Go Bulldogs

Tonight I watched the UMD Bulldogs defeat Michigan for the NCAA Division I Hockey Championship. Hockey is UMD's only Division I sport and this was their first ever men's national title. The 3-2 game was won in overtime and the Bulldogs played extremely well.

I was the Sports Editor for the UMD Statesman during my senior year, and I personally covered the hockey team, including travelling to some road games. (I also had a sports column, called On The Line, which was a lot of fun.) While I was there, the team's star player got drunk one night, drove his car onto someone's front lawn and was pounding on their door at 2:00 a.m. Turns out he had the wrong house. The police were called, but because of his star status it was all hushed up.

Well, we got wind of it and decided to break the story, scooping the Duluth News Tribune (which later, grudgingly, picked it up). I recall our meeting to discuss whether to publish or not. There were many factors, and it felt like something out of the movies. Even the university administration weighed in, but they weren't about to quash our freedom of the press, however slight in the vast scheme of things.

As you might expect, the article didn't sit well with the hockey team. Their coach wouldn't talk to me all season long, and some players threatened me. Occasionally I'd get obscene calls at home at night. It was an interesting experience and a little unsettling.

The hockey team wasn't very good back then anyway. But it was still the best game in town, by far. And it's personally very exciting for me to see them win on a national stage, despite the potholes in my memory lane. Go Bulldogs!

Father Knows Best?

There is an interesting case before the Massachusetts courts. A mother is being tried for discontinuing chemotherapy treatments for her nine-year-old son, who later died. There are a million subtleties to this case, including the mother's character and a messy divorce, but the underlying philosophical issue is profound. What rights should parents have to raise children as they please?

According to one report, in the current case the prosecutors simply have to prove that "the mother was so wanton and reckless in her actions that any reasonable person in the same situation would have known that what she was doing — failing to give him his chemotherapy for at least five months — could kill the child."

Similar cases have arisen in the past, including a number involving the right of Jehovah's Witness parents to withhold generally accepted medical treatment from their children on religious grounds.

It is difficult to decide how much rein to give parents. I can't find many arguments, other than emotional and cultural ones, that suggest parents should have anything resembling ownership rights over their children. (This could easily drift into an abortion debate.) On the other hand, government is both unfit and ill-equipped to handle the responsibility.

I do know this: All parents are sadly imperfect. The vast majority teach their children (by example, permission and sometimes precept) habits, practices and principles that will damage their health, shorten their lives and make it difficult for them to develop healthy family and social relationships in the future. The question is, how much of this should society allow. Who could and would do a better job? And which of us has the proper credentials to cast the first stone?

There's No Theory to Relativity

For every organism that has been studied (dogs, cats, insects, monkeys, even yeast) if you reduce the caloric intake by 30% you extend the lifespan by 30%. Seems like our cells are only programmed to process a certain amount of calories before they wear out.

So let's take this as a given. Less calories, more years. How many of us would actually cut back dramatically on calories? I'm not sure I would. In fact, I suspect more people would be motivated by how they look in a swimsuit than their lifespan. That is, right up until they face the end. Then they will wish they'd passed up the french fries and the chocolate malts.

That's called perspective. Or maybe relativity.

Patent a Kidney?

A fascinating patent case is being heard in the appellate courts in Utah. Myriad Genetics is fighting for its right to patent isolated strings of DNA, a right the USPTO has granted for some time, but which is now being challenged. Consider these two analogies:

On the one hand: You cannot patent a string of DNA, which occurs in nature, any more than you can patent a kidney, or an electron.

On the other: Extracting a string of DNA is no different than patenting a baseball bat that has been carved out of a tree.

Having no sophistication in patent law (even though I've paid attorneys millions of dollars for patent litigation!), I'd offer up two general layman principles: First, if the extracted DNA was the result of a unique design then perhaps it is justifiably patentable. Second, since DNA codes are essentially two-dimensional strands, the notion of a unique design becomes far reaching--it is less a baseball bat that we are extracting and more a center slice from the tree trunk.

It will be interesting to see where this case goes.

The Real China Competition

We regularly read about the threat of the U.S. losings its status as the #1 economy to China. That could very well happen. However, the real threat that should concern us is more fundamental--China is laying the foundation for long-term dominance in science and technology. Consider these:

1. In 1994, China's secondary school enrollment rate was 48%. Now it's 76%.
2. In 1995, China was 14th in the word in publication of science and engineering papers. Now it is 2nd.
3. This year China is expected to overtake the U.S. in number of patent applications.
4. Test scores for 15-year-olds in Shanghai far exceed those in the U.S. in reading (556 vs. 500) and math (600 vs. 487).

China's combination of size, targeted investment and performance culture make our second-place status not only inevitable, but imminent. If we can't restore interest in the sciences and reform our educational system, then the gap will only get larger and, ultimately, impassable.

More or Less Hungry

The U.S. spends 7% of household consumption on food. I think that is the lowest in the world. For perspective, China spends 33%, Russia 28%, Egypt 38% and Mexico 24%. This has a dramatic impact on our world view. The necessities of existence are assumed by most of us (although plenty of homeless would disagree, I am sure). We don't have to scrape for food.

So it is perhaps not a coincidence that worldwide rising commodity pricing is accompanied by political unrest in countries throughout the world (see Egypt, Yemen, Libya, etc.). I recall the historian Will Durrant asking an Eskimo what he was thinking, and the reply was something like this: "My belly is full. I do not need to think."

There is an underlying fear in our country's political debate, that most of us don't worry about going hungry, but if things go badly, we could be there quickly.

Busy Bee

Josie is busy as busy can be
And needs to discover the things she can’t see.
She finds every cabinet, cupboard and drawer
And dumps all the contents onto the floor.

She scribbles her thoughts with the big black pen
And pounds on the stapler again and again.
She pokes with the pin and examines the screw
And takes off the cap and pours out the glue.

She checks every item one by one
And doesn’t slow down until she’s done
Tasting the buttons and sticking the tape
And bending the hanger into a new shape.

Josie I wish I were more like you,
With nothing more interesting to do
Than empty out every unknown drawer
To find new worlds I could explore.

Sandbagging

How small has the world become? Last night I'm at home working, generally oblivious to the world outside my office, when I get an email from Sam in Viña del Mar, Chile, where he and Rebecca are spending the month of June. He asked me if there was a flood in Salt Lake City, because he'd been asked to go help sandbag. I hadn't heard anything about it, but a quick check on a local news site revealed that the suddenly warm temps had caused a very high snow melt and flooding of the Little Cottonwood Creek, which runs within a mile of the house. And I got the news from Chile!

The request was out for volunteers, so I headed to the control center at Cottonwood Heights Elementary to see how I could help. Dumptrucks were bringing in loads of dirt--the local Cottonwood Basin loam--and we shoveled them into sandbags. Later, my "team" was called for to go off-site, in a neighborhood where the bags were already stacked chest high along the banks, protecting the neighborhood from the surging creek. The fire department was in charge there, and all of us stood around until about 11:00p, piles of sandbags at the ready, in case it started to rise again. (As the evening temps cool down, the risk of rising decreases.)

The efforts are remarkably well-organized by Salt Lake County, including utilizing local CERT (Community Emergency Relief Teams--or something like that) volunteers. (Yes, I have been CERT trained but didn't want to wear my funny hat and vest!)

It was nice to see a lot of community support, from wards, scout troops and just willing citizens, including quite a number of friends. Nice way to spend an evening. And fortunately, Sam was in South America to let me know.

Green Myths Debunked

One of the problem with living in a world that has so much information is sifting through all the misinformation to uncover the facts. Now don't get me wrong--I am a committed environmentalist. I don't do everything right, but I certainly have tried to change things in my lifestyle to minimize my tracks upon this planet. Nevertheless, I am often suspect of the environmental actions and methods that are broadly sanctioned in the media.

So I enjoyed this Fortune Special Report entitled: 25 Green Myths Debunked. Everything from "Bottled Water is Safer than Tap Water" (a favorite theme of mine), to "It's OK to Put Plastic Containers in Microwaves" (careful, careful!) to "Hybrids are Much Better for the Environment" (mine is a little better, but not great).

There were several surprises for me, including that it takes four times more energy to produce a paper bag than a plastic one. (I still say bring reusable bags.)

And here's one I hadn't thought of: Is it really a good environmental move for the city of New York to plant a million trees? Well, after figuring in the cost of driving around and planting them, then watering them, then sending city employees out with trucks and gas-burning chain saws to trim them ... well, maybe not. Ooops.

Plenty of myths, or misinformation out there. They call it "greenwashing."

East of Eden

My son recently recommended East of Eden and had left a copy at the house (which was actually borrowed from my daughter's friend), so I began with high expectations and finished with high praise. In fact, every time I opened the book I found myself wishing it was my own copy, because more than any novel I have read there were countless passages that begged for markings and margin annotations.

This is an extraordinary novel, in my opinion dwarfing Steinbeck's other works, including the revered Of Mice and Men and critically acclaimed Grapes of Wrath. It is an ambitious novel, albeit one that is glaringly flawed. But on my literary scales, a dollop of ambition more than compensates for a whole slop of imperfections.

This is not a page-turner, urging us forward with a compelling story and an earnest curiosity about what will happen next. And while there is a plot, it is little more than a genealogy, tracing two families from the Civil War to World War I, from Connecticut to Steinbeck's actual homeland--the Salinas Valley in Northern California. It is more a penetrating character examination, and all types of saints and miscreants are on display.

These pages are meant to be turned slowly; chewed on a bit, then carefully digested. Like Shakespeare, there is relentless truth there--about good and evil, fathers and sons, husbands and wives. The book contains more than I could handle on the human condition, both the good and bad in all people, in their various combinations and manifestations. Steinbeck paints archetypes for human behaviors and motivations that can only be known through raw self-examination. There were two kinds I was familiar with, through personal experience: those I am eager to show publicly, and those I don't talk about, but push back to the darkened corners of my soul, hoping others won't notice and I will forget their existence.

The biblical metaphors are heavy-handed and unmistakable. Cain and Abel. Charles and Adam. Caleb and Aron. There is no pretense here--we are trying to understand why people do what they do, and whether they can help it, whether they can change, so we go back to our primeval story. And like the world we live in, there is no shortage of material to bring us to optimism or despair. But also like our world, you often have to look a little harder to see the good.

It would be easy to call this a depressing novel, because sin and depravity stand heavy on their side of the scale. That is to rightfully say that the world is out of balance. Yet East of Eden manages to find hope glimmering in the darkness, and emerges as a triumph of the human spirit and a glory in its potential.

An American in Japan

I ran across this narrative from a trip to Japan a few years ago and thought it would fit in with this blog:

The first thing you notice about Japan is the all the people are Japanese. I suppose there’s no way to prevent this, unless you had the mind to import foreigners for the sake of variety. Personally, I don’t mind being the odd man out. But I do feel a little self-conscious at times, and whenever they look at me then whisper among themselves I wonder what faux pas I have just committed. More often than not, I think it is good-natured amusement, either at my very presence, or occasionally at my presumption of trying to fit in, whether it be eating the indigenous foods or struggling through the confusion of mass transit.

Fortunately, the Japanese are unfailingly polite and considerate. Their culture is ideally suited to the service industry, and Japanese hotels are the finest in the world. It is a matter of extreme embarrassment if a Japanese person is not able to perform a requested task, and they are willing to go to almost unimaginable lengths to help you. They are embarrassed if their English isn’t sufficient to help you, and will then search for someone else who is more fluent. Several times I asked for help from strangers in a train station, only to have them escort me through the entire passage. And had not I put on an air of false confidence, I suspect they would have accompanied me on the train to my intended destination, even if they were bound in an entirely different direction.

I suppose that if you wanted to drive a Japanese crazy you would ask them to assist you in an impossible task, like directions to a city that doesn’t exist, or to please bring me eggs with the yolk hard but the whites runny. This would be a cruel joke which I would never undertake, but I do think the very notion is a credit to the generosity and helpfulness of the people.

The Japanese are an honest and trustworthy people, by and large. They tend to follow the rules, and expect others to do the same. As a result, I too was on my best behavior. If a sign said not to walk, I didn’t, mainly to avoid embarrassing some innocent who would have to correct my malfeasance.

This natural honesty was a godsend as I dealt in matters of commerce. Unlike most denominations in the free world, the Japanese yen converts to the dollar at the most extreme of ratios—about 123 to 1. As a result, everything sounded expensive, and converting the value of yen to dollars in my head requires a degree of mathematical acumen that I haven’t held since junior high. For instance, a cab fare cost me 3500 yen, which seemed expensive even for New York, and I was sure the driver was taking advantage of my ignorance until I ciphered that it was only about $28.

Their paper currency is pretty straightforward, but the coins are hard to figure out. Most of them make sense, with the yen denomination on the coin. I think others are intended to be something of a mystery, with no number. Some have a hole in the middle, which I never figured out. However, if the amount needed for a transaction was a matter of coinage (the largest coin is 500 yen), I would just hold out my hand with a pocketful of change and they would take out exactly what they needed. And I never once doubted their integrity.

There is no tipping in Japan. Now in the United States tipping is a routine element of the service economy—not only because it’s inherent in the compensation scheme, but also as an incentive to provide good service. Think about the places where they don’t get tipped and the erratic levels of service you find—such as at fast food counters. Nobody cares about the quality of my service experience at Burger King. They don’t smile and ask me where I’m from, or how I like my fish fillet cooked, and they never leave me mints or little notes like “Have a Nice Day! Wanda” on the back of my receipt. No, that’s because there is no incentive for them to do so. They know that no matter what they do to the average French fry, no matter what kind of notes or comments on how cute the kids are or even if they throw in an extra patty on the hamburger, they are not going to get a tip.

This is something of a digression, but very relevant. In contrast, the Japanese view excellent service as a matter of course. To receive a tip for their efforts would suggest that you expected something less than the utmost of courtesy and consideration. And while no one wrote “Have a Nice Day” on my receipt, they did wrap up every purchase quite nicely and were always most accommodating to my every need.

The Japanese eat things that strike fear in the hearts of average Americans—eels, octopus, jellyfish, sharks and the like. Surely the average human would prefer to avoid these creatures altogether. It is one thing to face ones fear, but quite another to eat them—a most perverse and savage form of revenge.

Nevertheless, in my attempt to fit in, I tried a number of exotic foods. One such local specialty in Osaka is tokohaki (here I’m sure I am butchering the name), which is an octopus dumpling popular at public events, kind of like our hot dogs. Actually, there was all manner of octopus available on the street, including octopus chunks and octopus shish-kabob. Actually, the tokohaki was pretty tasty, once I got past the idea that I was eating a chewy suction cup, something like having a rubber-tipped toy dart in your mouth. But with a little dipping sauce, it was rather nice.

The Japanese people come in two varieties—sleight and sumo wrestler. I can understand the former. Were I forced to subsist on eel and octopus, I would be thin as well. I suspect the sumo wrestlers have a different diet entirely, maybe Teriyaki Big Macs.

All the people there speak Japanese. I don’t blame them and would probably do the same if I was raised like they were. But I found it a difficult to language to learn. Nevertheless, they all speak it in the most natural of ways. Even the children. I suppose it never occurred to them to start their kids with an easier language, like English or French. I would like to have suggested that idea, but unfortunately no one understood anything I had to say.

Language was certainly a barrier to communication. But I got over that in short order, mainly by not talking to anyone. However, I found my inability to read Japanese quite a handicap during my day of sightseeing in Kyoto. You see, not only do they speak the language almost exclusively, but they write everything in Japanese as well. Further, it is customary to write signs above the portals of their homes. And to completely confound the issue, they being a very private people, the merchants generally cover the windows of their stores, so you can’t see inside.

As a result, I was never quite sure what kind of place I was walking into. All the characters looked the same to me, the doors were often shut, and so I took to simply walking in. In the process I met some nice people, many of whom happened to be shopkeepers and restaurateurs, and the rest of whom were generally polite to the rather surprising intrusion of this curious American into their home.

I also accidentally found myself in a couple of Japanese taverns (they are very small, about the size of a pottery shop!), several nice artist studios, a silk shop and all manner of places I had no intention of entering or desire to stay. Of course, given my overwhelming desire to be polite, extricating myself from these situations was difficult. The owner would come up to me as I entered, saying something unintelligible in Japanese. On the spot, I felt it incumbent to make some gesture besides an about face, and so I would walk around a little bit, look intently and the goods, nod politely and leave. I still feel badly about disappointing them, but I was not about to buy a scarf just to be polite.

I would like to go back someday, maybe with an interpreter. There are a few things I’d like to ask. Like how they make those plastic plates of food that are in every window. And what sumo wrestlers eat.

The Blue Zones

I just finished The Blue Zones: Lessons for living longer from the people who've lived the longest, by National Geographic writer Dan Buettner. The author, along with teams of scientists, studied small pockets in the world's population that had verifiably long lifespans--with rates of centenarians many times what we find in even well-developed countries. Once an area was established as a "Blue Zone," the scientists went about trying to isolate what factors were unique to this area--genetics, climate, diet, social conditions, etc.

They found four zones, small areas in Okinawa, Costa Rica, Sardinia and around Loma Linda, California (home of the Seventh Day Adventists). At the risk of ruining the book for you all, these appear to be the common characteristics of the groups:

1. They eat less. A simple "prayer" said before each meal in the Okinawa group was "hara hachi bu," a Confucius-inspired phrase which translated means "Eat until you are 80% full." Also, in the Blue Zones the biggest meal of the day was eaten early, breakfast or lunch.

2. A simple diet. These people eat none or very few processed foods. Their diets typically consist of many vegetables and some fruits, nuts, beans and grains. Meat eaten sparingly (his words!). Little sugar.

3. Regular and constant labor. Often tending gardens, walking and other physical work, even past 100 years of age.

4. A reason for living. Being needed. Something to do. Generally this involved family. These groups often lived as extended families, with grandparents sharing a roof with their grandchildren. Strong family and social relationships were the norm.

5. Low stress levels. Never with much money or possessions, these people lived in conditions we would associate with poverty. But they worked hard, they socialized and they rested.

6. Typically a good night's sleep--maybe eight hours.

7. Being likable. The folks who lived past 100 were friendly and enjoyable to be around. As a result, they had a lot of close relationships.

8. Religious. Almost always they had great faith in God and generally participated in religious rituals.

9. A lot of time outdoors, and particularly in areas of sunshine. Lots of sun.

10. An appreciation for life--the small things and the daily beauties.

These aren't radical principles, but it's interesting to see them validated in this way. I recommend the book. Even though I've given you the basic principles, the color commentary is worth reading, as are the detailed findings.

Doing Time

Last week I had lunch with a friend who has recently gotten out of prison, for a white-collar crime and what I generally believe was an honest mistake. Nevertheless, he did his time in a minimum-security prison camp. This was not exactly San Quentin, as there were no walls, fences or barbed-wire to prevent escape. Prisoners could literally walk off the property if they chose, but the judicial implications strongly discourage such law-breaking.

Naturally, I asked my friend all about his experience. He was incarcerated 18 months. In that time, he read about 300 books, dramatically improved his physical condition and spent a lot of time helping other prisoners.

Something he said really struck me: "I wouldn't wish prison upon anyone. And I wouldn't want to do it again. But I'm glad I went through it. It turned out to be a really positive experience for me and my family."

Let's see, they lost everything financially. His wife struggled to find even a low-level job. He's a convicted felon. He's starting over again after a year and a half away. And he's grateful for the experience.

Life is funny like that. The things we think are going to make us happy often don't. And the things we most fear and dread often bring us the greatest peace and contentment. My friend and his family made the most of this dubious opportunity, and in the process better learned what was most important in life, as well as what they could easily do without.

A good lesson for us all as we do our time in this world.

Movies

There are a few movies out in theaters and DVD that are worth noting:

500 Days of Summer--We saw this at Sundance last year--a very refreshing romantic comedy with some positive insight. But I could have done without the bluebird.

Adam--Another Sundance 2009 movie and another different take on a romantic comedy. Adam has Asperger's, a mild form of autism. Makes for an interesting relationship. Try to ignore the unnecessary sub-plot with Peter Gallagher.

The Brothers Bloom--Just out on DVD. I hesitate to actually recommend this, because it's terribly flawed. But still, I enjoyed it, probably because I love grifter mvoies. It's just that this one grifts a little too long.

Coraline--Yes, this movie was hyped enough that you all are aware of it. But you might have stayed away because you're not a fan of animation, or maybe of creepy stuff. Neither am I, really. But I liked this a lot. Coraline is a totally cool character, the kind of girl I'd like to be ... if, you know, I had to be a girl.

Defiance--Out on DVD, an inspiring action movie based on a true story of Belarus Jews that fought back in WWII. Daniel Craig is great and Liev Schreiber once again shows off his amazing versatility.

The Hurt Locker--You'll probably have to wait until this comes out on DVD, and hopefully they ClearPlay it, but it's a gripping story of bomb squads in Iraq. Powerful.

Disappointment: Sunshine Cleaning--I missed this at Sundance last year and was eager to get it on DVD, about two women that go into business cleaning up after crime scenes. The trailers made it look funny. Instead, it was dull and depressing.

Most Unusual: Cold Souls--Finally released, and another film I saw at Sundance last year. Someone described it as Being John Malkovich meets Eternal Sunshine. A very strange and existential movie starring Paul Giamatti. The director said it was inspired by a dream she had about Woody Allen, who she originally wanted for the starring role. You'll either really like it or really not. Caveat emptor.

From the Archives: Everything is Illuminated., 2005. Rebecca recently recommended this to Merritt and Stacie, who both really liked it. And it reminded me of how much I enjoyed it. Directed by (once again) Liev Schreiber and (once again) with a WWII/Jewish theme. Starring Frodo (aka Elijah Wood). An absolutely charming movie.

Moab

Spent a couple of really fun days around Moab this week. Late last week Steve Ramras (AKA Ram--canyoneering legend) called and asked if I wanted to join him for some unpublished canyons around North Wash. I thought about it for maybe three seconds before saying yes. Unfortunately, the weather turned very bad and so we went to a back-up plan--Moab.

Tuesday Ram, Rick F. and I hiked near Devil's Garden in Arches, but well behind the tourist trails and found plenty of interesting climbing and, of course, several awesome arches--Landscape Arch, Navajo Arch, Double-O Arch, Black Arch and Partition Arch--plus the Dark Angel monolith and other remarkable sites. We climbed around the fins and had a great time.

Wednesday we were joined by a couple of guys from Salt Lake and spent the day in The Fiery Furnace in Arches, aka The Fins or Finland. The area is filled with extraordinary features--fins that rise up from the earth, forming a maze of canyons and alleys. We spent the day climbing, chimneying and squeezing through the tight cracks. I also experienced more exposure than I am used to--and several times had to jump places where a loss of footing would have meant likely death. It was good for the adrenaline, but definitely sobering. I remember one climb looking down maybe 300 feet from an 18-inch ledge and facing a jump up over the top. Uh, yeah. I kept telling myself that I'm going to die sometime, and at least this way I'll leave a good story. But in the end, I was just being overly dramatic and a bit of a scaredy-cat.

At the close of the day we drove south of Moab and descended a river gorge, called The Pleiades. It was a totally different world from Arches--green, forested and humid with fast-running water. Lots of fun and I look forward to getting back there sometime.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

Sam and I just returned from our eight-day Baseball and History barnstorming tour of the East Coast. We started in Boston, and spent two days taking in some of the city's rich history and two nights watching the Sox at Fenway Park. Prior to the second game we watched as the team retired Jim Rice's jersey, while many of the Red Sox greats from the 70's and 80's joined in the ceremony. Sam was virtually uncontrollable at the Fenway souvenir store and spent hundreds of dollars (of hard-earned butcher-money!) on jerseys, hats, bumper stickers, etc. Walker Texas Ranger has been replaced by Red Sox Man!

We flew to Baltimore and drove up to Gettysburg for a day, which was fantastic. The battlefield has been very well preserved and you are able to get a feel for how the fighting progressed over this wide expanse of geography. On the way back to Baltimore we messily devoured a dozen steamed Maryland Crabs at a crabhouse in Owing Mills. The next day we took in an afternoon game at Camden Yards in Baltimore, a beautiful stadium but blazing hot in the full sun and humidity. Before the game I took in a very enjoyable tour of Babe Ruth's birthplace and after the game spent a few hours at the lovely Baltimore Harbor.

The next morning we hopped on a train to Washington and spent the day in the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History. Then another train to Stafford, Virginia where we spent the weekend with our old friends Mark and Kay Dudenhefer. Mark is a Civil War historian so on Saturday and Sunday we visited battlefields--Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville and Wilderness. Being on the battlefield and understanding the strategies and tactics was quite an experience. Along the way there were various museums, walking tours and monuments. I learned a ton and found it all quite fascinating.

Monday Sam was burned out so I took an early train to DC and went to the Holocaust Museum, which was powerfully sobering, and then walked to the Washington Monument, the Reflecting Pool, the Lincoln Memorial and the WWII and Vietnam Memorials. I tried to squeeze in the National Archives as well but there was a 45-minute wait to see the Bill of Rights and Constitution, so I passed. Monday night we flew home both tired and ready for our own beds.

Over the course of our trip we we were on planes, taxis, trains, light rail, busses and subways. (Now I wish we'd taken a ferry and rented bikes to round out the list.)

Sam is a terrific traveling companion--capable, responsible and good-spirited. It is amazing to me that he spent as much time as he did on battlefields and in museums, but he seemed to enjoy it.

I suppose I have had more exciting vacations, but this was quite a treat for both of us. It instilled a surge of patriotism, a visceral revulsion at the horrors of war and a reverence for those that have died on battlefields.

And of course the highlight--watching the Sox play at Fenway.

Lipstick on a Pig

After having the swine flu (H1N1 virus) sweep through our family, decimate a carefully planned Aho family vacation and pummel me personally for four days, I have taken some time to reflect on the experience. I have never been convinced that every cloud has a silver lining. But I do believe that the greatest lessons are to be learned from the worst storms.

Our swine flu saga has been particularly instructive for me, and not only for what I've learned regarding this particular pandemic. More importantly, the experience has been a microcosm for life, reminding me of important principles that extend well beyond a simple case of the flu. For example:

Do your homework. It's easy to learn a little bit and assume you know enough. When we were first diagnosed we went to the Center for Disease Control website, read a little and acted accordingly. I wish we had been more diligent, as we would have been better informed and made better decisions. Ignorance isn't bliss, it's lazy.

Don't believe everything you read (or hear). This is a big step for most of us in life, as we find it easiest to read or listen then parrot the learning as gospel truth. We found a lot of incomplete or incorrect information out there on the swine flu. Some was alarmist. Some dangerously ignorant. For example, a doctor told a friend of ours he could not have H1N1 because he didn't have vomitting or diarrhea. Angelica told him otherwise. He got tested and he did, in fact, have the virus.

Resist the urge to put lipstick on a pig. We often have a natural desire to dress up reality so it doesn't make us look quite so ugly. But the consequences of pride are even less flattering. I knew we'd be stigmatized by having the swine flu in our home. So my first explanation was that we were "sick." That kept me from truly assessing the situation and then dealing with the painful quarantine issues as rigorously as I should have.

Open communication is the best strategy. Loose lips may occasionally sink ships, but a ship without communications embarks on a dangerous voyage. A lot of time, pain and resources (much of it ours) would have been saved if we had simply done a better job of communicating our situation to everyone that might be involved.

Most decisions are moral decisions. This can be hard to face, as we often try to convince ourselves that our decisions are anything but morally based. Looking back, I am dumbfounded that I didn't realize immediately, once our family was diagnosed (even suspected) that everything we did from that moment on was of moral consequence. Once I accepted that, it changed everything.

It's not just about you. This is like the addict's rationalization--that I'm only hurting myself. It's a pure falsehood. Your decisions have extraordinary ripple effects, especially to those who love you the most. This is painfully true in the case of a contagious virus like H1N1. Between the time you get it and the time you know you've got it you could infect hundreds of people. And once you have it, even with a full quarantine, you're still a threat to anyone in your household. No, it's not just your willingness to risk the disease, it's your lack of concern for others you might infect.

Perception is reality. We wish people saw everything our way, but they almost never do. When we ignore these differences we tend to disregard the fears, concerns and desires of others. People are afraid of the swine flu--in many cased irrationally so. We're not going to change that, so it's better simply to accept it and deal with it.

For me, the flu was very painful. But the life lessons perhaps even more so. Now that I've been "inoculated" I doubt I'll get H1N1 again. I hope I don't have to suffer through the same lessons again as well.

Frost/Nixon

Last night I watched the Ron Howard movie Frost/Nixon, which is recently out on DVD. I was riveted, not only because the movie is extremely well-done, with an extraordinary performance by Frank Langella as Richard Nixon, but also because it brought back memories of Watergate and how it captured my attention when I was a teenager.

I was always interested in politics, so when the Watergate scandal started emerging in the press I followed it carefully. The Senate hearings were aired on TV and I remember watching them at every opportunity. I began to learn the personalities of the inquisitors, including folksy committee chairman Senator Sam Ervin and the politically ambitious Senator Howard Baker. I had an immediate dislike for conspirators Bob Haldeman, Chuck Colson and John Erlichman, but developed deep respect for John Dean, the bookish attorney and Nixon aide who pled guilty early in the process and proved to be a key witness with extremely incriminating testimony.

When the White House transcripts of Nixon's taped meetings were published I read the book with interest and, as I recall, did a report on it as a special project in school.

And, of course, I watched with rapt interest when Nixon resigned in 1974, recognizing that this was an important moment in American history, in my psyche the equivalent of the Kennedy assassination, Neil Armstrong walking on the moon in 1969, or the 1968 presidential campaign, with the assassinations of Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King and the riots around the Democratic Convention in Chicago (and the following trial of the Chicago Seven).

I realize now how all of these events shaped my thoughts about our country, in much the same way that the Great Depression and World War II shaped my father's. I am at once deeply patriotic regarding the sacrifices that have been made to preserve our freedoms, while at the same time irreparably cynical about politics and government and the corruptive influence of power.

Watching Frost/Nixon brought all of this back to me, and I was once again transported to my youth, sitting on the couch, eating dinner on a TV tray while I watched our nation's history unfold.

Quotes of the Day

From Google's app--The Einstein Quote of the Day:

"Nothing will benefit human health and increase chances for survival of life on Earth as much as the evolution to a vegetarian diet."

I mean, I knew Albert was smart, but this is over the top!


But not as funny as the Will Rogers quote on iGoogle:

"I belong to no organized party. I am a Democrat."

Should be modified and adopted by Republicans, who seemed resigned to feckless chaos.


And while we're at it, a favorite word of the week:

Kerfuffle: A disorderly outburst or tumult.

Dom Deluise

Dom Deluise died yesterday. He was a wonderful comedian and talented actor. His death struck me because our lives intersected some years ago. I was in marketing at Pizza Hut and we were approached by KingWorld with a proposal to do a promotion with a new Candid Camera show starring Dom. KingWorld is a major syndication player, having launched Oprah, Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy, etc. We expected that they would make Candid Camera a hit and we were interested. I was put in charge of the negotiations and oversaw the development of the program.

During that time I had a lot of meetings with Michael King, and sometimes his brother Roger. At that time they were some of the wealthiest men in the country, regularly on the Forbes list, and they did everything first class. One of our planning meetings was held at the Beverly Hills Hotel in one of the world-famous bungalows. Around lunchtime the doorbell rang and Michael King asked me to answer it. I did and to my surprise it was Dom Deluise holding boxes of Pizza Hut pizza. "Did anybody here order pizza?" he asked me.

We had lunch together and spent much of the afternoon talking about the show and the promotion. He was a huge man, well over 300 pounds. He was funny and profane but very warm and friendly. We talked about our families and he told some great stories about his kids. He also gave me a copy of a childrens book he had recently written, Charlie the Caterpillar, which I think we still have somewhere.

After only one season with Candid Camera Dom Deluise moved onto other things. But it was a pleasure to meet him and I'm sad that he is now gone.

An Irish Prayer

Rebecca put this in my birthday card and I liked it so much that I thought I'd share it:

May God give you ...

For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care a promise
And a blessing in each trial.

For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.

The Spotless Mind

Anyone that is even casually following the field of neuroscience has got to be unsettled by the extraordinary developments that are going to shape our world. Check out this article in the New York Times about research that effectively blocks memories in animals (rats and horses, at least). No reason it won't work on humans. And, as the article points out, the research could go both ways, using the same chemical approach to dramatically improve memories.

Just ponder that for a minute. Had a traumatic experience? Forget it. Depressed about losing the big game. Forget it. Studying history? Then you can remember everything.

The moral and ethical ramifications are staggering. But more importantly, the very nature of what it means to be human, to have developed a history through a linear existence, is now in question.

A related field that will be rapidly emerging and commercially driven is virtual reality. As neuroscience capabilities improve over the next 25 years we will be able to replicate almost any emotion and any visceral experience virtually through brain stimulus. Want to go to China but don't have the time? No problem. Would like to date Brad Pitt without Angelina Jolie butting in? Right this way.

None of this is fantasy. Science fiction has missed the mark by undershooting the bow. The exponential rate of technological development is increasing. (Not simply the rate, but the exponential factor.) The world is going to start changing at a dizzying pace. My grandchildren will laugh at the primitive conditions we are living in today.

One final perspective from Ray Kurzweil's latest book, Transcend. In 1964 an IBM computer cost $11 million (today's dollars), was used by thousands of people and took up most of a building. Today, the computer in your cell phone is a million times smaller, a million times less expensive and a thousand times more powerful. That's a billion-fold increase in price performance. With the exponential rate of development increasing, we should see the same billion-fold increase in price performance in the next 25 years that we saw in the last 40.

Unless something big happens.

Death Valley Days

Got back early yesterday morning from three days in Death Valley with Merritt and others. The wildflowers were in full bloom, which is unusual and short-lived in this desolate area.

Day One was an exploration into Forge Canyon, where we were the first party to ever descend it. (Canyoneers call this a "First Descent" and as you might expect, it's rather rare.) It was a lot of fun, as we never knew what to expect and had to construct a natural anchor at each of the 12 rappels. I really enjoyed the challenges of deciding how to anchor each rap, then moving rocks around when necessary. My favorite part of canyoneering is solving problems with anchors, rappels, route-finding or downclimbing. With a first descent there is also a sense of mystery and discovery, and of course we had to pack plenty of extra rope and emergency equipment to prepare for unknown contingencies. I was very grateful we had this opportunity to join the group, led by Rick Kent, who has done first descents on many of the Death Valley canyons.

Day Two was another exploration of sorts into Scottie's Canyon, much of which had been hiked from the bottom but with no descents that we were aware of. Seven of us hiked up a mountain, stopping to explore the remains of an old mining operation, including a few standing buildings. As we approached the summit of our hike before dropping in the canyon the wind started picking up, almost knocking me over while we climbed the faint trail. Once we dropped in, the wind reached hurricane levels as it stormed up the canyon, gaining incredible force. One gust literally pushed three of us uncontrollably about 15 feet, knocking over two women. I'm not experienced in these matters, but I'm guessing 70 mph or more. Walking over to the first rap I looked down and it was like a wind tunnel blasting up at me--really quite frightening. After about an hour of waiting, debating and soul-searching we reluctantly headed back, realizing that we didn't know what was ahead of us and the winds would make rappeling and downclimbing on the descent potentially dangerous. The rest of the group headed home and Merritt and I hiked up Scottie's from the bottom, taking on a few sporty climbs that were exposed enough to make me uncomfortable, although Merritt handled them quite well.

On the third day Merritt and I descended Coffin Canyon. I had done this canyon a year ago, but from the top, which involves a car shuttle and at least five miles of slogging through sand and gravel. This time we planned on approaching from the bottom. In the past this has been done through the Copper Canyon entrance, but unfortunately that was closed due to a recent fossil find. The Park Service recommended an alternate route which their people had scouted out and left cairns. We decided to take it, especially since getting caught in Copper Canyon would result in a $5000 fine.

Unfortunately, the new approach was very difficult and involved a lot of clamboring on all fours up steep slopes with loose scree and gravel or crumbly hand-holds. Many times I felt dangerously close to a long and uncontrolled slide back down with unsavory implications. To make it worse, we discovered that the cairns were set in unusual places, not necessarily marking a trail but rather at high points in the general vicinity of the trail. (We discovered this when we precariously scrambled to one of them only to find a lone peak with no exit except the way we had just come. That was my least favorite moment of the trip!)

Finally we dropped into Coffin and enjoyed this lovely canyon, which includes a 185-foot rappel that seems like about 400'--definitely a sobering drop. Also there's one rap that goes from above to below sea level, which is kind of interesting. Afterwards I dropped Merritt off at the Las Vegas airport and drove home. I hit the wall about 11 p.m. and had to pull over and sleep a few hours, then woke up and arrived home about 3 a.m.

It was a fun trip in a big, desolate and generally unfriendly country. It once again makes me appreciate the incredible diversity in our natural world.

Photos from Luke

Vita Brevis

I couldn't help but feeling a little sad today. This morning I attended the funeral of Newell Stevenson, our stake patriarch and a truly wonderful human being who passed away at 88 years old. The funeral was short and sweet because, according to his son, a week before he died Newell told him that if the funeral ran more than an hour he was going to get up and leave. I guess no one wanted to call his bluff!

This evening I attended a viewing for Terry Crowther, a friend from Park City who passed away unexpectedly from a heart attack. He was only 61. Terry and I served together at church in Park City and I always enjoyed his company and appreciated his friendship. After he moved to Salt Lake City we still spoke occasionally on the phone or got together for lunch. He was the first person that told me about Redmond Minerals, where he worked for the past eight years or so. He loved it there, and I could feel his enthusiasm and pride as he talked about the company, extolling its virtues. Terry had a heart of gold. He was instrumental in getting Merritt his job at Redmond, when he responded to an email I sent out asking if anyone had need of an intern. Terry also had an unusual family situation. He was divorced, but stayed in very close contact with his ex-wife and, in fact, considered her his best friend. It was a pleasure to meet her and his daughter at the viewing tonight, as well as other members of his family.

All this on St. Patrick's Day, which always makes me think about my Dad (Farley). I wore the sweater and tie I bought when we were in Ireland, which I do every year in his memory. All day I was reminded that this life is short and we must someday say good-bye to all of our loved ones.

I look forward to seeing them all again.

Killing Time at Borders

I.
Just the thought
Makes me slink in shame;
Thinking of what Thoreau said
In his condescending way:
“As if you could kill time without injuring eternity.”
This while he sat nights
Under the lamplight
Scribbling in his ledger,
Accounting for each penny
Spent remodeling his shack.
He thought it was idyllic.
I might prefer the Irish wit:
“When God made time, he made plenty of it.”
I think my ancestors would have
Been charmed by Thoreau;
Spending their meager shillings
Buying one another pints.

II.
The sharp young man wore a tie
To make a good impression.
He answers the man's questions,
Taking pains to mention
All his worthy points
As if by accident.
He has an easy manner for his age;
With only a trace of stagecraft.
He is enthusiastic
And full of youthful energy
While still sounding almost professional;
And almost experienced.
He will almost get the job, I realize
As the interviewer feigns interest.
Maybe tomorrow
He will wear his tie again.

III.
How are these ladies connected?
One in her 40’s and the other barely 20.
Aunt and niece perhaps?
Or co-workers maybe,
Which often makes strange bedfellows—
Or their female equivalents.
The younger talks about herself.
The older gives advice.
They speak in a synchronous flow
Reciting a litany of crises and dilemmas—
Matched by solemn admonitions
With no room for debate.
They pretend to listen politely
While each awaits her turn.
It is a practiced art; a quiet opera
Over coffee and rolls in the afternoon.


IV.
So there we sit.
The five of us together,
Yet comfortably separate;
Me looking rapt
At my book on Templar Knights
Picked frivolously from the shelf:
Warrior monks protecting pilgrims
As they journeyed to Jerusalem.
But the Knights don't interest me
As much as the conversations,
So I alternate my attention,
Giving each equal time
While picking at my muffin;
No better or worse than Thoreau,
Who lived so well he felt
The need to write a book about it.

Twitter Birth

We kept abreast of the developments of Merritt and Stacie's home birth last night via Twitter, which was pretty cool. Here are the transcripts and approximate times of Merritt's Tweets:

8:42 p.m. Email: Good chance Stacie will give birth sometime tonight. If you want updates, follow us on twitter: @alphanumerritt @StacieJo
~8:50 p.m. I think MJ will be the only one sleeping at our house tonight
~9:00 p.m. Had some friends over for dinner. Stacie was amazingly composed despite contractions every 5-10 min. As soon as they left, it intensified.
~9:00 p.m. ..kind of like her body responded to the demands of her environment, very darwinian
~9:20 p.m. contractions less than 4 min apart
~9:30 p.m. midwife says she's coming over, though stacie seems to be doing fine and progressing normally (to me, anyway)
~9:35 p.m. we're betting on a 1:30am birth
~9:40 p.m. she seems to be progressing fairly quickly, well under 3 minutes in between contractions
~9:45 p.m. smooth music going, dim lighting, hot tub filled with warm water: we should have more dates with this kind of ambiance!
~9:50 p.m. this is actually pretty cool - very low stress and coke zeros just a fridge door away
~10:00 p.m. looks like there's going to be a healthy dose of back labor involved, means I'll be working the massage and pressure to the lower back
~10:45 p.m. no midwife yet, she should be here any minute, though now I kind of wish she wouldn't show up for a while
~11:29 p.m. water broke - I was peeing at the time but stacie decided she needed the toilet more, I agreed
~11:30 p.m. (too much detail?)
~11:45 p.m. no fun and games now, birthing ball (aka exercise ball) comes to the rescue again!
~12:15 a.m. things are pretty intense at the moment
~12:30 a.m. lots of moaning like a banshee, not to transition yet, but things are movin
~12:40 a.m. updates expected to be less frequent from here on out
12:50 a.m. "I'm doing whatever feels good...I think I'm pushing." -Stacie
1:08 a.m. time of birth 1:01 am, she's big and beautiful, came out singing to the music
1:08 a.m. five min of pushing
1:17 a.m. that was pretty surreal
1:17 a.m. mom and baby look and feel great!
1:20 a.m. minimal mess
1:30 a.m. we're fans of homebirth, so much more relaxing before, during, and after

Photo Scavenger Hunt

I put together a photo scavenger hunt for Sam and his friends yesterday as a prom day activity. There were two teams of four, each in one car. The items are listed below, which they photographed with their cell phones. Both teams did really well. The winning team (Sam's) got 22 of the 25 items in about 90 minutes. A good time was had by all.

1. Red-headed adult woman.
2. Horse
3. Elevator
4. Goldfish
5. Manhole Cover
6. Gravestone
7. A mailbox with the number 2359 on it
8. Utah state flag
9. Mini-Cooper
10. Straw hat
11. California license plate
12. Bright red door
13. Bowling ball
14. A man with a mustache
15. A missionary
16. Glass Coke bottle
17. Movie theatre screen
18. Fire(big enough to roast a hot dog)
19. Trombone
20. Airplane
21. A dentist
22. City bus
23. Book about rocks
24. Kitten
25. Blue uniform

A Grand Time

I returned late Monday night from a marvelous four days at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. I was invited by Steve Ramras, aka Ram, and this was billed as a "Ramfest." There were quite a few people who came and went, some just to drop by and visit as they ventured into nearby canyons, others to stay a day, and still others, such as Ram, had been there a week already and were planning on another nine days after the fest. That's some serious outdoors time! Here's a brief summary of my trips:

Day One: Down 29-Mile Canyon with multiple rappels into very cold pools with floating disconnects and short swims. Beautiful canyon that empties into the Colorado River, where we blew up our one-man rafts and paddled upstream to exit from the next canyon. Then an arduous hike up a good trail ascending 3000 feet with a full pack, including wetsuit and raft. Long day--up at 4:30a and back to camp at 8:30p.

Day Two: Coolest logistics I've ever seen on a canyon trip. Five of us descended Badger Canyon, leaving fixed ropes in place at the five rappels. Gorgeous. The other six descended the non-technical Jackass Canyon, which empties into the Colorado on the other side from Badger. Once each group was on the river (on opposite sides) we switched places, using the three rafts the other group had carried. Three over, three back, three more over, two back. It was a little dicey crossing with the current, and given the rapids 50 yards below not a lot of room for error. But all got in safely and we carried the rafts back up Jackass Canyon--a beautiful bouldering gem, and the other group cleaned and carried the ropes. Two canyons in one day. Lots of fun.

Day Three: Down the top half of Ryder Canyon, which was first descended a few months ago. I was actually the fifth person to descend this canyon. One big rappel and a lot of wonderful hiking. Halfway down there is the exit, which three of our group opted to take. The other three headed down Lower Rider to the Colorado--a really gorgeous and fun hike. But we were running out of daylight so high-tailed it back, moving very quickly--actually covering the same ground in 45 minutes going upcanyon that took us an hour going down. We managed to hit the foreboding exit with a little daylight left: a steep and exposed 1000-foot climb over about 1/4 of a mile with constant exposure and scree/loose talus footing. I would not want to do that in the dark, although we had headlamps in case of emergency. Great day.

Day Four: The group was thinning and most went to hike Cathedral Wash, which has a glowing reputation. I decided to take on Seven-Mile Canyon and was joined by Sonny L., a recently retired prison psychiatrist, which gave us all sorts of interesting things to talk about. This turned out to be another very nice canyon down to the Colorado River, then hiking up and along the treacherous rockfall bank to the next canyon to exit, where we saw a mountain goat hopping gracefully above us. Just enough exposure and elevation to keep your attention. But a great trip, followed by a long drive home.

The weather was cooperative--it got down to 21 degrees one night, but no rain or snow the entire four days and I was warm and cozy in my tent. I had to pound down thousands of calories to keep my body warm during the day (in the water especially) and energized enough to make the climbs out. Met some fun and interesting people, shared a campfire and stories at night and was enraptured by the beauty of the area.

Also, some pictures from other folks--much better than mine:
GC Day 1
Badger/Jackass Loop
Ryder Canyon
Seven-Mile Draw
Rider Canyon
Badger/Jackass Canyons
Rider Canyon
Badger/Jackass Canyon Loop (from Ram)

Random Thoughts

Today in the grocery store the girl at the checkout asked me: "Did you find everything?" I immediately replied: "I wasn't looking for everything." There's a little devil in me, I know, that has been finding language absurdities everywhere I look lately. For instance, take a look at the photo of a sign I saw in Trolley Square which conjured up all sorts of interesting ideas and imagery. That Harold has one twisted sense of humor.

On a more serious note, Rebecca and I were both struck by something we heard in church last week. Someone told a story of a poor young island boy who gave his schoolteacher a gift of a beautiful seashell. "Thank you so much," she said. "It's so lovely. Where did you get it?" "On the other side of the island," the boy replied. The teacher, realizing what a long journey on foot that must have been for him, said: "You didn't have to go all that way to get me a seashell." The boy replied simply: "Long walk part of gift."

Cereal News

Three interesting things I learned tonight while eating a bowl of organic flax flakes with almond milk and reading the New York Times:

1. The "crack baby" scare proved unfounded. Turns out that pregnant women smoking crack doesn't really do permanent damage to the kids. Resilient devils, I've always said. While crack babies tend to be born smaller, they catch up in a few years. But research results on permanent effects are inconclusive. It should be noted that despite the lack of hard evidence against crack smoking while pregnant, no one appears to be recommending the practice, with the possible exception of crack dealers.

2. Although teen pregnancies have increased in recent years, teen sex is actually on the decline. According to the National Youth Risk Behavior Study, 48% of high school students have had sex, compared with 54% in 1991. And the improvement gets more pronounced with younger teens, although the data is not regularly updated. This is in sharp contrast to public perceptions, sensationalized by popular media, that there is a teen sex epidemic raging out of control. Now 48% is still a pretty high number, but the trend is certainly worth noting. And now I'm very curious as to why.

3. Babies instinctively put stuff in their mouths because it's good for them. It turns out that one of the best things for kids is to eat a little dirt, which strengthens the immune system and decreases the chances of future diseases. Dirt contains millions of organism and, most important, tiny worms. I know it sounds crazy, but scientists are attributing the elimination of intestinal worms in developed countries to increases in diabetes, asthma, allergies, Crohn's disease and multiple sclerosis. Three small fixes: Encourage your kids to play in the dirt, don't scold them when they stick yukky stuff in their mouths, and don't make them wash their hands before they eat.

Actually, I learned a few other things as well, but they didn't seem as profound. For instance, four-legged animals walk left rear foot first, then left front, right rear and right front, but about half the illustrations in books, manuals, etc. show this incorrectly. Not really sure what to do with that. Or this one: Tanzania's government recently banned traditional healers (witch doctors) in an attempt to stop the killing of albinos for medicine. To help combat common myths and prejudices, the prime minister has nominated an albino woman for parliament and adopted an albino child.

All the news that's fit to print.

Mind Games

I just read about a new game from Mattel that requires you to move a foam ball with your mind waves, by concentrating upon it. This is very, very cool. And suprisingly affordable at $80. It will be out next September.

The Mattel game is powered by concentration. I am very eager to play it, but dreadful at the same time. Intense concentration has never been my strong suit. Even in chess, which at one time I played passably, my talent was to be able to very rapidly visualize a sequence of moves. I fear that I will not be able to hold my concentration for long, and any ruse of intelligence that I have been perpetuating over the course of my life will be immediately exposed as my foam ball rests motionless.

I recently reread Ender's Game, one of the few science fiction novels I've read and the only one I've really liked. Written almost 25 years ago, it describes the battlegrounds of the future, led by adolescent (or, in Ender's case, pre-adolescent) commanders. And it strikes me, as I read about the Mattel game, that conflicts may well become mind games of sorts, and in that situation, youth would likely prove more adaptable.

But that's a diversion. The idea that you can move stuff with your mind was a parlor trick made famous by Israeli entertainer Uri Geller in the 70's. He did it on television, and lacking the skepticism of adulthood I thought it was mystifying and magical. (Years later I saw Uri Geller perform live at a corporate gathering and was embarassed by his silly and transparent "mentalist" tricks.)

That may well be another diversion. I'm not sure. You see, I'm having a hard time concentrating. Game on.

Life is like Music

Cool thought for the day.

Very good career advice.

Creative Grandparenting

I just ran across this exchange from an old Calvin and Hobbes cartoon and it inspired all sorts of grandparenting ideas:

Calvin: Dad, how come old photographs are always black and white? Didn’t they have color film back then?

Dad: Sure they did. In fact, those old photographs are in color. It’s just the world was black and white then.

Calvin: Really?

Dad: Yep. The world didn’t turn color until sometime in the 1930s, and it was pretty grainy color for a while, too.

Calvin: But then why are old PAINTINGS in color?! If the world was black and white, wouldn’t artists have painted it that way?

Dad: Not necessarily. A lot of great artists were insane.

Freezefest 2009

Last year I had planned to join a group of like-minded intrepid canyoneers in Freezefest 2008, but sprained an ankle in an Arizona canyon just after Christmas AND caught the flu, so sickly and hobbling on New Years Eve, I unfortunately had to pass. This year I was determined to go.

Freezefest is an annual canyoneering event (seventh year) held in North Wash and attended by a group of diehard canyoneers who are willing to brave the cold to enjoy the rigors of winter canyoneering. We all stayed in the unofficial Sandthrax campground, which has no services, although there is an outdoor toilet five miles down the road.

The centerpiece of the event is always a descent of The Black Hole on New Years Day. The Black Hole is one of the wettest canyons around and involves nearly constant wading, numerous long swims and, during this time of the year, the need to manage a couple of inches of ice atop many of the channels. (There are a few ways to manage this--try to walk the ice and hope it doesn't break, belly crawl the ice, or let the lead canyoneer serve as an ice-breaker, busting off huge floating sheets that the followers must push around the force their way through.)

I undertook the venture with some trepidation, concerned that I would be uncomfortably cold spending hours in icewater. Of the thirteen in our group that did the trip, about half had dry suits, and the rest of us neoprene wet suits. And as it turned out, it wasn't bad at all. In fact, it was a blast.

We did other canyons as well: Woody and Woodsie on Dec. 31st. And on Jan. 2nd we descended Cheesebox, another notoriously wet canyon which was also snow-covered. It was often a challenge climbing down these ice-covered canyon walls, swimming and wading through icy channels and hiking through snow, but these added degrees of difficulty actually enhanced the pleasure of the experience.

All in all, I had a terrific time. The group was great, sharing food and gathering around a fire every night. (One of the fun parts about being in the cold is that you must consume an extraordinary amount of calories to stay warm. Everyone ate a lot.) I made a number of new friends that I expect to join in canyons again. During the three days I descended four new canyons and was grateful for the opportunity to see southern Utah wilderness in conditions not often experienced.

I realize that most people would never do something like this because it sounds crazy and uncomfortable. After all, it is called Freezefest. Despite this, if they conquered their fears and tried it, I think most folks would be pleasantly surprised at how much fun it is, despite the cold. I think many things in life are like that.

"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
The angels are all in heaven, but few of the fools are dead."
---James Thurber

Randi's Photos

Cell Phone Risks

This just in: Looks like cell phone usage significantly increases the risk of brain cancer, based on results from the largest-ever study of the subject. This issue has been floating around for some time, part of the larger concern about electromagnetic radiation from all manner of electronics, from power lines to microwaves, computer monitors and electric blankets.

Scientists continue to debate exactly how electrical low frequencies (EMF) affect our systems. Kurzweil has warned against these for years, and recommended an airtube attachment for cell phones that moves the phone further from your brain. It doesn't look any more geeky to me than any other wired earpieces.

Just one more thing to think about. Or, if your brain fries, to not think about it.

Randy Cooke 1957 - 2008

My friend Randy died this week. We were inseparable growing up. As a ten-year-old I moved down the street from him and we both knew immediately we'd found kindred spirits. We were bright and adventurous and together we rollicked our way through adolescence. As kids we played ball together, wrestled, made up games, watched TV and had countless sleepovers. In junior high we listened to the same music, developed the same taste in girls and together discovered a great love for the outdoors.

We loved to go camping--never at campgrounds, but out in the country and away from people and civilization. I couldn't count the number of nights we slept in our little pup tent, cooking our food over a fire and talking about all the things that seemed so profoundly deep and important in our blossoming youth. We remained close in high school, although we both found other friends. But we grew our hair long, did crazy things and read the same books--everything we could find by Carlos Castaneda, Kurt Vonnegut, Herman Hesse and others.

After graduation our lives diverged and over time we lost touch, I think partly because it was so painful to recognize we'd grown apart--that we no longer had common ground, the terra firma of our friendship that had made growing up tolerable. So for many years we rarely spoke, which I now regret deeply. But he came to the funerals of of both my parents, which I greatly appreciated, although in the bustle we hardly had time to talk.

Then, the last time I was in Duluth, I felt inspired to look him up. We got on the phone and immediately it was like no time had passed, no signs of the awkwardness I had feared. We quickly made plans to see each other and one Saturday morning I sat down to one of his delicious omelettes and delightful conversation with him and Mary Jo. In showing me a short cut back to Duluth Heights we were close enough to my destination that I invited him to come meet my family, which he did. I was as pleased to show them off to Randy as I have ever been in my life. We all chatted a while, but were headed out of town and had to leave. We hugged, and that's the last time I saw him.

Randy didn't have a computer (or a cell phone!) but I wrote him a few times in the past year--real letters that arrive with a stamp from a uniformed mailman. Then I heard from Mary Jo that he was sick with cancer and things weren't looking good. So I called and we spoke, and for the past few weeks I have called while he was home alone during the day and we've relived the bittersweet memories of our youth.

Randy was a unique spirit. He had a style of walking and talking that was distinctive and memorable--like a throwback to our hippie days, but embedded with a bemused kindness. I used to kid him that he had what Vonnegut once described as echolalia--as he would often repeat the last word of the sentence you had just spoken. It seemed to me a pleasant affirmation and a charming quirk.

I always admired the fact that he followed his moral compass with a navigator's precision. We may not have agreed on many things but it would never occur to me to question his personal integrity. He did what he thought was right in a matter-of-fact and unassuming way, a rare example of discipline and fortitude. He kept the same job for 27 years, and moved so he could walk to work. After his diagnosis, but when he was still able, he fixed up everything in the house, replacing appliances and putting things in shape for Mary Jo.

Like me, Randy never lost his love for the outdoors, and had developed a passion for kayaking. (He told me that one of the hardest things was putting up the kayaks, knowing it was for the last time.) Randy had also become a fine cook and a talented gardener and landscaper. He was a great companion to Mary Jo, his life-long love. He was a steady and reliable brother to his siblings. And he was, in the beginning and the end, my friend.

The world has lost someone that made it a better place. He will be missed.

Too Many Shoes

I've never considered myself much of a clothes hog. And especially as I've gotten older I've become less and less concerned with what I wear. But my Christmas present this year (which I chose and ordered before telling Rebecca what she was getting me) was a new pair of Columbia winter boots--great for hiking, snowshoeing and even standing around in the snow. They are waterproof, with Goretex and Thinsulate, and claim to be able to keep your feet warm in temperatures as cold as -40 degrees Fahrenheit. I was very excited to receive them.

That is, until I went to put them on my shoe shelf. There was hardly space, and I was immediately embarrassed at how many pairs of shoes I have accumulated over the years. Many are functional shoes--my 5.10 Canyoneers, a rugged pair of hiking boots, a light pair of hikers, climbing shoes, cross-trainers, two pairs of running shoes, a pair of trail runners, soccer cleats (worn about once a year at the Turkey Bowl, two pairs of water shoes (one new, one very old), basketball shoes and a couple of pair of beater tennis shoes (both at least 10 years old).

I also have nine pairs of dress shoes, some over 15 years old (which have been resoled at least twice), cowboy boots, two pairs of dressy casual shoes and four pairs of very casuals, one of which is totally beat up but work great when slippers don't quite do the trick. And speaking of slippers, I also have two pairs of those. And one pair of hand-me-down Adidas sandals, of unknown origin, which I almost never wear.

If my math is correct, and I haven't missed any, that's 34 pairs of footwear. However, I am pleased to report that I do not own any moccasins (except that pair I use for costumes--oops, 35). OK, but I don't have golf shoes (yet, as I haven't gotten old enough to switch to golf). And I refuse to count my snowboarding or ski boots, so the count holds at 35.

Anyway, upon reflection, I am aghast at my podalic indulgence, and hereby relinquish all rights to criticize anyone for their excessive wardrobes.

World Wide Web

Even though I got no feedback on my always excellent and universally acclaimed movie recommendations ;-), I will nevertheless proceed with websites that have intrigued, amused or otherwise titillated me in the past week. I hope you have the time to kill, because be warned, you're jumping down a wormhole.

Movie Cliches: These are so true, they're hilarious.

Planetbook: Free downloads of a wide selection of classic literature. How cool is that, I mean for the price?

Squashed Philosophers: For those of us that no longer want to devote the time to read Descartes' Meditations again, or Plato's Republic--the Squashed (condensed) and even the "Very Squashed" versions. Handy.

Collected Quotes of Albert Einstein: If I need to explain this site, you won't appreciate the content. And if that doesn't give you your fill of Einstein, read this excellent essay by the big-brained one.

Prince Randian: Moving to the weird, twisted and bizarre. Click on this the next time you find yourself whining. Then click on the Futility Closet home page and read until you marvel that you could waste so much time on such useless stuff.

A Class Divided: This is a fascinating and frightening Frontline special on a discrimination experiment. Written about in Blink, as I recall.

The Ancient World: If you like this kind of stuff (and I totally do) you can really kick it on this site and still feel remarkably good about your use of time.

Wonders and Marvels: Curious history in a well-done, academic blog. I subscribe to the RSS. Check out these fascinating entries on midwifery and childbirth, then dig around the topics on your own.

Playdough Cookies: For some inexplicable reason, I really want to make these.

Sidewalk Chalk: If you haven't seen this sidewalk chalk, you absolutely must check it out. Amazing!

The 100 Best Novels: Can't help myself--I love these lists. They always inspire me to want to read them all. (Which is easier and less challenging than actually reading all of them. Do the squashed versions count?)

Human World: I am a total junkie for fascinating but useless information, the sum of which is absolutely no greater than its parts. In fact, perhaps it is less, which would be a mathematical oddity, I think.

White Christmas: Tell me this doesn't remind you of Mixed Nuts!

Stumbleupon: The source of much of my entertainment. No one needs another toolbar. But the pay-off in unusual repositories of information and other oddities is worth the real estate on your screen, at least for a week or two. But beware--download this app and you're in the matrix too.

Recommendations

I've had a bit of insomnia lately so have been spending idle time late at night watching movies and cruising the web. And consequently, I've generated a few recommendations that are definitely not for everyone, but have kept me pleasantly entertained.

Mongol--I've mentioned this before, but if you haven't picked it up on DVD, you should. The story of a young Ghengis Khan, with a very authentic feel to it. In Mongolian, by a Russian director.

Himalaya--In the same vein, although without the battle scenes, Himalaya is a 1999 film shot in Nepal that tells a touching story about a nomadic people and the clash between the ancient religious traditions and the skepticism of the young. The film is absolutely gorgeous, just beautifully shot. Further, director Eric Valli used only local tribespeople instead of actors, who do a very credible job and add to the powerful realism of the experience. If you've got a big HD screen this is a must-see. If not, you'll still likely be enthralled by the authentic view of the culture and a vanishing people.

Film noir classics, both from 1950--The Asphalt Jungle, a classic John Huston film with a terrific crew of talented actors, including James Whitmore, Sterling Hayden, Jean Hagen, Sam Jaffe and even a young Marilyn Monroe in a bit part. Also, The Third Man, a Graham Greene screenplay starring Orson Welles. Both well done black & white film noir from the end of a great movie era.

Going way back--Again, these aren't for everyone, but if you want to try something different, watch Buster Keaton in The Cameraman. Really unbelievably good physical comedy. The General is also a tale well-told with some great Keaton stunts. I also watched Steamboat Bill Jr., but didn't like that as much. All silent films from the '20's. An early talkie is German director Fritz Lang's M,a 1931 classic starring Peter Lorre that has aged exceptionally well. This movie is way ahead of its time and features extraordinary camerawork and creativity by Lang, along with an intense story and biting social commentary. Really a powerful film, if you like old movies.

Enough for now. By the way, I've been getting most of these from my local public library, just a few blocks from home. They have an eclectic collection of DVD's. Also CD's, with some decent jazz, blues, gospel, folk, classical, obscure R&B, weird pop and even acid rock. Oh, and they have a lot of books, too.

Funky website recommendations to come later.

Hadephobia

As far as anxiety disorders go, is this a bad one? A good one?

Would you avoid going to church to keep from developing it? If you did get it, would you go to church more often to overcome it?

Would it be a mistake to treat this with medication?

So many things for me to wonder.