoke to me, I was equally impressed that he would take an interest and take the time to voice support for what I had done.  What I never had the chance to say in return to him was that his tales of travel to South America were inspiring to me.  Each time he spoke, his face would light up like a child's, and he would recall details like it was yesterday.  It was apparent that this time had left a major impression on him, and it left me grateful.  I was grateful that I had the opportunity to hear how life had been good to him.  I was grateful because I feel so inundated by bad news on a daily basis and yet this peripheral colleague at work was able to single-handedly remind me that life is really good.  And fun!

Another common theme more recently was that of being out in nature.  Somehow, he'd discovered my downtime interests in hiking, kayaking, etc.  So, he'd tell me of his adventures on the river, favorite restaurant experiences as he indulged in his times boating and locations that he'd been to that stuck out to him (i.e., state parks, etc.).  Again, as John spoke during these times, it was with an excitement tainted only by joy.  And by hearing his stories, it inspired me to think even more about the amazing experiences I've had the chance to enjoy. 

And so today, when I learned of John's death, I thought immediately of the void his absence will leave for his wife and son.  I was also touched by a version of that sadness and so decided to take a few moments out of the day and walk down to the river and give John's memory a few minutes of reflection.  As I sat, I realized that the overarching theme of my entire experience of knowing John was that of making it count--making this all-too-short time here count.  Find what you love and do it.  Do what you love and find the answers to why you're here.  Most importantly, when life hands you demands and time-consuming stuff that you may rather not be doing, focus on that time you do have and make it count.  Squeeze in all you can and be grateful.  And remember, you may have a short or long life, that cannot be controlled.  But, how you spend that time?  It's in your hands.       

Morning Fog and Nighttime Crickets

I am a self-proclaimed wimp when it comes to most of summer.  The heat, the sunshine...my body was not made for it.  However, I am a huge fan of the summer months because, as most would observe, nature is so alive and active.

When I get up in the morning, Tucker in tow, our first task is to head outside.  Most recently, when we do so, it's like the hills are in the process of waking up.  The sky only alludes to the sunshine's existence at this time, and this provides just enough light to feature the hills' release of the fog.  While I'm not a major fan of the dense fog that erases one's surroundings temporarily, this gentle morning fog is so beautiful.  It's as thought it has been trained to behave like morning would have it behave.  It quiets everything, gives the illusion of stillness.  And, before you know it, the hills have wiped the sleep from their eyes, and the fog is gone without a trace.  Amazing...and beautiful.

On the flipside of morning, there is bedtime, which brings with it a last trip outside with Tucker.  Just over the past week or so, I've noticed a little Jiminy Cricket that has taken up residence right around the steps to the front porch--perhaps maximizing his potential to benefit from our garden.  (Note that I realize Jiminy Cricket is not the best representation of the real cricket community; however, have you ever skimmed images of crickets?  Creepy.)  After a few trips past him, even Tucker took notice of his audible presence, searching the landscape at his level to determine where this new chirp was coming from.  This went on for a few days before I realized that Jiminy had obviously brought his entire cricket community with him, as the night air is now full of the chirps of many.  And then it was after this that I realized this is the most prominent sound of summer that there is to be had.  What an amazing chorus.

As summer starts to melt (quite literally this year) into fall, I can't wait to see what nature has to bring in the new season.
    

Passing the Baton

I've always seen the United States Postal Service a something completely separate from UPS or FedEx.  Granted, they've always done the same thing, but in a leg race, FedEx would come in first, UPS second and USPS third.  

I'm always sort of entertained by the length of time it can take items to process through the USPS.  I understand there are funding problems and, I'm sure, all sorts of other reasons.  But, basically, anytime a package of mine has been due for delivery, I've preferred FedEx or UPS.  They are simply more predictable, and to use one of the modern-day buzz words of America, they are transparent.  You can track them  as they bump their way from spot to spot, and now, you can even receive an e-mail or text confirming that they've finally bumped their way to your doorstep.

Recently, I wrote a post about my daily subscription to the Wall Street Journal, highlighting how impressed I was by the USPS's ability to get my newspaper to me the same day that it was magically dropped at the local post office.  Yesterday, though, this fascination was further compounded when a package I was expecting that had been en route for a couple of days via UPS was confirmed as having been "delivered to local post office."  I thought I was reading it wrong at first, but after a second glance, I confirmed my first reading of the information.  So, immediately, the question arose in my mind:  why would one major delivery logistics company drop my package off to someone else on the last leg of its journey?  And, besides that main question, why would UPS, the more successful runner of the race, pass the baton to the loser?

I was skeptical about whether my package would really get here, as predicted.  But, alas, the mail lady arrived, box in hand, and the final leg of the race was a success.  Still, I can't help thinking repeatedly...how strange is this part of the delivery logistics?!  It would sort of be like a rock star specialist surgeon, passing the scalpel just before the successful completion of a surgery to the "general surgeon."  Who wants the general surgeon to be their closer?

I'm guessing this either has to do with:

• (Idealistic Reason) the problems of layoffs at the USPS, and UPS's partnering efforts to prevent further ones; or
• (Cynical Reason) UPS capitalizing in the end by avoiding the most expensive part of the delivery process, which would be employing the driver who would have to drive his big loud UPS truck, which gets a 1/2 mile to the gallon, to my house, thereby allowing the poor schmuck of a mail lady to handle the final stage of execution since she was going to be stopping by anyhow.  

I'm still baffled about how UPS can drop a mail item off in the morning and ensure it's delivered, via USPS, that same day.  It's usually any one's guess when one drops a letter or bill in the mail as to when it will actually arrive at its destination.  This passing of the baton trick has made me wonder if there's a special bay somewhere at the post office where I could drop my rent off on the frequent occasions that I remember it's the day before or day that it's due.    

On the Birthday of Hemingway

"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast."

Today is the birthday of one of my absolute favorites in literature--Ernest Hemingway.  Having passed away in 1961, he's been gone for quite some time.  But it was decades later when I was first introduced to his work, and so much of his work lives on today as some of the most popular.

One of my favorite things about Hemingway, in fact, grows out of his presence across generations.  I recall when I first spoke of him and his work, my mom's ears immediately perked up.  This provided one of those fun bridges just as Steinbeck does.  Other things that bring Hemingway a little closer to home for me include his passion for fishing, which is of huge importance in my family, the simplicity of his prose and yet the complex relationships that grow out of that and, last but not least, the legend surrounding his cats with six toes in Key West.

As a whole, I'm fascinated by Hemingway's generation--the 1920s expatriate authors.  My fondness for that group of authors, in particular, is rooted in the distinct culture they created and maintained.  In fact, I found myself having a lot in common with Owen Wilson's character, Gil, from Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris, which spotlights Hemingway and his contemporaries.  This being the case, one of my favorite works is Hemingway's memoir, A Moveable Feast, from which the above quote comes.  This work breathed life into the amazing artists of this time, lending them each personalities and quirks as the real people they were.  This made it a pretty magical read for me, and I recommend it to others.


In thinking more about the quote above, I believe Hemingway's thought here is universal.  We can expand it to encapsulate so much of life.  In other words, most if not all of life's experiences are moveable feasts.  Just as he carried the moveable feasts of war, complicated relationships and Paris with him, we all carry our various experiences with us.  The gift he had was taking all of these moveable feasts and making them lasting works of literature.   


And so today, as you carry on about your Saturday business, take a quick few minutes to think about Hemingway--perhaps even pick up one of his short story works like, "Hills Like White Elephants," or "Big Two-Hearted River" or "The Snows of Kilimanjaro."  I am so glad to know his work and his life, and his many illustrations that behind simple is always complex.  Isn't this true in all of life?     

Six Months of Happy

What a difference 6 months makes!  I started to reminisce a bit this morning as I was spending some time with Tucker, and I had to share some observations about the last 6 months of learning & loving my canine companion.  

• From baby to best friend.  The day Tucker traveled home with me, he was a little ball of fur, tightly curled up in my mom's arms as I drove us home.  He was pretty miserable from his car travels, so he did nothing but sleep and look sad for about 24 hours.  After that 24 hours, it was about 4 months of him being a baby in every meaning of the word, and this made for a lot of work.  I didn't mind the work because I love playing the role of caretaker--it satisfies the deepest depths of my being.  But, what I soon realized is the incredible reward that would eventually come in return of that care.  At this point, Tucker has become a best friend.  He pretends to enjoy everything I ask him to do, putting up no fight.  This includes baths, trips to the vet and the inevitable "beauty shop" time I submit him to on a regular basis.  Most important, he's excited about the start of each and every new day.  In fact, I would go so far as to say he's elated at the light of each new day.  This, on most days, is contagious.  All of this positive return makes him the best best friend a girl could ask for.  
• Learning in silence.  Bonding with Tucker has taught me a ton about intuitive bonding...without words.  In most relationships in your life, you gradually learn about people through their own words and indications.  It's been a beautiful process to learn Tucker's likes, dislikes, triggers for fear, most effective means of praise, etc.  My experience has been that the world sort of has to go away sometimes so that I can "listen" to him and read his body language.  I may have accumulated a plethora of harnesses, collars and leashes, but we've finally figured out what he best likes for taking walks.  This is important because as he's grown from a mere 12 pound, easily pliable puppy, into a not-so-easily-pliable 51 pound puppy, he has gradually surpassed me in strength.  I've also learned that he really loves ice cubes and will stop just about any poor behavior for one.  He also really enjoys some concentrated time for love and hugs after his breakfast and just before bed.  All of this, I've only learned through close attention and an almost meditative approach to our bond.  
• Wherever I go, there you are.  One of the most endearing traits about Tucker is that he's emphatically mine.  There's always some stir happening in the house, which includes another human, another canine and a feline.  But, despite all of this "noise,"  Tucker stays so focused on me.  I go about chores or go to the bedroom to read before bed, and whether he was dead asleep or not when I decided to do this stuff, he appears at my side.  He doesn't care if I can't pet him or pay him all of my attention.  He just likes to be within eyesight.  The comfort and adoration that accompanies this habit of his makes me wonder how I didn't feel like I was missing something before him.  
• My very own Richard Simmons.  So, he lacks the fancy fitness attire and high energy expressions of encouragement.  However, he definitely has the curly hair, and he has definitely shown me the way to consistent exercise and better health.  We take walks in the early morning as well as the later evenings, providing the temp drops below 100 degrees.  And these walks have become so enjoyable.  It was not always this way...this has definitely been an evolution.  Initially, I could barely convince him to step a paw outside of our front yard.  His canine sister Riley, who is approximately one-third his size, gradually taught him the ways of pounding the pavement as a four-legged companion.  And it's only been within the past month or two that he's decided he can fend for himself and take walks with me, minus Riley.  Now, he's so in love with walks that he sits his straightest sit, giving his loveliest glance, and gently whines to remind me it's time to leave for our walk.  The hour of walking we do together in a day has been great for my health as well.  And, as a walking partner/canine child, Tucker convinces me we shouldn't skip our walk simply by being.  It's not like the guilt you feel if you slip out on a human walking partner, it stems from a general concern for their health as your pet, which for me has been like the experience of caring for a child.  I want nothing but the best for him, and without a word, he confirms he wants the best for me.        

And so, my experience with Tucker has been one that started with great love and affection, but it is something that has grown into a much deeper bond.  There is a mutual caretaker role that neither one of us seems to mind.  In fact, it's such a natural and harmonious connection that it's hard to believe it's only been 6 months.  I thank my lucky stars each and every day for his love and his good health, and I can't wait to spend many more months watching him grow.

Part Two: Ruminations on Money & Morality

Another situation in the news that further advanced my disappointment in moral decision-making when money is involved, is the natural gas boom that's going on locally and the notorious fracking technique used for natural gas production.  I have been skeptical about the gas industry's entry into the Ohio Valley ever since the entry began.  Why?  Historically speaking, no industry or corporation overpays or even properly compensates those who provide resources.  As such, the buzz and excitement surrounding how much money was out there for those willing to sell their land's mineral rights to these companies made me feel a certain level of discomfort.  The local economy has been depressed ever since the local industries slowly died, and so the fact that these gas companies were coming in and offering pennies on the dollar for people's land rights and were heralded as breathing life back into the Valley, to me, has remained ridiculous.  The differential that results between what these "booming" companies have to give versus what, in reality, they're offering promises to be pretty large.  And they play off of the fact that these are people who have struggled for decades now.  Taking advantage of struggling citizens is frowned upon.  Unless there is a bundle of money to be made.

My feelings on this unfolding situation grew even more uneasy as I listened to a news story on NPR last week.  Christopher Joyce reported a story on All Things Considered, titled "Rising Shale Water Complicates Fracking Debate."  While there is a lot discussed in this story that is of interest, the overall message, for me, is that there is little to nothing known or confirmed about the environmental or human effects of fracking.  There has not been enough time for full studies to be conducted before these companies moved in to various locations and started drilling away for their golden resource.  Do we use widespread medical treatments on patients before they've been properly studied on a small number of people to ensure humanity's well being?  No.  Why?  Medical ethics.  So, why then is it widely accepted for billion dollar industry moguls to set up camp, disrupting ecosystems and virtually every other part of life, without proper assurance that people will not actually suffer as a result of this novel approach to extracting resources?

Money and its worth have always been interesting to me in relation to the actions of humans.  It is such a temporary commodity (because we gobble it up then spend it), and yet we seem so willing to toss our morals out the window if we can just get some more of it.  In the meantime, the currency that really matters, our relationships with one another, take a backseat.  Our relationships with one another, our relationship with the land and our responsibility to promote the positive and growth in both...these are the things that matter most--at least in my mind.  My fear is that there are a lot of people who will someday reach their end, and it will only be then that they realize the damage they've done by placing their relationship with money above all of this.

Part One: Ruminations on Money & Morality

I have been working very hard to avoid the topic of Jerry Sandusky in my posts.  I have done so partially because of the mad coverage by the media otherwise but also because it is one of the few world events that has left me without words.  In addition to the unthinkable actions on his part, I've become more and more tormented by the lack of moral infrastructure present in what seems an infinite number of other adults. 

I think about the situation, and I see the lure of money--lots of money--being a primary concern throughout.  And I wonder when it is that the human mind abandons the role of protection and migrates to the role of greediness.  When was it that Joe Paterno or the university's president or others began to abandon the well-being of children in the interest of money?  Moreover, when did they convince themselves that this disgusting situation would forever stay under wraps, and their actions (in favor of money rather than morality) were the best route?  For me, the tragedy in this situation is self-evident.  What is most puzzling is how an adult mind fails so completely.  The failure, in my opinion, is the complete abandonment of concern for humanity.  This failure is further complicated by a shortsightedness.  By choosing to avoid bad press (ironic at this point) and, in some cases, the path most financially fruitful, these individuals have forgotten about the wide expanse of the net that they cast.  What is one of the most common reports you hear about child sexual abuse?  It is that the abuser has been violated, him or herself, as a child.  So, in effect, all of these adults actively chose to allow this widening pall on humanity.  Right now, we are learning the details of the central scandal, eventually, we will probably hear more about the ripple effects.  

Morals, it seems, are generally forgotten in the face of money.  There are far fewer stories about the good that folks do with their excess than there are the disappointing stories about their ultimate demise because of their excess.  Out of this mess at Penn State, my hope is that others will learn and do things a little differently.  It's unlikely that this is the first or only instance of such failure.  Where money reigns, conditions appear ideal for such failure and shortsightedness.  





    

 

First Harvest

Besides a couple of friends I knew growing up, who lived on farms, I'm pretty sure most of the members of my generation know very little about growing and harvesting produce.  I say this because it was almost breaking news for me when I read about growing seasons in Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.  Ever since I can remember, I would walk into a grocery store and see the same collection of produce from which to choose.  There may have been small reminders, like the annual opening of the Ebbert Farm Market in St. Clairsville, OH, but otherwise, I sort of just assumed everything was grown all the time.  I also never had any appreciation for what a difference it makes to buy local--or at least not from Mexico or other locations that require the produce to rack up the miles of travel before getting to me.

This summer, I've had my first vegetable gardening experience, and this past week, I had my first harvest experience.  We picked a few of our heirloom tomatoes to go on our BLT sandwiches we were having for dinner.  I've had a lot of tomatoes in my time, but I've never tasted any one as good as what I tasted on that sandwich.  It was the perfect balance of sweetness, and it was the perfect texture--not too mushy and not too firm.  This single experience has totally made me a believer.

Now, I can't wait to sample the cucumbers and peppers from the same garden.  I hope they blow my socks off just the same.  

Heat Wave

I know all anyone can talk about is the heat wave, but I couldn't help joining in the symphony of commentary.  I've lost track of when the heat actually started, but what I can say is that I think we're all due for a little break.  Mother Nature obviously disagrees, and I think She is a bit more powerful in opinion.

I am a total wimp when it comes to summer heat.  My body was much better built for colder-than-normal temperatures, so while some become hermits in wintertime, I become a hermit during these really hot times.  I'm like those Jesus bugs that skate their way across a water's surface, dashing from one air conditioned space to another.  And, most likely, between those spots, I'll find just enough time to re-declare that it's really hot.  I like to remind all of the obvious.

When I was a writing tutor in college, one of the annual flocks of students came as a requirement when they wrote their lab reports for their cricket experiments.  This weather makes me think of those experiments because, basically, what was demonstrated was how cricket activity slowed down as a decrease in temperature was administered.  I feel like one of those crickets, except my slowed behavior comes with increased temperatures.  I take Tucker out in the front yard for his regular bathroom outings, and we both take two to three times as long to climb the modest hill and retreat back into the cool house.

Because I always love to infuse even the least desirable situations with a little cheer, I will say that the heat does make for some pretty incredible dawn hour scenery.  Our first trip outdoors usually comes around 5:45am, and at that hour, the surrounding hills are giving back to the skies, releasing big puffs of fog.  As the fog and quiet linger, the birds and other wildlife seem grateful for the small break from the extreme temperatures.

 

Wellness

There's rarely a day that passes that I don't marvel at the body's ability to independently sustain life.  Moreover, I'm usually in awe of the fragility surrounding its ability to sustain life.  The delicate balance and complex number of processes and systems never ceases to amaze me.  Over the past several months, I've gone through a number of medical changes.  New prescriptions for this, exams for that, supplements for this and that.  In this mix, I've learned something I knew nothing about, and this new knowledge only serves to reinforce my conclusion that the body is an amazingly complex thing.

I have never had a great immune system...basically for as long as I can remember.  Someone could sneeze three houses up, and I'd catch what they had.  As I grew older, I started to try to remedy this through healthy eating, obsessive handwashing and lots of other stuff.  Based on how I have treated my body, in theory, I should be the last to catch anything.  However, the serial infections just continued.  Over the past month or so, I stopped feeling myself.  I lacked energy, I could barely complete a normal day's work without collapsing before reaching my couch (and I sit in a chair all day!).  My body's ability to regulate my temperature started to go really wacky...I wouldn't just have a passing chill, I would have to huddle under covers sometimes with a heating pad, and I wouldn't just get a little warm, I would start to sizzle and stay that way.  More than anything, though, I was having to sleep 3-4 extra hours a day just to have a normal day.  There aren't enough hours in a normal day, let alone one where you add several hours of sleep time--and this was in addition to a standard 7-8 hours overnight.

In any case, I have finally learned after testing that I have a serious Vitamin D deficiency.  I sort of scoffed at this initially because, seriously, Vitamin D is gonna make me feel all of that stuff above?  Sure enough, it can turn pretty serious if left untreated, and it definitely causes both immune deficiency as well as weak muscles and fatigue.  Thankfully, my health care professional was able to figure things out and will now help nurse me back to prime condition.  But, the important thing to note is that I made multiple trips to the doctor before this was able to be determined.  I was being treated for the various infections that were occurring, but until last week, no one stopped to investigate why my system tanked and continued to fail.  So, definitely be your own advocate and remember that if things don't seem right to you, they probably aren't.  Our body needs us to listen...I'm sure glad I did.

Then & Now

I've started a new book, written by the author of Seabiscuit, Laura Hillenbrand.  Her new book, titled Unbroken, is the tale of Louie Zamperini and World War II.  Hillenbrand has a gift for taking history and transforming it into a wonderfully entertaining written account.  I remember picking up Seabiscuit, at the urging of others, and thinking to myself how little I knew or really cared to know about racing horses.  But, with great surprise, I couldn't learn enough or get enough of the author's tale.  As I continue through Unbroken, I can tell already that it will be the same experience.  The criss-crossing of personal experiences and the world's stage as a backdrop create an appetite for more.  As many of us know, everyone has a story; but, we're just not all lucky enough to have a gifted author like Hillenbrand to properly convey the story and make it so interesting.  

As I rounded out the first 100 pages of the book last night, all that kept passing through my mind is how all of the technological advances made between then and now have totally changed the way humanity thinks and exists.  The resourcefulness demonstrated by the group of airmen with whom Zamperini is stationed is like nothing else I've seen or experienced in my lifetime.  That is not to say we do not have brilliant thinkers to this day.  It's that, in many cases, these men had to depend on their own independent, innovative and novel approaches to their individual tasks aboard their B-24 or else there could be major disaster.  There was no master plan or manual that answered all of their questions, leaving them to a rather mechanical task.  Between Hillenbrand's telling of Zamperini's youth and his entry into the draft and, subsequently, the war, it becomes clear that there was far less "noise" in the world at that time.  By noise, I refer to all of the technological distractions of today, easily-accessible entertainment outlets and excess of money making a lot more possible to take advantage of all that is out there.  Simply put, this generation had a lot more free time on its hands to fill in more interactive, not to mention, challenging ways.  Nothing at all was a simple click away.

Today, things are so easily accessed.  We want music, we download it from iTunes;  just a decade or so ago, I would have still had to at least wait until I could make the trek to a music store, which is now almost unheard of.  We want a book, we either download it instantly to one of our many devices or order it, knowing it will arrive within a few days.  There isn't even really space for desire when it comes to learning about current events and news anymore.  The space that used to be inhabited by curiosity or anticipation has all but disappeared now that we have instant gratification (oftentimes before there is even a chance for desire to be born) through Twitter, Facebook, e-mail alerts, etc.  My only fear in contemplating these things is that there is a certain creativity that came out of having to really figure out how to access these things before.  Because they weren't readily available, there was a certain appreciation for them, and in the meantime, there was an appreciation for what was already there--in most cases human interaction and socialization with family and friends.

I'm sure that Hillenbrand's thought-provoking tale will only continue to dig this hole of thought even deeper in my mind.  While there is no way to revisit this time incarnate, I'm super grateful to have the opportunity to experience it through her writing and Zamperini's perspective.        

Knowledge on the Doorstep

I am naturally curious about a lot of stuff.  In addition, my job forces me to know a lot about stuff that, otherwise, I would probably know nothing about.  Particularly, corporate world sort of stuff, which is the furthest from my natural universe.  For instance, I would never sift through SEC filings for a company that has just gone public through an initial public offering.  I would definitely not take stock of their choice of anti-takeover provisions within those filings.  But, since my job does require me to have some knowledge about stuff like this, I have been attempting for some time to toss a wide net and bring in any and all relevant information I can pertaining to the everyday business operations unraveling around the world.  Where do I turn for this information?  Well, it's a good excuse to turn to good old-fashioned print media and newspapers, in particular.


Years ago, I developed an affinity for The New York Times.  While still in school, there was a good portion of the time that my college had daily editions available.  That eventually came to an end, but I would make my way to newsstands to pick up the Sunday edition and had home delivery while working out of our New York City office.  Then, there was a time after moving back to Wheeling that I would receive a mailed copy of the Sunday paper two or three days after the fact.  Old news is no fun to read, so that was short-lived.  Last year at some point, I turned back to the New York Times, hoping for a miracle when I searched to see if their home delivery was available in East Liverpool, OH, where I was living at the time.  Through the online system, the claim was, yes, delivery was available for my zipcode.  Unfortunately, to spare the grim details, delivery was not available, and many many phone calls and handwritten letters later, I'm still convincing them that I owe them no overdue balance because I never received any product.   


Just earlier this week, after sort of falling head over heels for Marketwatch reports on NPR and the stories on the iPhone app, I meandered my way to the home delivery page of the Wall Street Journal.  There have been a few times that, out of desperation, we've picked up the weekday edition, and I have been pleasantly surprised that the stories are made interesting and not so saturated with business lingo that the point is lost.  This is good.  To my surprise, the Journal is available for home delivery in Wheeling, and against my better judgment, based on my recent experience with the Times, I subscribed.    

Yesterday was the first day the paper was due for delivery, so I eagerly watched for the delivery and searched the perimeter of the house.  No paper.  Due to experience, I was prepared to report the problem and immediately cancel the subscription and was completely deflated.  To my great surprise, though, I arrived home from work, checked the mailbox, and there it was!  It arrived by mail rather than paperboy, but it was the Thursday edition and it was here!

After settling from this great surprise, my mind was piqued with curiosity.  How did the Journal do it?  How did they get a print copy of their paper to me on the same day that it was released?  I don't know your experience with the USPS, but it can take upwards of 2 days for letters to travel a block away since they usually travel the block by way of Pittsburgh (serious?).  In addition, the same process required 2-3 days for the Times in the past.  I will admit that I actually "googled" some phrases to figure out how they do this, but I came up with nothing.  I'm in awe of their well-oiled system, and I have to place the WSJ at the top as my preferred print newspaper.  An unexpected, yet pleasing turn of events.

 

Playground Politics

As I read a story today about the presidential race, I couldn't help but be reminded of my days spent on the playground of Park View Elementary.  I guess, in all fairness, the memories could also spill over to the basketball courts of Triadelphia Middle School (this was the recreational space where we spent our much more sophisticated middle school recess time), but I believe the parallel with the Park View playground would be most fitting.  Why?  Because recess at Park View was much more rich with imagination, make believe and, more than anything, imagined power.  

The story I was reading was in the Wall Street Journal and titled, "Clues Emerge on Romney's VP Pick."  As I read the story, it became apparent, first, how much speculation is involved in this phase of the presidential race.  But, as opposed to the overwhelmingly controversial tone of virtually every other aspect of the race, there's a certain playfulness about this aspect.  While the closing paragraph of the story focuses on commentary directly from Romney on the subject, in which he asserts that only he and one other advisor are privy to the inner workings of this selection, the story seems to outline in cut-and-dry fashion, the obvious choices.  Going back to the commentary from Romney, though, there is a seductive mystique surrounding the choice.  Millions are watching and guessing, but in reality, his rhetoric confirms that the center of power really lies in a very small sphere.

Now, moving to Park View Elementary.  To walk past the school today, which now stands as a random center of businesses amidst an otherwise residential backdrop, one would never guess that throngs of children passed through its quarters and ruled its playground.  There was the kickball/wiffle ball field, basketball court (with the priceless foursquare framework), the monkey bars, ropes, slide, fireman's pole, etc.  Our gym class would often be moved outside in good weather to the kickball field,  and virtually all recess times (weather permitting) were spent in various corners of the rest of the playground.

Memories of choosing teams in gym class definitely parallel the Romney story.  No one would know exactly when they would be chosen by which team leader, but there was definitely a sense of superiority laid at the feet of team captains.  And if you were the poor soul chosen last for a team, well, your place in the pecking order was indelibly sketched--at least for the remainder of that day.  So, the fleeting nature of who is in and who is out also reflects the politics of team selection from the Park View days.  It was not uncommon for the person chosen last one day to be the one chosen first the next.  No real rhyme or reason, just politics.  And don't think there was never a place for advisers like Romney's Beth Myers, as this was a key factor in the decision-making process of the all-powerful team captains.

I realize running our country is not child's play.  Whoever ends up our leader for the next term has quite the work to do (but, don't be fooled by the media, as I'm pretty sure that problems as we're encountering now have always existed--it's just a new set for a new day), however I couldn't help but point out the familiar tone that these two seemingly disparate spheres of life share.  If only the race could be decided by a simple game of kickball...or red rover.

Books and Their Authors

As a student of literature in college, I was often witness to the ongoing debate regarding the importance of author background or biography in understanding works.  Personally, I was always of the mind that it wasn't necessary to have this background.  Most literary creations stem from personal experience, of course, but my thinking was reader understanding wouldn't necessarily be dependent on a full review of the author's background.  This all changed for me earlier this week when I picked up Jeanette Winterson's memoir,
Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?.

When I lived in Philadelphia, Winterson came highly recommended by a manager of mine at Borders Books & Music (dear Borders:  I miss you.)  The passion with which he explained the works that he had read gave me an itch to experience them myself.  Well, several years later I finally picked up Art & Lies.  When I put this book down, I felt as though I had just attempted a reading in a foreign language in which I had no training.  The theme, the dialogue...everything seemed one too many times removed for my understanding.  However, Winterson remained this enigmatic figure for me.  I believe part of this was that no reading had ever left me so puzzled, so it was partially a challenge, which always increases determination on my end.

A few months ago, I was flipping through the New York Times book review, and I discovered that Winterson had this new memoir pending release.  The review shed it in a fairly good light, so I decided that I would pick it up and explore it.  As soon as I started to read it this week, I quickly realized that Winterson and her works did not need to be dismissed from my queue of reading.  The memoir is rich with thought, a whole spectrum of emotion and some pretty amazing history.  Even more, though, I've realized that my education in Winterson's past experiences and life will definitely help inform my reading of her works.  My guess is that I would have actually continued to stuggle with understanding had I not picked up her memoir.  So, I guess the verdict is so much for my initial conviction that an author's biographical background is not helpful in one's reading of a work.

As much as I'm consumed by an impulse for infinite organization and categorization, I think this is something I'll have to leave in the more flexible bucket of thought.  I guess I'll also have to lighten up a bit in my harsh judgment of memoirs.  In recent years, I feel we've been inundated by this genre, and it's left me with this feeling that reality television is also taking over the print medium.  But, this is one case when I can safely say that the tale was worth being told.