I read a fascinating book on vacation: "1491--New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus." Science journalist Charles Mann does an excellent job of summarizing research over the past 50 years which makes a convincing case that when Columbus and the first explorers arrived in the New World, the western hemisphere was heavily populated by societies as innovative, advanced, organized, cultured and developed as the great civilizations of Europe, Asia and the Middle East.
Reading about the American Indians, the Mayans, the Olmecs, the Aztecs and the Incas, I got a very different understanding of these civilizations, including their beginnings, their histories and the reasons for their declines. The author manages to cite conflicting research points of view, something that you would never get from an academic, only from a journalist.
These people were anything but primitive. For example: Mesoamerican Indians invented maize, the basis for modern-day corn. It didn't grow naturally, and would have required many iterations of agricultural refinement. But in terms of harvest weight, it has become the world's most important crop, spreading quickly throughout the world after Columbus. Maize was vitally important to the native populations, and was the foundation for advanced and complex societies, in many cases taking on a religious significance.
Further, early inhabitants of Mexico and Central America developed tomatoes (no, it wasn't the Italians!), peppers, most of the world's squashes and many varieties of beans. Some have estimated that Indians developed three-fifths of the crops now in cultivation. They also invented, on their own, without the benefit of cross-pollenization so common in the East, writing, astronomy and mathematics, including the zero as a value before the same development occurred in the Eastern world.
Definitely recommended reading, if you like that sort of thing.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Red Sox Sweep
If you aren't really into baseball, you wouldn't understand. There is something captivating about following a team closely. You get to know the players--not just by name and face and position, but how they play. You begin to relate to their emotions. You see the worry in their faces, or share their confidence with every pitch. You anticipate each strategic move by the manager, which gives you the right and the moral authority to challenge his decisions. You are a dedicated fan.
This position has its price. You must mourn with those that mourn. Every loss is painful. A post-season defeat can ruin your day.
And also, the rewards. And so it is the with all of us Red Sox fans, who suffered through so many painful seasons, wearing our agony and frustration like a badge of honor, and watching with anger as the Yankees paraded their dynasty, year after year. We collectively hated George Steinbrenner, and somehow managed to resent even venerable players like Joe Torre, Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera.
Now it is our time to look down on these lesser teams with the compassion afforded a winner. After the Red Sox finished their four-game sweep of the Rockies, we exulted in the joy of victory. And somehow, we resisted the temptation to squirt Diet Coke around the room like it was champagne.
What a pleasure it was to watch Mike Lowell, class act that he is, steadily produce in all four games. And to be in awe of Jonathan Papelbon, so intimidating on the mound yet such a goofball off of it. Or Dustin Pedroia, sure bet for AL Rookie of the Year, playing hard-nosed, scrappy, clutch ball every night. And young Jacoby Ellsbury, who started the year in Double-A and was only called up to the Sox in September, then found himself starting in centerfield for the Series and batting over .400 while leading off in Games 3 and 4.
We got wins from starting pitchers Josh Beckett and Curt Schilling, the best young and old clutch pitchers in baseball, and from Dice-K, fresh from the Japanese league, and Jon Lester, who a year ago was taking chemotherapy cancer treatments.
Yet we can't overlook David "Big Papi" Ortiz or Manny Ramirez, whose Herculean efforts got the Sox past the Indians to get into the Series, or Jason Varitek, who directed the pitching staff like a maestro, or Kevin Youkalis, who never complained about riding the pine when we dropped the DH in Colorado, despite hitting .500 in the post-season, or even J.D. Drew and Julio Lugo, who finally delivered with some timely hitting in the post-season.
It was an October to remember, watching Game 1 in Mexico, hurrying from the airport to catch the end of Game 2, and basking in Games 3 and 4 in the cushioned box seats of my living room sharing shouts and commentary with Sam. Thank you Red Sox, for such a wonderful time.
This position has its price. You must mourn with those that mourn. Every loss is painful. A post-season defeat can ruin your day.
And also, the rewards. And so it is the with all of us Red Sox fans, who suffered through so many painful seasons, wearing our agony and frustration like a badge of honor, and watching with anger as the Yankees paraded their dynasty, year after year. We collectively hated George Steinbrenner, and somehow managed to resent even venerable players like Joe Torre, Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera.
Now it is our time to look down on these lesser teams with the compassion afforded a winner. After the Red Sox finished their four-game sweep of the Rockies, we exulted in the joy of victory. And somehow, we resisted the temptation to squirt Diet Coke around the room like it was champagne.
What a pleasure it was to watch Mike Lowell, class act that he is, steadily produce in all four games. And to be in awe of Jonathan Papelbon, so intimidating on the mound yet such a goofball off of it. Or Dustin Pedroia, sure bet for AL Rookie of the Year, playing hard-nosed, scrappy, clutch ball every night. And young Jacoby Ellsbury, who started the year in Double-A and was only called up to the Sox in September, then found himself starting in centerfield for the Series and batting over .400 while leading off in Games 3 and 4.
We got wins from starting pitchers Josh Beckett and Curt Schilling, the best young and old clutch pitchers in baseball, and from Dice-K, fresh from the Japanese league, and Jon Lester, who a year ago was taking chemotherapy cancer treatments.
Yet we can't overlook David "Big Papi" Ortiz or Manny Ramirez, whose Herculean efforts got the Sox past the Indians to get into the Series, or Jason Varitek, who directed the pitching staff like a maestro, or Kevin Youkalis, who never complained about riding the pine when we dropped the DH in Colorado, despite hitting .500 in the post-season, or even J.D. Drew and Julio Lugo, who finally delivered with some timely hitting in the post-season.
It was an October to remember, watching Game 1 in Mexico, hurrying from the airport to catch the end of Game 2, and basking in Games 3 and 4 in the cushioned box seats of my living room sharing shouts and commentary with Sam. Thank you Red Sox, for such a wonderful time.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Adios Amigos
Sat by the beach this morning and read until it was time to check out of the hotel. Turns out the hotel beaches are prime areas for walk-by vendors to peddle their wares. Unfortunately, one of the first had some lovely blankets which Rebecca liked and bought, and with that purchase sitting prominently under our umbrella all the merchants smelled blood in the water and came by with increasing frequency to sell us more blankets and then rugs (from the blanket guys father--a referral!) and jewelry and dresses and maracas and carved seals and even muffins.
We did want to buy something for the kids, but most of the things we saw in the shops were so cheap, and the nice things, in contrast, were expensive, and it seemed like we couldn't agree on anything, so basically left every store empty-handed.
It was an enjoyable trip, and it is easy to see why people like to vacation in Puerto Vallarta. It is absolutely beautiful, with lush green mountainous forests rising up less than a half-mile from the beaches. The people are friendly, helpful and quick to laugh--especially if you speak Spanish to them, although almost all are bilingual. The prices are low and the services excellent, including the bus system. And there are plenty of tours for those traditional tourists who want to swim with dolphins or parasail or ride a pirate ship with real-life buccaneers and wenches.
But I think I would do it differently next time. I would come ready to explore more of the rivers. And I would maybe rent a car or motorcycle and head into more remote parts of the jungle to see some traditional villages or maybe I'd take surfing lessons and go scuba diving a couple of times. And I think I'd find a very private beach to hang out on for a day, with book in hand and my head resting on a sand pillow. And finally, in a perfect world (where I was a little closer to perfection) I'd speak the language, even a little, which would add a new dimension to the experience.
Great to go, but always good to be home. Thanks ever so much to my wonderful children for their thoughtfulness and generosity.
We did want to buy something for the kids, but most of the things we saw in the shops were so cheap, and the nice things, in contrast, were expensive, and it seemed like we couldn't agree on anything, so basically left every store empty-handed.
It was an enjoyable trip, and it is easy to see why people like to vacation in Puerto Vallarta. It is absolutely beautiful, with lush green mountainous forests rising up less than a half-mile from the beaches. The people are friendly, helpful and quick to laugh--especially if you speak Spanish to them, although almost all are bilingual. The prices are low and the services excellent, including the bus system. And there are plenty of tours for those traditional tourists who want to swim with dolphins or parasail or ride a pirate ship with real-life buccaneers and wenches.
But I think I would do it differently next time. I would come ready to explore more of the rivers. And I would maybe rent a car or motorcycle and head into more remote parts of the jungle to see some traditional villages or maybe I'd take surfing lessons and go scuba diving a couple of times. And I think I'd find a very private beach to hang out on for a day, with book in hand and my head resting on a sand pillow. And finally, in a perfect world (where I was a little closer to perfection) I'd speak the language, even a little, which would add a new dimension to the experience.
Great to go, but always good to be home. Thanks ever so much to my wonderful children for their thoughtfulness and generosity.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Las Caletas
Not knowing of any better alternatives, we took another tour today, this one to Las Caletas, which first gained notoriety by famed Hollywood director John Huston living there. Huston's son Danny, who I met and talked to at Sundance a few years ago, was married at Caletas. In fact, Huston's decision to shoot Night of the Iguana in Puerto Vallarta in 1963 was the spark that eventual led to making it a resort community.
So we headed to the marina first thing in the morning and caught a catamaran headed for the ancient Greek Isle of Lesbos, or so it seemed, since the boat (and Las Caletas tour) were dominated by passengers off the Olivia cruise ship. Olivia is billed as "The premiere travel and entertainment company for Lesbians," although I wonder how many other lesbian travel and entertainment companies they had to beat out for that honor. And if this was the premier group, I'd hate to see the cattle cars, because there were some pretty scrappy looking women there.
It did make for some awkward moments on the boat, where the crew employed their standard routines, which included couples' contests. There were three which competed in a pop-the-balloon game, and the only "traditional" couple came in a distant last. Based on this limited sample, I would be concerned about the relative fate of the heterosexual species, except of course for our unique ability to procreate.
Moving on, Las Caletas was quite enchanting, like a tropical paradise, and we snorkeled and swam and I found a quiet place away from all the women and laid on the beach reading while Rebecca got a massage. And we ate well once again then back on the catamarran and to Puerto Vallarta. Finally got to the beach outside our hotel where we lounged and read and then had dinner and spent a quiet evening watching the Sox crush the Rockies in Game One of the World Series.
OK, I confess that while at Las Caleta the knave in me considered gathering the straights to challenge the Olivians to beach games, like Red Rover, or chicken fights. I just wanted to see how we'd do. But it seemed like an awkward thing to get started and some of these women were very large plus I feared that it could start something of a race war, so like many of my terrible ideas, I wisely let this one pass privately, but found the notion quite amusing as it danced around in my head.
So we headed to the marina first thing in the morning and caught a catamaran headed for the ancient Greek Isle of Lesbos, or so it seemed, since the boat (and Las Caletas tour) were dominated by passengers off the Olivia cruise ship. Olivia is billed as "The premiere travel and entertainment company for Lesbians," although I wonder how many other lesbian travel and entertainment companies they had to beat out for that honor. And if this was the premier group, I'd hate to see the cattle cars, because there were some pretty scrappy looking women there.
It did make for some awkward moments on the boat, where the crew employed their standard routines, which included couples' contests. There were three which competed in a pop-the-balloon game, and the only "traditional" couple came in a distant last. Based on this limited sample, I would be concerned about the relative fate of the heterosexual species, except of course for our unique ability to procreate.
Moving on, Las Caletas was quite enchanting, like a tropical paradise, and we snorkeled and swam and I found a quiet place away from all the women and laid on the beach reading while Rebecca got a massage. And we ate well once again then back on the catamarran and to Puerto Vallarta. Finally got to the beach outside our hotel where we lounged and read and then had dinner and spent a quiet evening watching the Sox crush the Rockies in Game One of the World Series.
OK, I confess that while at Las Caleta the knave in me considered gathering the straights to challenge the Olivians to beach games, like Red Rover, or chicken fights. I just wanted to see how we'd do. But it seemed like an awkward thing to get started and some of these women were very large plus I feared that it could start something of a race war, so like many of my terrible ideas, I wisely let this one pass privately, but found the notion quite amusing as it danced around in my head.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Tour-ists
Played the tourist today, in that we took an actual "tour." The most interesting thing I could find in the guidebooks was an "Outdoor Adventure," so we signed up. Met at the marina and took a fast boat to Boca de Tomatlon, then proceeded into the jungle, which involved hiking, mule riding, multiple zip lines, rappeling down a 98' waterfall, dropping into pools and crossing a few rope bridges. The other tourists seem to think it was quite thrilling, and Rebecca enjoyed it as well. I found it mildly entertaining, but not the least bit exciting, except perhaps the first five seconds of the first zip line. I realize how much more adrenaline I get from being personally responsible for my fate when I do canyons. The problem was, I completely trusted these guys and their multiple redundant systems. I guess I'd prefer a little more uncertainty in my adventures.
Had a very nice dinner at Si Senor, with fabulous papaya pico de gallo and an outstanding array of salsas. We were also serenaded by three fat mariachis, which I found soothing and entertaining, but mainly made me want to watch the movie El Mariachi again.
Funny thing, wherever we go people see me and my dark complexion and start talking to me in Spanish. My confused and helpless look quickly reveals their mistake. Then Rebecca jumps in with her amazing fluency, and immediately the credibility I'd lost is restored to the family. I think everyone treats us better because she speaks the language so well, and she has been regularly complimented. In fact, her accent is so good that after she spoke to one driver, he would address the crowd of tourists in English, then translate for her in Spanish, not realizing she was bi-lingual. All the guys especially seem to like her and are quick to laugh and joke and help in any way. And I think they wonder what she is doing with a loser like me that speaks only in English. I can live with the ridicule because her mastery of the language makes me feel completely justified in leaving most arrangements in her hands, which frees mine for my specialty--goofing off.
The weather is beautiful and the food terrific and I have eaten and slept so much that I feel like a fat Mexican (who cannot speak Spanish).
Had a very nice dinner at Si Senor, with fabulous papaya pico de gallo and an outstanding array of salsas. We were also serenaded by three fat mariachis, which I found soothing and entertaining, but mainly made me want to watch the movie El Mariachi again.
Funny thing, wherever we go people see me and my dark complexion and start talking to me in Spanish. My confused and helpless look quickly reveals their mistake. Then Rebecca jumps in with her amazing fluency, and immediately the credibility I'd lost is restored to the family. I think everyone treats us better because she speaks the language so well, and she has been regularly complimented. In fact, her accent is so good that after she spoke to one driver, he would address the crowd of tourists in English, then translate for her in Spanish, not realizing she was bi-lingual. All the guys especially seem to like her and are quick to laugh and joke and help in any way. And I think they wonder what she is doing with a loser like me that speaks only in English. I can live with the ridicule because her mastery of the language makes me feel completely justified in leaving most arrangements in her hands, which frees mine for my specialty--goofing off.
The weather is beautiful and the food terrific and I have eaten and slept so much that I feel like a fat Mexican (who cannot speak Spanish).
Monday, October 22, 2007
Watering
Day Two in Puerto Vallarta and it began with a vacation tradition--sleeping in. OK, it was only until eight o'clock (seven in Utah) but it seemed shamefully indolent to me, which I took a little delight in. We had the hotel buffet, which was wonderful, and besides fresh fruit and pastries I dined on funky dishes with cauliflower and eggplant and other pleasant surprises.
The weather had cleared so after breakfast we took the bus to a river outside of town, which poured down from the mountainous jungle that surrounds Puerto Vallarta. We hiked up about a mile, walking sometimes on a trail, but more at the edge of the river, jumping over moss-slicked boulders. We were soon dripping with sweat and took the first opportunity to take a dip. Eventually we arrived at a gorgeous waterfall--maybe 50 feet high. We languished on the rocks and swam in the pool and under the falls. There was a cable that stretched up a rock wall and using it, along with moki steps, craggy edges and external tree roots I was able to climb to the top despite the greasy covering on the rocks, although going up turned out to be much easier than coming down, which did make my adrenaline surge.
Downriver and back on the ocean, where we hit a quiet, white sand beach we had read about. After a few hours in the pleasant, warm water we were back on a bus heading to the Eden River. We turned down the over-priced cab ride for the benefit of a 2.5 mile hike up the mountain to our destination--a restaurant along a lovely river, where again we swam and then ate. Not up for another long walk, we snagged a ride down with a tour truck, disembarking at the sleeply little town on the coast, and then catching a bus back to the hotel.
By the way, I now know where all the 80's era boxy video games go--the stuff you used to find in mall arcades. They are in Barcelo Mismaloya, on sidewalk patios and in concrete arcades. With faded graphics and flaking paint, the kids drop in a couple of pesos to get their perfectly acceptable substitute to America's XBox and Nintendo Wie.
The weather had cleared so after breakfast we took the bus to a river outside of town, which poured down from the mountainous jungle that surrounds Puerto Vallarta. We hiked up about a mile, walking sometimes on a trail, but more at the edge of the river, jumping over moss-slicked boulders. We were soon dripping with sweat and took the first opportunity to take a dip. Eventually we arrived at a gorgeous waterfall--maybe 50 feet high. We languished on the rocks and swam in the pool and under the falls. There was a cable that stretched up a rock wall and using it, along with moki steps, craggy edges and external tree roots I was able to climb to the top despite the greasy covering on the rocks, although going up turned out to be much easier than coming down, which did make my adrenaline surge.
Downriver and back on the ocean, where we hit a quiet, white sand beach we had read about. After a few hours in the pleasant, warm water we were back on a bus heading to the Eden River. We turned down the over-priced cab ride for the benefit of a 2.5 mile hike up the mountain to our destination--a restaurant along a lovely river, where again we swam and then ate. Not up for another long walk, we snagged a ride down with a tour truck, disembarking at the sleeply little town on the coast, and then catching a bus back to the hotel.
By the way, I now know where all the 80's era boxy video games go--the stuff you used to find in mall arcades. They are in Barcelo Mismaloya, on sidewalk patios and in concrete arcades. With faded graphics and flaking paint, the kids drop in a couple of pesos to get their perfectly acceptable substitute to America's XBox and Nintendo Wie.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Welcome to Puerto Vallarta
Arrived in Puerto Vallarta last night. Hadn't gotten out of the airport when we were stopped and asked which hotel we were going to. I smelled a rat, but when he said we had a complementary ride to our hotel it got Rebecca's attention. He brought us to Jose, who was a very nice guy and told us all about the town before he invited us to sit through a "vacation club" presentation, and right then and there I was filled with dread and wanted to run out of the airport as fast as possible but he said the magic words (in third person)--"and you'll help Jose get a little commission"--and so it seemed like some sort of Mexican welfare project which we could hardly refuse, especially when he was smiling so nice and nearly hyperventilating with anticipation and kindly offered to pick us up from church and give us great prices on an island tour and yada yada yada. And that's how we found ourselves having breakfast with a hundred other cheap, pathetic tourists paying dearly for their freebies at the Villa la Something and getting pushed into a sales funnel where we were all but stripped naked and fitted for our sales potential and while several of the representatives were very nice the big sales closer was like a Mexican Gilbert Godrey and yelled at us for an hour and wrote at least 150 numbers down on a paper with a green felt pen and never wrote down a single explanation of what the numbers represented but the correct answer to his seemingly endless equation was that it was a "no-brainer," and both of us being brain-dead Rebecca and I applied a different calculus and politely declined and if only that were that but there was more and finally we left under duress and emotionally battered and if anyone ever asks you if they can give you absolutely anything in exchange for sitting through a "This is NOT a Time Share" presentation tell them you would rather have a needle poked in your eyes. Or better yet, poked in his.
On a lighter note, the Fiesta Americana Hotel is very nice and this afternoon we went downtown to the boardwalk in town, which has the most eclectic and extraordinary array of bronze statues. Ate at Jim Jack's Fish Shack, which was small but very good. Great fresh produce, particulary the jicama, cucumbers, avocado and pico de gallo. Then back to the hotel to watch the Red Sox win Game 7 over the Indians, an event hardly marred by the television commentary being entirely in Spanish, which to me sounded like blah blah blah blah Fenway Park blah blah blah blah Manny Ramirez, etc. But the language spin was enough to make Rebecca sort of dig it.
And I should also mention that everyone says it is sunny every day here and hardly ever rains for more than an hour a day except since we arrived because there is a tropical storm somewhere off the coast and so it has been steadily drizzling and overcast. But that didn't stop some of the guests at our hotel from laying out on the poolside chaise lounges, which seems like an excruciating waste of time but still infinitely more enjoyable than discussing vacation opportunities with Gilbert Godfrey.
On a lighter note, the Fiesta Americana Hotel is very nice and this afternoon we went downtown to the boardwalk in town, which has the most eclectic and extraordinary array of bronze statues. Ate at Jim Jack's Fish Shack, which was small but very good. Great fresh produce, particulary the jicama, cucumbers, avocado and pico de gallo. Then back to the hotel to watch the Red Sox win Game 7 over the Indians, an event hardly marred by the television commentary being entirely in Spanish, which to me sounded like blah blah blah blah Fenway Park blah blah blah blah Manny Ramirez, etc. But the language spin was enough to make Rebecca sort of dig it.
And I should also mention that everyone says it is sunny every day here and hardly ever rains for more than an hour a day except since we arrived because there is a tropical storm somewhere off the coast and so it has been steadily drizzling and overcast. But that didn't stop some of the guests at our hotel from laying out on the poolside chaise lounges, which seems like an excruciating waste of time but still infinitely more enjoyable than discussing vacation opportunities with Gilbert Godfrey.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Favorite Quotes, Part 1
When I find a quote I like, I save it and put it in my email signature for a day or so. Some people have asked me for these, so I thought I'd occasionally put a few in my blog. One of my goals in life is to come up with a few pithy and well-said ideas that will survive my mortality. You ever hear of "Life's a Beach"?
"The years between fifty and seventy are the hardest. You are always being asked to do more, and you are not yet decrepit enough to turn them down. " --T.S. Eliot
"Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.” --Shakespeare, Hamlet (Polonius)
"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man." --George Bernard Shaw
"Nothing endures but change." -- Heraclitus
"We did not change as we grew older; we just became more clearly ourselves." -- Lynn Hall
"Our life is what our thoughts make it." --Marcus Aurelius Antonius
"Man is the Only Animal that Blushes. Or needs to." --Mark Twain
"A classic is something that everybody wants to have read and nobody wants to read." --Mark Twain
"Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest.” --Mark Twain
"There is something fascinating about science. One gets such wholesale returns of conjecture out of such a trifling investment of fact." --Mark Twain
“In looking for people to hire, you look for three qualities: Integrity, intelligence, and energy. If they do not have the first, then the other two will kill you.” --Warren Buffett
"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live." --Dorothy Thompson, journalist
"Everything I did in my life that was worthwhile I caught hell for." --Earl Warren
"Drive thy business or it will drive thee." --Benjamin Franklin
"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." --Henry David Thoreau, Walden.
“I don't want any yes-men around me. I want everyone to tell me the truth, even if it costs them their jobs.” --Samuel Goldwyn
"The ancestor of every action is a thought." --Emerson
"The only way to avoid being miserable is not to have enough leisure to wonder whether you are happy or not." --George Bernard Shaw
"I always wanted to be somebody, but I should have been more specific." --Lily Tomlin
"If a man hasn't discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live." --Martin Luther King Jr.
"People only see what they are prepared to see." --Ralph Waldo Emerson
"The most valuable thing you can make is a mistake - you can't learn anything from being perfect." --Adam Osborne
"Sticks in a bundle are unbreakable." --African Proverb
"Always bear in mind that your own resolution to success is more important than any other one thing."
--Abraham Lincoln
"The years between fifty and seventy are the hardest. You are always being asked to do more, and you are not yet decrepit enough to turn them down. " --T.S. Eliot
"Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.” --Shakespeare, Hamlet (Polonius)
"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man." --George Bernard Shaw
"Nothing endures but change." -- Heraclitus
"We did not change as we grew older; we just became more clearly ourselves." -- Lynn Hall
"Our life is what our thoughts make it." --Marcus Aurelius Antonius
"Man is the Only Animal that Blushes. Or needs to." --Mark Twain
"A classic is something that everybody wants to have read and nobody wants to read." --Mark Twain
"Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest.” --Mark Twain
"There is something fascinating about science. One gets such wholesale returns of conjecture out of such a trifling investment of fact." --Mark Twain
“In looking for people to hire, you look for three qualities: Integrity, intelligence, and energy. If they do not have the first, then the other two will kill you.” --Warren Buffett
"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live." --Dorothy Thompson, journalist
"Everything I did in my life that was worthwhile I caught hell for." --Earl Warren
"Drive thy business or it will drive thee." --Benjamin Franklin
"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." --Henry David Thoreau, Walden.
“I don't want any yes-men around me. I want everyone to tell me the truth, even if it costs them their jobs.” --Samuel Goldwyn
"The ancestor of every action is a thought." --Emerson
"The only way to avoid being miserable is not to have enough leisure to wonder whether you are happy or not." --George Bernard Shaw
"I always wanted to be somebody, but I should have been more specific." --Lily Tomlin
"If a man hasn't discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live." --Martin Luther King Jr.
"People only see what they are prepared to see." --Ralph Waldo Emerson
"The most valuable thing you can make is a mistake - you can't learn anything from being perfect." --Adam Osborne
"Sticks in a bundle are unbreakable." --African Proverb
"Always bear in mind that your own resolution to success is more important than any other one thing."
--Abraham Lincoln
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Game 2
The Diamondbacks lost to the Rockies last night in 11 innings. Sam and I sat high above home plate. It was a disappointing loss, but the Rockies played better baseball and deserved to win. Before the game we ate at the Hard Rock Cafe and watched the Red Sox crush the Indians, which was a terrific pre-game meal. More observations from Chase Field:
1. Take Me Out to the Ball Game is one of the great American songs. It's a catchy tune with lyrics that are totally unpretentious in their homespun homage to America's national pasttime. It's one of the coolest traditions in sports that everyone stands and sings it during the seventh inning stretch. But it does make me wish they still sold Cracker Jacks at games.
2. Eric Byrnes is the only major leaguer I've ever seen who plays gay. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) He's a pretty good hitter and the fans love him but the guy plays the game like he's auditioning for a spot on Will and Grace. He runs past first with his legs bouncing out to the side, falls down after a hard swing or a throw from the outfield, then rolls in the dirt then pops up with a flair. Plus, the guy wears black socks pulled up to his knees, and you get the feeling he would wear them mid-thigh if the rules allowed. I don't think I'm homophobic, but in 40 years of watching baseball, I've never seen anything like it.
3. I was surprised to see a group of fans highlighted on the big screen holding letter-cards that spelled out GOD BACKS. I puzzled over this for a few seconds, wondering about the religious significance of the message. Then I realized that their spacing was off a little, and they were really writing GO DBACKS. I guess it was a sign.
1. Take Me Out to the Ball Game is one of the great American songs. It's a catchy tune with lyrics that are totally unpretentious in their homespun homage to America's national pasttime. It's one of the coolest traditions in sports that everyone stands and sings it during the seventh inning stretch. But it does make me wish they still sold Cracker Jacks at games.
2. Eric Byrnes is the only major leaguer I've ever seen who plays gay. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) He's a pretty good hitter and the fans love him but the guy plays the game like he's auditioning for a spot on Will and Grace. He runs past first with his legs bouncing out to the side, falls down after a hard swing or a throw from the outfield, then rolls in the dirt then pops up with a flair. Plus, the guy wears black socks pulled up to his knees, and you get the feeling he would wear them mid-thigh if the rules allowed. I don't think I'm homophobic, but in 40 years of watching baseball, I've never seen anything like it.
3. I was surprised to see a group of fans highlighted on the big screen holding letter-cards that spelled out GOD BACKS. I puzzled over this for a few seconds, wondering about the religious significance of the message. Then I realized that their spacing was off a little, and they were really writing GO DBACKS. I guess it was a sign.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Baseball in October
We're in Phoenix this weekend and last night Sam and I attended Game 1 of the National League Championship Series between the Arizona Diamondbacks and the Colorado Rockies. I love the atmosphere at play-off games--the stadium is electric with enthusiasm and energy. But given that I don't have a strong passion for either team, I found myself drawn to random observations throughout the game. Here are a few:
1. There is something very cathartic and unifying about booing the umpire. After a highly questionable call at a crucial time, the crowd raised their collective voices in a prolonged booing of the 2nd base umpire. (They also threw stuff on the field, causing the game to be temporarily suspended.) It was fun to join in on the booing, although I have heard it done with more enthusiasm and creativity in Philadelphia and New York, where after centuries of practice rudeness has been elevated to an art form. For a moment I felt badly for the umpire, but quickly recovered my senses and rejoined the chorus. I wonder why no one ever boos at home, like when your teenager doesn't do chores, or your husband leaves the toilet paper roll empty.
2. The lower section baseline rows in modern stadiums are designed so that if the person in front of you is exactly the same height you will be able to see the field, from the foul line and above, which seems a rather idealistic design with little margin for random distribution of individual verticality. From the top of the head of the person in front, another eight inches will block the view from your foul line to the outfield fence--basically the entire field. If the person in front of you is wearing a baseball cap, that will add two inches, or 25% of the field. If the person is 6'4" or higher and wearing a cap, and you are, say, ME, then you will not see anything. I looked up and down the stands and observed how many people were craning their necks to see the game. I had the passing thought that outlawing baseball caps at games would increase the viewable field coverage substantially for all people on the lower levels, but quickly realized that would be un-American.
3. There is a line in God Bless America that I had never really thought about and struck me as kind of silly:
From the mountains, to the prairies,
To the oceans, white with foam
God bless America, My home sweet home.
I suppose Irving Berlin was struggling to find a word that rhymes with home. "Roam" had already been popularized in Home on the Range. "Comb" was hard to fit in. "Gnome" would be a stretch, and so on. So he settled on "oceans, white with foam," and I'm sure his wife said the song would never take, and if he had any idea that it would be sung at thousands of sporting events for many decades he would have spent more time on it and come up with something better. I bet he never even considered "loam" or "chrome." Maybe we should update the song for today's pro sports scene. Can anyone say "Dome"?
1. There is something very cathartic and unifying about booing the umpire. After a highly questionable call at a crucial time, the crowd raised their collective voices in a prolonged booing of the 2nd base umpire. (They also threw stuff on the field, causing the game to be temporarily suspended.) It was fun to join in on the booing, although I have heard it done with more enthusiasm and creativity in Philadelphia and New York, where after centuries of practice rudeness has been elevated to an art form. For a moment I felt badly for the umpire, but quickly recovered my senses and rejoined the chorus. I wonder why no one ever boos at home, like when your teenager doesn't do chores, or your husband leaves the toilet paper roll empty.
2. The lower section baseline rows in modern stadiums are designed so that if the person in front of you is exactly the same height you will be able to see the field, from the foul line and above, which seems a rather idealistic design with little margin for random distribution of individual verticality. From the top of the head of the person in front, another eight inches will block the view from your foul line to the outfield fence--basically the entire field. If the person in front of you is wearing a baseball cap, that will add two inches, or 25% of the field. If the person is 6'4" or higher and wearing a cap, and you are, say, ME, then you will not see anything. I looked up and down the stands and observed how many people were craning their necks to see the game. I had the passing thought that outlawing baseball caps at games would increase the viewable field coverage substantially for all people on the lower levels, but quickly realized that would be un-American.
3. There is a line in God Bless America that I had never really thought about and struck me as kind of silly:
From the mountains, to the prairies,
To the oceans, white with foam
God bless America, My home sweet home.
I suppose Irving Berlin was struggling to find a word that rhymes with home. "Roam" had already been popularized in Home on the Range. "Comb" was hard to fit in. "Gnome" would be a stretch, and so on. So he settled on "oceans, white with foam," and I'm sure his wife said the song would never take, and if he had any idea that it would be sung at thousands of sporting events for many decades he would have spent more time on it and come up with something better. I bet he never even considered "loam" or "chrome." Maybe we should update the song for today's pro sports scene. Can anyone say "Dome"?
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Priorities
Lately I've been plagued by too many priorities and not enough time to do them all. ClearPlay is at a critical juncture, and I always feel compelled to try to do a little bit more, and nearly always finish the day before my To Do List is complete. I'm really anxious to do a small test of my nursing home non-profit. I'd like to take my "Where are They Now?" idea to the next step. And I've had an offer to do some lucrative work for a friend, which requires some diligence on my part, and an initial trip next month.
And there are plenty of other good things to do. We've had company lately, and it seems like people should always be the top priority--this week it's Gene and Lorraine Clark, which has been nice. I think it's good to have some semblance of a social life, and friendships take time. I want to be a better home teacher, and do more to serve. I like to work out about five times a week--been doing it so many years that I feel guilty without it. I try to keep up my blog, even when I'm not inspired (sorry). I have vowed to finish my script by Thanksgiving. There's some correspondence to keep up with. I'm in the middle of reading three books. And there are mundane things around the house--reseed the lawn, clean out the cellar, move stuff to the attic.
And then there's the fun stuff. There are plenty of canyons and hikes I want to do, and this winter I hope to snowboard more, and maybe do some snowshoeing. It's baseball post-season, and Sam and I have been watching quite a few games. Next week we're going to Phoenix to see two NLCS games live. There's Fantasy Football, and as the first-place team I have to maintain family bragging rights. And I like to watch games Sunday and Monday nights, and BYU on Saturdays. I like to catch at least one DVD a week, and I have over 100 classic DVD's on my Blockbuster Online, and I'm in the middle of Prison Break Season One and The Office Season Three. And my half dozen magazines, including the completely self-indulgent Sports Illustrated. And I promised to do Sundance and review movies in January. All frivolous and, arguably, wastes of time.
Needless to say, not everything is getting done. A few lessons learned:
1. Maybe you can do anything, but you definitely can't do everything--at least not at one time.
2. Start early. At 50, I'm starting to feel the sand at the bottom of the hourglass.
3. Make conscious priority decisions, and live by them. I've tried to do this in life, mostly unsuccessfully.
4. Set goals. Translate them into weekly and daily goals.
5. Don't forget to enjoy life. Do your best, but recognize how you're built. If you have more ambition than reasonably possible, don't beat yourself up. Celebrate successes.
And there are plenty of other good things to do. We've had company lately, and it seems like people should always be the top priority--this week it's Gene and Lorraine Clark, which has been nice. I think it's good to have some semblance of a social life, and friendships take time. I want to be a better home teacher, and do more to serve. I like to work out about five times a week--been doing it so many years that I feel guilty without it. I try to keep up my blog, even when I'm not inspired (sorry). I have vowed to finish my script by Thanksgiving. There's some correspondence to keep up with. I'm in the middle of reading three books. And there are mundane things around the house--reseed the lawn, clean out the cellar, move stuff to the attic.
And then there's the fun stuff. There are plenty of canyons and hikes I want to do, and this winter I hope to snowboard more, and maybe do some snowshoeing. It's baseball post-season, and Sam and I have been watching quite a few games. Next week we're going to Phoenix to see two NLCS games live. There's Fantasy Football, and as the first-place team I have to maintain family bragging rights. And I like to watch games Sunday and Monday nights, and BYU on Saturdays. I like to catch at least one DVD a week, and I have over 100 classic DVD's on my Blockbuster Online, and I'm in the middle of Prison Break Season One and The Office Season Three. And my half dozen magazines, including the completely self-indulgent Sports Illustrated. And I promised to do Sundance and review movies in January. All frivolous and, arguably, wastes of time.
Needless to say, not everything is getting done. A few lessons learned:
1. Maybe you can do anything, but you definitely can't do everything--at least not at one time.
2. Start early. At 50, I'm starting to feel the sand at the bottom of the hourglass.
3. Make conscious priority decisions, and live by them. I've tried to do this in life, mostly unsuccessfully.
4. Set goals. Translate them into weekly and daily goals.
5. Don't forget to enjoy life. Do your best, but recognize how you're built. If you have more ambition than reasonably possible, don't beat yourself up. Celebrate successes.
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