Wasatch Back

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

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

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

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

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

Am I in the Matrix Now?

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

Shelfari

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

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

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

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

Young at Heart

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

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

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

Movies

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

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

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

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

May Quotes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Robbers Roost

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On Being a Customer

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

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

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

Benefit of the Doubt

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

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

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

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

The State of Perfect Balance

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

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

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

May-May on Mothers Day

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

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

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

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

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

May Quotes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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


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

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

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

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

Emily Dickinson

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

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

Success is Counted Sweetest

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

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

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

1859


Fame is a Bee

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

Snows and Shows

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

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

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

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

Billy Collins

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

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

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

Flock

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

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

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

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

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

Wonderland

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

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

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

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

A Day in the Life of Grandma

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

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

Quit Hitting the Bottle

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

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

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

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

Seeing the Light

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

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

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

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

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

April Quotes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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