Day Two in Puerto Vallarta and it began with a vacation tradition--sleeping in. OK, it was only until eight o'clock (seven in Utah) but it seemed shamefully indolent to me, which I took a little delight in. We had the hotel buffet, which was wonderful, and besides fresh fruit and pastries I dined on funky dishes with cauliflower and eggplant and other pleasant surprises.
The weather had cleared so after breakfast we took the bus to a river outside of town, which poured down from the mountainous jungle that surrounds Puerto Vallarta. We hiked up about a mile, walking sometimes on a trail, but more at the edge of the river, jumping over moss-slicked boulders. We were soon dripping with sweat and took the first opportunity to take a dip. Eventually we arrived at a gorgeous waterfall--maybe 50 feet high. We languished on the rocks and swam in the pool and under the falls. There was a cable that stretched up a rock wall and using it, along with moki steps, craggy edges and external tree roots I was able to climb to the top despite the greasy covering on the rocks, although going up turned out to be much easier than coming down, which did make my adrenaline surge.
Downriver and back on the ocean, where we hit a quiet, white sand beach we had read about. After a few hours in the pleasant, warm water we were back on a bus heading to the Eden River. We turned down the over-priced cab ride for the benefit of a 2.5 mile hike up the mountain to our destination--a restaurant along a lovely river, where again we swam and then ate. Not up for another long walk, we snagged a ride down with a tour truck, disembarking at the sleeply little town on the coast, and then catching a bus back to the hotel.
By the way, I now know where all the 80's era boxy video games go--the stuff you used to find in mall arcades. They are in Barcelo Mismaloya, on sidewalk patios and in concrete arcades. With faded graphics and flaking paint, the kids drop in a couple of pesos to get their perfectly acceptable substitute to America's XBox and Nintendo Wie.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Welcome to Puerto Vallarta
Arrived in Puerto Vallarta last night. Hadn't gotten out of the airport when we were stopped and asked which hotel we were going to. I smelled a rat, but when he said we had a complementary ride to our hotel it got Rebecca's attention. He brought us to Jose, who was a very nice guy and told us all about the town before he invited us to sit through a "vacation club" presentation, and right then and there I was filled with dread and wanted to run out of the airport as fast as possible but he said the magic words (in third person)--"and you'll help Jose get a little commission"--and so it seemed like some sort of Mexican welfare project which we could hardly refuse, especially when he was smiling so nice and nearly hyperventilating with anticipation and kindly offered to pick us up from church and give us great prices on an island tour and yada yada yada. And that's how we found ourselves having breakfast with a hundred other cheap, pathetic tourists paying dearly for their freebies at the Villa la Something and getting pushed into a sales funnel where we were all but stripped naked and fitted for our sales potential and while several of the representatives were very nice the big sales closer was like a Mexican Gilbert Godrey and yelled at us for an hour and wrote at least 150 numbers down on a paper with a green felt pen and never wrote down a single explanation of what the numbers represented but the correct answer to his seemingly endless equation was that it was a "no-brainer," and both of us being brain-dead Rebecca and I applied a different calculus and politely declined and if only that were that but there was more and finally we left under duress and emotionally battered and if anyone ever asks you if they can give you absolutely anything in exchange for sitting through a "This is NOT a Time Share" presentation tell them you would rather have a needle poked in your eyes. Or better yet, poked in his.
On a lighter note, the Fiesta Americana Hotel is very nice and this afternoon we went downtown to the boardwalk in town, which has the most eclectic and extraordinary array of bronze statues. Ate at Jim Jack's Fish Shack, which was small but very good. Great fresh produce, particulary the jicama, cucumbers, avocado and pico de gallo. Then back to the hotel to watch the Red Sox win Game 7 over the Indians, an event hardly marred by the television commentary being entirely in Spanish, which to me sounded like blah blah blah blah Fenway Park blah blah blah blah Manny Ramirez, etc. But the language spin was enough to make Rebecca sort of dig it.
And I should also mention that everyone says it is sunny every day here and hardly ever rains for more than an hour a day except since we arrived because there is a tropical storm somewhere off the coast and so it has been steadily drizzling and overcast. But that didn't stop some of the guests at our hotel from laying out on the poolside chaise lounges, which seems like an excruciating waste of time but still infinitely more enjoyable than discussing vacation opportunities with Gilbert Godfrey.
On a lighter note, the Fiesta Americana Hotel is very nice and this afternoon we went downtown to the boardwalk in town, which has the most eclectic and extraordinary array of bronze statues. Ate at Jim Jack's Fish Shack, which was small but very good. Great fresh produce, particulary the jicama, cucumbers, avocado and pico de gallo. Then back to the hotel to watch the Red Sox win Game 7 over the Indians, an event hardly marred by the television commentary being entirely in Spanish, which to me sounded like blah blah blah blah Fenway Park blah blah blah blah Manny Ramirez, etc. But the language spin was enough to make Rebecca sort of dig it.
And I should also mention that everyone says it is sunny every day here and hardly ever rains for more than an hour a day except since we arrived because there is a tropical storm somewhere off the coast and so it has been steadily drizzling and overcast. But that didn't stop some of the guests at our hotel from laying out on the poolside chaise lounges, which seems like an excruciating waste of time but still infinitely more enjoyable than discussing vacation opportunities with Gilbert Godfrey.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Favorite Quotes, Part 1
When I find a quote I like, I save it and put it in my email signature for a day or so. Some people have asked me for these, so I thought I'd occasionally put a few in my blog. One of my goals in life is to come up with a few pithy and well-said ideas that will survive my mortality. You ever hear of "Life's a Beach"?
"The years between fifty and seventy are the hardest. You are always being asked to do more, and you are not yet decrepit enough to turn them down. " --T.S. Eliot
"Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.” --Shakespeare, Hamlet (Polonius)
"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man." --George Bernard Shaw
"Nothing endures but change." -- Heraclitus
"We did not change as we grew older; we just became more clearly ourselves." -- Lynn Hall
"Our life is what our thoughts make it." --Marcus Aurelius Antonius
"Man is the Only Animal that Blushes. Or needs to." --Mark Twain
"A classic is something that everybody wants to have read and nobody wants to read." --Mark Twain
"Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest.” --Mark Twain
"There is something fascinating about science. One gets such wholesale returns of conjecture out of such a trifling investment of fact." --Mark Twain
“In looking for people to hire, you look for three qualities: Integrity, intelligence, and energy. If they do not have the first, then the other two will kill you.” --Warren Buffett
"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live." --Dorothy Thompson, journalist
"Everything I did in my life that was worthwhile I caught hell for." --Earl Warren
"Drive thy business or it will drive thee." --Benjamin Franklin
"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." --Henry David Thoreau, Walden.
“I don't want any yes-men around me. I want everyone to tell me the truth, even if it costs them their jobs.” --Samuel Goldwyn
"The ancestor of every action is a thought." --Emerson
"The only way to avoid being miserable is not to have enough leisure to wonder whether you are happy or not." --George Bernard Shaw
"I always wanted to be somebody, but I should have been more specific." --Lily Tomlin
"If a man hasn't discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live." --Martin Luther King Jr.
"People only see what they are prepared to see." --Ralph Waldo Emerson
"The most valuable thing you can make is a mistake - you can't learn anything from being perfect." --Adam Osborne
"Sticks in a bundle are unbreakable." --African Proverb
"Always bear in mind that your own resolution to success is more important than any other one thing."
--Abraham Lincoln
"The years between fifty and seventy are the hardest. You are always being asked to do more, and you are not yet decrepit enough to turn them down. " --T.S. Eliot
"Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.” --Shakespeare, Hamlet (Polonius)
"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man." --George Bernard Shaw
"Nothing endures but change." -- Heraclitus
"We did not change as we grew older; we just became more clearly ourselves." -- Lynn Hall
"Our life is what our thoughts make it." --Marcus Aurelius Antonius
"Man is the Only Animal that Blushes. Or needs to." --Mark Twain
"A classic is something that everybody wants to have read and nobody wants to read." --Mark Twain
"Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest.” --Mark Twain
"There is something fascinating about science. One gets such wholesale returns of conjecture out of such a trifling investment of fact." --Mark Twain
“In looking for people to hire, you look for three qualities: Integrity, intelligence, and energy. If they do not have the first, then the other two will kill you.” --Warren Buffett
"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live." --Dorothy Thompson, journalist
"Everything I did in my life that was worthwhile I caught hell for." --Earl Warren
"Drive thy business or it will drive thee." --Benjamin Franklin
"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." --Henry David Thoreau, Walden.
“I don't want any yes-men around me. I want everyone to tell me the truth, even if it costs them their jobs.” --Samuel Goldwyn
"The ancestor of every action is a thought." --Emerson
"The only way to avoid being miserable is not to have enough leisure to wonder whether you are happy or not." --George Bernard Shaw
"I always wanted to be somebody, but I should have been more specific." --Lily Tomlin
"If a man hasn't discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live." --Martin Luther King Jr.
"People only see what they are prepared to see." --Ralph Waldo Emerson
"The most valuable thing you can make is a mistake - you can't learn anything from being perfect." --Adam Osborne
"Sticks in a bundle are unbreakable." --African Proverb
"Always bear in mind that your own resolution to success is more important than any other one thing."
--Abraham Lincoln
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Game 2
The Diamondbacks lost to the Rockies last night in 11 innings. Sam and I sat high above home plate. It was a disappointing loss, but the Rockies played better baseball and deserved to win. Before the game we ate at the Hard Rock Cafe and watched the Red Sox crush the Indians, which was a terrific pre-game meal. More observations from Chase Field:
1. Take Me Out to the Ball Game is one of the great American songs. It's a catchy tune with lyrics that are totally unpretentious in their homespun homage to America's national pasttime. It's one of the coolest traditions in sports that everyone stands and sings it during the seventh inning stretch. But it does make me wish they still sold Cracker Jacks at games.
2. Eric Byrnes is the only major leaguer I've ever seen who plays gay. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) He's a pretty good hitter and the fans love him but the guy plays the game like he's auditioning for a spot on Will and Grace. He runs past first with his legs bouncing out to the side, falls down after a hard swing or a throw from the outfield, then rolls in the dirt then pops up with a flair. Plus, the guy wears black socks pulled up to his knees, and you get the feeling he would wear them mid-thigh if the rules allowed. I don't think I'm homophobic, but in 40 years of watching baseball, I've never seen anything like it.
3. I was surprised to see a group of fans highlighted on the big screen holding letter-cards that spelled out GOD BACKS. I puzzled over this for a few seconds, wondering about the religious significance of the message. Then I realized that their spacing was off a little, and they were really writing GO DBACKS. I guess it was a sign.
1. Take Me Out to the Ball Game is one of the great American songs. It's a catchy tune with lyrics that are totally unpretentious in their homespun homage to America's national pasttime. It's one of the coolest traditions in sports that everyone stands and sings it during the seventh inning stretch. But it does make me wish they still sold Cracker Jacks at games.
2. Eric Byrnes is the only major leaguer I've ever seen who plays gay. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) He's a pretty good hitter and the fans love him but the guy plays the game like he's auditioning for a spot on Will and Grace. He runs past first with his legs bouncing out to the side, falls down after a hard swing or a throw from the outfield, then rolls in the dirt then pops up with a flair. Plus, the guy wears black socks pulled up to his knees, and you get the feeling he would wear them mid-thigh if the rules allowed. I don't think I'm homophobic, but in 40 years of watching baseball, I've never seen anything like it.
3. I was surprised to see a group of fans highlighted on the big screen holding letter-cards that spelled out GOD BACKS. I puzzled over this for a few seconds, wondering about the religious significance of the message. Then I realized that their spacing was off a little, and they were really writing GO DBACKS. I guess it was a sign.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Baseball in October
We're in Phoenix this weekend and last night Sam and I attended Game 1 of the National League Championship Series between the Arizona Diamondbacks and the Colorado Rockies. I love the atmosphere at play-off games--the stadium is electric with enthusiasm and energy. But given that I don't have a strong passion for either team, I found myself drawn to random observations throughout the game. Here are a few:
1. There is something very cathartic and unifying about booing the umpire. After a highly questionable call at a crucial time, the crowd raised their collective voices in a prolonged booing of the 2nd base umpire. (They also threw stuff on the field, causing the game to be temporarily suspended.) It was fun to join in on the booing, although I have heard it done with more enthusiasm and creativity in Philadelphia and New York, where after centuries of practice rudeness has been elevated to an art form. For a moment I felt badly for the umpire, but quickly recovered my senses and rejoined the chorus. I wonder why no one ever boos at home, like when your teenager doesn't do chores, or your husband leaves the toilet paper roll empty.
2. The lower section baseline rows in modern stadiums are designed so that if the person in front of you is exactly the same height you will be able to see the field, from the foul line and above, which seems a rather idealistic design with little margin for random distribution of individual verticality. From the top of the head of the person in front, another eight inches will block the view from your foul line to the outfield fence--basically the entire field. If the person in front of you is wearing a baseball cap, that will add two inches, or 25% of the field. If the person is 6'4" or higher and wearing a cap, and you are, say, ME, then you will not see anything. I looked up and down the stands and observed how many people were craning their necks to see the game. I had the passing thought that outlawing baseball caps at games would increase the viewable field coverage substantially for all people on the lower levels, but quickly realized that would be un-American.
3. There is a line in God Bless America that I had never really thought about and struck me as kind of silly:
From the mountains, to the prairies,
To the oceans, white with foam
God bless America, My home sweet home.
I suppose Irving Berlin was struggling to find a word that rhymes with home. "Roam" had already been popularized in Home on the Range. "Comb" was hard to fit in. "Gnome" would be a stretch, and so on. So he settled on "oceans, white with foam," and I'm sure his wife said the song would never take, and if he had any idea that it would be sung at thousands of sporting events for many decades he would have spent more time on it and come up with something better. I bet he never even considered "loam" or "chrome." Maybe we should update the song for today's pro sports scene. Can anyone say "Dome"?
1. There is something very cathartic and unifying about booing the umpire. After a highly questionable call at a crucial time, the crowd raised their collective voices in a prolonged booing of the 2nd base umpire. (They also threw stuff on the field, causing the game to be temporarily suspended.) It was fun to join in on the booing, although I have heard it done with more enthusiasm and creativity in Philadelphia and New York, where after centuries of practice rudeness has been elevated to an art form. For a moment I felt badly for the umpire, but quickly recovered my senses and rejoined the chorus. I wonder why no one ever boos at home, like when your teenager doesn't do chores, or your husband leaves the toilet paper roll empty.
2. The lower section baseline rows in modern stadiums are designed so that if the person in front of you is exactly the same height you will be able to see the field, from the foul line and above, which seems a rather idealistic design with little margin for random distribution of individual verticality. From the top of the head of the person in front, another eight inches will block the view from your foul line to the outfield fence--basically the entire field. If the person in front of you is wearing a baseball cap, that will add two inches, or 25% of the field. If the person is 6'4" or higher and wearing a cap, and you are, say, ME, then you will not see anything. I looked up and down the stands and observed how many people were craning their necks to see the game. I had the passing thought that outlawing baseball caps at games would increase the viewable field coverage substantially for all people on the lower levels, but quickly realized that would be un-American.
3. There is a line in God Bless America that I had never really thought about and struck me as kind of silly:
From the mountains, to the prairies,
To the oceans, white with foam
God bless America, My home sweet home.
I suppose Irving Berlin was struggling to find a word that rhymes with home. "Roam" had already been popularized in Home on the Range. "Comb" was hard to fit in. "Gnome" would be a stretch, and so on. So he settled on "oceans, white with foam," and I'm sure his wife said the song would never take, and if he had any idea that it would be sung at thousands of sporting events for many decades he would have spent more time on it and come up with something better. I bet he never even considered "loam" or "chrome." Maybe we should update the song for today's pro sports scene. Can anyone say "Dome"?
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Priorities
Lately I've been plagued by too many priorities and not enough time to do them all. ClearPlay is at a critical juncture, and I always feel compelled to try to do a little bit more, and nearly always finish the day before my To Do List is complete. I'm really anxious to do a small test of my nursing home non-profit. I'd like to take my "Where are They Now?" idea to the next step. And I've had an offer to do some lucrative work for a friend, which requires some diligence on my part, and an initial trip next month.
And there are plenty of other good things to do. We've had company lately, and it seems like people should always be the top priority--this week it's Gene and Lorraine Clark, which has been nice. I think it's good to have some semblance of a social life, and friendships take time. I want to be a better home teacher, and do more to serve. I like to work out about five times a week--been doing it so many years that I feel guilty without it. I try to keep up my blog, even when I'm not inspired (sorry). I have vowed to finish my script by Thanksgiving. There's some correspondence to keep up with. I'm in the middle of reading three books. And there are mundane things around the house--reseed the lawn, clean out the cellar, move stuff to the attic.
And then there's the fun stuff. There are plenty of canyons and hikes I want to do, and this winter I hope to snowboard more, and maybe do some snowshoeing. It's baseball post-season, and Sam and I have been watching quite a few games. Next week we're going to Phoenix to see two NLCS games live. There's Fantasy Football, and as the first-place team I have to maintain family bragging rights. And I like to watch games Sunday and Monday nights, and BYU on Saturdays. I like to catch at least one DVD a week, and I have over 100 classic DVD's on my Blockbuster Online, and I'm in the middle of Prison Break Season One and The Office Season Three. And my half dozen magazines, including the completely self-indulgent Sports Illustrated. And I promised to do Sundance and review movies in January. All frivolous and, arguably, wastes of time.
Needless to say, not everything is getting done. A few lessons learned:
1. Maybe you can do anything, but you definitely can't do everything--at least not at one time.
2. Start early. At 50, I'm starting to feel the sand at the bottom of the hourglass.
3. Make conscious priority decisions, and live by them. I've tried to do this in life, mostly unsuccessfully.
4. Set goals. Translate them into weekly and daily goals.
5. Don't forget to enjoy life. Do your best, but recognize how you're built. If you have more ambition than reasonably possible, don't beat yourself up. Celebrate successes.
And there are plenty of other good things to do. We've had company lately, and it seems like people should always be the top priority--this week it's Gene and Lorraine Clark, which has been nice. I think it's good to have some semblance of a social life, and friendships take time. I want to be a better home teacher, and do more to serve. I like to work out about five times a week--been doing it so many years that I feel guilty without it. I try to keep up my blog, even when I'm not inspired (sorry). I have vowed to finish my script by Thanksgiving. There's some correspondence to keep up with. I'm in the middle of reading three books. And there are mundane things around the house--reseed the lawn, clean out the cellar, move stuff to the attic.
And then there's the fun stuff. There are plenty of canyons and hikes I want to do, and this winter I hope to snowboard more, and maybe do some snowshoeing. It's baseball post-season, and Sam and I have been watching quite a few games. Next week we're going to Phoenix to see two NLCS games live. There's Fantasy Football, and as the first-place team I have to maintain family bragging rights. And I like to watch games Sunday and Monday nights, and BYU on Saturdays. I like to catch at least one DVD a week, and I have over 100 classic DVD's on my Blockbuster Online, and I'm in the middle of Prison Break Season One and The Office Season Three. And my half dozen magazines, including the completely self-indulgent Sports Illustrated. And I promised to do Sundance and review movies in January. All frivolous and, arguably, wastes of time.
Needless to say, not everything is getting done. A few lessons learned:
1. Maybe you can do anything, but you definitely can't do everything--at least not at one time.
2. Start early. At 50, I'm starting to feel the sand at the bottom of the hourglass.
3. Make conscious priority decisions, and live by them. I've tried to do this in life, mostly unsuccessfully.
4. Set goals. Translate them into weekly and daily goals.
5. Don't forget to enjoy life. Do your best, but recognize how you're built. If you have more ambition than reasonably possible, don't beat yourself up. Celebrate successes.
Friday, September 21, 2007
What Season Is It?
I don't shop much, so I may have been the only person in the Target store on Tuesday that was surprised to see aisles of Halloween merchandise already out. I checked the date: September 18th. Halloween, which I consider only a minor holiday, is over a month away, and the retailers are already reaching out with their claws of commerce. Does anyone really buy Halloween candy in September? No wonder the stuff the kids bring home so often tastes like tree bark. Are people really picking out their costumes, getting ready to carve their pumpkins and buying decorations for their house?
Having recovered from my surprise, I completely forgot about Halloween until this afternoon, when I was in Costco, and nearly fell over when I heard a familiar tune--Jingle Bells. I turned around and what to my wondering eyes should appear but an entire aisle devoted to Christmas products, complete with trees, decorations and Santa Claus. I would not have been more surprised if he had come down my home chimney.
This is way too early, and clearly Santa needs a calendar. I can thing of no better way to lose the Christmas spirit than to bludgeon it to death with over-exposure. If I worked at Costco and had to start listening to Christmas carols in September I would hate Christmas by Halloween. I would become Jewish, or Muslim, or Hindu. I would abdicate my vegetarianism so that I could eat reindeer. And I'd rip the masks off of every Santa Claus I'd see.
Is there any rational person who is buying Christmas stuff now? Used to be I could comfortably delay any feelings of guilt until Christmas Eve, something I learned from my dad. Now, in the middle of September, I feel selfish and remiss for gazing longingly at the plasma TV's instead of picking out Christmas gifts.
Welcome to the holiday season, and the winter/spring/summer/fall of my discontent.
Having recovered from my surprise, I completely forgot about Halloween until this afternoon, when I was in Costco, and nearly fell over when I heard a familiar tune--Jingle Bells. I turned around and what to my wondering eyes should appear but an entire aisle devoted to Christmas products, complete with trees, decorations and Santa Claus. I would not have been more surprised if he had come down my home chimney.
This is way too early, and clearly Santa needs a calendar. I can thing of no better way to lose the Christmas spirit than to bludgeon it to death with over-exposure. If I worked at Costco and had to start listening to Christmas carols in September I would hate Christmas by Halloween. I would become Jewish, or Muslim, or Hindu. I would abdicate my vegetarianism so that I could eat reindeer. And I'd rip the masks off of every Santa Claus I'd see.
Is there any rational person who is buying Christmas stuff now? Used to be I could comfortably delay any feelings of guilt until Christmas Eve, something I learned from my dad. Now, in the middle of September, I feel selfish and remiss for gazing longingly at the plasma TV's instead of picking out Christmas gifts.
Welcome to the holiday season, and the winter/spring/summer/fall of my discontent.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Grumpy
I flew home from Dallas late last night. I was in a bad mood, mostly because I lost a contact lens in the airport and had checked my bag where I kept my spares. So everything was out of focus, making it hard to see or read.
And then it seemed like everything got worse. The guy in my row was coughing and wheezing--plus he was slovenly. And he acted like he owned the middle seat and the floor in front of it. Just rude and selfish. When we exited the airplane, some people had a hard time grasping the concept of taking turns and going by rows. What, first-time travelers? Then my pet peeve--everyone crowded around the baggage claim carousel, blocking the view of the few of us polite enough to step away. Don't people realize that it would be best for everyone if we just took a few steps back? These people really annoyed me--all of them!
In fact, I realized that I had become quite unhappy and somewhat stressed. I was looking at people as objects, and seeing how they were obstructing my path to comfort and satisfaction. I was in a misanthropic mood, and it was getting worse.
Eventually, I put in a new contact, got in my car, turned on the radio and started to feel better. I reflected on the frustration I was feeling, and realized it was mostly self-imposed. I guess that grumpy is as grumpy does. If you're looking for something to criticize, there's no shortage of material in this world. On the other hand, there's plenty of sunshine on the bright side, if you bother to look over there.
And then it seemed like everything got worse. The guy in my row was coughing and wheezing--plus he was slovenly. And he acted like he owned the middle seat and the floor in front of it. Just rude and selfish. When we exited the airplane, some people had a hard time grasping the concept of taking turns and going by rows. What, first-time travelers? Then my pet peeve--everyone crowded around the baggage claim carousel, blocking the view of the few of us polite enough to step away. Don't people realize that it would be best for everyone if we just took a few steps back? These people really annoyed me--all of them!
In fact, I realized that I had become quite unhappy and somewhat stressed. I was looking at people as objects, and seeing how they were obstructing my path to comfort and satisfaction. I was in a misanthropic mood, and it was getting worse.
Eventually, I put in a new contact, got in my car, turned on the radio and started to feel better. I reflected on the frustration I was feeling, and realized it was mostly self-imposed. I guess that grumpy is as grumpy does. If you're looking for something to criticize, there's no shortage of material in this world. On the other hand, there's plenty of sunshine on the bright side, if you bother to look over there.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
A Weekend in Bluff
Last night I drove home from Bluff, where I spent three days taking an American Canyoneering Association course from a local outfitter. Our group of six guys from Utah, California and New Mexico learned and practiced techniques for anchoring, belaying, pothole escapes and ascending in a few short canyons near Bluff.
Bluff is a small town in the southeast corner of the state, near the Four Corners area. It is on the San Juan River, across from a Navajo Indian reservation. About 250 people live there year-round, and the economy is dominated by ranching and tourism from the San Juan and Four Corners. It has a funky southwest Americana culture. Everyone knows everyone. We met at a little coffee shop that featured some very tasteful local art, lots of trendy chai and green tea drinks and serves a mean bowl of oatmeal. Down the highway there's the local cafe, which has been there for years, with a linoleum floor and hand-painted sign. I met the owner, a skinny 60-ish lady in blue jeans, whose lipstick extended a little too far about her face. Born and raised in Bluff, she makes her money serving lunch to a few locals and when the tourist buses stop for gas and ice cream.
I asked her what was good and she recommended a root beer float. It was quite tasty, but served in a plastic tumbler like the one my friend's mother used to serve Kool-Aid in when we were kids. (It's possible it was the same glass.) We talked about the town and tourists. A few locals came in and chatted, including an Indian family. Their little three-year-old said he was hungry and she gave him a cup of soft-serve ice cream on the house, which seemed kind of cool to me.
I was there during the annual fair, which is the big event of the year, and includes a rodeo and a pow-wow--to attract both the cowboys and Indians, I suppose. I drove through town on Saturday morning and everyone was getting their chairs set up for the parade, an event that I genuinely regret missing.
I wouldn't want to live in a town like Bluff. I value my privacy too much. But it was a slice of America that made for a great visit.
Bluff is a small town in the southeast corner of the state, near the Four Corners area. It is on the San Juan River, across from a Navajo Indian reservation. About 250 people live there year-round, and the economy is dominated by ranching and tourism from the San Juan and Four Corners. It has a funky southwest Americana culture. Everyone knows everyone. We met at a little coffee shop that featured some very tasteful local art, lots of trendy chai and green tea drinks and serves a mean bowl of oatmeal. Down the highway there's the local cafe, which has been there for years, with a linoleum floor and hand-painted sign. I met the owner, a skinny 60-ish lady in blue jeans, whose lipstick extended a little too far about her face. Born and raised in Bluff, she makes her money serving lunch to a few locals and when the tourist buses stop for gas and ice cream.
I asked her what was good and she recommended a root beer float. It was quite tasty, but served in a plastic tumbler like the one my friend's mother used to serve Kool-Aid in when we were kids. (It's possible it was the same glass.) We talked about the town and tourists. A few locals came in and chatted, including an Indian family. Their little three-year-old said he was hungry and she gave him a cup of soft-serve ice cream on the house, which seemed kind of cool to me.
I was there during the annual fair, which is the big event of the year, and includes a rodeo and a pow-wow--to attract both the cowboys and Indians, I suppose. I drove through town on Saturday morning and everyone was getting their chairs set up for the parade, an event that I genuinely regret missing.
I wouldn't want to live in a town like Bluff. I value my privacy too much. But it was a slice of America that made for a great visit.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Timpanokee
Last weekend Merritt and I climbed Mt. Timpanogos, on the Timpanokee Trail. It was my first time up that side of the mountain. Sunday afternoon we hiked up most of the way, hastily setting up our tent in the meadow when the rain started to more than drizzle. After a well-deserved sandwich in the tent, the rain stopped, so we decided to explore with the little daylight we had left.
It's funny how dropping your packs to hike feels like such freedom after carrying them five miles up the mountain. We ran into another group camping--a father and two of his grown children, just cooking dinner. Merritt had read about some World War II bomber wreckage, and with a little careful looking we found several pieces, that had been scattered surprisingly far apart.
We also encountered a herd of about 18 mountain goats, who walked slowly along the ridge, and stopped to keep what appeared to be a vigil around the engine of the plane, like something out of 2001: A Space Odyssey, or perhaps The Gods Must Be Crazy.
We came prepared for a cold night, but the weather was surprisingly pleasant. The night was an oddly enchanting combination of rain, wind and moonlight. We left open the mosquito netting on both sides, which seemed to bring the elements closer, but not penetrating the confines of the tent, which we had set up bomb shelter style, fully staked with tight guy lines. Merritt and I both woke up many times throughout the night, each time pausing to appreciate the elements outside from the comfort of our shelter.
We wanted to get up by five in the morning, but neither one of us had a watch, and our phones couldn't hold their charges through the night. So we were quite literally in the dark about when it was time to leave. Finally, we awoke and saw a few headlamps on the trail and dashed out to hit the summit by sunrise, hiking by moonlight, which was just enough to get by. Turns out we got to the saddle by 5 o'clock, and hour before we wanted, meaning we'd gotten up around 4 a.m. After sitting sheltered from the cold wind, and admiring the view overlooking American Fork, we headed for the summit.
We were far from alone. It appears that seeing the sun rise on Timp is a Labor Day tradition for many BYU students. Once at the 11,700 foot peak, we were joined by a throng of young men and women enjoying a midnight hike the day before classes started. We found a private, quieter spot on the face and watched an unusual sunrise, with red streaks spearing cross-like through the intermittent cloud cover.
Then down the mountain, retracing the eight miles of trail down about 4000 vertical feet, and then into the car and back home in time for lunch. Timpanokee is a gorgeous trail with terrific vistas, pleasant meadows and a lovely little lake. And I'm guessing it is even more glorious in late June when the wildflowers are in bloom, or in a few more weeks when the autumn leaves put on their show. What a beautiful area I am blessed to live in, to have such wonders only an hour away. I delight in her bounties, and cherish each time I can get out to enjoy them.
It's funny how dropping your packs to hike feels like such freedom after carrying them five miles up the mountain. We ran into another group camping--a father and two of his grown children, just cooking dinner. Merritt had read about some World War II bomber wreckage, and with a little careful looking we found several pieces, that had been scattered surprisingly far apart.
We also encountered a herd of about 18 mountain goats, who walked slowly along the ridge, and stopped to keep what appeared to be a vigil around the engine of the plane, like something out of 2001: A Space Odyssey, or perhaps The Gods Must Be Crazy.
We came prepared for a cold night, but the weather was surprisingly pleasant. The night was an oddly enchanting combination of rain, wind and moonlight. We left open the mosquito netting on both sides, which seemed to bring the elements closer, but not penetrating the confines of the tent, which we had set up bomb shelter style, fully staked with tight guy lines. Merritt and I both woke up many times throughout the night, each time pausing to appreciate the elements outside from the comfort of our shelter.
We wanted to get up by five in the morning, but neither one of us had a watch, and our phones couldn't hold their charges through the night. So we were quite literally in the dark about when it was time to leave. Finally, we awoke and saw a few headlamps on the trail and dashed out to hit the summit by sunrise, hiking by moonlight, which was just enough to get by. Turns out we got to the saddle by 5 o'clock, and hour before we wanted, meaning we'd gotten up around 4 a.m. After sitting sheltered from the cold wind, and admiring the view overlooking American Fork, we headed for the summit.
We were far from alone. It appears that seeing the sun rise on Timp is a Labor Day tradition for many BYU students. Once at the 11,700 foot peak, we were joined by a throng of young men and women enjoying a midnight hike the day before classes started. We found a private, quieter spot on the face and watched an unusual sunrise, with red streaks spearing cross-like through the intermittent cloud cover.
Then down the mountain, retracing the eight miles of trail down about 4000 vertical feet, and then into the car and back home in time for lunch. Timpanokee is a gorgeous trail with terrific vistas, pleasant meadows and a lovely little lake. And I'm guessing it is even more glorious in late June when the wildflowers are in bloom, or in a few more weeks when the autumn leaves put on their show. What a beautiful area I am blessed to live in, to have such wonders only an hour away. I delight in her bounties, and cherish each time I can get out to enjoy them.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Latin Night
We had a get-together at the house on Thursday night--friends that Rebecca had met in the Spanish Branch in Park City, and that I have come to know as well, despite my inability to speak Spanish, and their lack of confidence with English. But there were adults and teens, some Spanish-speaking and some bilingual, and a few of us English-only speakers, and somehow a good time was had by all. We sat around the table for what seemed like a couple of hours talking and laughing in Spanish and English, and with a little translating and some body language and a general joie de vivre, we managed to communicate quite well.
I like multi-cultural experiences, and I wish I had more of them. Every time I am able to glimpse the world from the perspective of another country I understand a little better why we can be so different, yet remain so very much the same.
I like multi-cultural experiences, and I wish I had more of them. Every time I am able to glimpse the world from the perspective of another country I understand a little better why we can be so different, yet remain so very much the same.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Blades of Glory
One of our premises for ClearPlay reviews is based on homespun wisdom most of us learned from our mothers: If you don’t have anything good to say about a movie, don’t review it. This gave me pause when considering Blades of Glory, the only big DVD released this week. But for my mother’s sake, I’m going to try to see this glass half-full:
If Dumb and Dumber (a movie I loved) was too cerebral for your tastes, check out Blades of Glory.
If you’re a high school boy, and need new material to impress your friends in the locker room, you might watch Blades of Glory.
If you named your dog Ron Burgundy and your cat Napoleon, after classic Will Ferrell and Jon Heder roles, then you probably have to see Blades of Glory.
If you think movies with sloppy drunks, smelly crotches, toilet-paper licking, jockstrap sniffing, upchucking, and an endless stream of juvenile sex jokes really rock, then you're sure to enjoy Blades of Glory.
If you’re looking for a movie that even with ClearPlay’s best efforts, is still filled with often-stupid and sometimes funny but always disgusting and gross-out humor, then don’t miss Blades of Glory.
To illustrate my point: Sam just read this review on my computer. His reaction? “Hey, that sounds good.”
(Adapted from a ClearPlay review.)
If Dumb and Dumber (a movie I loved) was too cerebral for your tastes, check out Blades of Glory.
If you’re a high school boy, and need new material to impress your friends in the locker room, you might watch Blades of Glory.
If you named your dog Ron Burgundy and your cat Napoleon, after classic Will Ferrell and Jon Heder roles, then you probably have to see Blades of Glory.
If you think movies with sloppy drunks, smelly crotches, toilet-paper licking, jockstrap sniffing, upchucking, and an endless stream of juvenile sex jokes really rock, then you're sure to enjoy Blades of Glory.
If you’re looking for a movie that even with ClearPlay’s best efforts, is still filled with often-stupid and sometimes funny but always disgusting and gross-out humor, then don’t miss Blades of Glory.
To illustrate my point: Sam just read this review on my computer. His reaction? “Hey, that sounds good.”
(Adapted from a ClearPlay review.)
Monday, August 27, 2007
Contrarian Learning
I read an interesting book recently--No Excuses: Concessions of a Serial Campaigner, by Robert Schrum. Schrum has been an active political consultant to Democratic candidates since he was a teenager volunteering for JFK. He is a dedicated, heart-felt liberal who has had long, close relationships with the likes of Ted Kennedy, Al Gore and John Kerry, in addition to major Democratic candidates from the past three decades.
The book was entertaining, enjoyable and educational. Importantly, it changed my thinking about Democrats in general, and certain Democrats in particular. Now I've never been opposed to most of the ideals of the Democratic party, and truth be told lean more to the left than to the right on most issues. But I've never liked any of the actual Democrats. But I liked Schrum (of course, he authored the book!) and over time I began to like Ted Kennedy quite a bit, and even John Kerry some.
It was a little disheartening to see the political process laid out so nakedly as a matter of branding and positioning--one marketing case after another. But it's the reality we live with and it isn't likely to change.
I think it's good sometimes to read contrary political points of view. It forces you to deal with their arguments and positions. Too often we read and watch stuff that aims only to reinforce our firmly held beliefs, which I guess is what makes Bill O'Reilly and Rush Limbaugh so popular. But that's laughing at your own jokes.
The book was entertaining, enjoyable and educational. Importantly, it changed my thinking about Democrats in general, and certain Democrats in particular. Now I've never been opposed to most of the ideals of the Democratic party, and truth be told lean more to the left than to the right on most issues. But I've never liked any of the actual Democrats. But I liked Schrum (of course, he authored the book!) and over time I began to like Ted Kennedy quite a bit, and even John Kerry some.
It was a little disheartening to see the political process laid out so nakedly as a matter of branding and positioning--one marketing case after another. But it's the reality we live with and it isn't likely to change.
I think it's good sometimes to read contrary political points of view. It forces you to deal with their arguments and positions. Too often we read and watch stuff that aims only to reinforce our firmly held beliefs, which I guess is what makes Bill O'Reilly and Rush Limbaugh so popular. But that's laughing at your own jokes.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Or Not to Be
I’m about to strongly recommend a movie that most of you aren’t going to want to watch. It won’t matter that the movie is adapted from perhaps the greatest literary work of all time. Nor that it has received critical acclaim and won numerous industry awards. Or even that it has a wonderfully eclectic all-star cast with actors you know and love. Most of you will still will not be interested.
But for those of you that have the slightest attraction to Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Kenneth Branagh’s 1996 movie version, just out on DVD, is not to be missed. Set creatively in the 19th century, Branagh’s Hamlet is an unabridged four-hour spectacle with breathtaking sets, delightful costumes and a terrific score. Having worked the genre before in the excellent Much Ado About Nothing, Branagh’s cinematic liberties, such as enlightening flashbacks and lingering close-ups, somehow makes the production feel alive, energetic and contemporary.
The casting is fun and unusual, and not just for the liberal use of American actors. I wish I wouldn’t have known and could have been pleasantly surprised by the cast, which includes Kate Winslet, Julie Christie, Charlton Heston, Gerard Depardieu, Billy Crystal, Robin Williams, Sir John Gielgud, Judi Dench, Richard Attenborough and Rufus Sewell, plus Branagh’s own riveting performance as Hamlet.
(By the way, this is a textbook case for ClearPlay. Although most people won’t find Shakespeare’s sometimes coarse language offensive, the sex scenes are significantly more explicit than you would expect, and in fact would make watching the movie in schools a bit of a problem, a terribly wasted opportunity.)
But be warned: Even if you’re comfortable with English accents, the dialogue is often hard to follow, and even the uber-literary Lanee found the going tedious at times. My advice is to relax and not worry about it. If you don’t know the play, it wouldn’t hurt to do a little prior research to better follow the story. And you might want to stretch the 242 minutes over two nights. But if you’re not intimidated by Shakespeare or period pieces or Elizabethan language or four-hour movies, then give Hamlet a try.
To watch, or not to watch. That is the question.
Whether to ennoble your mind with four hours of the immortal Bard,
Or to take arms against Elizabethan culture,
and watch instead a Bruckheimer action flick.
To die. To sleep. No more.
But for those of you that have the slightest attraction to Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Kenneth Branagh’s 1996 movie version, just out on DVD, is not to be missed. Set creatively in the 19th century, Branagh’s Hamlet is an unabridged four-hour spectacle with breathtaking sets, delightful costumes and a terrific score. Having worked the genre before in the excellent Much Ado About Nothing, Branagh’s cinematic liberties, such as enlightening flashbacks and lingering close-ups, somehow makes the production feel alive, energetic and contemporary.
The casting is fun and unusual, and not just for the liberal use of American actors. I wish I wouldn’t have known and could have been pleasantly surprised by the cast, which includes Kate Winslet, Julie Christie, Charlton Heston, Gerard Depardieu, Billy Crystal, Robin Williams, Sir John Gielgud, Judi Dench, Richard Attenborough and Rufus Sewell, plus Branagh’s own riveting performance as Hamlet.
(By the way, this is a textbook case for ClearPlay. Although most people won’t find Shakespeare’s sometimes coarse language offensive, the sex scenes are significantly more explicit than you would expect, and in fact would make watching the movie in schools a bit of a problem, a terribly wasted opportunity.)
But be warned: Even if you’re comfortable with English accents, the dialogue is often hard to follow, and even the uber-literary Lanee found the going tedious at times. My advice is to relax and not worry about it. If you don’t know the play, it wouldn’t hurt to do a little prior research to better follow the story. And you might want to stretch the 242 minutes over two nights. But if you’re not intimidated by Shakespeare or period pieces or Elizabethan language or four-hour movies, then give Hamlet a try.
To watch, or not to watch. That is the question.
Whether to ennoble your mind with four hours of the immortal Bard,
Or to take arms against Elizabethan culture,
and watch instead a Bruckheimer action flick.
To die. To sleep. No more.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Stupid is as Stupid Does
Was down in Zion last week with Angelica, Ryan, Lanee and our friends the Eldredges. We did Subway one day, and four of us went to Birch Hollow the next. We cut the trip short because flash floods made the canyons too dangerous.
I like to take beginners to Birch Hollow because it's a pretty easy technical canyon--well bolted, usually dry, never crowded (I've never seen another person in there) and has straight-forward raps. And I've done it a number of times before, so I guess I've gotten comfortable with it. Apparently, too comfortable.
The longest rap is 120', so I took a brand-new 200' 9mm static rope and an extra 100' rope to pull when needed. The first four raps were under 100' and only required one rope. Since we had a first-timer and a few novices, we generally double-stranded, which added friction and safety. Then we hit the 120', which I rigged with a biner-block to single strand, since the rope wasn't long enough to double. The three others went down first, and I secured the 100' pull rope to the first rope with a fisherman's knot, and tossed it over. That's when I did something very stupid and careless, because I was in a hurry (rain coming in the afternoon) and it was only Birch Hollow.
There's a little ledge on the face, so I thought maybe I'd clean up the rope, get rid of the block so it didn't catch on the pull-through afterwards, and go down double-strand. Seemed like a good idea at the time, until about 40 feet down Angelica asked me how I was planning on rappelling through the knot on the one side. Uh ... Oh yeah, that's why my plan was to go down single-strand. The last minute change created a small problem.
I have never passed a knot "live," i.e. in canyon conditions. But I have read about it and practiced the technique a bit in my backyard. The process is to secure yourself to the rope above, so you can take the pressure off your rappelling device, and unharness it and reattach below the knot, all the time held fast by a friction knot, such as a prusik. I've practiced prusiks before, but never had to actually use them to survive. I also had a spare ATC rappelling device on my harness, and hooked that in below the knot, but still had to free myself from my primary device, which required a good knot above.
Normally I take a few small cords that I know make good prusiks, but since this was only Birch Hollow, I had left these in the car. Same with the brand new Petzl ascenders I just bought, which would have done the trick in minutes. Instead, I had to try to use a sling to tie a prusik to my double-strand new rope and clip to my harness, and I couldn't get the knot to hold. I tried a second one with the same result.
I always carry some small Tri-Bloc ascenders, which are difficult to use, but will do in a pinch. Unfortunately, these had somehow gotten completely jammed together on the carabiner and I could not free them. I sent them down to the folks on the ground and they could not free them either. So they were useless.
Ryan, Angelica and Lanee were getting very worried. They heaped their packs on the ground below me to try to soften my potential 80-foot fall, should this happen, and were already making search and rescue plans. I was nervous too, but not panicky. I knew that if I could just slow things down, I would be able to get out of this, and that my risk level was low. But I also understood that another mistake could be tragic, and that the skies were darkening and heavy rains were coming soon and we did need to get out of the canyon.
I pulled up the tied rope and cut a three foot section off the bottom and tried that as a prusik, but it was even worse. Finally, I tried another friction knot with a sling and ... it held. By this time I was sweating profusely and my leg was falling asleep and I looked down at my harness to see five 'biners clipped in from the prusiks and the rap devices and it looked like the electrical cords in back of my computer. It was difficult to see clearly, and harder yet to focus, but eventually I unhooked everything, and slid down the rope safe, sound and relieved.
Naturally, I've thought about this quite a bit. There were a number of other escape approaches I could have taken. But the real lesson learned is that I was careless and stupid, taking Birch Hollow for granted. But 120 feet is deadly no matter where it is, and I would have been smart to take my ascenders and my prusik cords, and smarter yet to think through the rap before I rigged in double-stranded.
I think life is like that. We don't often start with big mistakes. We make little ones, in areas that don't concern us much. And that's what gets us into trouble. Now I have a little more respect for the Birch Hollows in my life.
I like to take beginners to Birch Hollow because it's a pretty easy technical canyon--well bolted, usually dry, never crowded (I've never seen another person in there) and has straight-forward raps. And I've done it a number of times before, so I guess I've gotten comfortable with it. Apparently, too comfortable.
The longest rap is 120', so I took a brand-new 200' 9mm static rope and an extra 100' rope to pull when needed. The first four raps were under 100' and only required one rope. Since we had a first-timer and a few novices, we generally double-stranded, which added friction and safety. Then we hit the 120', which I rigged with a biner-block to single strand, since the rope wasn't long enough to double. The three others went down first, and I secured the 100' pull rope to the first rope with a fisherman's knot, and tossed it over. That's when I did something very stupid and careless, because I was in a hurry (rain coming in the afternoon) and it was only Birch Hollow.
There's a little ledge on the face, so I thought maybe I'd clean up the rope, get rid of the block so it didn't catch on the pull-through afterwards, and go down double-strand. Seemed like a good idea at the time, until about 40 feet down Angelica asked me how I was planning on rappelling through the knot on the one side. Uh ... Oh yeah, that's why my plan was to go down single-strand. The last minute change created a small problem.
I have never passed a knot "live," i.e. in canyon conditions. But I have read about it and practiced the technique a bit in my backyard. The process is to secure yourself to the rope above, so you can take the pressure off your rappelling device, and unharness it and reattach below the knot, all the time held fast by a friction knot, such as a prusik. I've practiced prusiks before, but never had to actually use them to survive. I also had a spare ATC rappelling device on my harness, and hooked that in below the knot, but still had to free myself from my primary device, which required a good knot above.
Normally I take a few small cords that I know make good prusiks, but since this was only Birch Hollow, I had left these in the car. Same with the brand new Petzl ascenders I just bought, which would have done the trick in minutes. Instead, I had to try to use a sling to tie a prusik to my double-strand new rope and clip to my harness, and I couldn't get the knot to hold. I tried a second one with the same result.
I always carry some small Tri-Bloc ascenders, which are difficult to use, but will do in a pinch. Unfortunately, these had somehow gotten completely jammed together on the carabiner and I could not free them. I sent them down to the folks on the ground and they could not free them either. So they were useless.
Ryan, Angelica and Lanee were getting very worried. They heaped their packs on the ground below me to try to soften my potential 80-foot fall, should this happen, and were already making search and rescue plans. I was nervous too, but not panicky. I knew that if I could just slow things down, I would be able to get out of this, and that my risk level was low. But I also understood that another mistake could be tragic, and that the skies were darkening and heavy rains were coming soon and we did need to get out of the canyon.
I pulled up the tied rope and cut a three foot section off the bottom and tried that as a prusik, but it was even worse. Finally, I tried another friction knot with a sling and ... it held. By this time I was sweating profusely and my leg was falling asleep and I looked down at my harness to see five 'biners clipped in from the prusiks and the rap devices and it looked like the electrical cords in back of my computer. It was difficult to see clearly, and harder yet to focus, but eventually I unhooked everything, and slid down the rope safe, sound and relieved.
Naturally, I've thought about this quite a bit. There were a number of other escape approaches I could have taken. But the real lesson learned is that I was careless and stupid, taking Birch Hollow for granted. But 120 feet is deadly no matter where it is, and I would have been smart to take my ascenders and my prusik cords, and smarter yet to think through the rap before I rigged in double-stranded.
I think life is like that. We don't often start with big mistakes. We make little ones, in areas that don't concern us much. And that's what gets us into trouble. Now I have a little more respect for the Birch Hollows in my life.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Why I Blog
I have been keeping up this blog for a year, and the other day someone asked me the obvious question: Why? There are several reasons, I suppose. Mainly, it is a creative outlet, an opportunity for self-expression. Even the lowliest amateur pianist enjoys sitting down to play now and then. The closet artist paints or draws. And so many of us, no matter how bad our voices, have been caught singing in the shower. Writing is a way for me to release a little creative energy.
And I am a little embarrassed to admit it, but I also consider this an opportunity to practice my writing. Naturally, this suggests that I have higher aspirations, and hope to ply my craft in more public venues. That is true, and while I toil silently on screenplays and poems and the occasional letter, the blog is a constant reminder, an obligation to practice, a duty that tracked and a box that is checked. And maybe someday that novel will begin to take shape. Or maybe not.
The blog is also a way to formulate my thoughts on subjects, and to share these with family and a few close friends. And perhaps that's a little vain, but no more so than the dying art of literate conversation. And perhaps, after I have breathed my last breath, a folder or a website with my ramblings will be read by one of my grandchildren, and we will get reacquainted then.
One year and running. Log on. Slog on. Blog on.
And I am a little embarrassed to admit it, but I also consider this an opportunity to practice my writing. Naturally, this suggests that I have higher aspirations, and hope to ply my craft in more public venues. That is true, and while I toil silently on screenplays and poems and the occasional letter, the blog is a constant reminder, an obligation to practice, a duty that tracked and a box that is checked. And maybe someday that novel will begin to take shape. Or maybe not.
The blog is also a way to formulate my thoughts on subjects, and to share these with family and a few close friends. And perhaps that's a little vain, but no more so than the dying art of literate conversation. And perhaps, after I have breathed my last breath, a folder or a website with my ramblings will be read by one of my grandchildren, and we will get reacquainted then.
One year and running. Log on. Slog on. Blog on.
Monday, August 06, 2007
My Minnesota
Just returned from a 10-day trip to Minnesota, spent almost entirely at Rebecca's family cabin on Whiteface, where there was no Internet, computer or cable TV, and my cell phone dropped calls almost as fast as I could pick them up. It was actually a wonderful break to be away from the trappings of technology, which gave certain parts of my mind a rest, and caused other slumbering corners to awake and wander unfettered.
Absent of technology, my time was spent creating memories, of which there were many--kayaking on the Brule River with a bald eagle circling 100 feet overhead, playing bocce ball on the Lake Superior beach, talking politics with Tim, waterskiing on glass just before dark, the stunning red sunsets at Whiteface, a new generation on the tire swing, Layla swimming and eating mud, hot saunas at night followed by a cooling swim (often sans swimsuit), touch football, endless card games, two delightfully mindless detective novels, reuniting with aunts, uncles and cousins, having breakfast with my long-lost childhood best friend, deer and chipmunks and beaver dams and enough food to add five pounds to my aging frame.
Even the road trip was enjoyable, listening to Cat Stevens, Edwin McCain, Carly Simon, Jack Johnson, Barenaked Ladies, John Mayer, Robert Cray, Aimee Mann, Delbert Mclinton, Cannonball Adderly, Frank Sinatra and much more from my iPod. After wistfully passing through Des Moines, unsuccessfully looking for a motel in Council Bluffs, Omaha and Lincoln, and finally finding a vacancy in Kearny at 2:30 a.m. Listening critically to the "Don't Know Much about American History" mp3 audiobook. Memorizing a John Donne poem. Driving countless miles of freeway--an asphalt invitation to think and think and think some more.
There is certainly an allure to trips to more exotic locations--scuba diving and rain forests, or medieval castles and great museums. But I think there will always be room in my life for vacations made simple, filled with good company and days easy and relaxed, where memories refresh like lake water in the night and satisfy like fresh raspberry pie.
Absent of technology, my time was spent creating memories, of which there were many--kayaking on the Brule River with a bald eagle circling 100 feet overhead, playing bocce ball on the Lake Superior beach, talking politics with Tim, waterskiing on glass just before dark, the stunning red sunsets at Whiteface, a new generation on the tire swing, Layla swimming and eating mud, hot saunas at night followed by a cooling swim (often sans swimsuit), touch football, endless card games, two delightfully mindless detective novels, reuniting with aunts, uncles and cousins, having breakfast with my long-lost childhood best friend, deer and chipmunks and beaver dams and enough food to add five pounds to my aging frame.
Even the road trip was enjoyable, listening to Cat Stevens, Edwin McCain, Carly Simon, Jack Johnson, Barenaked Ladies, John Mayer, Robert Cray, Aimee Mann, Delbert Mclinton, Cannonball Adderly, Frank Sinatra and much more from my iPod. After wistfully passing through Des Moines, unsuccessfully looking for a motel in Council Bluffs, Omaha and Lincoln, and finally finding a vacancy in Kearny at 2:30 a.m. Listening critically to the "Don't Know Much about American History" mp3 audiobook. Memorizing a John Donne poem. Driving countless miles of freeway--an asphalt invitation to think and think and think some more.
There is certainly an allure to trips to more exotic locations--scuba diving and rain forests, or medieval castles and great museums. But I think there will always be room in my life for vacations made simple, filled with good company and days easy and relaxed, where memories refresh like lake water in the night and satisfy like fresh raspberry pie.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Prison Time
Today I visited the Utah State Prison in Draper, going with my friend Barry, who has been helping there for seven years. There were a dozen or so volunteers that joined us, almost all of them weekly regulars, holding church services for two groups of inmates--a "Diagnostic" group and one composed of sexual predators.
Barry tells me that some people get uncomfortable in the environment, but I didn't feel awkward at all. The Diagnostic group was first, dressed in orange jumpsuits. These men are in a holding pattern for a maximum of 90 days, generally waiting to be sentenced. For some of them, it's their first time in prison, and a period of great anxiety as their life crumbles before them. They are in for crimes of all sorts, such as murder, armed robbery, rape and tax evasion.
The second group was composed entirely of sexual predators, which have to be separated from the other inmates for their own protection. (Apparently, they are at the bottom of the prison pecking order, with murderers being at the top.) There was a look to some of these men that is unique and a little eerie at first. I have seen it before, in a friend I met a few years ago who was a sex addict. And I saw it in a few others when I attended a 12-step class with him one time. But after a few minutes, I was able to get past that, and look at these men with no judgmental feelings.
These are men who have been brought down by the consequences of their decisions. They have been humbled, doing time for years or even decades. What esteem they may have once had is hanging by a thread. It was good to be there with them and shake their hands and say a few words. I felt like my smile and handshake did more good today than a year's worth of normal Sunday services. And as I looked each one in the eye, I could with all honesty grab their hands, smile and tell them how glad I was to be with them today.
For nearly all of these men, the first step in their downfall was pornography, which is an insidious and all too accessible evil. Now not everyone that falls prey to pornography becomes a sexual predator; like not everyone that uses drugs becomes an addict. But some do, and it's hard to tell where your personal path will lead when that first step is taken. For these men, it led to a destruction of their lives, and most had lost their families, their jobs, their reputations and nearly all their hope.
The notions of repentance and forgiveness, which many of us think about abstractly, take on profound importance in their lives. And the gentle, spiritual feelings of love and acceptance are sought after and cherished.
The branch choir sang Come Come Ye Saints, I suppose in honor of Pioneer Day this week. And I wondered what was passing through their minds as they sang the words:
Why should we mourn or think our lot is hard?
'Tis not so; all is right.
... Gird up your loins; fresh courage take;
Our God will never us forsake;
And soon we'll have this tale to tell-
All is well! all is well!
As the doors locked shut behind me, I felt enriched by the experience. I'm grateful so many inmates came out, and that I had a chance to join them today. In fact, I can't think of a better way to spend a Sunday.
Barry tells me that some people get uncomfortable in the environment, but I didn't feel awkward at all. The Diagnostic group was first, dressed in orange jumpsuits. These men are in a holding pattern for a maximum of 90 days, generally waiting to be sentenced. For some of them, it's their first time in prison, and a period of great anxiety as their life crumbles before them. They are in for crimes of all sorts, such as murder, armed robbery, rape and tax evasion.
The second group was composed entirely of sexual predators, which have to be separated from the other inmates for their own protection. (Apparently, they are at the bottom of the prison pecking order, with murderers being at the top.) There was a look to some of these men that is unique and a little eerie at first. I have seen it before, in a friend I met a few years ago who was a sex addict. And I saw it in a few others when I attended a 12-step class with him one time. But after a few minutes, I was able to get past that, and look at these men with no judgmental feelings.
These are men who have been brought down by the consequences of their decisions. They have been humbled, doing time for years or even decades. What esteem they may have once had is hanging by a thread. It was good to be there with them and shake their hands and say a few words. I felt like my smile and handshake did more good today than a year's worth of normal Sunday services. And as I looked each one in the eye, I could with all honesty grab their hands, smile and tell them how glad I was to be with them today.
For nearly all of these men, the first step in their downfall was pornography, which is an insidious and all too accessible evil. Now not everyone that falls prey to pornography becomes a sexual predator; like not everyone that uses drugs becomes an addict. But some do, and it's hard to tell where your personal path will lead when that first step is taken. For these men, it led to a destruction of their lives, and most had lost their families, their jobs, their reputations and nearly all their hope.
The notions of repentance and forgiveness, which many of us think about abstractly, take on profound importance in their lives. And the gentle, spiritual feelings of love and acceptance are sought after and cherished.
The branch choir sang Come Come Ye Saints, I suppose in honor of Pioneer Day this week. And I wondered what was passing through their minds as they sang the words:
Why should we mourn or think our lot is hard?
'Tis not so; all is right.
... Gird up your loins; fresh courage take;
Our God will never us forsake;
And soon we'll have this tale to tell-
All is well! all is well!
As the doors locked shut behind me, I felt enriched by the experience. I'm grateful so many inmates came out, and that I had a chance to join them today. In fact, I can't think of a better way to spend a Sunday.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Empty and Full
I taught a lesson today that centered on seeking wealth, giving what we can, etc. So during church, when I probably should have been listening more intently, I wrote this simple poem. It's a little out of season, but the imagery came to me and so I followed my smidgeon of inspiration down the trail to this rough-hewn and clumsy verse.
EMPTY AND FULL
It was snowing, made worse by the cold blowing wind,
But the store had a big Christmas sale,
So the shoppers rushed in, past the Santa in front
Who was holding a bell and a pail.
The old woman moved very slowly.
And each step she took threatened to fail.
But she tilted her head when she heard the bell ring
And she stopped and looked down at the pail.
Then she opened her handbag and took off her gloves
And her fingers, cold, withered and frail,
Unsteadily opened her coin purse
And then emptied it into the pail.
I'll never forget her example;
And I hope that I'll ever avail,
When I'm hurrying through life and I hear the bells ring,
That I stop and put alms in the pail.
For if I have much then I have much to give,
And when weighed on eternity's scale
My life can be valued not by what I've earned
But by how much I've left in the pail.
EMPTY AND FULL
It was snowing, made worse by the cold blowing wind,
But the store had a big Christmas sale,
So the shoppers rushed in, past the Santa in front
Who was holding a bell and a pail.
The old woman moved very slowly.
And each step she took threatened to fail.
But she tilted her head when she heard the bell ring
And she stopped and looked down at the pail.
Then she opened her handbag and took off her gloves
And her fingers, cold, withered and frail,
Unsteadily opened her coin purse
And then emptied it into the pail.
I'll never forget her example;
And I hope that I'll ever avail,
When I'm hurrying through life and I hear the bells ring,
That I stop and put alms in the pail.
For if I have much then I have much to give,
And when weighed on eternity's scale
My life can be valued not by what I've earned
But by how much I've left in the pail.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Rules of 24
Since Sam and I are bachelors while Rebecca and Lanee are in Guatemala, we've been doing manly things, like playing baseball, eating ice cream and watching three episodes of 24 Season Three every night. Now I've seen (and previously written about) the other two seasons of 24, but this time through it's becoming clear to me that the world of CTU is governed by certain immutable laws:
1. Jack Bauer is always in control. Even when he's hurt, it doesn't get in the way of him doing his job. Saving the world is always his first priority.
2. Jack tries to give up his life to save the world at least once every day, but Jack Bauer cannot be killed.
3. The 24-hour day cannot end unless Jack Bauer personally kills at least 10 bad guys. There is no maximum limit to how many bad guys Jack Bauer can kill in one day.
4. Everyone in the series gets their own look, which they developed after watching Zoolander. Jack's is straight-on and blank, revealing nothing. David Palmer's will burn a hole through you. Michelle always looks up, like she's afraid to be caught. Tony Almeda looks down and sideways, sort of irritated. Kim darts inquisitively. Shari Palmer is wide-eyed and can't be trusted. Every main character gets to give their look with an extreme close-up at least five times per episode.
5. Everyone talks by cell phone, which is the preferred means of communication for CTU personnel. No one is allowed to text message, play solitaire or download funky ring tones.
6. To end a cell conversation, you cannot say "good-bye," "so long," "see you later" or any other traditional form of closure. Usually, the conversation ends abruptly when one party snaps their phone shut. Even if you are talking to your mother, you can just quit talking at any time and turn off your phone.
7. The laws of physics in LA traffic are temporarily suspended whenever someone from CTU must drive somewhere. This is necessary because it is the only way Jack Bauer can go anywhere in LA and still have time to save the world in one day. Same with air travel. A flight from Mexico to LA on a military transport plane takes only five minutes, which is not even enough time for a decent beverage service.
8. Jack Bauer can fire any weapon without studying it. He just picks it up, aims and shoots, and never misses. He could kill you with a boomerang without even practicing.
9. Jack Bauer can also fly any aircraft without even checking the glovebox for the instruction manual.
10. Chloe is the best techie in the world. She is faster than all the engineers I have ever worked with combined. If she was working on my company's website, she could install a new database system during the commercials.
11. Jack Bauer always gets to make the plan, which works great until someone else screws it up, so he has to make a new plan every hour. Jack Bauer can think of a really good plan in about seven seconds.
12. CTU is always dimly lit. It's modeled after the batcave. Alfred may appear in a later episode.
13. Every season represents one of the worst possible days imaginable for everyone in the show. So far, the day is not even over and (spoiler coming) Michelle's husband is shot, she has an argument with him, she gets chewed out at work, she kills an unarmed civilian, she is exposed to a deadly virus and she is caught by the bad guy's henchman, who almost pokes her eye out. But she's still having a better day than the president.
14. The main bad guy is always really, really smart. It always takes Jack Bauer almost 24 hours to catch him.
15. No one ever sleeps. You can call anyone at 3 a.m. and they will be up, and not at all surprised that you called.
16. CTU agents never eat. They are not allowed to bring in pizza or Chinese food, even when pulling an all-nighter. Jack Bauer is way too tough to eat.
17. Everything always happens either just in time or one minute too late. Eventually, the world is always saved just in time.
18. There must be at least one big surprise during the 24-hour period. Either someone you thought was good turns out to be bad, or vice versa. And you can never tell by their looks, even with five or more extreme close-ups.
19. CTU agents are so tough, they can even keep doing their jobs after they have been shot, tortured, on heroin withdrawals or exposed to deadly viruses. They do not even get time off if they are planning to die later in the show.
20. At 10 seconds before every hour things look so bleak that you must be ready to abandon all hope. If you can hold on until the next episode, Jack Bauer will come up with a new plan and you can breathe more easily for 59 minutes.
21. Employees experiencing violent deaths at the CTU headquarters does not appear to affect productivity. It seems likely that these employees were not really necessary in the first place, another example of wasteful government spending. Further, no one seems to know the people who get killed. It's possible they were never really CTU employees at all. Maybe they were temps from Kelly Services. (If you ever get a call for a temporary job at CTU, DO NOT TAKE IT! You will almost certainly get killed. Only take a job as a main character, and even that is no picnic.)
22. It always sucks to be Jack Bauer's boss. He's hard to manage. And plus, you're probably going to die.
23. It sucks worse to be the president. He never has any fun and he has bad luck with women.
24. But it sucks the most to be the main bad guy and know that once the season starts, in 24 hours Jack Bauer will get you and you will be toast.
1. Jack Bauer is always in control. Even when he's hurt, it doesn't get in the way of him doing his job. Saving the world is always his first priority.
2. Jack tries to give up his life to save the world at least once every day, but Jack Bauer cannot be killed.
3. The 24-hour day cannot end unless Jack Bauer personally kills at least 10 bad guys. There is no maximum limit to how many bad guys Jack Bauer can kill in one day.
4. Everyone in the series gets their own look, which they developed after watching Zoolander. Jack's is straight-on and blank, revealing nothing. David Palmer's will burn a hole through you. Michelle always looks up, like she's afraid to be caught. Tony Almeda looks down and sideways, sort of irritated. Kim darts inquisitively. Shari Palmer is wide-eyed and can't be trusted. Every main character gets to give their look with an extreme close-up at least five times per episode.
5. Everyone talks by cell phone, which is the preferred means of communication for CTU personnel. No one is allowed to text message, play solitaire or download funky ring tones.
6. To end a cell conversation, you cannot say "good-bye," "so long," "see you later" or any other traditional form of closure. Usually, the conversation ends abruptly when one party snaps their phone shut. Even if you are talking to your mother, you can just quit talking at any time and turn off your phone.
7. The laws of physics in LA traffic are temporarily suspended whenever someone from CTU must drive somewhere. This is necessary because it is the only way Jack Bauer can go anywhere in LA and still have time to save the world in one day. Same with air travel. A flight from Mexico to LA on a military transport plane takes only five minutes, which is not even enough time for a decent beverage service.
8. Jack Bauer can fire any weapon without studying it. He just picks it up, aims and shoots, and never misses. He could kill you with a boomerang without even practicing.
9. Jack Bauer can also fly any aircraft without even checking the glovebox for the instruction manual.
10. Chloe is the best techie in the world. She is faster than all the engineers I have ever worked with combined. If she was working on my company's website, she could install a new database system during the commercials.
11. Jack Bauer always gets to make the plan, which works great until someone else screws it up, so he has to make a new plan every hour. Jack Bauer can think of a really good plan in about seven seconds.
12. CTU is always dimly lit. It's modeled after the batcave. Alfred may appear in a later episode.
13. Every season represents one of the worst possible days imaginable for everyone in the show. So far, the day is not even over and (spoiler coming) Michelle's husband is shot, she has an argument with him, she gets chewed out at work, she kills an unarmed civilian, she is exposed to a deadly virus and she is caught by the bad guy's henchman, who almost pokes her eye out. But she's still having a better day than the president.
14. The main bad guy is always really, really smart. It always takes Jack Bauer almost 24 hours to catch him.
15. No one ever sleeps. You can call anyone at 3 a.m. and they will be up, and not at all surprised that you called.
16. CTU agents never eat. They are not allowed to bring in pizza or Chinese food, even when pulling an all-nighter. Jack Bauer is way too tough to eat.
17. Everything always happens either just in time or one minute too late. Eventually, the world is always saved just in time.
18. There must be at least one big surprise during the 24-hour period. Either someone you thought was good turns out to be bad, or vice versa. And you can never tell by their looks, even with five or more extreme close-ups.
19. CTU agents are so tough, they can even keep doing their jobs after they have been shot, tortured, on heroin withdrawals or exposed to deadly viruses. They do not even get time off if they are planning to die later in the show.
20. At 10 seconds before every hour things look so bleak that you must be ready to abandon all hope. If you can hold on until the next episode, Jack Bauer will come up with a new plan and you can breathe more easily for 59 minutes.
21. Employees experiencing violent deaths at the CTU headquarters does not appear to affect productivity. It seems likely that these employees were not really necessary in the first place, another example of wasteful government spending. Further, no one seems to know the people who get killed. It's possible they were never really CTU employees at all. Maybe they were temps from Kelly Services. (If you ever get a call for a temporary job at CTU, DO NOT TAKE IT! You will almost certainly get killed. Only take a job as a main character, and even that is no picnic.)
22. It always sucks to be Jack Bauer's boss. He's hard to manage. And plus, you're probably going to die.
23. It sucks worse to be the president. He never has any fun and he has bad luck with women.
24. But it sucks the most to be the main bad guy and know that once the season starts, in 24 hours Jack Bauer will get you and you will be toast.
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