Reason To Be

My life does not always look exactly like I want it to. That's kinda besides the point, isn't it? Life is what you make of it, regardless of what it looks like.

What does matter is how you feel about that life. Do you choose to smile simply because it feels good? Do you provide kind words when you feel low? Neither of these depend on your situation.

Long-term happiness truly depends on your ability to notice things around you and appreciate the details. Even if you had everything you could want, there will still be highs and lows in life. Learning to enjoy the little things means you can find happiness and peace when something goes wrong, disappointed yet determined, knowing the simple pleasures are really what count and what will help you through to whatever comes next.

Find joy in the moment. It doesn't matter if it is small or inconsequential. We all have goals and dreams, the want of having a meaningful life, to positively affects others with our actions. Happiness is a choice, and while it is not always easy to make that decision, you will be better for it.

Happiness isn't as much about what you have, but rather what you do with what you have. What you have changes; how you decide to work with what you have is up to you.

Vintage Future

In the 1960s, The Jetsons were set one hundred years out in 2062. Not a bad looking future, with flying cars and robot maids. In 1973, Soylent Green warned us that pollution, overpopulation, and the greenhouse effect could send the Western world into a new Dark Age in 2022. In 1982, Blade Runner depicted life in the year 2019, a polluted planet being abandoned for off-world colonies, molded by Philip K. Dick's 1968 novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? Back to the Future II depicted life in 2015, a scant three years away, as a much more pleasant place.

There are no flying cars, no jetpacks, no hoverboards, no robot maids. Of course, we're not eating soylent green, the world isn't entirely polluted and it isn't a police state either, so it isn't all bad.

Back in my day (oh geez...when did that happen?), schools had libraries rather than media centers, with actual books and magazines. What makes more sense as the future of libraries...digitized information or robots getting the book you wanted?

Sometimes the future we imagined wouldn't be better that what we can do now, just different. Cars don't zip through some highway in the sky, but they do have GPS and WiFi built into them. The flying car became the symbol of a future that never was, and one we are likely better off without.

We are not bound by what someone else thought one hundred or fifty or even one year ago. Napoleon Hill said it best: we are what we believe and where we believe we should be. Want to be different or be somewhere else? Change what you believe. The future’s not what it used to be, and that is a good thing.

Sleep's Dark And Silent Gate

Some nights, as I wait to fall asleep, I reflect upon the day; what happened, what it meant for today, what it means for tomorrow. Other nights, I think about love, past friends and good times. This week I have been reflecting on the uncertainty of our lives, how change comes when you least expect it, how forewarned is forearmed, how crystal balls tend to be fuzzy at best, how planning is everything but how plans are nothing.

Change hurts. Change makes us insecure about our abilities, and confused as to why it happened or what will happen. Life is easier when things remain the same. But that's not how life is. Life goes on, regardless of whether or not we control which way it goes, which is precisely why planning is everything and the plan is nothing.

In a few months I will be fortunate enough to visit the areas in Italy where my grandparents came from. What will I find there, who will I meet, what will I see? I could plan my trip down to the minute or hour or even to the day, but all that means is I will likely be constantly changing my plans. What is more important is that I plan to be agile and to be ready for changes. To do that, I will pack my bags what I think I need for the journey and discard the rest. I know my destination and what I would like to see when I arrive. I will head in that direction and work with the surprises that are put in front of me, changing direction as necessary.

As many others have said, it is the journey that shapes our lives, not the destination. It is the past, whether today or many yesterdays ago, that help shape our future, as we learn to react to things based on how we acted before. Fill your bags with things that will help you, not hinder you. Keep planning but be ready to make changes. And most importantly, keep moving.

Carolina In My Mind

Memories. They are enduring because they are so diffused, ingrained in a multitude of connections between numerous cells in our brains. Think of one thing and another comes rushing forward, then another. Relearning some piece of a forgotten memory can result in the unprompted recovery of more and more memories.

The same thing happens with thoughts and feelings. All it takes is a memory to trigger your thoughts and feelings, and you will find yourself in a familiar place.

Memories make up the continuing experience of life. They are what makes us comfortable with people and surroundings that are familiar to us, tie the past to the present and the present to the future. Who we are, how we act, what we think, are all due to our collective set of memories.

While memories do not recognize the boundaries of time or space, time, much like memories, can be fleeting. Make some memories today.

Early Morning Rain

The grass is green and needs to be mowed, the weeds are getting tall and need pulling, the garage is cluttered and needs to be cleaned out. The weather, however, has other plans. It rained yesterday, and on into the night. The forecast for today is cloudy and chilly with showers, perhaps mixed with snow late.

Today will be a day to stay inside for many of us. The warmth of the fireplace, the smell of a good book, the companionship of our loved ones all draw us inside on blustery days like today. While the chickens peck around on the wet ground, the cat sleeps on the heater vent.

As much as I bemoan our lack of sun and heat here in the Pacific Northwest, I have (in general) learned to appreciate the rain. Not today, mind you, but some day when it isn't raining, I will appreciate it.

Where My Heart Will Take Me

The space shuttle Enterprise had its maiden "flight" on on this day in 1977. Anchored atop an extensively modified Boeing 747 airliner, it was the first of eight captive flights where Enterprise would remain secured to the plane during the trip.

It was 1976, and NASA had picked the name Constitution for this first orbiter as a celebration of the US bicentennial. Bjo Trimble, unquestionably the most famous and influential fan in Star Trek history, launched a letter writing campaign, asking fans to send letters and petitions asking that the name be changed to Enterprise.

The White House was soon flooded with thousands of letters asking that the orbiter be named Enterprise. Yes, I readily admit it. My letter was among those sent to Washington D.C. Although President Gerald Ford never mentioned the campaign, the president said that he was "partial to the name" because he had served aboard the carrier USS Monterey that served with USS Enterprise and overrode NASA officials.

Letter writing campaigns allow you to speak your mind, to encourage and inspire others, to display your passion and ideas. Take Sarah Hale as an example. Prior to the US Civil War, she promoted a letter writing campaign to Presidents Pierce and Buchanan (as well as other local, state and national politicians) declaring that a Day of Thanksgiving might be the way to avoid a war. She didn't stop writing until President Lincoln declared Thanksgiving Day an annual federal holiday, 17 years after her first letter.

There would be five more flights where Enterprise was carried to a launch height and then jettisoned through the use of explosive bolts, allowed to glide to a landing on the runways at Edwards AFB under its own control. These flights were intended to test the flight characteristics of the orbiter on a typical approach and landing profile from orbit. For those of us who were part of the letter writing campaign to name the shuttle Enterprise, the flights were not merely tests, but rather a testament to a vision of a future based on cooperation and harmony.

Whatever your passion, whatever your desire, whatever you feel strongly about, write about it. Let it become your testament to the future.

The Turn of a Friendly Card

According to Live Casino Direct.com, black jack is the most widely played of all casino games. Based upon the straightforward (yet not entirely easy) principle of getting your cards to amount as close to 21 as possible (without going over), blackjack can produce high payouts and has relatively decent chances of winning.

Still, even armed with that knowledge, I was surprised to find this recent posting on Bellingham Craigslist:

"We are looking for a blackjack dealer with appropriate attire to deal at our wedding! It would be a fun game for prizes. No real cash. We need you August 11 from 8-midnight. Please email if you are interested!"

Location of wedding - check. Caterer - check. Music - check. Someone to watch Aunt Esmeralda who drinks too much and tends to wander away - check. Blackjack, poker, slot machines, craps and roulette tables with play money so no one loses their life savings and gets into drunken fights - check.

Another business opportunity lost to my inability to understand what people really want.

Is getting married a gamble? The current statistics for all marriages say about 50% end in divorce. Of those, 6 to 8 years is the typical range before the couple divorces. Those are the odds.

In gambling, the odds are heavily in the favor of the casinos, yet individuals spend billions of dollars on gambling every year. Compared to a little ball randomly slamming around a roulette wheel with about a 6% shot at winning, a 50-50 chance starts to look pretty good.

Unlike gambling, however, in a marriage you can stack the odds in your favor. There are factors that are out of your control but the majority of the factors in a marriage that have the biggest impact are in your hands. Much like anything else, if you are willing to work at it your life experience will help stack the odds in your favor. Once you do that, it is no longer a gamble.

Perhaps it is fitting, after all, to play blackjack at your wedding, as it is a good example of what your marriage will not be: against the odds. Deal me in.

Song For Guy

Ask not for whom the wayback machine calls; it call for thee. Mixing John Donne and Mr. Peabody is a fitting segue into Space Pirate Radio.

A good friend recently came upon The Melting Watchtowre, the official page of Guy Guden and Space Pirate Radio. I was only a casual listener and not among the diehard fans who spent Sunday night from midnight until 6:00 am on Monday morning listening to electronic music with some of Guy's original comedy pieces (sometimes brief but always sharp) thrown in for color.

Still, this chance encounter with the past stirred many a memory for me. The giant ants on the side of the Granada Theater is easily the most vivid visual remembrance. I would typically listen to the first and last 30 or so minutes, as sleep would call and win, despite my best efforts and willingness to blow off the 7:00 am calculus class at SBCC. To paraphrase Guy, it was night music for night people. "Sponsored" by the Nippon Gin Company of Tokyo, the ads included Godzilla Stout Malt Liquor and the infamous Rodan Light White ("One sip, and you too will say...BANZAI!").

Despite the years, there are a number of threads across this vast electronic playground that focus on SPR and/or Guy, and at least two Facebook pages. I last thought about both when I was selling off my vinyl collection a few years back and found someone who wanted my copy of his 1978 release. The fan base still exists and it is good to know he is alive and well out there, somewhere.

Alvin Toeffler said “The illiterate of the 21st century will not be those who cannot read and write, but those who cannot learn, unlearn, and relearn.” I relish in Guy's ability to re-invent himself again and again.

And So It Goes

In "Slaughterhouse 5", Chaplain's Assistant Billy Pilgrim is kidnapped by Tralfamadorians, extraterrestrial aliens who can see in four dimensions and have already seen every moment of their lives. While they cannot change anything about their destiny, they can choose to focus upon any moment in their lives. All time is fixed, but each moment is instantaneously accessible, which means each moment basically exists forever.

As they do not understand free will, the concept of free will and change is hard for a Tralfamadorian to understand. They believe it to be a bizarre fiction of Earth, where individuals who cannot see in four dimensions need an explanation to why things happen. In this scenario, there is little incentive to live life well (however you choose to define well), for as long as each life has a few good moments to re-visit eternally, you could be eternally content.

Billy latches on to this belief, and he becomes "unstuck in time", experiencing past and future events. As he "travels" backward and forward in time, he relives occasions of his life, including his death. Billy does not have the control these alien’s possess, as he can not control his time travel or choose to remember only what he wants to choose, and he relives happiness as much as he relives sadness. Without free will, there is no time wasted on blame, guilt or punishment. Billy accepts that things happen as they happen and does not blame anyone for what he experiences in the war, for the death of his wife, or for...anything.

While I am sure the Tralfamadorians would disagree, our lives are a series of things, our minds playing a critical role in how our many experiences shape us. On the outside chance I won't run into any aliens who can teach me to focus for an eternity on one single thing, I choose to acknowledge I do not and cannot know what the future holds. We are who we are because of what we have done, intentionally or unintentionally, successfully or or through defeat. We attract and repel along the way, forces of physics and psychics, our most profound truths found unexpectedly through experience.

So it goes.

(Just Like) Romeo & Juliet

Cave drawings, clay tablets, papyrus, wax tablets, parchment, paper, the printing press, bound books, paperbacks, audio books, e-readers. For centuries humanity has used linguistic symbols to transmit and conserve information. From silk in China to dried palm tree leaves in India, various materials have been used for recording and transmitting information.

With the proliferation of books came the need to study them. When time and resources are in short supply, readers look for a summary, an abstract, a condensed version, the "Reader's Digest" format: short, sweet, and to the point. As a student, I reveled in the existence of Cliffs Notes, guides that present and explain literary and other works in short order. Cliffs Notes owe their start to Coles Notes, published in Canada. Nebraska native Cliff Hillegass obtained the American rights in 1958 and the rest, as they say, is history, spawning an entire genre that includes Spark Notes, For Dummies, Complete Idiot's Guides and now...Shakespeare via short cartoons with Elizabethan English translated into contemporary slang in just about seven minutes, courtesy of Cliffs Notes.

Oh, the wonders of the modern age.

And yes, just to clarify, I am here to praise CliffsNotes Films, not to bury them, for this good will live after them.

Things evolve; it is the way of the world. There are those who will find these versions of the work of the Bard of Avon blasphemous and insulting. Is it Shakespeare if it isn't done in Elizabethan English? Is is still Shakespeare when is it made into a movie, or made into a movie and contemporized? Does it matter how the message gets out? As Marshall McLuhan famously said, "The medium is the message." The form of the medium tends to embed itself in the message, creating a relationship whereby the medium influences the perception of the message. I readily admit I recall Polonius' advice to Laertes about "Neither a borrower nor a lender be" best by remembering the musical version of Hamlet from Gilligan's Island. Does it make the message of Hamlet any less important that it was delivered through a comic medium?

Each of us has a marvelous approach to storytelling, and we all do it differently. CliffsNotes Films is using this technology to reach out to audiences in a new and entertaining way. Does it matter how the story is told, as long as it is told? After all, "All the world's a stage..." (As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII).

Help!

CQD is one of the first distress signals adopted for radio use. It was announced on January 7, 1904, by the Marconi International Marine Communication Company. Telegraphs used "CQ" ("sécu" of sécurité) to help identify messages to all stations along a telegraph line, and CQ had been adopted as a "general call" for maritime radio use. Telegraphs had no general emergency signal, so the Marconi company added a "D" ("distress") to CQ in order to create the distress call. CQD was understood by wireless operators to mean, "All stations: distress."

Used worldwide by Marconi operators, CQD was never adopted as an international standard, as it could be mistaken for CQ when reception was poor. In 1906, Germany's Notzeichen distress signal of three-dots/three-dashes/three-dots was adopted as the international Morse code distress signal and became known for the letters it spelled out, SOS.

In 1923, a senior radio officer at Croydon Airport in London by the name of Frederick Stanley Mockford was asked to come up with a word that would indicate distress and was easily understood by all pilots and ground staff in an emergency. Much of the traffic at that time was between London and Paris, so he proposed the word "Mayday" from the French m’aider, where "venez m'aider" means "come help me."

Emergency telephone numbers such as 911 (in the US), 112 (in the EU) and 999 (in the UK) put you in contact with local emergency services for assistance.

As CQD, SOS, Mayday and the rest of the cornucopia of options indicate, we know how to ask for help in emergency situations. However, asking for non-emergency help is something many people have trouble doing. There is no hesitation to call for medical assistance when a person is injured, but we are much less likely to reach out and ask for help with work assignments, child care or the like.

Some believe it is a sign of weakness, so we try do to it ourselves and sometime do nothing instead, allowing the problem to grow into a crisis. We are a society largely based on helping ourselves. If you doubt that, take a good look at the self-help section the next time you are in a bookstore or library.

Despite the self-help mantra, the biggest mistake we can make is thinking we have to do everything ourselves. If we want it done right, we don't have to do it ourselves. Asking for help can boost our happiness; the assistance makes our life easier and it shows we have a supportive social network we can rely on in times of need. Not only does it increase our happiness, but also the happiness of who you are asking for help, as giving support is just as important as getting support. Think about it: asking someone for help means you have a positive relationship with that person and trust them to support you. Who wouldn't feel good about that?

It was Mark Twain who said "The best way to cheer yourself is to try to cheer somebody else up." When you ask for help, your call will be answered, and both of you will feel better. All you have to do is ask.

It’s Just Another New Year’s Eve

James Bradley was an English astronomer, best known for two fundamental discoveries in astronomy. The first is the aberration of light (1725 - 1728), which explained the displacement of the apparent path of light from a star, providing conclusive evidence for the movement of the Earth.

The second is the nutation of the Earth's axis (1728 - 1748), also known as the oscillation of the Earth's axis. Caused by the changing direction of the gravitational pull of the moon on the equatorial bulge, Bradley's observations covered the period from 1727 to 1747, as a full cycle of the motion of the moon's nodes is approximately 18.6 years. He choose not to publish until 1748 when the cycle was complete, but announced this discovery on December 31, 1744.

Nutation is defined as a rocking, swaying, or nodding motion. It is quite the coincidence that the discovery of the Earth's nutation would be announced on New Year's Eve, which in itself tends to include rocking celebrations, swaying (whether due to music or alcohol), and eventually a nodding motion as even the most stalwart of individuals will draw their merriment to a close and slumber.

As New Year’s Eve rolls across the globe with a sense of wonder and renewal, I bid each and every one of us great joy, peace and prosperity.

Don't Save It All For Christmas Day

It is a magical time of year. As I grow older (and presumably wiser), Christmas has less and less to do with the hustle and bustle of crowds or the army of Santas available at every turn or the amount of presents under the tree. It is more about the opportunity to stop and smell the mistletoe, to listen to music that is put away the rest of the year, to focus on everything that is truly important in life.

It is a festival of the human heart, a time of year when heavenly forces inspire us to focus on joy instead of fear, on sharing instead of wanting, on love instead of hate, the rebirth of the soul and the return of the light to earth.

The "Toys of Tots" box in our office was filled to the brim, a testament to doing good things without needing recognition or reward. Store managers had the pleasure of calling up families who didn't think they'd have Christmas gifts and tell them the good news: "Layaway Angels" anonymously paid for their layaway items.

The vanishing days before Christmas and its fleeting magic tends to make people more mindful that you can’t buy what Christmas is about or put it under a tree. Gifts of wonder and time carry more value than monetary gifts, and the most meaningful gifts tend to cost little to nothing. The people we love around us is really everything we need.

"And he puzzled three hours, 'til his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! 'Maybe Christmas,' he thought, 'doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas … perhaps … means a little bit more!' "

He Is Sailing

Italy emerged from World War I in a poor and weakened condition, a costly conflict borne by an relatively new and underdeveloped country. Post-war inflation and large debts led to mass unemployment, food shortages, strikes, and general unrest throughout the country.

With no obvious solutions in sight, millions of Italians left their homeland, about half going to other locations in Europe, hoping for a better life; the rest headed to ports of departure throughout Europe, including Le Havre (France), Hamburg (Germany), and the Italian cities of Naples, Palermo, Venice and Genoa. Steamships picked up their human cargo and set sail to points north, south, east and west. The overwhelming majority of immigrants traveled in steerage, packed in as tightly as space would allow, and days dragged into weeks, waiting and waiting for the ship to complete its journey and arrive at the dock.

My four grandparents were among the millions of Italians who immigrated to the United States. Eighty-five years ago today, on December 17, 1926, Emilio Frederick Tabacchi stepped on board the SS Duilio. Two weeks later, the ship approached the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor, and for those on board the American Dream was finally at hand. Eventually he would pass through the huge Registry Room on Ellis Island and then travel by train to Santa Barbara, his home for the rest of his life.

Today I say thank you to those who came before me, their stories of risk, courage and determination an inspiration for me as I continue on my journey, each remembrance breathing life once more into those who paved the way for us.

"To those who came before me in seasons long ago
To those who are the loved-ones that I have yet to know
To those whose noble names I bear, whose light within me burns
To them in gratitude shall my heart be turned ." - Sally DeFord

Buone Natale

Christmas would be incomplete for me without a panettone, a risen bread rich with eggs and butter, sweet with honey, scented with vanilla and lemon zest, with the finishing touch of dried and candied fruits. This labor intensive treat is best accompanied by hot cocoa or liqueur, although I have been known to toast a slice for breakfast or to even make a type of French toast using panettone.

My grandmother made them when I was a child, mixing ingredients, including a special flavoring that came from Italy called "spumadoro" which has a distinctive citrus flavor. The dough would rise, rest, be punched down and allowed to rise again and again, producing a high and light treat. The traditional method is accomplished over the course of several days, including long sessions of kneading and allowing for up to 20 hours of rising, creating a sweet, complex flavor as a result of the fermentation of the dough. Traditional panettone uses a biga – a pre-ferment made from a mixture of flour, yeast and water that ferments overnight – to achieve a high rise and a nice deep flavor.

This famous Italian bread has its modern-day beginnings in Milan, Italy, around the 15th century; that much is certain as it is mentioned in a recipe book written the personal chef to popes and emperors during the time of Charles V. The origins of this cake appear to be far older, dating back to the Roman Empire when ancient Romans sweetened a type of leavened bread with honey. The first recorded association of panettone with Christmas can be found in 18th century writings.

As with many things whose origins are lost to time, panettone is the stuff of legends and numerous stories about how it originated abound. The most common version refers to young nobleman who fell in love with the daughter of a poor baker named Toni. In order to impress the daughter, the nobleman disguised himself as a pastry chef’s apprentice in her father’s bakery and created a tall fruit studded bread to present to her father, calling it “Pan de Toni” and winning the admiration of the lady and the father’s respect who then blesses the marriage. Another version refers to a poor baker named Tonio who developed a special bread to earn the dowry for his daughter to marry a nobleman. A different version altogether says it was Christmas and the cook in a famous Milan family had no dessert to offer, so the guests were given a sweet bread baked by a kitchen boy called Toni. All three stories are rich and fanciful, just like a panettone.

Many variations exist, including cake stuffed with chocolate chips, cream, or even lemon liqueur, but the traditional recipe for a fluffy, dome-shaped cake dotted with dried fruit and candied citrus peel remains my favorite, with more than 50 million sold during the Christmas holidays. I will eat my share, both as dessert or breakfast, the yeasty citrus scent taking me back to my grandmother's kitchen with its wonderful sights, sounds, and smells, and the good times we shared as a family in that room full of love.

Ferry Cross The Mersey

Cindy and I recently spent a couple of days in Victoria, British Columbia. We headed north from Bellingham, drove across the border and headed west to Tsawwassen to catch the ferry to Victoria. We lined up with the rest of the cars and patiently waited our turn to drive onto the ferry, and then watched as people got out of their vehicles and headed to the terminal.

As novice ferry waiters, we followed suit and found ourselves surrounded by various eateries, gift kiosks and coffee shops. Eventually it was time to get back in the car and drive onto the ferry, which we both expected would be spent in the car. Again we watched as practically everyone abandoned their vehicle and headed up one or two flights of stairs, and again we followed.

We were surprised and pleased to find out this ferry was more like a cruise ship than a transportation vessel, with multiple places to eat, comfortable seats, work stations for those with laptops, play areas for children, and even (for an extra fee) a quiet room with over sized chairs and wi-fi. I'm sure we looked like Ma and Pa Kettle visiting a big city, as I just couldn't stop looking around or wanting to walk all over the ship to see what else there was. It was a beautiful day and smooth passage as we threaded through the Gulf Islands and saw many small lighthouses, such as this one on Prevost Island.

An opportunity to see the Vinyl Cafe Christmas Show at the Royal Theatre and spending time in Victoria was the destination. The show was, of course, wonderful and Victoria, the City of Gardens and a favorite destination of tourists from around the world, was beautiful. However, as with many trips, it was not the destination that brought the most happiness, but rather, the journey. Ralph Waldo Emerson put it best when he said "Life is a journey, not a destination.”

Blown By The Wind

This week, I was reminded the velocity of the wind increases as it is forced over the top of a solid fence, increasing the force on the solid fence exponentially, increasing air pressure on the windward side and creating a slight vacuum on the downwind side. This principle applies to all objects that slow the velocity and/or change the direction of wind. Such objects include buildings, trees, shrubs, terrain surfaces, and, of course, fences.

Given the right conditions (which included a rotting 4 x 4 post and a recorded gust of 70 mph), a fence panel can come loose and repeatedly bang on your portable gas grill until it wakes you at 4:24 am and welcomes you to the new day. Moving fence panels in the wind and rain before breakfast can now be crossed off my bucket list.

In the light of morning we were able to use some wire fencing to temporarily replace the missing panels. The chickens are none too happy about it, as this wire fencing was being used to give them a larger are to peck and scratch for the winter. The dog appears pleased as she can now see the neighbors and has another excuse to bark. The cats, as usual, are ambivalent about the whole thing, as it has little effect on their ability to sleep most of the time.

While many people spent Black Friday shopping, I took advantage of a break in the rain to try and remove the balance of the fence post still in the ground but well below ground level. Trying to avoid digging a large hole to remove the concrete and minus a jack hammer or a large sledge hammer to break it out, I armed myself grandfather's 3/8 inch 8 amp motor corded hammer drill and proceeded to drill the sucker out. The rotted parts were easy and came out fast, but the solid portions presented more of a challenge. I added an extension to the drill bit and kept going back, unwilling to give in. About the time I had most of the post drilled out the cement started coming apart in large sections, clearly showing the broken areas that allowed water in which allowed the post to rot.

A forecast of wind and rain will delay getting the new post in the ground until next weekend. A metal brace in more concrete than was there the first time will be my over-engineered attempt to never need to replace this post again.

Ode De Toilet (The Toilet Song)

November 19th is World Toilet Day. Sounds like a joke, but it's deadly serious. The number of people worldwide without access to a toilet -- no public restroom, no outhouse, no latrine, no smallest room -- is a whopping 2.6 billion. That's four out of ten people who have to use fields, river-banks, beaches, rubbish dumps or city streets.

"Imagine life without a toilet. No toilets in your home or at work, no public toilets, no toilets anywhere. Imagine the mess. Imagine the disease.

"It's hard to imagine life without something we take for granted, but this is the daily reality for 2.6 billion people. 40% of the world’s population do not have access to adequate sanitation. That’s 2.6 billion people having to practice open defecation, urinating into rivers which lead to water borne diseases such as acute diarrhea, cholera and dysentery. Others resort to roadsides, buckets, plastic bags and open fields as their toilets. The eventual outcome -- deaths."

The things we take for granted are not to be. And while we all may want more, perhaps today is a day to remember what others do not have, and, with a national holiday almost upon us, truly give thanks for what we do.

Saturday's Child

For many, Saturday morning presents the opportunity to sleep in. After a particularly trying and long week at work, I desired to join that group, hoping to convince my body not to automatically wake me as it usually does just before the alarm goes off.

The cat, however, had other ideas. Her sure-fire process for waking me up usually starts with a faint meow. Sometimes a few pets will distract her and allow me to sleep a bit more. After the meow comes the licking the hand. I have learned to avoid that by keeping my hand under the covers, which seemed to confuse her for quite some time. Snoring again, she now brings out the big guns: the large cat purring face about two inches from my eye. You haven't really lived until you open your eye and your entire field of vision is filled by a cat head.

Okay, I'm up. The cat wants out, then wants to be fed. Coffee brewing. The quiet of the morning. Overcast skies, drops of rain. Listening to podcasts. Making some notes for a class I am taking.

The stress of the week melts away. Saturday is truly a day to relax, recharge and replenish the mental and emotional reserves.

You Might Think

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about how it was not conscious thought on my part to help a person manage their food tray. It got me thinking about conscious and unconscious thoughts and how they vary.

Unconscious and conscious thought have different characteristics, which, under different circumstances, makes each the preferred format. Simple issues are generally better handled by conscious thought; complex matters are better considered with unconscious thought. What do I mean by this? You have likely experienced giving up on trying to solve a problem and while not consciously thinking about the situation a solution comes to mind within moments courtesy of the power of unconscious thought.

In Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking, Malcolm Gladwell brings us face to face with the role of unconscious decision making. The main focus is that decisions made rapidly can be every bit as good as decisions made slowly, cautiously and deliberately.

One of the main concepts is your mind is more efficient when you can move higher level thinking into the unconscious. What do I mean by that? Consider riding a bicycle. If you were like me, it took a lot of conscious attention and effort to coordinate balancing, steering and pedaling. Bicycling is no longer a daily item for me, but climbing on one does not require relearning the mechanics of riding a bike.

Driving a car, walking and using chopsticks are examples of other things you don't need to relearn. If you know how to waltz but haven't done it for a while, you may be a bit rusty, as you are relying on muscle memory, hidden away in the cerebellum, behind and underneath the brain, close to the brain stem, where physical coordination skills live without conscious thought. You get to commonly visited places without a lot of thought, what some refer to as being on auto-pilot. Do you even remember driving to work? I get there without issue, but remember almost nothing of the trip.

We are always taking in information, some of it consciously and some of it unconsciously. You don't have to know about the muscles around the eyes that only contract when a person has a true smile on their face to recognize the difference between a real smile and fake smile; this ability occurs at an unconscious level. Most people can't tell you how they know, but they know.

Our unconscious is a very powerful force. Call it what you will: instinct, gut reaction, intuition. What appears mystical or psychic is part of the function of our normal yet amazing brain.

Lost In A Lost World

I lost my wallet a few weeks ago while Cindy and I traveled to Seattle for the weekend. It was a disorienting experience (not having it in my pocket) combined with fear (where is it), anxiety (who has it now), frustration (what was in it), all at once and each equally intense. My wallet was my key to everyday life, containing credit cards, a debit card, my driver's license and much more. It was my digital DNA that allowed me to be me.

This vault of information could also allow someone else to be me, so I began making phone calls to credit card companies and the like to cancel accounts. The paradox of using an automated phone system soon set in...to reach a live operator I needed the account number, but I did not have the account number since the card was gone. I also found that most voice recognition systems do not respond to sarcasm, frustration or phrases such as "I lost my card" or "I NEED HELP YOU BLEEPING RECORDING".

Life, as they say, is what you make of it, full of accidents and surprises. It is up to us to make the decision on how to react and where to focus our thoughts. Had I lost my wallet a few years ago it would have involved much hand wringing and worrying about things I could not change, all wrapped up in the constraints of negative emotion. Losing it now, well, it wasn't fun, but it was over and done with within a few hours and I could begin to feel the relief of letting go.

Many pushed buttons later, the accounts were cancelled and replacement cards ordered. They have been trickling in and no errant charges appeared on any of the cards. My identity appears to be still safely attached to me and me only.

The other day there was a message on my work phone: my wallet had phoned home. Found by a nine year-old boy who gave it to his father, my wallet arrived in the mail earlier this past week, fully intact, minus whatever cash was in it that I insisted the boy keep as a reward. It is worth every penny to remind me of the goodness of people that are out there.

Reach Out And Touch Somebody's Hand

For years, Cindy and I have made it a point to have lunch together once a week. Just the two of us, no family, no friends. Sometimes it is filled with discussion, other times it is an opportunity to listen without comment, but every time it is an opportunity to be with each other, to tie up big threads and leave the little one hanging about for another day.

This week was no exception. We had just finished getting our self-serve drinks when I noticed an elderly woman starring intently at her receipt. She explained to me she was legally blind asked me to read the number on her receipt so she would know what to listen for. I told her the number and she thanked me, and then continued working on getting lids for the drinks she was managing.

Just then her number was called and she looked about a bit flustered as if wondering how to manage both the beverages and the food. I offered to get her tray and delivered it to the table where her friend was waiting, both of them thanking me for the assistance.

I stood back later and never considered why I helped that woman, as I already knew. It was my family that taught me right from wrong, to say please and thank you, showed me how kindness, courtesy and respect were part of everyday life.

Helping others brings good feelings to the giver and the receiver, making both feel more worthy of good deeds, reinforcing the decency of people, feeling more connected to others. Studies show that service to others helps us to feel more grateful for what we have and less invested in whatever causes stress for so many of us.

It was not conscious thought on my part to help this person, it just happened. It, of course, was the right thing to do. It was also a reminder to me that when opportunities to help present themselves we must take the risks we are asked to take, we must put ourselves out there and remember not everyone in this world is bad and waiting to sue us for a good deed gone wrong.

Harvest Moon

We have had clearing skies as of late, which means streaks of white on blue (instead of the opposite) during the day and an opportunity for some stargazing in the evening/morning. The waning moon has been peaking through the clouds and the nights are getting colder, another reminder that fall is in the air. Shorter days and longer nights means I am slowly exchanging my short-sleeved shirts and shorts for warmer clothing.

Each season has a signature smell. For autumn, it is more than just the scent of falling leaves, fresh air, and apples. It is difficult to distinguish exactly what makes fall smell like fall.

Breathing air into your lungs that is slightly colder than expected is part of it. The smell of burning wood in a fireplace, especially those that are being lit for the first time since spring with the slightly damp odor from the bricks unused for months.

On cool, crisp, sunny autumn days, the air has almost a spicy smell to it, reminiscent of earthy and woody notes, definitely there but still subtle and unassuming. It is the smell of pumpkins and the last of the vegetables growing in the garden.

Pinpointing what causes the air to smell like fall can be elusive, as autumn is a sensory explosion of odor and color. Quite fitting, considering winter arrives soon enough with the absence of most things beyond the white of the clouds, snow and ice.

Dirty Laundry

Laundry is a chore that everyone does at some point. It can be a weekly time-consuming chore that ties you up for many hours. Doing laundry is one of the oldest known domestic tasks and while the process differs across cultures and time, the basic need (clean clothes) is unchanged. If you're typical, you likely dread doing laundry, a mundane part of life. If you're atypical, like me, you actually like doing laundry.

It's the obsessive part of my personality, I know. A full hamper of dirty things is bothersome, as it all could be clean and put away in its place instead of being piled in a jumble. Still, there is a certain satisfaction in gathering all of the sheets, towels and clothes and knowing they will be clean when you are done.

We moved two years ago to a new home, new neighborhood, new views...but the best part was the new front-loading washer and dryer. The smell of detergent and dryer sheets, cleaning the lint filter on the drier after every load...ah yes. Dirty clothes go in, clean, nice-smelling clothes come out.

I work during the week so I save laundry up for the weekend. Walking downstairs, opening up the washing machine and starting a load before the coffee pot is on, the hum of the washer reminding me of my accomplishment. The challenge of the stains, the crease of permanent press...bliss.

All in all, washing, drying and folding is very meditative and relaxing. A tremendous sense of satisfaction and fulfillment arrives each and every Sunday night, as I know each and every towel in the house is clean, dry and folded just right, my clothes neatly hung and/or folded, and clean sheets on the bed.

American Pie

As Cindy related in her blog, we have recently been overrun with apples from the tree in our backyard. We harvested about half of them a couple of weekends ago, and then sliced, diced and froze them for future pies, crumbles, buckles and other baking opportunities.

The tree was there when we bought the house, so what variety the apples are is still in question. We think it is "Akane", an early season apple with firm flesh and plenty of juice. Developed in Japan in the 1930s, it represents an unusual marriage of the classic English early variety, Worcester Pearmain, and the high quality American heritage apple variety, Jonathan. Whatever it may be, they are better eaten in pie than out of hand.

Apple pie has, in a way, become a tradition itself. Pumpkin may be the primary pie at Thanksgiving, but apple is what brings me back to the table after too much turkey. The fragrant aroma of apples and spices signals many that Christmas is upon us, and what Fourth of July would be complete without apple pie. A flaky crust topped with vanilla ice cream, a crumble topping with whipped cream, an open-face Tarte Tatin...it is looked forward to regardless of the shape it takes.

What makes apples and apple pie so all-American? We didn't invent either, as the wild ancestors of apples can be found in Western Asia, specifically in Kazakhstan, and apple pies have been eaten since long before the European colonies were started in the Americas. In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, apple pie became a symbol of American prosperity and national pride with "as American as apple pie" becoming a stock phrase.

Then again, as long as we have pie, does it matter?

Roam

The envelope was on the table with the other mail. It looked vaguely nondescript yet important at the same time. The "new-car" smell was the first thing I noticed when I opened the envelope. In a new car, that combination of volatile organic compounds released into the air come from sources such as cleaning and lubricating compounds, paint, carpeting, leather and vinyl treatments, latex glue, gasoline and exhaust fumes.

There was no car in this envelope. It does provide an opportunity to travel, but unlike a car it does not require gas or oil, tires or maintenance. The odor of plastic, glue and paper that filled my nostrils was from my passport.

The blue book with its gold-embossed eagle, the blank pages, full of potential, waiting to be filled with a stamp, in turn filling the holder with knowledge and experience. The ups and downs of travel, the vivid experiences, the shared journeys...all wrapped up in a passport.

I have my paternal grandfather's original passport from when he left Italy in 1926, and now I have my own. Despite the 85 years that separate the two, there exists a tangible link to the heritage of my past and well as my future, as in 2012 we plan to travel to Italy, to visit the land of my ancestors, to connect with relatives we have never seen and attempt to fill the gaps that exist in our family tree.

Soundwaves

A recent episode of Car Talk included a female caller who said she believes the windshield on her parked car was cracked from falling bird poop. Click and Clack, the Tappet Brothers, hoped somebody with physics background would weigh in on the discussion. Not to disappoint, Rhett Allain, an associate professor of physics at Southeastern Louisiana University, picked up the challenge and discussed, among other things, the Terminal Speed of Poop.

Physics was the bane of my educational existence in college. Thinking I had a decent understanding of physics, I took a semester at City College in Santa Barbara with the expectation that it would be the easier classes I took that term. It was there I was introduced to the "slug", one of the units of the gravitational foot-pound-second system (FPS). For the uninitiated, the slug is a mass that accelerates by 1 ft/s2 when a force of one pound-force (lbf) is exerted on it, therefore a slug has a mass of 32.17405 pound-mass.

Yeah, they lost me around that point too.

Never had I missed the metric system so much as that semester. Atmospheres, Newtons and Pascals were replaced by pounds per square inch, poundals and poundals per square inch. I spent lots of time converting pounds to stones, inches to chains and other archaic forms of measurement for length and mass. Fortunately time is time, so a second was still a second. I passed the class but it wasn't pretty. I was able to manipulate a three dimensional organic chemistry model but sound waves made no sense to me.

Scarred by that experience, I started and subsequently dropped the last few credits I needed in Physics twice before I completed the class. I didn't leave much room or error, as it was my last quarter at UC Davis and it was all that stood between me and graduation. I hunkered down, went to tutorials and kept pushing. It was not looking good as I headed into the final, but it was either try or go home without a degree. I completed the exam and spent the next two days wondering.

Unlike many instructors, this one did not post grades in the hallway or on their office window, but rather held office hours so he could tell you the results and answer any questions you may have had. I reluctantly made my way to his office, expecting the worst while hoping for a small miracle. As I approached the office I heard the instructor and a student I recognized from class locked in a heated discussion over points on the final exam that made the difference between a class grade of a B+ versus and A-.

The other student eventually left and I waited several seconds before moving into view. The instructor waved me in and looked for by results after I gave him my name. A look of resignation crossed his face, steeling himself as if expecting another argument. He explained he had reviewed the exam numerous time looking for additional points to bring up my results, but my class grade was going to be a D+.

I was expecting worse and was, frankly, thrilled to have passed the class. I took his hand in mine, shook it and thanked him. He had a perplexed look on his face for a moment, and then smiled. He understood, as did I, that passing was good enough for that day.

It was years after that fateful physics class that some of it finally made sense. I was driving a car with the radio on (reasonably loud, I am sure) when I rolled down a window. The sound changed. Opening the other window changed it again. I couldn't remember that frequency = speed / wavelength, but at that time I understood the pitch changes when you add or subtract ends on a box with sound waves in it.

I have tried reading physics books for the layperson over the years. "A Brief History of Time" by Stephen Hawking and "The Elegant Universe" by Brian Greene both graced my nightstand at different points. Despite these authors having a reputation for explaining modern physics in a way that speaks to the non-scientist, I still don't often get it.

And it's okay that I don't, for people like Rhett Allain exist to explain it to me. Still, his final decision on if bird poop could break a car windshield is less than satisfying: "I am leaning towards possible". Perhaps if I drive around listening to loud music and play with the window controls the answer may come to me.

Sailing Homeward

Home, it has been said, is where the heart is. It is a place you love, a place for family to gather, a place you have painted or remodeled or added your own personal touches to, a place close to your favorite restaurant, favorite stores and friends. A house, on the other hand, is simply walls, bedrooms and bathrooms.

It is not homes many of us have lost to due financial issues, it is houses. It can be difficult for anyone who has an emotional investment in their living space to make the change, to allow “homes” to become “houses”.

Foreclosures, short sales, being upside-down on your mortgage; however you call it, it can seem like the end of the world. While it is not, there is psychological trauma associated with the event. You aren't likely to starve or sleep on the streets as an immediate result of a foreclosure, and a family’s belongings are no longer tossed to the curb when it happens.

Owning a home is a fundamental part of a sense of belonging in this country. In 1890, the American psychologist William James wrote that “a man's self is the sum total of all that he can call his...his body and his psychic powers...his clothes and his house, his wife and children, his ancestors and friends, his reputation and works..." Home ownership, along with our family, belongings and jobs, are an extension of self. Losing those things, even temporarily, effect our self value.

The important thing to remember is this too shall pass. Another house will become a home, a place we fell comfortable in and personalize to make it our own. The pain, sense of loss and heartache will subside, and one day it will be hard to remember ever feeling so bad. Self values right themselves, the journey begins anew and you never know where you might be swept off to.

Sailing homeward, it's time to go home,
Over the ocean of life we must roam.
And when you get there, say hello for me,
For I've a long, long way to go.

Backwards Traveller

During a recent trip to Santa Barbara, my sister and I looked through several boxes that belonged to our paternal grandparents. Digging through the past is essentially traveling through time, an opportunity to remember when, to wonder why and to dream about what was.

One box contained dozens of photographs. A few were people we knew; some were faces that had family resemblances; the majority were unknown to either of us. After some further review they all appear to be from our maternal grandmother's side of the family, some of them were of cousins that lived on the east coast of the United States, the majority of them photos from Italy of family we can not identify.

Years ago, early in our married life when we lived in Southern California, Cindy and I went to the Pasadena City College Flea Market. I don't recall if we were searching for anything in particular or just looking, but with products ranging from high-end antiques to rummage sale type items it was a good location for either purpose.

I was struck by a vendor who had old photos for sale, collected from various sources such as garage and estate sales. A few of the photos had names, locations or dates on them, but most lacked any sort of annotation. I remember wondering who these people were, where they came from, where they ended up. Mostly I wondered what stories did they hold, what lessons could we have learned from them, what history was now lost forever.

Now I hold a box of photos, most without dates, names or locations. This time I have a link, an attachment to them, as they are of family, albeit distant in both generation and location. It will take time, sleuthing and some guessing, and it may never be complete. They deserve to be known to whatever extent they can be, for they hold stories, lessons and history that need to be re-found, remembered and retold.