Single Floor Living

There is something about single floor living.  Except for the apartments I lived in during my college and grad school years I have always lived in multi-floor dwellings.  And now I have noticed something about my morning behavior here at the cabin.  I am not quite sure if it is just the relaxed atmosphere or the fact that my bedroom is on the same level as the "activities" areas of the house.  When I am at home in New Jersey I always wash up and get dressed in street clothes prior to going downstairs and starting my day.  Even on weekends.  The order always is; pee, discuss possibility of morning sex,  wash face and hands, brush teeth (I floss at night), consider sex again, get dressed, agree to have sex later, go downstairs for breakfast.  I was never one to put on a robe and go about my morning business in flannels.

But at the cabin I always just casually wander about in my bed clothes whilst completing my morning routine.  Start the morning fire in my boxers, start the coffee in my boxers, go outside for some firewood in my boxers.  I eat breakfast in my boxers.  Only after we have decided on our days activities do I get dressed.  And I don't think it is just because the cabin  has a more relaxed feel.  When the bedroom is on the same floor as everything else there is no definitive delineation between sleeping and stirring.   Once downstairs, there is no turning back.  That's why the intimacy discussion has lost its sense of urgency.  What effort does it take to just wander back into the bedroom?  No effort at all, that's what.  That's why retired people buy ranchers.  Because by the time they climb back up the stairs they are too spent to do anything about it.

Finally, Someone Cares About My Opinion*

I recently wrote a letter to the editor of the Philadelphia Inquirer.  I was responding to the article linked if you click on the title above.  Of course it was an article about parks and recreation that got my attention.  Stick with what you know.  The letter, which was printed in today's Philly Inquirer, is below:


Park's pursuit of education.

Inga Saffron provides many insights into the design process of Independence Mall ("For tourists and city, not re-created equal," Sunday). I have been a frequent visitor to the historic district and I agree with Saffron's assessment regarding the ambience of the park and use by local residents. I disagree, however with her comparison to Millennium Park in Chicago. It would be more appropriate to compare Millennium Park to the Kelly and MLK Drive area of Fairmount Park. Philadelphians (and citizens from surrounding areas such as myself) adore this park every bit as much as Chicagoans adore their Millennium Park. Their purposes are similar, to provide open park space for outdoor recreating. The main purpose of the Independence Mall area is to educate, albeit in an outdoor park-like setting. Independence Mall, after all, is a national historical park, not a national recreation area. While it is true it should be physically inviting to locals, the site belongs to the citizens of the entire United States and must be treated as such.

Richard Feuer
Sewell     bytegently@verizon.net

Holiday Village, Not.

Merry Christmas to all my Christian friends.  I say it sincerely to my in laws, I say it sincerely to my patients, I say it sincerely to the cashier while I am out shopping.  When someone says it to me I say thank you or Merry Christmas in return.  I am not offended and I am happy that this joyous holiday exists for them.  We all need more love and understanding in our lives and the message at Christmas mass (yes, I go) is to maintain the spirit of giving and peace throughout the whole year.  Who could argue with that?  I don't think I have always felt this way (aren't most young people rather militant in their philosophical outlook?) and if I had not married into a Catholic family I don't know if I would have arrived at the same place in my outlook.  But the first step in understanding others is to understand ourselves.


While I do cringe when I read about things like removing the word Christmas  from the "Christmas Village"
or PCing the season down to "Happy Holidays" I understand the intent.  It is to be more inclusive.  We do pride ourselves, after all, on being a multicultural society.  So if Christians feel like there is a frontal assault on their holiday, or take it as a personal insult of their right to express their joy at the birth of Christ, when someone pushes back against the relentless onslaught of the "Christian Right Wing" movement in America, I wish they would realize several things.  First, and most importantly, this struggle is not new in America.  The dialogue about the role of religion in American public life has been raging since before the Constitution, thus the honor of being mentioned in the first amendment.  Secondly, the obvious assuming attitude many devout people feel toward those who might not adhere to a Western religious view of the world can seem judgmental and even hurtful.  It is possible to be a good person without believing in a God who is specifically concerned with the affairs of man (credit to Albert Einstein).  Thirdly, no one can deny the fact that Christmas has become more of a commercial retail onslaught than a season of spirituality and Light.  That is why retailers dropped Christmas from their stores and circulars.  They want to encourage all Americans to spend money on their goods.

So I agree with the bumper stickers.  Let's keep "Christ" in Christmas and remember His was a message of tolerance and peace, and not one of feverish excess.

Only an Octopus Could Love It.

So this is the season of the office Christmas Party buffet dinner.  Buffets, of course, are not unique to office Christmas parties but they are the go to framework for galas on the cheap.  From VFW hall weddings to corporate celebrations the omission of a solicitous wait staff is the way to save money.  Don't get me wrong.  I love the idea of being able to pile on as much of and what of I want.  It is the logistics of the affair that causes me great consternation.  Now I am not talking about a restaurant that serves buffet style.  At these places one typically goes to the spread at their own leisure.  You can go as many times as you wish and the line usually moves very rapidly.

But at special occasion buffets an insidious form of facism seems to take over the whole progress of the meal.  First, and most troubling, is the idea that one cannot even venture to the food spread until your table has been called.  And I have found that the process in which it is decided which tables go first is of such a highly sensitive and secretive  nature that not even the most astute observer can figure it out.  Otherwise I would most certainly fight my way into table number one whether or not I am actually a first order relation to the bride.

And if one is lucky enough to be seated at the first tier of tables, you are done with your meal way before the last tables have been allowed to access their food.  This, of course leads to the inconvience of having to wait for an auspicious time to approach for seconds.  Believe me, the second round of potatoes au gratin is not worth the icy stares you get from butting in line before some of the guests have even had their first bite of a roll.

The idea of going up twice before all the guests have had one chance at the line brings me to the most insufferable pitfall of the buffet style meal.  The fact that I have to balance my entree, salad, and dinner roll simultaneously ruins even the most lavish of fetes.  I have a suggestion for all future buffet hosts.  Have the salad and dinner roll already at the setting of each guest as they arrive in the dining room.  This will serve three puposes.  One, the guests will have something to eat while they are awaiting their turn and thus significantly reduce their agitation due to low blood sugar.  Two, since it is standard practice to eat the salad prior to the entree, the food will not get cold while the salad is consummed, and three, there is never enough room in front of you to place the dinner and salad plate so all the jockeying for table space will be eliminated for you and your table mates. 

Finally there is the dessert issue.  There is something inherently distasteful with eating chicken marsala while the guests at the table to your immediate right are busy tearing into their raspberry cheesecake and coffee.  And when you finally do get called to the dessert table there is no raspberry cheesecake left for you anyway.  Then you are left standing there while the white gloved ersatz steward retreats to the kitchen in a feigned attempt to deliver said promised dessert.

12/21/2010
This just in, another reason to dislike buffets:
Plan to Poison Buffets Uncovered

Don't Worry, Be Happy

Since I will not be going up to my cabin for the entire month of December I have been forced to score my weekly dose of therapy by other means.  To that end I am currently reading a self help book on how to stop worrying.  While I would not go so far as to say I have GAD (a diagnosis with its own ICD code)  I have always considered myself a worrier.  And after reading this book I have been left with absolutely no wiggle room to escape this disconcerting conclusion.  One of the signs of being a chronic worrier is that fretters are actually not anxious about the major catastrophes like terrorist attacks, earthquakes, falling off a cliff while climbing, or drowning during the swim leg of a triathlon. But rather things like the trash men maybe not emptying the trash can since your wife overloaded it and it weighs 51 pounds, or your dental practice will fail if patients have to wait more than ten minutes for their appointment, or maybe the fact that you won't be able to have cereal for breakfast if your wife doesn't immediately go to the store to restock the milk.  I, in fact, have always worn my "I DO sweat the small stuff" attitude as a badge of honor.  This is not a new revelation as I have previously  covered the topic in my "What if" discussion groups of mid 2010.  And by discussion groups I mean the stony silence that usually follows what I consider to be my very insightful blog posts.

This is not the first self help book I have read.  And it has been my experience that unless one is born naturally content, becoming well adjusted is not an end point.  It is, in fact, a never ending struggle to overcome your own intractable nature.  Drugs help for a while as they combat the chemical source of your malcontentment.  But stop taking them and your worries are back.  They have therefore not cured anything; they have just made you dependent on drugs (disclaimer for the NJ State Dental Board; I am not now, nor have I ever been on antipsychotic medication).  And reading one book on "The women who love men and the men who hit them back" is not going to stop you from being attracted to bad boys.  Most people who are trying to improve their outlook on life never stop with one or two books.  They must constantly return to the self help section for the newest fad in self actualization.

And the reason is quite simple.  Every self help book begins with the same basic assumption;  the world is not going to change so you have to change the way in which you react to it.  Well I immediately reject this concept.  All of the Ph.D. authors are well aware of the fact that it is almost impossible to change one's basic nature, yet they expect you to change just from reading their book.  Every one of these books acknowledges that yes, life is very unfair.  Even religion offers no immediate solution as their ultimate answer to life's hardships is paradise only in death.  Turn the other cheek is the best advice they can offer here on Earth.  And that is why melancholy people will always be melancholy.  Because one can work and work and work at being well adjusted but after the dopamine  built up from reading a meaningful book has dissipated, the possibility still remains that your cat will topple the Christmas tree and start a fire while you're  at work.

"I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude."(Thoreau)

I recently started a business Facebook page for my dental office.
So I now basically have six online venues which I can ignore, especially while I am up here at the cabin: personal Facebook page, business Facebook page, blog, website, and e-mail (personal and work).
If I have left anything out, let me know. While I bought the cabin to inspire and energize me it has had the opposite effect (see blog entry "My Favorite Law").  All I want to do is either stare out at the stream or go hiking.   It's as if I become Henry David Thoreau minus the talent, intellectual curiosity, and calmness.  OK, sure I sometimes sit and stare at my laptop screen trying desperately to tap out a few words which will amuse someone in the blogosphere, but my overall level of commitment is "manana"  (I see there is a tilda key on my keyboard but it just does this;~).  It's not such a bad thing, contemplating nature while trying to ignore the greater world.  In fact, I think trying to always capture one's thoughts might detract from the overall "being in the moment" experience.  I found the same to be true of travel photography.  Sometimes the adventures became diluted in my zeal to "capture the moment" for later bragging rights.  It's true, life is about the trip, not the movie rights.

Guest Blog; A Feline Atonement

"Jail sucks"

I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.
I promise not to bite people even if they are sitting in my spot.

My Favorite Law

Helloooooo... Is anybody still out there?  I'm baaaaaack.  Maybe I will just try a "thought for the day" type of blog.  Short, sweet, and hopefully insightful.

One of my favorite laws is the Law of Unintended Consequences.  Not even the most well thought out process is immune from it.  And it is really the first law (well, maybe second, after the law of gravity), to make its mark in the world.  Think about this;  God creates a utopian world in seven days. He then sets up Adam and Eve in this Garden of Eden. Then, believing they can be good stewards, he grants them free will . And what happens on day nine, maybe ten?  They mismanage it.  In one bite, God's utopian paradise is irrevocably screwed up. If that is not the law of unintended consequences in action then I don't know what is.  What, he didn't see that coming from a mile away?  Apparently, no one is immune from it.

Fear and Marketing Seize the Day

The fickleness of the voter knows no bounds.
As Winston Churchill said  "the best argument against democracy is a five minute conversation with the average voter".

Click on the title  and you may get frightened for America.  If only they realized that the founding fathers were a bunch of aristocrats, gentleman farmers, intellectual elitists, and pro slavery plantation owners, the exact caste the Tea Party rallies against. These great thinkers came up with the electoral college to very specifically guard against populist victories, and their worries ring true 225 years later.

Its a Small World Afterall

I do not consider myself particularly New Agey, but the Woodland Valley, in which my cabin resides, does have a spirituality about it that every visitor immediately feels.  A friend of ours has said that everyone who moves here eventually rekindles their spiritual side even if they are not particularly religious.   Tammy might disagree but I do feel calmer when I am here.  And isn't that one of the points of religious devotion, to feel calm with the world and your place in it?  No matter what one believes happens when we die, we are all here together on Earth so we better make the best of it.  And the exact specifics of how we got here may not be so important at this point since we are here and shouldn't we just try to do our best with what we have?  No coach ever told his young charges to go home because they stink and what's the point anyway.  Do your best and be a good sport is always the advice.  Amen.

But that is not what this post is about.  My first cousin once removed  (my Mom's cousin), Frank, was in  from California visiting his good friend, Steve, who happens to live in Woodstock.  My Mother told him we just bought a home in Phoenicia so he called and invited us to a pot luck dinner get together in Woodstock.  (A quick plug for my wife here; she threw together a very chic quinoa and bean salad with ten minutes notice).
It just so happens that Steve is good friends with our friend and neighbor down the street, Carol.  This, in and of itself, is not the most fascinating small world story but it is the second one we have been involved with this week.

Earlier this week I received an e-mail from an old high school classmate who had stumbled upon my blog via Facebook.  It turns out she spends summers in a rental house here in Woodland Valley. She recognized the picture of my backyard since she had also looked at the cabin when it was for sale.  Well, upon closer inspection of my Facebook profile picture, which includes Tammy, she realized that, one day while taking a walk, she and her husband had stopped to chat with Tammy when they came upon her gardening.  (I was probably inside on the pot).  She told me in her e-mail that they, like us, "love everything about the valley".  It is just one more story that reinforces my view of this place as very spiritual.  If you click on the title of this post you will be brought to the Wikipedia link about our mountain (Panther) and how our two creeks were formed by a meteor.  A rare geologic event.  If you Google Earth Panther Mountain and zoom out, you will see the perfect circle formed by the Esopus and Woodland Streams around Panther Mountain.  I am not saying this means anything but it is very cool and perhaps there is some crazy gravitational thing going on.

There are plenty of beautiful valleys in the world but we are lucky enough to call this one home;  Even though we are only here on weekends for now, every time I put the key in the door, I feel as if I am finally home.
And by the way, the dinner party was excellent and we were welcomed as old friends.  If, from an earlier blog post, any one misconstrues my opinion of Woodstock and its denizens, I apologize.

The Road Less Traveled

We took a road trip to the western side of the Catskills this weekend.  The trees were all dressed up for Fall.  Unfortunately, the sun was not cooperating so the photos are less than spectacular and the below photo, sadly, is not mine.  I did, however, manage to get Tammy to sign the purchase order for a new 12.5 megapixel digital SLR to replace my ancient 6 megapixel camera.  Blaming the camera for my artistic shortcomings is an argument I have been using since my first Kodak Brownie.   Intellectually I know the pixel count barely makes a difference (technique and composition are way more influential) in what the eye perceives,  but I am doing my part to stimulate the economy so the Tea Party can quietly disappear.  If we are all making money then what do they have to bitch about?  It certainly isn't the erosion of our civil liberties since many of them are apparently against the separation of church and state.  I don't know of any more fundamentally American civil liberty than our right to worship, or not worship, as we please, without an official endorsement from the government.

But driving along route 28 at the height of the fall foliage season diverts one's attention away from the physical self  to a more emotionally based peace of mind.  For most people anyway.  In spite of our common objectives, the other leaf peepers on the highway still manage to disturb my idyll as they motor along at a velocity significantly less than that which is clearly posted.  Of course to really enjoy the natural array, one must exit the car and proceed at a pedestrian's pace.  Motorcyclists (a favored mode of transport in the Catskills) like to think they are getting down and dirty with nature as they barrel along the highway, but at 50 miles per hour their conversation with the trees is more perfunctory than profound.

In fact there is a grave misconception in many natural areas around the United States  that one can actually enjoy the surroundings without exiting the vehicle.  Many tourists drive along the winding national park roads at a snail's pace snarling all the traffic behind them.  If they happen to notice a spectacular view do they pull over and get out of the car?  No. They slow up even further, roll down the window, and the passenger snaps the picture without even taking her bare feet off the dashboard!  The beautifully air brushed toe nails live to see another day.

I take a different tack.  I race along at 20 miles over the speed limit so that I waste little precious time in the car getting to my next scenic destination.  Plus, by barely slowing down around hairpin turns I am easing congestion and the resulting waste of expensive petroleum that comes from stop and go driving.  One time on Antelope Island in Utah I was practicing this technique when a park ranger happened to be on the very same road.  After a deliberative time period of examining my New Jersey driver's license he proceeded to lecture me about the importance of slowing down to enjoy the scenery "here in Utah".  Apparently he was not familiar with my above mentioned theory but in the interest of not further tainting his opinion of New Jersey drivers I decided to nod in quiet concordance.

Don't get me wrong.  I  love driving on blue highways.  It is being lectured by an officer of the law who doesn't understand the subtlety of  my perspective on life that irritates me.  He has it all wrong.  It is the destination, not the journey, when traveling through life........in a car.

Anniversary of September 11, 2001

These two speeches from the First World Parliament of Religion meeting in 1893 were published in my local newspaper.  When I read items like this I can't help but think of the old adage, "Those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it".  If anything should go viral on the web today, I think it is this link:

Speech on religious tolerance

Regards,
Richard

Take A Stand

President Obama and General David Petraeus have expressed their wish that more Americans will stand up and speak out against the proposed Koran burning on September 11 by a small Pentecostal congregation in Florida (50 members and their pastor).

My view is consistent with a theme I have discussed before.  This minister feels we need to take a strong stand but one does not combat bullies by being a bully.  That is not to say one shouldn't use force (intellectual and physical) when appropriate, but in this case it is just going to make the extremists angrier.  What does he think he will accomplish?  The terrorists are going to stop terrorizing?  No, they are only going to get more intractable and he must know this.  I can only assume he believes this is the beginning of the Rapture as foretold in Revelations and he is fighting God's War, whatever that means.  Maybe he has read one too many "Left Behind" books.

In any case there can be no reasoning with this pastor because God is on his side and that is that.  I am frightened for America and everything we stand for.  I have always disagreed with radical atheists (e.g. Sam Harris) who believe that even moderate religious views lead to the implicit condoning of more extremist views.  I believe that people are naturally  inclined to believe in something beyond themselves (whatever that may be) and this should in fact be a positive force in their life.  But with behavior like this I am beginning to think the extremist atheists have a point.  I know this is just one insignificant group in Florida but coupled with the "Glenn Beck types" in the media, I think we are losing all semblance of reasoned and reasonable discourse.  We are allowing emotions rather than rational thought to determine our response to extreme Islamic ideology and violence.

So to the Pastor I say; Put down the match and embrace tolerance, it's what Jesus would do.

What If, Redux

If you think living in the woods is relaxing you are sadly mistaken.  Okay, if you think living in the woods is relaxing for me then you have never actually met me.  I find myself at various times in the relaxation cycle staring at the many half dead, hundred foot tall trees surrounding my cabin.  There is ash borer infestation, hemlock woolly adelgid, hemlock bracket fungi, and hemlock rust, to name a few.   If you think I was heavy on the hemlock diseases it is because my cabin is surrounded by the eastern variety, and they are not in good health.  I have in mind one particular hundred foot tall hemlock which just happens to stand exactly opposite my perfectly situated Adirondack chair.  Sure, it lives across the stream, but that is little consolation due to its majestic height.  And it sits on state wilderness land so I have zero control over its management.  One stiff breeze and this thing is going to take out my Adirondack chair, the shed behind that, the road adjacent to the shed, and quite possibly my neighbor's house across the road.  I have not done the actual triangulation survey to determine it's exact height and the distance to my neighbor's house but just the idea of this tree is enough to turn my easy chair into an uneasy chair.

Most of the trees in my area are second or third growth so I don't know how this beast escaped the lumberjack's axe.  I am quite certain this tree was familiar to the actual last of the Mohicans.  The hemlock was an important tree commercially in the latter part of the nineteenth century due to it's high tannin content and tough wood. So I am sorry, but I wish this one was part of somebody's leather belt or kitchen table.  It isn't just that all the hemlocks are in trouble in the Catskills, but this one's root support system is also totally eroded away on the downhill side facing my property.  The photo is above.

My agitation is not limited to this one particular piece of wood.  Every half rotted tree, every woodpecker pecked trunk, every squirrel hollowed out still standing stump is a potential WMD.  I can't even take a relaxing walk down my beloved Woodland Valley Rd without feeling like I am walking through a mine field.
Most people visiting the valley, surrounded by sublime beauty, feel the presence of their Creator.  I on the other hand feel the presence of Shiva the Destroyer.  And if it is not the sickly trees that worry me, it is the abundance of undergrowth and dead fall, all fuel for a property destroying conflagration started by the careless flick of a cigarette butt out a car window.  If I could single-handedly tidy up the forest I would.  The fungi, moss, bacteria, and lichens do not work fast enough for me.  Come to think of it, they don't work fast enough for Mother Nature either and that is why she sends down lightening every so often, to hurry things along.

Maybe I shouldn't own a cabin in the woods, surrounded by the chaos of nature.  But living in the well groomed suburbs has not provided me with much solace either.   Right off the bat I can recall three incidents where a seemingly healthy oak tree fell on a house during a routine thunder storm.  And I have a couple of very old trees on my property in Woodbury that lean menacingly over my bedroom roof.  It's a wonder I get any sleep at all.  Maybe next time I'll buy a condo in the city, no higher than the third floor, so I can walk up....because, you know, elevators get stuck.

Blatant and Brassy

Raise your hand if you enjoy staying at a bed and breakfast while on vacation.  I thought so. The women and the gay couple in the back of the room. I don't know at what point the B and B niche went from being a source of an inexpensive room and a decent meal to being a destination in and of itself.  Which brings me to my first complaint; They are not cheap.  Why pay $150.00 to sleep on a bed that the cat has most assuredly peed on, when you can get a room and continental breakfast at the Super 8 for $69.99 double occupancy?  And all the Super 8s now have that cool make your own waffle, waffle iron thing.   Plus you don't have to act like you give a damn about the desk clerk's personal life.  And this brings me to my second and third points.

What if you don't feel like having breakfast at exactly 7:25 AM?  At the Super 8 there is a breakfast window of opportunity. Usually 6 AM to 9:30 AM on weekdays and 7 AM to 10 AM on weekends.  Did I mention the cool do it yourself waffle iron?  One time, at "The Cat's Tongue B&B", I was served one half of a bran muffin and one half cup of fruit salad.  Period.  Another time, at "The Bearded Muskrat B&B", I was served curried poached eggs with  sugar free allspice sour apple chutney and gluten free spelt toast with tarragon herbed butter.  Seriously.  At the Super 8 I put whipped cream and maple syrup on my waffle, grab a bagel, cream cheese, and banana to go, and I have now included lunch in the $69.99 room rate.  And I don't have to ask Sinjay the desk clerk how he slept, nor does he ask me.  And I never ever, ever ask the other guests in the Super 8 dining area what they have on tap for the day.  Because, really, I don't give a crap.

At a quaint little B&B in Bar Harbor Maine I  was roped into buying a book the Innkeeper wrote.  Apparently Mount Desert Island (where Acadia National Park is located) is actually the mythical island of Atlantis.  It seems it never sank after all, but instead drifted over to Maine so Rockefeller could buy it and selflessly donate it back to the citizens of America.  I only know all this because our hostess was gracious enough to regale us with the story over a hearty breakfast of  Madagascar cinnamon scented toast and poached egg (singular) with Hollandaise sauce.  What man eats poached eggs with cream sauce for breakfast, let alone have to choke them down while pretending to pay attention to some gasbag who's house you happen to be trapped in?  And pay for the privilege?

And all this after a night of having to sleep in a room like the one pictured above.  I now know why Victorian England was populated by sexually repressed and sleep deprived souls.  Laying on a mattress six feet off the ground with another three feet of pillows, comforters, and lace provides enough extraneous sensory input to make even the most somnolent among us stare wide eyed at the ornamental canopy all night long.   Never mind if there are also milk faced porcelain dolls sitting upright and at attention on every chair.  Have you ever tried to have marital relations with your spouse while a preternaturally human looking tweenage doll is staring at you and there is a 65 year old prudish innkeeper sleeping one hairs breadth away in the room next to the headboard?  And even if you are successful in pleasing your spouse, the entire act has to be performed while you cover her mouth with your hand so she doesn't accidentally scream out and inform the entire household that, well, you know.

Then of course there is the  facilities factor.  One must pay extra for the room with the bathroom.  Do I really want a house full of strangers to know the status of my prostate health?  Plus there is always way too much furniture in the hallway. If I didn't wake everyone with my lovemaking, I surely will wake everyone when I scream out after stubbing my toe on the side table groping my way down the dark hallway.  A few years ago at the "Captain Conch Shell Guesthouse" in Cape May, NJ, I had a bad night after eating some raw oysters.  The next morning at breakfast, with two other couples sitting at the table, our hostess served me dry toast and tea because "I could hear you had a rough night".

Click on the link below for Super 8 world wide reservations.  I recommend the waffles.
SUPER 8

More People in the World Drive on the Left Than on the Right

Did you miss me?  I didn't think so.  My posts were getting preachy so I stopped for a while.  They are supposed to be funny and possibly thought provoking but it seems to me they were just provoking.  I'll try again.

We had the pleasure this weekend of hosting my brother in law, Jeff, and his long lost but now reconnected friend from college, Eric.  I don't know how, but after 25 years of not seeing each other, it's as if they were never apart.  It takes a lot of work to maintain long distance friendships and I admire them for trying.  We all had a fun filled weekend of hiking, eating, drinking (Jeff had a beer), and swimming in the freezing creeks we encountered (well, me at least) along the way.  But of course none of this is funny.  Getting Jeff to drink a beer (full can, by himself), and a cup of full on caffeinated coffee, at night, is not haha funny but it is odd funny in a  self-satisfying sort of way.  The beer drinking incident was really just icing on the cake for me.  The real treat was seeing Jeff dressed in my own official hiking uniform;  Nylon hiking pants, polyester sweat wicking shirt, full sun hat, ankle supporting hiking boots, and name brand day pack .  Not a stitch of cotton or plaid.  I was tempted to ask him to drop his pants so I could check the underwear for unauthorized cotton whiteys but I didn't want to risk being disappointed.  I was so happy with his outfit that I didn't even let the extraneous fanny pack annoy me.  And hey, it contained one of those possibly life saving emergency blankets, along with assorted antibiotics, anesthetic agents, and a fully equipped collapsible ER, so who can argue with preparedness, especially if someone else is hauling the gear.

I should also mention that in preparation for our Saturday hike we dropped off a car in the parking area at the end of the trail.  This we did at eleven o'clock at night and the drop off was a good forty-five minute drive from the cabin.  This was a very smart move, made even smarter by the fact that the driver, Eric, did not forget to bring the keys on the hike.  Which of course brings me to the actual subject of this post;  Who has the right of way on a narrow trail, the uphill or the downhill hikers?

It has always been my position that the uphill hikers should stop and yield to the downhill hikers due to the fact that momentum and speed make it more difficult, and maddening, for the downhillers to put on the brakes and stop. The uphill walkers have zero momentum and it takes no energy to stop.  Many people might argue that it is more difficult to start moving again on the uphill but if one is performing the proper rest step mountaineering cadence, that really is an insignificant factor anyway.  I am not saying one totally stops during the rest step technique but if you are familiar with uphill slogging you will get my drift.  Well it just so happened that during our hike, Tammy stopped and yielded for two hikers coming down Cornell Mountain.  She casually told them to proceed as downhill hikers have the right of way anyway.  "No they don't", replied one of the backpackers, "uphill hikers have the right of way, but thanks".

To say I was flabbergasted might be a bit of an exaggeration but for my entire adult hiking life (I was more tolerant as a teen hiker) I have been regularly irked  (not an exaggeration) by the many thoughtless uphill hikers who did not yield to me as I careened downhill. So as an opening to get some closure, I asked this apparently experienced backpacker where he was from.  Colorado.  "And is this the convention in Colorado?", I asked, struggling to keep my discontentment under wraps.

"Of course.  It is much easier to get going again once you have stopped if you are going downhill" he cheerfully informed us.  And so, rather than engage in a footpath face-off, I merely smirked the way one does at the woefully misinformed and bid them a good day.  And, of course to make matters worse, my chosen companion in life and hiking used this opportunity to gleefully berate me for the next two miles as we struggled to summit Slide Mountain. "If it turns out you were wrong all these years you won't change your mind will you?" she laid into me, as if I have never engaged in contrition my entire life.  "It is not simply a matter of preference like driving on the right or left",  I countered.  "It is a matter best decided by the Newtonian Law of conservation of momentum".

So when we got back to the cabin I finally "googled" the controversy.  It seems, my fellow trekkers, that it may actually be an East vs West debate.  Most of the western (i.e. Rocky Mountains) located opinions were for the downhill hiker to yield, due to the idea that once a cadence is attained in walking uphill it is harder to restart the rhythm.  This is in direct opposition to my previously stated theory about the rest step so I must now place the controversy into the court of public opinion.  I am once again asking for my faithful readers feedback on the matter.  Only experienced hikers should respond.  And since my readership consists of basically fewer than any meaningful N value, minus those who don't hike, I am basically left with only my opinion.  Which is all I really care about anyway.

Aint Gonna Fight No War No More Redux

I do not know if all Philadelphia Inquirer articles are available online, but in case any of you still harbored doubts about  the accuracy and relevancy of my opinions, find this article online; "The immeasurable costs of war" by Colonel Daniel Davis, an army cavalry officer.  He basically reinforced and eloquently expanded upon a thought, stated in my previous post, only in a much more elegant and personal fashion as he is a veteran with real life experience.

How Heavy is Your Balloon?

My thoughts for today originate in Philadelphia PA, not Phoenicia NY.  The concept, though, is universal and it crosses all cultural divides from the most technologically advanced civilizations to aboriginal tribes.  It involves understanding our parents.  I once read that in order to accept our parents as flawed individuals we must be able to think of them as people. This may seem like an obvious concept but because of our deep emotional bias  it can be very difficult to accept that they are simply imperfect human beings who, for the most part, try their best.

It can be safely assumed that a lot of health care dollars are spent on therapy in trying to figure out why our parents screwed us up so badly.  Parents are constantly being blamed for all our short comings.  Dad never took me to ball games, when my Dad wasn't at work working he was at home working, my mother smoked when she was pregnant with me (okay, that is clearly your mother's fault), we only went out to eat once a year, I had to use a hockey helmet because my parents wouldn't buy me a bicycle helmet, and blah blah blah.

Okay, fine, maybe your parents actually did screw you up but it is too late to do anything about it.  The one thing you can do is move on and accept them.  Blaming them is not going to get you anywhere except into therapy or a rehab "resort".  And here is the very easy way for you to have a little understanding;  Your Mom is just some chick your Dad married.  And your Dad is just some dude your Mom fell in love with. And just like you, your kids are going to blame you for screwing them up.  Our parents are just people like everyone else in the world and who in the world is perfect?  No one.  So do yourself a favor and don't blame them for your lack of self-satisfaction.  Put it in a balloon and cut the string.  It will save about $150/hr in therapy fees.

One thing that I always found upsetting was when my parents would argue over old grievances in my presence.  But once I realized they were just a couple, like myself and Tammy, separate from me as their child, I gained a certain measure of peace toward their relationship.  Now when they argue in front of me, I just think "Gee, that's a shame".  Or when I think back to how we would take long road trips, my parents smoking all the while in the car, I don't get angry.  I just calmly make an appointment to find out why I am coughing up blood. 

So try it.  Think of your parents as two people separate from  their capacity as your parents.  It will help to clarify their behavior and allow you to understand it in an unemotional and non-judgmental fashion.

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Ain't Gonna Fight No War No More

Tammy and I were sitting in downtown Phoenicia today enjoying a free outdoor concert by a local folk group.   I pointed to a sixty-ish,  long haired, black leather vest wearing dude and said to Tammy "He has to be a Vietnam vet, but if he is, he must have a patch on his vest saying so but I don't see one."  Then, as if on cue, he turned around and emblazoned across the back of the vest were the words Vietnam Vet.  It's hard to imagine that Vietnam vets are in their sixties or nearly so.  There are a lot of leather wearing, motorcycle riding, pony tail sporting, sixty year olds in Phoenicia but this particular man screamed war vet from the sixties to me.  Why?

There was no PTSD syndrome after the Vietnam war.  Well, there was of course, but it was a diagnosis that had not yet been formally recognized until 1980 when the youngest vets were in their early thirties. I neglect to mention veterans of earlier wars here because the thoughts I express in my blog are purely observational and therefore can only be applied to my generational knowledge base.  Even the Roman Centurions may have suffered from PTSD.  I believe, however, that it may be especially acute in the Vietnam vets because of a lingering bitterness over their feeling of being ostracized when they returned home.  And it was not just a feeling.  It was an unpopular war and many Americans wrongly blamed the young soldiers who went to war without protest.

So I am now wondering about the returning Afghanistan War veterans.  How will they be adjusting ten years from now?  We are already reading about the higher than normal suicide rate among young veterans.  And the war is becoming increasingly questionable especially with the recent leaking of classified documents.  Back in 2001-2003 the entire world supported our efforts.  All our vets were heros.  They are still brave heros of course but we hardly ever think about them unless we have a relative or close acquaintance in the armed services.  The public turmoil obviously added to the distress in the soldiers returning from Vietnam.  But now we barely give the war much thought especially since it is a volunteer army.  Back then we were all affected, now it is seemingly only a certain part of society.

Afghanistan is certainly as horrific a theater of war as Vietnam, maybe even more so.  Maybe the current crop of veterans are suffering more in silence thus the high rate of suicide.  Even if Vietnam vets got negative attention, at least it was attention.  That sounds horrible but most of us want to be validated or at least recognized for our actions.  Only time will tell how they integrate back into society.  It certainly isn't easy and I am thankful everyday that I never had to face that difficulty.  I do feel, though, that we can support the troops while not being in favor of a protracted presence in Afghanistan.  It is kind of like how the Church feels about homosexuality: Hate the sin, love the sinner.

Are You the Alpha Dog?

Every social and occupational niche has at its apex an alpha male. The guy that the other ninety-five percent of us look to for clues as to how we may be more successful in our endeavors. Because let's face it, most guys want to be the alpha male. Many beta males are just alpha males who lost the fight during rutting season. And at some point, after the realization sinks in that you are destined for a life of being one of the herd, you must convince yourself that you are content.

Many people who know me have suggested that I am an alpha male (I am not talking about the sexually successful aspect) because of my strong personality. I think they confuse being a type A with being an alpha male. This has always made me feel uncomfortable because I don't think of myself as an alpha male. But after a recent editorial I read by a top dog in the dental field I started to give the subject some serious thought: Who are the alpha males in any given social context and what do they have in common?

The opinion piece I referenced above had to do with the seemingly high burn out rate among dentists. The author is a highly successful dentist who happens to eat, breathe and sleep dentistry. I would venture to say it is his vocation and avocation. He was offering advice on what the other ninety percent of the dentists should do to achieve professional and personal satisfaction in their lives. The trouble is, he is not a psychologist. Nor did he reference any literature or studies to support his viewpoint on why there may be dissatisfaction in our profession. He was merely advising that we should just do what he does and we will be happy. "Be like me. If I can do it so can you". And that is what got me thinking. No, I cannot be like you. Nor do I want to be like you (maybe because I can't be like you). This particular person would have been at the top of his field no matter what he had chosen to do. Alpha males first and foremost are doers not thinkers.

This is the quality that allows them to be so successful and rise to the top. Alpha males are not self reflective. They harbor no doubts about their actions. That is a gift one is either born with or has had nurtured in them from birth. Of course this is a quality shared by highly unsuccessful people as well. But my point is all the other personality attributes we assign to alpha men are built upon this foundation. One cannot be charismatic if he is even a bit unsure about his message. Abashedness is never mentioned as a turn on by members of the opposite sex. Physical dominance is never attained by holding back due to some unperceived ethical dilemma. And macho men are certainly never navel gazers.

There is a difference between alpha males and type A personalities. Type A's can exhibit a lot of self doubt. And it may also be very likely that they over think a lot of things. In fact, as I write this I am coming to the conclusion that an alpha male does not even necessarily have to be type A. Here are the personality characteristics of type A's copied from Wikipedia (also seen on other sites);
Symptoms of Type A Behavior

1. Time urgency and impatience, which causes irritation and exasperation.
2. Free floating hostility, which can be triggered by even minor incidents.
3. Competitiveness; this makes them oriented towards achievement which causes them to become stressed due to wanting to be the best at whatever it may be i.e. sports or in work.

I am most assuredly type A. Now if only I had bigger antlers.

Dear Son,

Scene: God sitting at his desk watching, through his office window, the money changers dishonor the beautiful temple built in his honor. "Oh man", he thinks. "I can't go down there again. How many times do I have to go over the same things? And every time I do intervene it seems like the trouble only gets worse. Maybe Jesus can go for me. He really is a great kid."

"Listen son, I screwed up. I told them they could have slaves and beat them, if they misbehaved, as long as they don't kill them. I might also have said some things about the wife being the man's property and she is to obey him without question. There was also this one time when I encouraged some guys to slay the Canaanites when they sassed me. So, uh, could you go down there and tell them, um, never mind. From now on tell them to turn the other cheek. Could you also tell them that if they chew a bit of your flesh and have a sip of your blood once a week it will calm them down a bit after a stressful week at work.
Oh, and here is some of this water from the spring around back of our house. I'm thinking if you sprinkle it on them while they promise fidelity to me they can come live with us indefinitely. Maybe that will make them behave better. I originally told them not to eat pork or cheeseburgers but that didn't seem to help. In spite of me giving them a strict diet to follow they still acted all ADHD on me. I'm kind of embarrassed that it didn't work out like I originally planned so I figure they might listen to you.

One thing I should tell you though. You know how I sometimes get these feelings that I know something is going to happen? Well, I gotta warn you, some of them might get very annoyed with you and not believe that you are actually my son. Those pharisees kind of scare me (they are soooo stern) so you are on your own if you get crucified, figuratively and literally. Don't worry though. I'll find you and come bring you home even if they stash you deep in a cave somewhere. You know I will save your favorite chair right here next to mine.

Your uncle Gabriel is making the travel arrangements for you to get there. Apparently he knows this cute little ingenue in Nazareth named Mary who can give you a lift. I understand she has a friend also named Mary who might be available to show you around if you know what I mean. While you are down there Mary's husband Joseph will make sure you get a nice room and decent meals as well.
I really appreciate you doing this for me. I don't want to show my face down there anymore, what with all the mayhem I might have caused. I should have known better than to let that shrew Eve hang out with my best bud, Adam. I caught them naked and stealing fruit from my orchard so I had to punish them. What choice did I have? And then there was this incident with the flood. Hoo boy! I went south to visit my brother Lucifer (his house is much hotter than mine most of the year) and my water pipe burst. Those poor schnooks down there got soaked for more than a month. Bless their little hearts though. They saved all the pets I had given them and after things dried out it was business as usual. They still love me but needless to say, I was mortified.

You know when someone is really clingy and they worship you too much? That's how I was getting to feel. I might have bullied some people down there just to tease them. See how far I could push them. This one dude, Job, oh man, poor schmuck, I pushed him so hard and yet he would have rather died than dishonor me. I feel so mean and small after doing that to him. How could I ever go down there again and face them in person? It's really special son that you would do this for me. Oh, one more thing before you go. There are going to be a lot of people who will never ever accept that you are speaking for me. You are going to need to take a hard line with them. You have my permission to threaten them with eternal damnation at your Uncle Lucifer's house. I never told you this but he really, really pissed me off one day and I turned up his thermostat to 211 degrees F and then broke the switch so he can never turn it down. He has been in a foul mood ever since. Anyways, tell those heretics down there that one day I will get my act together and show up to stir things up quite a bit. And if they haven't gotten on board with you, I will personally escort them right to Lucifer's front door. It will not be fun.

Oh, and the Egyptians. They will never, ever forgive me. I might have given them mixed signals over this whole Moses debacle. I don't know why they thought it was going to be the first born of Abraham's tribe that was going to die. After I got wind of this mix-up I instructed the Hebrews to paint a red mark on their doors so my angels of death squad (I just call them that. They really are very nice) wouldn't get confused. Of course it was the Paraoh's kids who got punished. What a mess. I tried to distract them with hail storms, locusts, and blood soaked rivers so they would forget about it but no such luck. I am getting another one of those feelings that after you are done down there your cousin Muhammad is going to show up and try to convince all those Middle Easterners that they are really my favorites. They tend to be a bit brown nosey. It's "God willing this" and "God willing that". Talk about needy.

Mmmm. You know that might be a good time for me to show up and save the day for all those folks who really had faith in you. I can see the headlines; God Saves the Day as Promised!! We'll throw a big party for all our friends at our house and to Hell with everyone else".

I believe

As I have mentioned in previous blog posts, my cabin is not located in a remote corner of the Catskill Mountains. It exists in very close proximity to several neighboring abodes. As in the more traditional suburbs, it is imperative (well at least beneficial) to get along with your neighbors. To that end, one of the first things my new friend and neighbor across the road said to me is we should never discuss politics or religion. As a general rule of thumb I would venture to say most people would agree with this advice. It has been my experience, however, that most people love talking about their views on religion and faith based matters (I will ignore politics for now as opposing positions to mine may indeed be untenable).

I am certainly no scholar on the subject but I have always been fascinated by man's need for faith in something other than himself. And no matter what one believes, I have always granted that the universe would indeed seem a lonely place if we were but an accident. So it was with intellectual enthusiasm that I looked forward to reading "The Future of Faith" by a Harvard professor of comparative religions, Harvey Cox. The book was given to me by my father in law when I let it be known that even a doubting Thomas (a wink to a certain controversial Gospel) has a stake in the internecine conflicts of the world's great religions.

The ideas put forth by the author are not backed up by a plethora of hard statistical data but rather are more like insights after 50 years of studying and observing the world's theological and mystical traditions. It is as much about Mr Cox's personal journey as it is about the world's spiritual journey. And as such, I could fully relate to it as could any person who has ever said I am really more spiritual than religious. He verifies what many people have already come to feel in their hearts. As someone who has always existed outside the realm of organized religion, his insights are not so revelatory to me, but his ideas are put forth in such a way that any person of faith can rally around them. And in fact, one of his major postulates is that we are all people of faith, even atheists. It is this fundamental belief that has allowed me to coexist with one of the most spiritual persons I know, my wife Tammy. Confusing the difference between faith and belief is what causes all the turmoil.

And it is in this context that I have put forth all my ideas in this forum. The blurb "About Me" in my blog even alludes to this concept. Beliefs are nothing if they cannot be backed up by facts, but faith is an enduring, universal emotion that allows us to wake up every day in spite of sometimes insurmountable obstacles. I recommend this book to atheists and theists alike because even the most cynical among us cannot deny the mystery of life.

I can't get over high school... redux

I have noticed there have not been as many comments on my posts lately. There was one nice comment from a guest reader all the way in Saudi Arabia so at least I can pretend that my thoughts have a worldwide audience. Tammy has also opined that my entries are becoming angry in tone. That is not my intent. My main objective, as always, is to be funny and ironic. It is just that the hornets nest (see blog of March 16,2010) is being poked quite frequently these days by the socially conservative crowd in America. I also must admit that the hornets nest metaphor is not entirely original. I read an article a few years ago explaining why suddenly there was a proliferation of books being written about atheism. It was the writers opinion that it was due to the fact that the university based liberal intellectual set was being "poked" a lot lately by the religious right and they had to come down out of their ivory towers to defend their views. I agree.

Anyway, on to the subject of today's post in which I am soliciting opinions on a subject I have ranted about for years. It is a concept I am so passionate about that my staff gave me a Build-a-Bear for Christmas one year which represented my views on the subject. More about that later.

Here is the point on which I am very interested in hearing your views(as usual, it concerns behavior patterns learned in high school):
Why is it accepted, even encouraged, to brag about success in sports by proudly displaying ones achievements on jackets and sweatshirts (e.g. NJ State Champs, NY Eastern Division Finalists, varsity letters), and devoting entire walls to trophies and plaques but no one publicly flaunts academic and scholastic achievements? And if they do, they are roundly chastised. As a perfect case in point I offer those bumper stickers proclaiming "I have an honor student at such and such middle school" (it is never a high school). As soon as they started showing up, the jocks' parents (I assume) countered with bumper stickers that said "My student can beat up your honor student". Now that's mean.

Parents of academically successful children brag to their friends of course, but never in a publicly displayed fashion like with achievements in sports. I never was given a high school jacket emblazoned with the scholastic clubs I was a member of and I believe the same is true today. Athletic ability, intellectual ability. Some have one or the other, some have both, and some have neither. They are both equally important in a high school kids life. So why is it acceptable to publicly crow about athletics but not academics?

As for the lettered jacket I never got in high school? My wonderful staff gave me a Build-a-Bear wearing a jacket with embroidery that said Mathletes, Key Club, Debating Team, Merit Scholarship Finalist, etc. Of course they get paid to listen to me all day long. Bless them and feel for them.

Relax

Any one who knows me is aware that I hate to be told to relax. I am hyper. Get over it.

A big misconception that people make is in believing that hyper people are not easy going or team players. They also assume being laid back and calm makes one agreeable. This could not be further from the truth. Do not confuse being calm with any thing other than being calm. And it has been my experience that many laid back people are stubborn, judgmental, and unwilling to quietly allow the other person to be hyper. I have always said that laid back people are so hyper about being laid back that they are actually more tightly wound than me. Think about it. If someone is so laid back why do they have to tell me to relax? Why does my behavior ruffle them? Isn't being tolerant a corollary of being laid back? I believe many people who we compliment as being laid back are really just calm in demeanor.

I would love to be calm. I am not. I would love to be tolerant. I am not. But in an exigency you can count on me to be a team player and willing to do what is necessary for the good of the group. When I was a dental resident there were other residents who appeared to be way more laid back than me. Yet when extra hands were needed on call duty they never would help out. They were calm at all times, but they certainly were not team players.

Many mountain guides and outdoor adventure types in general tend to appear as having laid back personalities.
Guides certainly are calm. They have to be if they are going to drag eight morons into the jaws of nature with danger lurking at every rock face. It has been my experience that though calm on the outside, they are very tightly wound. This is very understandable given the nature of their assignments. In a crisis you want a leader with an engaged attitude, not a chill out attitude. I have also observed that the most laid back clients in the group are usually not the team players. It is the hyper ones that get the group chores done.

Are laid back people necessarily easy going? No. They always expect you to behave like them. If not, you are accused of being a drag. Well dude, get off your ass and take a stand. In fact, I have noticed that many leaders in the NGO world seem very laid back. How can they get so much done and constantly be fighting for the common good if they are laid back? Easy; they aren't laid back, they are just calm. They absolutely cannot be easy going if they are going to remedy anything in this unjust world.

So you see, I consider being called laid back a cut, not a compliment. And if my being hyper bothers you, than you are most likely as high strung as me. Maybe it would be better to tell someone to calm down rather than to relax. It is always good to be calm in an an emergent situation, but it is rarely good to be relaxed.

To thine self be true

Upon first seeing my cabin, many people are surprised by its proximity to the road. Even proximity is too kind a word. It is basically on the road, like old stage coach inns you sometimes pass on county routes. They were built on the road for many reasons, convenient accessibility being chief among them.
And so it is with my abode. I was never interested in owning ten acres of land half a mile down a dirt drive. Too remote. If I want remote I'll put on a backpack and hoof it in. Convenient access in winter as well as in summer is my primary concern. Country living for a city boy is how I think of my cabin in paradise.

I like to know that if I unexpectedly run out of eggs or bread, I can conveniently run to the store. I am not one for making monthly shopping trips into town for my stock of provisions, a haircut and a bath. Plus I love to shop. There I said it. For some reason men always say they hate to shop. No they don't. Men love to buy stuff. They hate to go shopping with their wives is what they really mean. Men seem to think that other men will look down on them if they admit to enjoy shopping for stuff. It's just that the stuff we shop for is different than the stuff women shop for. We buy tools, electronics, sporting and camping gear (including clothing), gas powered lawn equipment, and beer. Women buy clothes, decorative items, jewelry, and interesting ingredients for appetizers.

A husband and wife will be shopping in Target in the drug and sundries section. Suddenly the man will see an end cap display of new and improved Coleman coolers on sale. He wanders over and stands in front of the display thinking that, yes, my cooler doesn't keep the ice frozen long enough. I need the new model with the 15% higher insulation rating. He picks one up and attempts to place it in the cart.
"What's that?" the wife barks. "We do not need another cooler".
"Yes we do" he sheepishly argues back. "For the Labor Day picnic we are having this year. The beer was warm by the end of the day at last years barbecue" (it most likely was not-author).
I have actually witnessed this, and many other similar scenes. Mostly because I am very often in Target shopping.

My point is that people, especially men, are always deluding themselves. In fact, when I think back to most of my blog posts, the common theme is "why do people always delude themselves?" We are conditioned to believe we are something we are not.
"I want a log cabin in the middle of the woods no where near anything."
No you don't, because it's boring, it's a lot of work, and you like to buy stuff.
I guess it would be way too unsettling to actually know ourselves. Natural selection is not kind to self doubters. I have never seen a lion hesitate for even a microsecond before she (yes, the lioness is the hunter in the family) sinks her teeth into the neck of the zebra.

But let us try to rise above our biology. Evolution (or the Intelligent Designer) has given us the gift of reason. Use it to know yourself and you will be more tolerant of others. It hasn't worked for me but that doesn't mean you shouldn't try.

Yes Virginia, there is an Uncle Sam

I bought an American flag on my way up to the cabin this weekend. I could not wait to display it for the Fourth of July Celebration. There is a campground at the end of my road and I wanted all the campers to pass it on their way in and out of town. I knew it would make them feel good.

You see, a pro choice, first amendment loving, liberal democrat can love the flag and America as much as a second amendment worshipping, gun toting, pro life, God fearing right winger. In fact, I have always flown the flag on national holidays at my home in Woodbury. And on Veteran's Day I have also made it a point to call my Dad and thank him for saving us from speaking German. If I sound self righteous it is because I am sick of right wing ideologues corrupting the nature of civil liberties and what it means to be a patriot.

One of their favorite tactics (as I have previously written) is to demean intellectual "elitists". They feel the United States should be run by "one of us", whatever that means. The likes of George Bush and Sarah Palin I guess. Never mind the fact that the Bushes are patrician blue bloods. And Sarah, of course, is anti smarts. They are also constantly invoking the memory of the founding fathers' original intents. Well, I have some startling news for you. My theory of life being just like high school is once again born out in this ideological conflict. You see, the founding fathers were also composed of men from both the city born "intellectual elites" and the rural born "unschooled farmer class". They fought about the ideals for which America will stand. Jefferson (himself, ironically, a well bred bookworm) fought for a decentralized nation of yeoman farmers, while men like Alexander Hamilton were for a more centralized government (the Federalists).

It is the same fight today, a strong federal government vs. states rights and local control. So, for guys like Rush Limbaugh to think they have a lock on the meaning of America is to ignore the most basic eleventh grade history lessons. It is like Ben Franklin said 225 years ago when asked what form our government will take, a monarchy or a republic; "A republic", he responded, "if they can keep it".

More than tomayto, tomahto

Unfortunately the misuse of words is usually more serious than just a pronunciation error. The casual abuse of scientific jargon especially does not sit well with me. I resent it when a lay person misapplies a word and then pooh poohs me when I correct them. I can site many examples right here in this blog.

One of the more egregious incidents involved the very serious error of not understanding the impact of carbon atom counts as it relates to common household appliances. My cigar smoking friend and I were discussing the fact that cigars traditionally were never lit with the old Zippo lighters because the fuel burned dirty; only wooden matches were used. But now he uses his propane lighter because it has a clean flame. I never heard of a propane lighter I stated.
He looked at me like I was from Mars. "You know, the ones refillable from a skinny can of propane."
"Oh, you mean butane", I corrected him.
"Propane, butane, same thing".
"No they are not the same thing" I indignantly countered back. "Propane has three carbon atoms and butane has four".
To this day I don't think he knows what I was talking about yet I am sure he feels I am the buffoon.

Another recent insult to my sensibilities involved the ecological sciences through a misunderstanding of the biological sciences. It is a well established phenomenon that there has been a world wide decline in the population and an increase in teratomatous anomalies of amphibians due to environmental toxins such as BPA. My acquaintance (another one) seemed to feel that snakes are particularly sensitive to this since they slither on their stomachs along the ground and are thus very "attuned to changes in mother earth". They would therefore be the first affected.
"I think it is really amphibians, not reptiles, that would be a more sensitive indicator of the health of an ecosystem. They have a more permeable integument and they also lay their eggs in the water, not on land, so water pollution affects them more", I gently explained. Just because snakes don't have legs doesn't make them more attuned to anything except their own creep factor. A cursory knowledge of eighth grade taxonomy might have spared her my lecture on the difference between amphibians and reptiles.
Sometimes I wonder why she doesn't call me any more.

And of course there is the daily assault on my composure when patients try to explain the location of the crack in their tooth. For this, though, they can be forgiven.
"It's on the top of the tooth", the patient will say thinking they are being quite helpful.
"What's the top?" I unfacetiously ask back. I truly do not know if they mean the biting surface or toward the gum. If it is an upper tooth they always mean the part of the tooth toward the palate as the top. But think about it; the root of the tooth is the portion in the palate and this is above the biting table of the tooth. We usually think of roots as being below tables so to speak. So on an upper tooth the bottom of the tooth is above the top of the tooth.

So you can see why I value precision in language. Using the correct word will avoid many misunderstandings and it most certainly will avoid a lecture by me.

Kharma Offsets

Yesterday Tammy and I met many of our new neighbors at a social event organized by the president of the community association. There is an old rail line that is now only used as a scenic train ride for tourists. Our neighborhood association rented it for the evening. So in essence it was a rolling block party.

As is customary at such events, I got to talking to my new neighbor about my various outdoorsy interests. Of course seeing as we all live in Phoenicia, having "outdoorsy" on one's resume is not such an unusual trait. Nor is having unusual traits such an unusual trait in Phoenicia. I am quickly discovering it is ground zero for the artsy and intellectual set from New York City. The Sedona of the East coast. There is more Zen per square mile than any locale I have visited in the fifty United States. So when I say I don't like to mess with my Kharma, my fellow indwellers know of what I speak.

So my new friend suggested that I head over to one of the local ski slopes for a little down hill mountain bike adventure. For the price of a summer lift ticket you take your bike up the hill on the chair lift and then you only have to ride it downhill. A free ride sweatwise if you think like me. You do have to work somewhat, my new chum asserted. Not nearly enough to offset the bad kharma that would most assuredly come my way if I biked downhill without first biking uphill I thought.
"There are no free rides." I averred.
"Oh, but it isn't free. You have to pay for the lift ticket!" was the reply.
And that's when it hit me; Kharma offsets. Not at all unlike carbon offsets. It's Nirvana for the capitalists. Bourgeois Buddhism. If I can barter my way out of bad kismet with paper money then I have found my creed.