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.