The Day After Thanksgiving

One in Phoenix.
One in Arkansas.
One in Austin.
One in his room.

One in China.
One in Palo Alto.
One in Logan.
Hence the gloom.

Technology and Resources

I don't think we have enough faith in technology to solve the earth's resource problems. Personally, I'm not very worried about the future of non-renewable resources, such as energy and fresh water. I think we'll find a way.

The problem is that we're convinced we know everything. So we evaluate our prospects for the future based on the present. But the future never turns out that way, and technology inevitably makes old paradigms obsolete while introducing game-changing solutions.

These solutions are almost always driven by economics. As resource supply is outpaced by demand, prices increase and investment in new technologies increases. Eventually, there's a breakthrough.

A few years ago natural gas sold at $9 a cubic thousand foot, and the experts believed it was a dwindling resource. A few smart companies started investing in horizontal drilling, which proved overwhelmingly successful. As a result, supply is way up and the price is down to $4. The same kind of thing may happen to oil, to a lesser degree, if we continue to improve the environmental safety of fracking in shale.

Fresh water is in the midst of a similar revolution. Besides continually improved water recycling methods--a number of US cities now use primarily recycled water--ocean water desalination is also progressing rapidly. There are over 15,000 desalination plants worldwide, producing 16 billion gallons of clean water daily.

All of these new technologies must be managed carefully. Most importantly, there are inevitable environmental issues that must be dealt with, and lessons are often learned at great cost. But the solutions will come. And society would be better served to spend its time developing these solutions than fretting that the sky is falling.

I would instead fret about preserving resources that are difficult or impossible to replace, such as clean air and waterways, or undeveloped wilderness. Unfortunately, these objectives are often in conflict with the aforementioned new technologies. Managing the one without sacrificing the other should be the object of society's, and government's, attention.

Heartbeats

I recently read (in Steven Johnson's Where Good Ideas Come From) about Kleiber's Law, which is that as things get bigger, they tend to slow down. Among the many applications of this theory is the heart-rates of larger animals are slower than smaller ones. Further, larger animals live longer than smaller ones--a fly might live for a day, while an elephant lives for 50 years. But neither of these relationships is linear, unless you combine them. Then you find that if you plot mass vs. metabolism on a logarithmic grid you get a straight line from sparrows to whales.

An interesting corollary is, as science writer George Johnson observed, that the number of heartbeats per lifetime tends to be stable from species to species, it's just that some species use them up more quickly than others. I think there's something very elegant in this, and almost poetic.

(I'm reminded of a similar theory about caloric intake--that the body is meant to process only so many calories, whether consumed in forty years or a hundred.)

I would like to live longer and well, but not at any price. I don't intend to slow my pulse so I can live more years. I'd prefer to sprint to the finish line, where I collapse flushed with exertion and sustained by adrenaline. I would rather my heart beat wildly than keep a dirge-like time from a dusty metronome. I hope I go with a white-knuckle grip on the handlebars of adventure, and not resting comfortably in the armchair of caution.

"Do not go gently into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light." Dylan Thomas

Weekend in Duluth

We spent a wonderful weekend in Duluth and I was reminded of how much richer our lives are with family. When I was younger I didn't consider this as important, and now, with more perspective, it has become paramount in my life. We spent many wonderful hours talking, reminiscing and hiking (and eating!) with Tim, Kathy, Sue, Brad, Tom, Jamie and Jeffrey, and Rebecca was able to have breakfast with Lindsay in Minneapolis. It makes me wish all the more that my children all develop close relationships with one another as they get older.

And then coming home on my birthday to a custom-selected meal and an office full of balloons, each with a heart-warming message or memory from family--was wonderful. What a thoughtful and terrific gift.

One small observation on the impact of Facebook. We walked into the Duluth Ward on Sunday morning and both Darnell Nelson and Jamie (formerly Milbridge) came up to me and wished me a happy birthday. Darnell is an old friend, but other than on Facebook we've hardly stayed in touch, and Jamie friended me even though I hardly know her. So their greetings seemed very strange to me, although certainly welcome.

Go Bulldogs

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

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

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

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

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

Father Knows Best?

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

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

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

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

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

There's No Theory to Relativity

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

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

That's called perspective. Or maybe relativity.

Patent a Kidney?

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

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

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

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

It will be interesting to see where this case goes.

The Real China Competition

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

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

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

More or Less Hungry

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

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

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

Busy Bee

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

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

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

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

Sandbagging

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

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

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

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

Green Myths Debunked

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

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

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

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

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

East of Eden

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

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

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

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

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

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

An American in Japan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Blue Zones

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Doing Time

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

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

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

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

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

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

Movies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Moab

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

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

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

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

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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