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.

Technology Addict

Over the last several years, I've worked so hard to not overindulge in the material side of life.  I would treat myself from time to time, but all-in-all, I tried to hold back.  During this time, technology has been a serious weak spot for me.  I think I've become better at justifying reasons for upgrading gadgets than I have at justifying reasons to eat and sustain myself otherwise.

My most recent addition to my tech family is an iMac.  I already owned a perfectly suitable MacBook Pro, iPhone, iPod and Apple TV.  But, I've been sort of cyber-stalking the iMac because the combination of space-saving and a bigger monitor for working at home was severely attractive.  So, I finally decided to make the move.  Needless to say, I have not been disappointed and practically grow weak in my knees each time I walk into my living room and see the new family member.

Now, what I've realized more recently is that I probably feed this tech obsession by also gifting technology.  We're all chipping in and giving my dad a Kindle Touch for Father's Day...this just on the heels of his iPhone 4S purchase.  Although he originates from the less tech-savvy generation, he's catching on to things fairly quickly, and he's seeing the amazing benefits there can be to the tech connection.  Also, he is about one year into retirement, and I think he's realizing that with technology, his time spent exploring can be really fruitful.  In any case, this Father's Day purchase only came about because he made a minor comment during a visit, which sparked the magic in my mind.  Granted, I already have a regular Kindle (which I barely use because, let's face it, how many gadgets can I possibly run at one time?), but I sort of feel like I'll live vicariously through him as he gets to open up a whole new sphere of technological experiences.

I'm not sure how this addiction to such expensive toys will ultimately play out for me, but I do have to say I'm glad to be learning more and more retailers are offering gadget recycling programs.  With this knowledge, I'm sure my justifications will be that much more consoling.

Without Books...

...where would we be???  This question comes to mind often for me, but it does so even more when I'm in the midst of a really good read.  I'm currently reading An Uncommon Education by Elizabeth Percer.  It's one of those books that proves really difficult to put down at night.  My eyes begin to feel like the 20 pound weights in the corner of the room have taken up residence in their lids.  It's steeped in culture, history, creativity and everything in between.  The complexities encountered by this ambitious, fictional character's life are so relatable, even real.  Her world becomes mine for that half hour or 45 minutes I can spare before passing out for slumber.

So, it's times like these that I truly wonder where we would all be without books.  It doesn't matter whether you are a "reader" or not.  At some point in your life, the mechanics of reading and the power of imagination has touched you.  Have you had to problem solve?  Have you had to come up with some creative solution to an impossible question?  Not life-and-death matters.  I refer simply to every day.  Misplace a crucial item but have a deadline or need to be somewhere like work?  Your brain automatically rushes into resolution mode.  Elements of this process are found really early on when you're young and you learn of cartoon characters and their infinite portfolio of crazy circumstances.  Or you learn the fundamentals as your parents sit with you as a young child and read you a short story, and then a fairytale and then hand a novel to you so that you can read it to them.  These are all examples of the seeds being planted before we even know that we'll need the resulting fruits.

So, tomorrow, when you encounter the inevitable challenge of the day, take a quick moment to appreciate the roots of your ability to navigate the challenge.  And if you have little ones around, offer them the seeds.  Some day, somewhere, they will look back and be eternally grateful.