Mongol

Mongol was released in a few film festivals a year ago, and even got an Academy Award nom last year (Best Foreign Film), but just recently found its way to my local arthouse theatre.

The movie tells the story of a young Genghis Khan, the great 12-century Mongolian warlord. Admittedly, this is history with an asterisk. Most of the story is based on The Secret History of the Mongols, the oldest Mongolian literature extant, written as a tribute to Ghengis Khan after his death, and probably more heroic mythic poetry than historical fact. Despite these blurry lines, it is as good a foundation as any to tell the beginnings of the greatest conqueror in the world's history and one of its most intriguing leaders. And unlike many biopics, it also makes for a great story.

Mongol follows the young Temudjin (his given name) from birth through an extraordinarily challenging childhood, despite his favorable heritage (his father was a minor tribal chief). We see a surprisingly mature 10-year-old choose his wife (or, vice-versa really), witness his father's murder, and survive all manner of trials and tribulations with quiet determination and fortitude.

Growing into manhood, Temudjin uses his natural leadership talent and skill in combat to reap his revenge and begin assembling the army that would eventually conquer most of Asia, Russia, Eastern Europe and the Middle East.

This is an engaging film, beautifully crafted by veteran Russian director Sergei Bodrov. Shot on location in China, there is a rich, verdant oppressiveness to the settings, befitting the rugged outdoor life of the nomadic tribes. Spoken in Mongol with subtitles (and using Mongolian and Chinese actors), the films feels strangely authentic. The battles are orchestrated with grandeur and realism (and plenty of gore), reminiscent of Braveheart, giving the production a big-budget feel.

Rumor has it that this is the first of a trilogy Bodrov is planning on the life of Genghis Khan. That would be an ambitious undertaking and an extraordinary product. In any event, Mongol certainly is a painless way to take your history. Highly recommended.

My Personal Best

John Wooden was the greatest athletic coach this country has ever seen. His UCLA basketball teams won 11 NCAA national championships. At one point, they had an 88-game winning streak. (As an aside, I remember as a kid in 1974 watching the game where the streak was broken. John Shumate and a young Adrian Dantley led Notre Dame to the historic victory.)

So looking for a little inspiration, I just read My Personal Best: Life Lessons from an All-American Journey, a short autobiography sprinkled with anecdotes about the principles he has learned. The man's bedrock character oozes from the pages. He's all about fundamentals, in basketball and life. And the principle he stresses most is one I have held deeply through all my years of coaching kids--winning or losing is not that important, but doing your best is everything.

He includes a little poem which is as profound as any I have read:

There is a choice you have to make
In everything you do.
So keep in mind that in the end
The choice you make, makes you.

Our character is a simple function of all the many choices we make (with the more recent ones counting for more, I think). And we make new ones all day every day. These choices define us.

I've read other books by and about John Wooden (They Call Me Coach is another classic). They are all quite a bit alike. And they are all great.

Enquring Minds Finally Know

I'm going to resist the temptation to pile on recent Democratic presidential candidate John Edwards, who after months of vehement denial finally admitted to carrying on an affair in 2006 with a woman his campaign hired to film campaign videos. That wouldn't be fair. If all adulterers were sent off there would be a great vacuum of power in Washington, with not enough left to mount a filibuster. Corporate boards would adjourn without mustering a quorum. And Hollywood would be reduced to a ghost town. So I'll leave Mr. Edwards to the unfortunate consequences of getting caught, which Bill Clinton has ably demonstrated diminish over time given sufficient ego and charm.

But I will share a hearty laugh about the esteemed icon of investigative journalism that first broke the story--none other than The National Enquirer. Hmmm. Maybe I need to rethink the possibility that Elvis is cleaning carpets in South Dakota, or that there really is a Rottweiler that whistles Edelweiss.

July Quotes

"What information consumes is rather obvious: it consumes the attention of its recipients. Hence, a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention."
--Herbert Simon, Nobel Memorial Prize in Economics

"Work as though you would live forever, and live as though you would die today."
--Og Mandino

"As if you could kill time without injuring eternity."
--Henry David Thoreau, Walden

"He who asks questions is a fool for five minutes. He who does not ask questions is a fool forever."
--Chinese Proverb

"I speak without exaggeration when I say that I have constructed three thousand different theories in connection with the electric light, yet only in two cases did my experiments prove the truth of my theory."
--Thomas Edison

"The more you know, the more you care."
--Sam Walton

"In twenty percent of the world's most primitive languages, the word for belief is the same as the word for do. It is only when people get more sophisticated that they begin to separate the meaning of one word for the other."
--From "Talent is Never Enough," by John C. Maxwell

"And will you succeed? Yes indeed, yes indeed! Ninety-eight and three-quarters percent guaranteed."
--Dr. Seuss

"To know anything well involves a profound sensation of ignorance."
--John Ruskin

"There is a choice you have to make
In everything you do,
So keep in mind that in the end
The choice you make makes you.
--John Wooden, My Personal Best


"She's got gaps. I got gaps. Together, we fill the gaps."
--Rocky Balboa, talking about Adrian.

Fooled by Randomness

Nissam Taleb is a former Wall Street trader with a cynical take on success in his industry. In fact, he believes that much of the success and failure in the market (and by extension, life in general) can be explained by randomness. To prove his point, his book Fooled by Randomness introduces an eclectic array of logical and philosophical support, from Hume’s argument against induction to the Turing Test to Popper’s theory on theories (which is that no theories can be proved true—there are only theories that have been proven false and theories which have yet to be proven false).

Despite Taleb’s rather arrogant and sometimes abrasive tone, Fooled by Randomness is an entertaining read. It struck me as a treatise on logic for our society, continually exposing the irrationality of many of our assumptions on life. And while he never leaves the financial world for too long, the sting of his arguments can be felt in other fields as well.

The whole randomness argument is keenly interesting and broadly relevant, although often counter-intuitive. Random variations account for quite a bit of financial success in our world, yet our society lauds those that have made money and assumes they possess some secret alchemy. On Wall Street, if the successful keep trading they are often eventually exposed, sometimes very ignominiously. (In the balance of the business world, the fortunately wealthy often move on to become venture capitalists or angel investors, all the better to maintain the illusion of their business prowess.)

It’s when he is illustrating his points that Taleb is most convincing. For example, I can translate the principle of random success into a compelling scam. Suppose I send 5000 people a letter with a bold prediction that a certain volatile stock will increase. And then I send a different 5000 people the opposite prediction. I turn out to be right with half of them. So I do it again, with a different volatile stock, now split 2500/2500. And this can continue, with a small investment in stamps and envelopes, until a few hundred people view my remarkable track record and are convinced that I’m a stock-picking genius. Clever scam indeed, but the corollary truth that makes it possible is that even if monkeys are making trades, a certain percentage of them will be wildly successful, earning millions in commissions and guest spots on MSNBC. Think about that the next time your investment banker pal pulls up in his Ferrari.

There’s a lot more. Taleb delightfully points out how we misuse and are misled by statistics, how our beliefs are warped by biases (the survivorship bias, availability bias, etc.), and how our decisions and conclusions, even from intelligent and educated people, can often be driven by irrational heuristics. (Example: People think it is more likely that a major earthquake will occur in California than that one will occur in the United States.)

And with every example I found myself laughing at how painfully ridiculous we are in our feeble thinking. Shakespeare said it best, in A Midsummer Night's Dream: “What fools these mortals be!”

Founding Brothers

Sam wanted to focus on American history in his summer school, so one of the books I assigned him was Founding Brothers, by Joseph Ellis. I hadn't read it for a number of years, so taking it up again to prepare Sam's questions proved every bit as enjoyable as the first time, mainly because I had forgotten so much.

I am continually amazed at how little things have changed in government and politics. It is still a dirty business, illuminated occasionally by rays of idealism and glimmers of self-sacrifice. The extraordinary men who founded and led the early days of our country--Washington, Franklin, Jefferson, Adams, Hamilton, Madison, etc. were each flawed and tragic in their own ways, yet managed contributions that betimes soared above the fray to give rise to their fledgling nation. These were men of courage and conviction, of intellectual rigor and unfailing industry, who came together in that golden hour of opportunity to shape the history of the world.

There are other books on the period equally as good--McCullough's John Adams and 1776 are terrific. But Founding Brothers is an easy read with what feels like a fresh perspective. Highly recommended.

It is impossible to know the full measure of a man--his soul, his will, his judgment, until he is seen practicing government and law.
---Sophocles, in Antigone

Oh Zion!

Just returned from a family vacation in beautiful Zion National Park. We rented a house in Zion Ponderosa Ranch and once again had a terrific time, hitting a few favorite canyons (Subway and Birch Hollow) and a few new ones (Fat Man's Misery and Spry). We all enjoyed the Parunuweap at the bottom of Misery--gorgeous river. Merritt and I also took a new approach to Subway--Das Boot is very cool--labyrinthine water-filled tunnels that were dark, foreboding and beautiful.

The park never ceases to amaze me with its wonders, and I am so happy when my children appreciate it as well. Many of us find The Subway one of the most lovely places on Earth. Rebecca descended Birch Hollow for the first time and immediately pronounced it her favorite canyon ever. Lanee again proclaimed that she thought Zion was the most beautiful place she had ever been.

Truman Allen, Courtney's boyfriend, got his first taste of canyoneering. He did very well and had "an awesome vacation." Ryan got his second taste of ropes and looked quite comfortable. He seemed to be enjoying himself and the canyons more than ever. And Layla and MJ spent each day playing with grandma and aunts and uncles and enjoying all the attention.

On Thursday, Sam and I closed the trip in Spry Canyon, which has more vertical descent in a shorter span than anything I have done. It's 11 rappels are relentless, jam-packed in a one-mile technical stretch. Lots of mucky water and one unplanned rope ascension, but that was all part of the fun.

I am a little selfish in this, but it is about the perfect vacation for me. I enjoy camping, but there is certainly something to be said for coming out of the canyons to a shower, hot tub and hot, tasty meal, then a sound sleep in a soft bed before doing it again the next day. Life is good.

Jasmine 1997 - 2008

Jasmine left this world yesterday. It was an agonizing decision for all of us. It was clear that she was failing, suffering the degenerative effects of diabetes. She hobbled around the house much of the time, finding obscure corners to lie down in, seeking solitude where in the past she rarely missed an opportunity for sociality. Her eyes were starting to cloud over, the early stages of blindness, and even the most delectable of dog treats were no longer met with enthusiasm and gusto.

Yet she was still very much alive, and as we contemplated the decision, each time we saw her break into a trot, or her tail wag, or give a hearty bark, we wondered if our dreadful countdown was really synchronized with our moral compasses. Yet the bad times were beginning to dominate the good, and my heart ached for her when she uncontrollably urinated in the house, right in front of us, then slinked away in embarrassment.

Before long I will only remember the good times, of which there were plenty. She was the perfect dog for our family. Scruffy-looking with an under-bite, she was full of enthusiasm and always up for an adventure, but also content to sit on the couch and watch a movie with the family. She was great with children, as many passed through our house over the years. And she showed a special affinity for the grandchildren, and extraordinary patience as they pulled her tail or sat on her, and occasionally poked her in the eyes in their clumsy efforts to pet her. Jazzy seemed to understand their innocence, and also that Layla and MJ were family and deserved her most tender treatment and attention.

She made friends easily, which contributed to her never-ending wanderlust through our neighborhoods. More than once she was “rescued” on a busy street away from home, and returned with an offer to keep her if she was available. Almost universally, our neighbors loved her. Steve Littlefield, who lives next door, bought treats for her, and even Christmas presents, and was delighted when she came over to visit and walked nonchalantly into his house. The mailman took pleasure in her greetings, and let her come in his truck into visit.

I remember fondly the times we took her backpacking. Even in the hot Utah canyons she would keep up with the group, although when we climbed we sometimes had to give her a lift to the next level. But surprisingly, she usually found a way, with her short little legs and long body. Whenever we encountered a pool of water she would enthusiastically jump in, swimming and splashing and barking, her little Yorkshire/dachshund body under the surface, and her nose sticking out, looking a bit like a muskrat just learning to swim. Her frenetic yelping in the water caused strangers to think she was drowning, and once in Orlando someone called the fire department to rescue her when she wandered in a nearby pond for a dip.

Jazz was perhaps most famous for her daily task, which was to retrieve the newspaper from the end of the driveway. It was her job, and I think made her feel worthwhile, knowing she was making an important contribution to the household (especially given her rather dubious watchdog talents). First thing every morning we would let her out and she would race down to the end of the driveway, do her business, and return with the paper in her mouth, for which she usually received the reward of a single Milk Bone, a fair wage in her mind for an honest task performed. (And doubled when we started getting the Wall Street Journal.) She wasn’t always perfect at it. Sometimes she would be distracted by birds, squirrels or chipmunks, or hampered by the weather. In Park City when the snow reached as high as her head she sometimes struggled mightily to climb the steps. But she was always enthusiastic about her duty, and persevered when she could, which is more than most people can say about their jobs.

With so many fond memories it was hard for us to say good-bye. But yesterday afternoon Sam took her to the vet for the injection, then brought her body home and buried her deep in the garden. We planted an apple tree above her, which was both sentimental and fitting, since apple cores were always one of her favorite foods. This morning when I walked down the stairs I thought I heard the tinkling of her collar, and I suppose every day when I retrieve the paper I will think of her.

Jasmine was a good dog, and I think that being kind to all and loved by many is an epitaph all of us could aspire to. She was our family pet, so fulfilled the measure of her creation. She had a special relationship with each of us. She remembered all the children and was excited when they would return home. And perhaps one day, depending upon how the eternities are organized, she will greet us again, tail wagging wildly, jumping enthusiastically to our thighs, happy to see us return.

Hiking Olympus

The highlight of an otherwise very low-key July 4th weekend was my annual hike up Mt. Olympus. Rebecca and I were on the trail at 6:10 a.m. and made it to the saddle before 9:00a, just before the sun crept over the ridge, which made for great hiking. The clambor to the top is always the most fun, and we enjoyed a nice snack while overlooking the vast Salt Lake Valley, despite the emerging haze.

It's always a tough hike, although I was in better shape this year than the last two. It's not the 3.2 miles each way, but the 4200-foot elevation gain that takes it out of you. Still, although a little tired Saturday afternoon, I felt pretty good. It's definitely coming back.

It's a little tradition that I've grown to look forward to, usually on a summer holiday weekend. And we vowed to keep doing it, at least until we have taken the grandchildren. That's a good incentive for staying in shape. And, of course, the satisfaction of knowing the gravitational pull of age does not keep you from scaling great heights.

June Quotations

"The best way to have a good idea is to have lots of ideas."
--Linus Pauling, Nobel Prize-winning scientist

"An expert is a person who has made all the mistakes that can be made in a very narrow field."
--Niels Bohr, Danish physicist and Nobel Prize winner

"Ordinarily he was insane, but he had lucid moments when he was merely stupid."
--Heinrich Heine, German critic and poet

"Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."
--Albert Einstein

"I can't give you a surefire formula for success, but I can give you a formula for failure: Try to please everybody all the time."
--Herbert Bayard Swope

"Everything popular is wrong."
--Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest

"Many a false step was made by standing still."
--Fortune Cookie

"Named must your fear be before banish it you can."
--Yoda

"Perfection is not when there is no more to add, but no more to take away."
--Antoine de Saint-Exupery, author of The Little Prince

"Love of bustle is not industry."
--Seneca

"There is never a good sale for Neiman Marcus unless it is a good buy for the customer."
--Herbert Marcus

"It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it."
-- Aristotle

"Learning to ignore things is one of the great paths to internal peace."
--Robert J. Sawyer

"The smallest deed is greater than the largest intention."
--Camilla Eyring Kimball

"Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple."
--Dr. Seuss

"All happy families resemble each other, but each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."
--Tolstoy

In The Box

Sam had recently heard about the book Leadership and Self-Deception, so for his "summer school" I assigned it to him to read. I hadn't read it either, although I was quite familiar with the concepts from our Anasazi experience, and also from Terry Warner's The Bonds that Make us Free. Nevertheless, I decided to read it, to brush up on the concepts.

Ouch. It all came back to me quickly and with penetrating conviction. The Box. I spend so much time in The Box. What is that, you ask? It's a psychological barrier we put around ourselves to justify the fact that we aren't seeing or treating others as people, just as important as we are. Rather, we treat them as objects, things of utility either to help us meet our needs and desires, or barriers that must be dealt with. When we're "in the box" we lie to ourselves to justify our behavior. We rationalize. Yep, that's been me; lots of times. Every day, in fact.

But it's not only our behavior, because in the world of business I've learned to manage much of that. Our attitudes are the thing. Even when we smile and manage problems according to the book, if we don't really see others as people, every bit as important as we are, then we are in the box, and all the textbook problem management skills are a cover-up and a manipulation. Over the years I have become convinced that whenever I find myself rationalizing my behavior, mentally justifying my actions, I am in the wrong and I know it. I am once again practicing the tragic art of self-betrayal.

When I first learned about the teachings of the Arbinger Institute I thought they were the most profound and moving principles I had ever encountered. And in truth, some have stayed with me ever since--disciplines and attitudes that I practice on an almost daily basis. But so many others I had lost track of, and as I read Leadership and Self-Deception I was kicking myself for not remembering it all, as if I had lost some years of my life when I should have been a better person. I again committed to be more diligent.

Leadership and Self-Deception is a quick read but one with overwhelming power and relevancy to everyone. I just put it on my calendar to reread annually. Highly recommended.

Japanese Face Fat Fines

No, I don't mean big fines. I mean, literally, fines for being fat. How cool is that (he said, after having lost 20 lbs this year!)? Yep, CNN reports that a new Japanese law requires companies to measure the waists of all their employees over 40 years of age. Men must come in under 33.5 inches, and women under 35.5. (What, no outcry over gender and age discrimination, much less the obvious obesity bias? Where the heck is the Japanese ACLU?) If the companies don't show improvement, they could face hefty (smirk) fines or increases in their insurance premiums. So not only will those on the plump side have a hard time finding a date, but they will be considered a liability at work as well. What to do when faced with such social stigma? Ben and Jerry-son?

I expect that this corporate blubber tax will have some interesting effects. Companies will be incented to educate their employees, encourage (pressure) them to lose weight, eliminate junk food vending machines, provide exercise programs and finally (a real shocker in Japan) fire the chunksters.

The new deal is being met with some enthusiasm. Posters in Japan feature rotund cartoon figures with buttons popping off their pants urging people to overcome "metabo." Weight-loss groups in Japan exercise together, singing inspirational songs with lyrics such as "Goodbye, metabolic. Let's get our checkups together. Go! Go! Go!" (Not only is this questionable song-writing, but blaming metabolism vs. that samurai-sized bag of Cheetos tucked under your kimono seems to me like a country not quite ready to face reality.)

But really, I think the Japanese law is a great idea. In fact, we should expand this to the U.S. right away. Hmmmm ... fat chance.

Wasatch Back

In my effort to get back into shape and good health, I decided to start running again. Always needing some motivation, I put together a team for the Ragnar Wasatch Back Relay Race. Mostly family and friends, our 12-person team included Angelica (five months pregnant), Merritt, Sam, Eric and Dave Jarvi, Russ Nelson, Cynthia Card and other friends of friends who became much better friends over the course of the race.

The Wasatch Back is a grueling, 180-mile race from Logan to Park City, with over 26,000 feet of up and down elevation (more up than down). Each teammate runs three legs, from 3-7 miles, over the course of 28 hours and 14 minutes. And all of this with constant movement, perpetual coordination, crazy eating habits and virtually no sleep while being squished into two vans with all your smelly teammates.

It was at the same time a very demanding physical challenge, a delightful social event and an inspiring experience of team camaraderie. Our team performed respectably, finishing 75th out of 210 teams in the co-ed open division--which isn't bad given that our goal was to have fun and get in shape.

I found it personally exhausting. During the race I struggled keeping my wind on the uphills. (I'm clearly not in peak shape--yet!) By the end of my last leg, I was completely wiped out. Getting home, I showered, walked directly to bed, fell asleep within two minutes and didn't move until 10 hours later. I don't recall that kind of fatigue ever.

At my age, I don't know why I put myself through that. It seems almost ridiculous. But I'm already thinking about how much better I'll do next year.

Am I in the Matrix Now?

I had this pop-up come to my screen a few minutes ago, which struck me as curious, in a metaphysical sort of way. I clicked "OK" because I couldn't think of any cogent objections, like something out of a Kafka novel.

Shelfari

I ran into an interesting site the other day. I guess it's growing pretty fast, and it sometimes seems like I'm the last to know about these things, but it's called Shelfari (www.shelfari.com) and is an online bookshelf, or at least a record of the books you read. You list the books you have read, rate them and review them if you'd like, then share your bookshelf with your friends and family.

I immediately loved the idea, for several reasons. The interface is great, easy to use and visually appealing (it's better in full screen). I've always loved books, and this is a good way to get recommendations from trusted sources. It's also fun to see what others are reading--sort of a glimpse into their souls! Plus, it's kind of neat to keep track of what you read, which I've never done. Finally, as you'll see on this blog, there's a cool widget that allows me to share it here.

I built my "library" in about 10 minutes, mainly by turning around and looking at my bookshelves. I mostly just listed stuff I'd read in the past year or so, although I sprinkled in a few others that I have particular fondness for. (Although it might be a good project some time to try to think of all the books I have ever read--as an adult, at least. Hmmmm... )

Anyway, it works best as a network, so if you join, please add me to yours. Read on!

Young at Heart

Ever since we saw the trailer a few months ago, Rebecca and I have wanted to see the documentary Young at Heart. So last night we headed to our local arthouse theater The Broadway and were treated to one of the more entertaining documentaries I have ever seen. Young at Heart is a geriatric rock 'n roll singing group out of Northampton, Massachusetts which you've got to see (and hear) to believe. Really. Until you've seen a 92-year-old woman steady herself with her cane as she walks to the microphone and belts out "I Wanna Be Sedated" from The Ramones, well, you haven't seen the full potential of Punk.

Young at Heart is thoroughly enjoyable, filled with humor, affection, irony, fascination and toe-tapping music. But more than anything, it is hard not be profoundly affected by the twist in your perspective, realizing that great-grandma might get into ColdPlay better than you. They change the nature of the songs, making them much more lyric-driven, and often with more feeling and emotion. Very, very cool and inspiring. Especially one of my favorite songs of all time: Forever Young. They gave it a whole new meaning.

But there was more. We knew the group would be performing the next night at a local auditorium, but were surprised and delighted that several of the cast showed up after our movie for a Q&A, including founder and director Bob Cilman (a kid at 53!). We chatted with them afterwards. But one exchange really struck me. I asked them how being in the group had impacted their lives. Profoundly, for all of them, they said. But an 80-year-old retired doctor told how important it was that he had someplace to be, something to do, songs to learn, cadences to master, an important sense of purpose and an appreciation for what he was doing. Definitely something to think about as we move into those ... Golden Years, whop-whop-whop Gold ... Don't let me hear you say life's takin' you nowhere ... Angel ...

Movies

Tom McCarthy's The Visitor is showing at the local arthouse theater here in SLC. I saw this at Sundance last year and really liked it. (See review.) McCarthy also did Station Agent, the fantastic film with Peter Dinklage which premiered at Sundance in 2003. The Visitor is his second directing effort, and a lovely, lilting story that I thought was beautiful. I highly recommend it.

I've been on a vintage movie DVD kick lately, when I've found the time. Last night it was The Court Jester, a 1956 light whimsical comedy starring Danny Kaye, but also featuring a young Angela Lansbury (Murder, She Wrote) and Basil Rathbone (from the old Sherlock Holmes shows). If you can rise above the dated feel, it's really quite a delightful movie, with a fast-paced storyline, dialogue that is arousingly clever and fun, a truly impressive performance by Kaye and wonderfully vibrant period-piece costumes (it was the early days of Technicolor). Plus, it is just so completely wholesome and charming.

A few weeks ago I tried a Japanese classic, Akira Kurosawa's legendary Yojimbo, the 1961 samurai flick that glorified the indomitable and enigmatic lone warrior striding into town, and was the inspiration behind Clint Eastwood's Man With No Name and all the Sergio Leone spaghetti westerns. I'm not enough of a film connoisseur to fully appreciate Kurosawa's craftsmanship, but the movie had the feel of greatness. Most of today's movie-goers would probably not enjoy Yojimbo, but it felt like an integral part of my education in film history, that I was witnessing something important--like listening to Miles Davis in The Birth of Cool.

Last week it as another 50's DVD, Marty, starring the immensely talented Ernest Borgnine and Betsy Blair. The movie received a number of academy award nominations, and Borgnine beat out James Dean for Best Actor. It was something of a revival role for Blair, the wife of Gene Kelly had been an emerging star until her left-leaning activism got her blacklisted in the 40's. But history aside-- Marty is a charming movie and a quaint romance, and the more I thought about it the more I appreciated it as a story well-told, yet grounded in reality.

May Quotes

"It is better to know some of the questions than all of the answers."
--James Thurber

"Some people are always looking for a mistake to point out, like a dog sniffing the ground for a place to pee."
--Bill Aho

"There are two kinds of people in this world: Those who want to get things done and those who don't want to make mistakes."
--John C. Maxwell

"It is vain to do with more what can be done with less."
--William of Occam

"Every great and commanding movement in the annals of the world is due to the triumph of enthusiasm."
--Ralph Waldo Emerson

"It is the earliest age I have left."
--Roman scholar Cato, when asked why he was starting to study Greek at age 80

“A wrong decision isn't forever; it can always be reversed. The losses from a delayed decision are forever; they can never be retrieved.”
--John Kenneth Galbraith


"Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you."
--Dr. Seuss

"The first principle is that you must not fool yourself, and you are the easiest person to fool."
--Richard P. Feynman, Nobel Prize-winning physicist

“Many persons have a wrong idea of what constitutes true happiness. It is not attained through self-gratification but through fidelity to a worthy purpose.”
--Helen Keller

“Odd things animals. All dogs look up at you. All cats look down at you. Only a pig looks at you as an equal.”
--Winston Churchill

"They can because they think they can."
--Virgil

“Every really new idea looks crazy at first.”
--Alfred North Whitehead

“It isn't that they can't see the solution. It is that they can't see the problem.”
--G. K. Chesterton

"Most men don't recognize opportunity because it comes dressed in overalls and looks like work."
--Thomas Edison

“The only real valuable thing is intuition. The intellect has little to do on the road to discovery.”
--Albert Einstein

Robbers Roost

The third annual Real Men's Memorial Day Canyon Trip was held at Robbers Roost this year. There were only three of us--Merritt, Sam and me, as Dave Jarvi had a family wedding. The Roost is remote country--not even much grazing going on out there. It got its name as a hideout for outlaws of the wild west, including Butch Cassidy and his gang.

We did four canyons--Little Bluejohn/Horseshoe, Not Mindbender, Larry and Alcatraz. Many terrific memories, including the Great Gallery in Horseshoe--a magnificent wall of pictographs from the Barrier period--between 2000-1000 b.c. We descended the canyon where Aron Ralston lost his arm. We squeezed through plenty of skinnies, often requiring chimneying off the deck to pass through. Saw a little wildlife, including a baby canyon wren in Larry that kept unsuccessfully trying to learn how to cling to a canyon wall--poor thing kept falling to the ground, once right at my feet; pronghorn antelope at the Larry Trailhead; a little rattler in Not Mindbender; some wild horses (or maybe mules) in Bluejohn, including a white one who aggressively followed our journey, and other critters as well.

One small experience of note. I'd just finished cleaning the rope in the first 70-foot rap in Little Bluejohn. It was my first time in this canyon. Merritt and Sam were just around the corner, sitting in a little alcove waiting and we decided it was a good photo-op. I was still carrying the rope bag, so to free up my hands for the camera, I tossed it down, but off to the side so it would be out of the picture. I then watched their eyes get wide as saucers as we heard ka-thwap, ka-thwap, ka ... (object descending 70 feet accelerating to 32 feet per second) THUMP. Yep, having no idea it was around the corner, I'd tossed our only rope down the second 70-foot rap. I think Sam's words were: "Uh, that was a bad idea, Dad."

Fortunately, it turned out fine. I had brought along extra webbing, which we were able to rap down. Just took a little more creative thinking. We also had slings, plus there's a little ledge off to the side about 12 feet down. So I'm guessing there were a couple more solutions available to us. Honestly, even when I first realized that we were ropeless between two big rappels I was confident we'd figure something out. Two thoughts on the experience:

1. Important lesson: Don't throw your rope anyplace you can't see. Uh ... DUH!

2. That five minutes of figuring out what we were going to do were the most memorable of my four days in the canyons. Unlike many of the canyoneers I meet, I'm not an engineer. But high-stakes problem-solving seems to surface the best in us, bringing me, at least, fully in the moment, engaged, focused and alive.

Every day we did a "Hero Play of the Day" and a "Bonehead Play of the Day." Needless to say, I took home the bonehead gold that day.

Great canyons. Great company. Great food. Nice campsites. Beautiful, rugged country that wore a lovely shade of green being early in the season and having taken a little rain. Photos on Flickr.

On Being a Customer

Over the past several months I've done a lot more shopping than ever before. And I find myself gravitating to the same places--Dan's and Wild Oats for groceries, Home Depot and Costco for everything else. They have earned my business over time, by keeping their stores neat and clean, having the products I want, being generally pleasant and helpful and never offending me. And so I am a loyal customer.

"Customer" is derived from the word "custom," which is "a habitual practice." We often don't think about it that way anymore, as we shift from store to store based on who is having a sale. But I take a little delight in being old school, and I like it that I am learning my way around these stores, and that I recognize some of the employees, and after only a few months some of them recognize me as well.

I think businesses would be wise to rethink the classic definition of customer. It's easier and cheaper to nurture and strengthen your relationship with a customer than it is to attract new triers with price and promotions. Peter Drucker once said that the purpose of a business is to create and keep a customer. That's a good choice of words, I think. Create a customer.

Benefit of the Doubt

For some time I've been mulling over a previously overlooked principle of success in relationships--the benefit of the doubt. (How I can live 50 years and miss so many obvious things continues to amaze me.) It's quite simple, really--instead of mentally accusing (and trying, and condemning) someone for the evil intent of their actions, give them the benefit of the doubt. It's really the psychological polar opposite of paranoia, and I have come to the conclusion that for many of us, this is a big, big deal, both for the success of our relationships and for our personal happiness.

Countless times something has happened that annoyed me, and I assume my wife/child/colleague/acquaintance/service provider was acting with malicious intent. So my mind stews and it swirls and it froths and it foams and I can't wait to return serve, often a volley of accusation and insinuation, leading to a flurry of points and counterpoints, the outcome of which is anything but love-love.

I was intrigued by a recent Fortune article on Indra Nooyi, Chairman and CEO of PepsiCo (and the most powerful woman in business), who talked about the same principle as a key to her success, although she phrased it better and more positively: "Assume the best about people," I think were her words.

Maybe sometimes I have been correct in my dark assumptions, but just as often I've been wrong, which is a suspect interpersonal equation. It's such a simple thing, and yet I find myself applying it almost every day, and when I get it right I have a much sunnier outlook on life and my relationships are better. I'm certainly not cured. But like the alcoholic, it's one day at a time.

The State of Perfect Balance

I saw a full-page ad in the Wall Street Journal this morning that caught my eye. It read: "Ohio--The State of Perfect Balance," which is a multiple double-entendre, I think. It featured Kate Bailey, who apparently is a vice president at DSW in Ohio, and, according to the ad, "matches a stylish career with a rich family life." As opposed to a "rich career with a stylish family life," which I think would have broader appeal.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to take away from the ad. Maybe that nobody works very hard in Ohio, so you'll fit right in? And how about the slogan claiming "Perfect Balance"? What is this, The Ballerina State? Anyway, it got me to thinking, and I came up with a few alternates they might want to consider:

Ohio: Move here if you don't want to work much.
Ohio: Bring us your hungry, your poor, and especially your Imbalanced.
Ohio: Find Perfect Balance working from home and make big $$$! (They can post this to telephone poles, saving media costs.)
Ohio: We're not very good at anything, but we are Perfectly Balanced.
Ohio: The State of Bad Marketing

May-May on Mothers Day

I first met her in the summer of 1967. I was ten years old, prior to my fifth grade year in school. It started as a trial run. I had been living in St. Paul Children’s Home with other children with no parents, part of the young group who were gradually transforming from deprived children into social misfits and juvenile delinquents. Occasionally one of the group would be called to a foster family, but actual adoption was almost unheard of at my age. Yet here we were. Mother and Dad had married in 1961, I think. She was now 39 and he was 49. I would be the first child for both. This was an unlikely threesome.

Mom did everything possible to make me feel comfortable. When I arrived, we were in the process of buying our house on Skyline Parkway in Duluth, Minnesota, but still lived on the more rural Miller Trunk Highway, which was busy and dangerous and not very conducive to meeting other kids. So during the day while Dad went to work it was Mother and me, and not having any experience in the art of motherhood, she had not yet learned to say no. So we did whatever I wanted, which meant hours spent out on the lawn hitting baseballs to each other, and when I tired of that playing board games in the house—chess, Yahtzee, Milles Borne and others. I wanted a pet and she got me a calico cat, which I nicknamed Snoopy, an ironical homage to my favorite character in Peanuts.

After a year the trial turned into a formal adoption and we three made our lives together. It had never been easy for Mom. Her first marriage was bad and she divorced before it got worse. Her marriage to Dad was almost inevitable, given they were baptized in the same church on the same night, were both Finnish, and once Mom’s divorce was final, both single. But Dad had been a bachelor for 20 years and his ways were not easily changed or adapted to marriage. Plus, mother battled a hereditary mental condition, a chemical imbalance which in those days was generally neither diagnosed nor treated. But like her mother and others in her family, she suffered through periods of deep depression and frustration, although by the early 70’s she was prescribed medication which certainly helped. It was, as far as I could tell, her only imperfection, unless you count that fact that she wasn’t very good at crafts, despite her unfailing enthusiasm.

My memories are full and rich of my mother, but perhaps one thing about her character stands out more than any other. She was a friend to the friendless. If there were people who were lonely, old, feeble or troubled in any way, my mother was there for them. One young boy had great difficulty with his parents (prior to my arrival), and my parents took him in. When my Great Uncle Emil had to be in Duluth for treatment, he stayed with us. When my cousin Howie was a freshman at UMD, we shared a room. When grumpy old widows needed help with their shopping, my parents drove them around, and gave them rides to church and had them over for dinner as well. When those that were unlikable needed a friend, my mother was there without judgment. I have never seen a more selfless heart in any individual.

I learned true religion from my mother—less by precept than by daily example. When I left home after high school we were still great friends, and would have frequent visits and lengthy phone discussions. Once married and with children, I was fortunate to have her nearby most of the time, and will ever be grateful for the love and example she shared with the kids, and only wish it could have been longer. And on this Mother’s Day I humbly pay tribute to May-May, as the kids named her, as the greatest and most profound influence upon my life.

May Quotes

"We build good ships here.
At a profit--if we can.
At a loss--if we must.
But always good ships.
--Collis P. Huntington, founder, Newport news Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company, 1886

"In any moment of decision the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing."
--Theodore Roosevelt

"Imagination is more important than knowledge."
--Albert Einstein

“When a brave man takes a stand, the spines of others are often stiffened.”
—-Billy Graham

“The only thing we know about the future is that it will be different.”
--Peter Drucker

"If anything is perfect in this world, love is perfect in its imperfections."
--Jons, in Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal

"Continuous effort -- not strength or intelligence -- is the key to unlocking our potential."
--Liane Cordes

"So the writer who breeds more words than he needs, is making a chore for the reader who reads."
--Dr. Seuss

Irish Diplomacy... is the ability to tell a man to go to hell so that he looks forward to making the trip.


"The only difference between a tax man and a taxidermist is that the taxidermist leaves the skin."
--- Mark Twain

"The race may not always be to the swift, or the fight to the strong, but that's the way to bet."
--Damon Runyan


“Unless commitment is made, there are only promises and hopes; but no plans.”
--Peter Drucker

"Don't wait on a perfect plan, just get a good plan and go with it."
--Jack Welch

"Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect."
--Mark Twain

"The factory of the future will have only two employees, a man and a dog. The man will be there to feed the dog. The dog will be there to keep the man from touching the equipment."
--Warren G. Bennis

Emily Dickinson

I have been trying to escape with a little poetry every day, spending time with The Oxford Book of American Poetry, which Merritt was nice enough to give me as a gift, after I gave him the same last Christmas and then admired it with a covetous eye.

It has been fun reconnecting with some of my favorites, but also discovering many new poets, some of which form an instant bond, and others that make it easy for me to move on to the next. This morning it was Emily Dickinson, an unlikely poet. A recluse who rarely left her homestead during her adult years, she cultivated an unorthodox style and a wry sense of humor which provides occasional respite from her ironical and melancholic observations and general preoccupation with illness and death. Here's a few that provoked my thoughts this morning:

Success is Counted Sweetest

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'r succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of Victory

As he defeated--dying--
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear.

1859


Fame is a Bee

Fame is a bee.
It has a song--
It has a sting--
Ah, too, it has a wing.

Snows and Shows

I looked out the window this morning and was shocked to see the ground whitened by snow. I went outside to get a better view and saw the tulips looking quite forlorn, cold and topped with snow but firm in their resistance to live through the weather. They are womanly things, these flowers, and I suppose feel threatened by the ravages of time and the elements upon their native beauty. It continued to snow lightly off and on throughout the day, and I think this is the first time I can remember it snowing on my birthday, even as a kid in Minnesota.

I watched two movies this week, both of which I recommend. Lars and the Real Girl is a delight--a quirky comedy about a shy socially maladjusted guy who gets delusional about a life-sized mail-order doll. Wonderfully creative idea, and it turns out to be quite uplifting as well, all on a low budget with a genuine Indy feel. Starring Ryan Gosling and Patricia Clarkson.

And finally sat down with the critically-acclaimed Charlie Wilson's War, which is both an insightful lesson in recent history and a well-executed and engaging film. Tom Hanks is very good as the substance-abusing and lecherous Congressman Charlie Wilson (Hanks never turns in a weak performance) but Phillip Seymour Hoffman is fabulous as an iconoclastic CIA journeyman. The dialog between the two in their first meeting is some of the best and funniest in recent memory, and Hanks and Hoffman show impeccable timing and surprising chemistry. In fact, there is plenty of good writing throughout, which helps keep the movie on pace when it might otherwise drag under the burden of a one-dimensional plot-line.

Watch them both if you're still waiting for Spring to confirm its arrival.

Billy Collins

Lanee gave me a poetry book by Billy Collins--The Trouble with Poetry. I had never heard of Collins, (a reflection of the waning currency of my literary education), although I have since learned that he was poet laureate of our country a few years back, including on September 11, 2001, which I suppose is both a grave responsibility and an immortal opportunity for a poet, whose gaggle of humanity generally lacks responsibility and is easily forgotten.

Collins is fun to read. A native New Yorker, he has spent most of his life teaching college in the Bronx, a setting which has doubtless contributed to his unpretentious style. He has a keen eye for the commonplace, not as symbols really, as poets often contrive, but as playing integral roles that evade inspection, taking their turns upon life's stage, sometimes with a single line of timely occasion. The salt shaker may reside in a darkened cabinet most of the time, but what is more important when served a baked potato?

So I have enjoyed his refreshing work, despite my usual comfort in structure, meter and rhyme. Collins could care less about any of these, as he is the poet of experience, part common and homespun like Frost and part coarse and plain-spoken like Whitman, mixed with dollop of e.e. cummings' iconoclasm and irony for an American stew made palatable for today's tastes. Here's one I liked:

Flock

It has been calculated that each copy of the Gutenburg Bible ... required the skins of 300 sheep.
--from an article on printing.

I can see them squeezed into the holding pen
behind the stone building
where the printing press is housed,

all of them squirming around
to find a little room
and looking so much alike

it would be nearly impossible
to count them,
and there is no telling

which one will carry the news
that the Lord is a shepherd,
one of the few things they already know.

Wonderland

Just spent a few days in beautiful southern Utah. Thursday I joined a bunch of guys to hike Buckskin Gulch, the longest slot canyon in the world. It's a very lovely route, emptying into the Paria River, for a total of 22 miles of slot canyons flanked by towering 300-foot sandstone walls.

I guess I'm not used to hanging out with guys my age, because it felt a little like a senior citizen group. Six of us were about 50, one was 61 and one 41. But we still managed the entire trek in eight hours, and no one seemed worse for the wear. Good company, great weather, beautiful canyon. Followed with a surprisingly tasty dinner at a Kanab diner. Life is good.

Friday Brett Pinegar and I headed to Rock Canyon, between Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park and Zion National Park. Finding the trailhead proved difficult as we had to navigate criss-crossing rancher roads through sand that demanded 4WD attention. After some backtracking, we found our destination, loaded our gear and headed down Rock Canyon. A few nice rappels and some terrific downclimbing later we were in the Paranuweap River (East Fork of the Virgin). This was my first time on this part of the river and it is truly lovely. We enjoyed a sizable petroglyph wall and then walked the river to the exit, then up French Canyon, which was also quite pretty, starting with a narrow little passage and finishing with a neat little climb. All in all a great day, and a fine introduction to canyoneering for Brett. Didn't see another soul, unless you count the few cows grazing along the river.

I'll never tire of these canyons. I love working my way down them, then the physical challenge of climbing back up, and all the mystical delights along the way. My wonderland.

A Day in the Life of Grandma

This is a true and accurate catalog of yesterday's events, as best as I can recollect them:

11:15 a.m. Bill takes Stacie and MJ to the airport after visiting from Phoenix.
3:30 p.m. Rebecca, having cried three times already, cries again, already missing her grandchildren.
4:45 p.m. Courtney calls, mentioning that she is buying a car from Angelica, but doesn't know how she is going to get it to here from Phoenix.
5:00 p.m. Rebecca suggests she may be available to pick up car.
5:15 p.m. Rebecca calls Angelica. They scheme.
5:30 p.m. Layla calls Rebecca (with Angelica's help) and gives ticket details.
5:40 p.m. Rebecca packs bags for Phoenix. No more crying. Very excited about seeing grandchildren. Schedule includes Layla, MJ and all parents.
7:00 p.m. Bill takes Rebecca to airport to fly to Phoenix.
10:00 p.m. Grandmother reunited with grandchildren after a traumatic 11-hour separation.

Quit Hitting the Bottle

I guess I should practice what I preach, so I'm making a commitment. No more bottled water. I've been leaning in that direction, but today I stumbled upon an article that for some reason I can't find again. (It was a featured story in Yahoo. But I've managed to source most of it.) A few things:

-60 million plastic bottles a day are going into U.S. landfills.
-Plastic bottles can take up to 1000 years to biodegrade.
-In the U.S., we spent $15 Billion on bottled water last year.
-More than 25.5 billion plastic water bottles were sold in the U.S. last year.
-About 1 in 5 plastic water bottles used in America are recycled.
-Producing our plastic bottles uses 1.5 million barrels of crude oil annually. That's enough to fuel over one million cars a year.
-Last year bottling water produced 2.5 million tons of carbon dioxide.
-Three gallons of water are used for each gallon of bottled water produced and sold, while one billion people in the world do not have easy access to potable water.
-Tap water is under even more stringent regulations than bottled water. Many experts believe that overall it is as good or better for you than tap water. (See this Readers Digest article as one among many.)
-Bottled water costs (ranges I've read) between 500 and 2000 times more than municipal water.
-Much of the bottled water purchased is simply tap water. This is true for both PepsiCo's water (Aquafina) and Coke's (Dasanti). There are no labeling requirements.
-And more and more research is demonstrating that in blind taste tests, tap water is preferred to many brands of bottled water.

Bottled water became popular when smart marketers from French companies (first Perrier, then Evian) convinced trend-setters that it was cool. I predict that in five years, drinking bottled water will be considered as uncool and irresponsible as littering or driving cars that burn oil. So drop by REI and get a nifty-looking Nalgene or refillable sports bottle. (Don't refill plastic water bottles for health reasons.) How hard is that? And if you don't like the idea of simple tap water, get a PUR or another filtering system, which are cheap and easy to use.

Yeah, bottled water is convenient. That's the same thing decent people used to say about throwing dirty Pampers out their car window. What would you think of them now? C'mon, be cool, responsible and ahead of your time. Quit hitting the bottle!

Seeing the Light

Ran into a very cool, fun, refreshing and original website called www.unscrewamerica.org, which promotes the usage of incandescent light alternatives--LED's and CFL's. Be sure to hit the space bar, and play around on the website, which is clever and upbeat, but still provides plenty of credible arguments for all of us to switch. Why? Well ... they are both cheaper over the long run, save energy and reduce greenhouse gases. That ought to be enough, methinks. Here's something I learned--95% of the energy used by an incandescent bulb is lost in heat. The light is merely a byproduct. Gee, that sounds pretty wasteful.

Over the past six months I have reflected on various elements of my lifestyle, with some nagging persistence in the area of environmentalism and conservation. (I've long admired the ancient wisdom from Socrates: "The unexamined life is not worth living.") And sadly, in many areas I am unable to justify my actions. When confronted by these realities, I either do a fetal curl in denial, or seek refuge in the protective embrace of crowds and customs. For instance, I can question the research, without the inconvenience of further study. Or, I can ignore it, content with the fact that everyone else uses incandescent bulbs. Why should I have to be weird?

Another example: I recently read about how our oceans are becoming increasingly polluted by plastics, floating on the surface, coalescing toxic chemicals and endangering ocean wildlife. According to the article, "Currently floating in the Pacific Ocean: a giant field of plastic trash that's twice the size of the continental United States." It's nearly impossible to destroy plastic, so when bags, bottles and manufacturing byproducts hit the waterways, as plenty do, they have nowhere else to go.

What can we do? Quit using plastic bags. Cut out bottled water. Buy less disposable stuff. Recycle. And maybe all of those are a little inconvenient. Maybe these changes are too hard. Well, maybe so. But does that make us any less accountable? Then there's the greatest rationalization: I'm only one person and won't really make a difference. I think just the opposite--real change is only going to happen by individuals leading the way with their personal decisions and commitment. Example is the only effective way to teach, and the best way to change the world. It is my responsibility to do what I can.

Unfortunately, these ruminations can be frustrating, as I continually find myself living at odds with my ideals, and must suffer the burden of culpability, no greater or less than anybody else. On the other hand, maybe CFL bulbs can lighten my load.

April Quotes

"The pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity. The optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty."
--Winston Churchill

"A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worthwhile."
--Herm Albright, writer

"Pain is mandatory, but suffering is optional."
--Sylvia Boorstein, Buddhist-Jewish teacher

"The three great essentials to achieve anything worthwhile are, first, hard work; second, stick-to-itiveness; third, common sense."
--Thomas Edison

“Follow effective action with quiet reflection. From the quiet reflection will come even more effective action.”
--Peter Drucker

"No plans survive first contact with the enemy."
--Carl von Clausewitz

"A pint of sweat will save a gallon of blood."
--General George S. Patton


"It is impossible to learn everything about a man, his soul, his will and his judgment, until he is seen practicing government and law."
--Sophocles (Antigone)

"Some day bemused students will try to see how we came to this decision and credit us with profound thought we never had. The thing as I see it is to get a definite, simple plan quickly, and win by execution ..."
--George S. Patton, on plans for the 1943 invasion of Sicily

"I may lose a battle, but I shall never lose a minute."
--Napoleon Bonaparte

"Many assume that half efforts can be effective. A small jump is easier than a large one, but no one wishing to cross a wide ditch would cross half of it first."
--Carl von Clausewitz

"When life gets to be more than you can stand, kneel."

“Meetings are a symptom of bad organization. The fewer meetings the better.” - --Peter Drucker

“Plans are only good intentions unless they immediately degenerate into hard work.” - --Peter Drucker

"Money is better than poverty, if only for financial reasons."
--Woody Allen

"However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results." - --Winston Churchill

"Finish last in your league and they call you 'Idiot.' Finish last in medical school and they call you 'Doctor'."
--Abe Lemons, college basketball coaching legend

"Doctors bury their mistakes, mine are still on scholarship."
--Abe Lemons

“One's objective should be to get it right, get it quick,
get it out, and get it over ... your problem won't
improve with age.”
--Warren Buffett

"One does not accumulate but eliminate. It is not daily increase but daily decrease. The height of cultivation always runs to simplicity."
--Bruce Lee

"Reading, after a certain age, diverts the mind too much from its creative pursuits. Any man who reads too much and uses his own brain too little falls into lazy habits of thinking."
--Albert Einstein

Feeling Swell

The weather is turning its most beautiful in southern Utah so I seized the opportunity to spend a few days in the San Rafael Swell, just north of Goblin Valley State Park. Many people had told me that it was an interesting place, but this was my first visit, and I was not disappointed. Angelica, Zachary and I drove down after Easter dinner and found a nice backcountry camping spot where we gasped at the stunning display of stars and also a little at the cold, as it got down below freezing at night and made exiting our sleeping bags in the morning a test of our resolution. We passed, and after an oatmeal breakfast drove down to check out Chute Canyon, which would be our exit. There we met a couple of old climbing hippies from Boulder who had hiked Ding and Dang Canyons the day before and supplied some beta which got me thinking. (I say they were “old,” but probably no older than me!)

Back to the Crack Canyon trailhead and we entered the canyon as it was warming from the sun. It’s a fun little slot with some interesting downclimbs. Unfortunately, we missed the best and easiest cut-off to Chute, as I was using one of Michael Kelsey’s guidebooks, which are notorious for being incorrect. So we hiked longer than planned, but eventually turned just before Temple Mountain (which is quite majestic, if not religiously inspired) and found our way to Chute. All in all, maybe 13 miles of hiking, climbing and clamboring. Makes it easier to sleep at night.

We were going to do Wild Horse and Bell Canyons on Tuesday, but I became convinced Ding and Dang would be more fun and challenging. So off we went, despite not having a topographical map to find the canyons, and relying completely on Kelsey’s rough description. And naturally, given my keen route-finding skills, we were soon wandering aimlessly, with no idea where the canyons were. But we knew they went up to the reef, so we found a canyon that looked most interesting and climbed up, thinking that might be Ding or Dang. It proved to be a lot of fun, with some challenging climbs, stems, chimneys and a body-anchor assist. Eventually we hiked to a high point for lunch and reconnoiter, still not sure where we were, and decided one canyon up looked tougher and more fun than the rest, and that if we took it we could probably find our way east around a large fin, and that another canyon down also looked like it might be tasty. So that’s what we did, never knowing what to expect next. It was more exciting that way. I do enjoy spontaneity, and adventure even more, and I am often my happiest trying to peer through a veil of uncertainty.

Back home on Tuesday night I looked at the map and realized we had totally missed Ding and Dang, and hiked unnamed canyons, which I will blame at least in part on the Kelsey hand-drawn map. But no worries about the canyons not taken. I will save them for another day. Yet knowing how way leads on to way …

Bluebird Day

Is there anything better than snowboarding/skiing in light fresh powder on a beautiful sunny day with your family? Nope. And that's the way it was on Thursday at Solitude--maybe 8-10 inches of soft, fluffy pow at the top and by 11:00a the snow had stopped and the sun was shining brightly on Tim, Zach, Brandon and me. We were the second ones on the lifts and first-tracked a couple of blues before heading to the top, where we found virgin powder nearly everywhere we looked until a well-deserved lunch. In the afternoon we hit the trees and chutes where the snow was still soft and in many places untouched. What a paradise we live in!

Tim was in town for four days of skiing--Alta, Snowbird, Solitude and Grand Basin--and lots of other fun. Craig and Teddy Lopus joined in today and Rebecca, Angelica, Zachary, Brandon, Courtney, Lanee and Sam all hit the slopes for at least one day. Overall, a great time with family and friends. Life is good!

My Irish Eyes Are Smiling

It’s St. Paddy’s Day and as is always the case my thoughts turned to my Irish father, Victor William Farley. I lost track of my dad when I was a few years old and didn’t see him again until after I was married and had children. It was a pleasant reunion, however, and I greatly enjoyed getting to know him. Perhaps the highlight of our relationship was when we went to Ireland (I think in 1997), after he retired. It was one of the great times of my life, getting to know Dad while we visited our ancestral home for the first time. As we drove through the countryside, roamed castles, explored cemeteries and ate at pubs we discovered we were alike in so many ways.

My dad was an unusual man with a colorful past. At 15 he left home and tended bar in Chicago. Then he lied about his age and enlisted in the army in World War II. They kept him stateside so he went AWOL, not once, but three times I think. Exasperated, the Army sent him overseas, and I think he mainly served in India. When he came back he ran bars again in Chicago and Miami, sometimes for organized crime and sometimes his own. He was a very tough guy, and was proud of the fact that in all the years he ran “saloons” (as he called them), he always “handled his own business” and never once called the cops. I have heard stories about him handling his own business. Although he was a kind, good-natured and overly accommodating man, it was wise not to cross him, for he had an Irish temper and iron fists.

I think of him as a great servant to friends, family and strangers. Numerous times I observed him helping others in unusual ways that would never occur to me. Another highlight in my life was going to a Cubs game with Dad in 1998—my first at Wrigley Field—and watching Mark McGuire and Sammy Sosa bash homers as they both chased Babe Ruth’s record.

So today I put on the sweater that I bought with in Ireland and we looked at the Irish photos and I put on my favorite album of Irish pub songs and reminisced and thought about Dad. And it was good.

Tales of Two Men

Last weekend I had plenty of driving time down and back to Death Valley. And since I was alone, there were no negotiations on what played on the iPod. So I decided to listen to a few audiobooks. On the way down, Team of Rivals by Doris Kearns Goodwin, about the political leadership style of Abraham Lincoln. This was recommended to me some time ago and I’ve been waiting for the right time to listen. On the way home it was Bob Spitz’s biography of The Beatles, which was on my iPod when I bought it, and one of the few book-length choices that I had available.

I was struck by the enormous contrast between the two. I have read some about Lincoln before, but prior to this had never really appreciated him as man. Beyond his intelligence and sagacity, he was a man of extraordinary character and goodness—good-natured, humorous, forgiving, long-suffering, patient, kind and considerate. I was humbled as I listened to his story, and deeply saddened when it came to his assassination, for the world lost too early one of its noblest souls.

Listening to The Beatles provided some interesting background to their music, which I have enjoyed and admired since I was a kid. The White Album was one of my first, and Hey Jude was an early favorite that I learned on the piano. But I must admit to being disappointed in discovering them as people, and particularly John Lennon, often considered the soul of the group. Lennon was certainly a gifted songwriter and the catalyst for the development of the band. But he was also a cruel, arrogant and insecure individual whose penchant for hard drugs and later heroin addiction squeezed out his humanity and left him and Yoko parading as symbols and seeking publicity and attention at every turn. It is a sad and unfortunate story, and one that I rather wish I had not wasted my time on.

It’s too bad that we look for so many of our “heroes” in the world of pop culture. There are great people among us, and many more to be found in history. Listening to Abraham Lincoln’s story inspired me to be a better person, and I would be wise to spend more of my study in that direction. John Lennon’s story went the other way, glamorous and successful but morally empty. What we read, what we listen to, turns out to be an important decision. I’ve certainly had my fill of pablum at the expense of more fulfilling options. And unfortunately, I can’t go back. But now in hindsight I see how readily I have sacrificed my mental and spiritual health by partaking of demoralizing junk food and popular swill.

Death Valley Days

I had the unique pleasure of spending a few days in Death Valley over the weekend, enjoying its canyons with some very nice folks from Las Vegas. It was my first time there and the place is truly awesome in its desolate loneliness, appearing nearly lifeless and with intimidating ruggedness. From Dante’s Peak you can look over the vast expanse of the valley, all below sea level and covered with immense salt deposits, leading to an inevitable feeling that God did not create this bleak tract of earth for human habitation. And in fact, few have lived here over the course of history, mostly miners, battling the mountains and elements to extract precious deposits of gold, silver, copper, chloride, borax, lead and even cyanide.

The canyons are equally stark, surrounded by black, craggy mountains with approaches filled with slippery talus-covered inclines, one of which carried me on my butt for over 40 yards while I grasped desperately for something to stop my fall. At the bottom, looking at my bloody hands, I was reminded of why I brought my gloves, and kept them by my side for the rest of the trip.

Day One was Styx Canyon, which includes 13 rappels and plenty of challenging downclimbs, dropping nearly 5000 vertical feet. Unlike Utah sandstone, these canyons offer many layers of mineral-laden rock, from crumbly limestone to hard-edged quartz and large igneous deposits. This made for a very different sort of canyoneering experience, and although not as beautiful as Utah, they are certainly as impressive and awe-inspiring. And after a 10-hour day in Styx, I would say equally challenging as well. Day Two was Coffin Canyon, another 4600 feet down and seven rappels, including one 190-footer and another that passed sea level during the descent. Both canyons finished about at about -250 feet in elevation with walkouts over vast alluvial fans overlooking the saline-covered valley floor.

I would like to return to Death Valley. I've read about a stunningly long line of petroglyphs west of the park that sound fascinating. I've heard that the mountain wildflowers are awesome a little later in the spring. Of course, there’s the infamous racetracks, where the rocks leave long traces in the sand as they roll imperceptibly across the perfectly flat desert floor. And then there are more canyons to do. But I think I’d most like to walk in the salt-covered valley in the middle of July, baking in the sun in the hottest and driest place on this earth, enduring for a while this one extreme, and taking the best and worst of what the sun can give.

Getting Needled

When it comes to pain removal, I’m willing to try almost anything. So when a back pain started to flare up again recently, I was pretty open-minded. I’ve tried vigorous stretching. I’ve also had a series of chiropractic treatments. But nothing has worked. Which is how I found myself doing a Google Maps search for “Acupuncture” businesses in my area.

I had only one important criteria for choosing an acupuncturist off of Google—I wanted a real Chinese guy. From China. The worse English the better. I wasn’t looking for some New-Age acupuncturist who learned her trade in southern California and would make me listen to Michael Bolton while she pricked my back. Nor was I interested in a former junkie turned tattoo artist who had traded up their needles along the way. No, I wanted an old man, with calluses on his feet, who had learned the secrets of acupuncture deep in mainland China, gaining wisdom quietly passed down by wise and aged Oriental shamans over many generations.

Google showed me Master Lu’s Acupuncture. Now that sounded pretty good. I pictured the old blind guy on the Kung Fu shows I watched as a kid. But I called and it turns out Master Lu had a heart attack, sold his business and moved back to Taiwan. No good. Then I tried Yancheng Acupuncture and Herbal Clinic. Dr. Yancheng answered the phone. I didn’t understand a word he said. Perfect. I made an appointment for the next day.

Dr. Yancheng has a spartan office—a house which he has converted half into his place of business. I was led from the reception area into a back room which had his desk and several bookshelves full of glass bottles filled with many curious-looking herbs. But fortunately, no bongs around, so I figured he was probably ok. (I’m not sure exactly what an eye of gnewt looks like, but I think I saw one.)

Dr. Yancheng told me he was also an orthopedic doctor, but preferred acupuncture to conventional methods. When I described my problems, he assured me he could fix them, showing me a book written completely in Chinese as some sort of reassurance to me. Turns out that mine was problem #117. Or maybe he was recommending the Kung Pao Shrimp. Anyway, we went into a little room and I laid down on a massage table and he stuck me in the back with needles and hooked me up to an electric current for 15 minutes and then proceeded to twist, prod and massage my back and neck, cracking it vigorously, bending me roughly and poking at me mercilessly with his knife-like fingers.

“You very stiff,” I think he said. (Or maybe it was “Blue fairy skip,” I’m not sure.) He indicated that it would take a lot of work, then made the next two appointments while I imagined I heard a cash register in the background go “ka-ching,” a universal sound which I think originated in China. I told him that had been my first ever massage and he was surprised. If he had known that before, I think he would have been more gentle. Anyway, we talked for a while, and eventually I began to understand him a little. “Chinese medicine not like American medicine,” he said. American medicine want to fix you after you get sick. Chinese medicine want to help you never get sick.” Now that made perfect sense to me.

And next time I'm going to ask about the jars.

March Quotes

There are many ways of going forward, but only one of standing still.
---Franklin D. Roosevelt

Time is the thing that keeps everything from happening all at once.

"A team is a group of people who may not be equal in experience, talent, or education but in commitment."
-- Patricia Fripp

"I have learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but they will never forget how you made them feel."
-- Maya Angelou

"What we become depends on what we read after all of the professors have finished with us. The greatest university of all is a collection of books."
-- Thomas Carlyle

"The man who makes no mistakes does not usually make anything."
-- William Connor Magee

"A great pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do."
--Walter Gagehot-

"Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall."
-- Confucius

"Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do."
-- John Wooden

"The quality of a person's life is in direct proportion to their commitment to excellence, regardless of their chosen field of endeavor."
-- Vince Lombardi

"Do not go where the path may lead, go instead were there is no path and leave a trail."
--Ralph Waldo Emerson

"It is no use saying, 'We are doing our best.' You have got to succeed in doing what is necessary."
--Winston Churchill

Nothing ruins the truth like stretching it.

"Setting an example is not the main means of influencing another, it is the only means."
--Albert Einstein

"You have to know how to accept rejection and reject acceptance."
--Ray Bradbury

Scarecrow: I haven't got a brain... only straw.
Dorothy: How can you talk if you haven't got a brain?
Scarecrow: I don't know... But some people without brains do an awful lot of talking... don't they?
--From the Wizard of Oz

"Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler."
--Albert Einstein

"Why do I rob banks? Because that's where the money is."
--Willy Sutton

"Paradise is here or nowhere: You must take your joy with you, or you will never find it."
--O.S. Marden, founder of Success Magazine

"Even if you're on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there."
--Will Rogers

Fantastic Voyage

I just finished reading the book Fantastic Voyage (Live Long Enough to Live Forever) by Ray Kurzweil and Dr. Terry Grossman (see www.fantastic-voyage.net/). I first encountered Kurzweill some years ago, when I read his fascinating book, The Age of Spiritual Machines. He’s one of the world’s foremost technology futurists, with scientist credentials and an impressive track record of seeing what’s ahead.

A few months ago I ran across his book The 10% Solution, which I read with interest. It advocated an extremely low-fat diet to virtually eliminate your risk of heart disease and other life-taking ailments. The led me to discover the latest book, which has a rather dramatic premise: In the next 20-30 years, biotechnology will advance far enough that it should be able to eliminate most diseases, including arteriosclerosis, cancer, diabetes, Alzheimer’s and others, primarily through nanotechnology, which will provide molecular-sized robots with the ability to destroy, rebuild, replace or reprogram your cells. The result: If you can keep your health until the time comes, you should be able to live forever. Ponce de Leon, eat your heart out.

Kurzweil approaches the subject like a scientist, looking at all available research and concluding with what existing knowledge suggests about optimizing our health. It is a comprehensive look, covering not only diet and exercise, but other factors which include cell phone radiation, stress, etc. He takes a three-fold approach:

1. How each one of our body’s systems work, including what can go wrong and why. I’ve never been a capable student of science, but I found his explanations both interesting and readable.
2. Based on the best available research, how should you take care of each system? In most cases, this includes rather extreme dietary principles and lots of natural supplements.
3. Developments in technology that address the deterioration or diseases we incur. Most enlightening for me is all that is happening now, especially with testing done on animals, in many cases successfully. I was pretty skeptical when I started, but finished as a believer.

Two things. Thing One: I’m not really interested in living forever on this earth in its present state, and I’m doubtful that will really happen. But Thing Two: If I knew I had the option to live to a ripe old age with the benefits of a healthy mind and body, well, that’s worth some radical diet and lifestyle changes in my book, and in Kurzweil’s, too. Whether I die at 65 or 100, I’d like to do it with my boots on.