The temperature today is somewhere around 90 degrees F, which is a relief. “They” say it might rain tonight and that would be great. (You know the “They,” those sciencey types that give suggestions about where the mighty wind will blow and how that will affect our day). You might have heard that last week it was 100 in the NE. Actually it was over 100, closer to 104, and then you add the humidity. “They” call this the “real feel” temperature.
The “real feel” refers to how the humidity affects the temperature and our understanding of it. This is how you feel when the water droplets in the air hit your skin and begin to boil. This might not be the definition that “They” would give, but that’s what it means. It means it felt like 114 F most days.
Now that we have some definitions cleared up I would like to tell you about my week traveling to and from work. I have mentioned before that I ride a motorcycle. I am thankful for it and do not want to give it up, but I would like to vent.
First of all, speaking of vents, my motorcycle does not have any air conditioning vents. Not like a car might have. Actually it does not have a dash board or any of that stuff. It’s just me looking out over the handle bars being met by boiling water droplets suspended in the 104 degree air while going 35 miles per hour.
However I do have other vents, but they are to let the air escape from the engine. The air needs to escape because the engine reaches incredibly high temperatures. It is important to point out at this point in the story that when you are riding a motorcycle you are sitting on or right behind the engine. (The same engine with the incredibly high temperatures). Not just sitting, but straddling, that is with legs wrapped around the engine near those vents dispelling incredibly hot air.
I also make the choice to wear protective gear while operating the vehicle. I have leather gloves, all the better to strap in palm sweat. I also wear a full face helmet to save me from potential disaster, but all the better to accept and trap the extremely hot air flowing at me. And many days I wear a mesh riding jacket, again to help displace possible trouble. But on these 100 degree days it only helps to direct the rivulets of sweat as they careen down my back and legs. You don’t know what hot is until you have little streams of sweat running down over your knee caps.
If you want to get an approximation of what this is like I suggest you preheat your oven to 400. Wait till the little beeper goes off so you know you have reached the full temperature. Then find a hair dryer, set to high. Hoist yourself up onto the preheated oven and turn the hair dryer around to so it hits you full in the face. Straddle the oven for about 20 minutes and you will get the general idea. Remember safety first, you could put on some oven mitts if you like.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
Farm Fitness
Many people would like to know more about fitness from the Amish perspective. One thing the internet is lacking in is Amish fitness tips from an informed practitioner.
The Amish on the whole have a healthy way of life. Most of their day could be considered a fitness routine. I have chosen to narrow it down to activities you can do at home whether your home is in the city, suburbs, or charming college town. Here are three ideas from the farm that have kept the Amish svelte for years: walking, bailing, and persuading.
Walk. Nearly everywhere, nearly every time, walk. This one is quick and straight forward. When going to visit a friend, walk. When getting groceries, walk. When doing just about any activity just about any time, walk.
Next is bailing. The Amish can bail some hay. To do this in your home takes some imagination as I assume you do not have a field of hay that it waiting to be bailed and stacked. But I have thought of a viable substitution. You need a large cumbersome suitcase filled with heavy clothes (think jeans and big sweaters).
Now put the suitcase at the foot of the bed on the floor. Using good lifting technique, lift the suitcase up onto the bed. Now place the suitcase back on the floor. Lift again, this time tossing it to the center of the bed. Back to the floor. The third time, heave the suitcase to the head of the bed. Begin this activity when the sun rises and end when you can no longer stand. Repeat tomorrow. Continue bailing for a minimum of 3 weeks.
The final Amish fitness tip is the action of persuading. Picture, if you will, a mule that no longer wants to do his chores or a cow that will not go through the correct gate. Persuading livestock to follow your will is a full body workout that takes several layers of muscle involvement.
I understand that you do not have livestock in our apartment. Again, I have thought of a solution. That overstuffed chair by the TV will do just fine. You will also need a rope of some sort. You could use the colorful rope you purchased six years ago when you thought you would be a rock climber. If you don’t have that, I suggest you collect extension cords. Tie all the extension cords you have (hopefully 3 or 4) around your overstuffed reclining chair. Kick the foot rest out if you need a place to tie on. Now face the foot rest while holding the cords in your hand and back away until the chords are stretched tight. Pull/drag the chair across the room until it rests beside you. Turn the chair 180 degrees, back across the room, and begin again. You may yell at the chair if you find it helpful. To take this exercise to a new level you can drag the chair to the front door, wrestle the chair through the door and back in, and then drag back to its original spot. Like before - begin this activity at sunrise and continue until you can no longer stand. Continue for three weeks, at which time you are ready to begin a circuit of all three exercises. Remember to drink water.
The Amish on the whole have a healthy way of life. Most of their day could be considered a fitness routine. I have chosen to narrow it down to activities you can do at home whether your home is in the city, suburbs, or charming college town. Here are three ideas from the farm that have kept the Amish svelte for years: walking, bailing, and persuading.
Walk. Nearly everywhere, nearly every time, walk. This one is quick and straight forward. When going to visit a friend, walk. When getting groceries, walk. When doing just about any activity just about any time, walk.
Next is bailing. The Amish can bail some hay. To do this in your home takes some imagination as I assume you do not have a field of hay that it waiting to be bailed and stacked. But I have thought of a viable substitution. You need a large cumbersome suitcase filled with heavy clothes (think jeans and big sweaters).
Now put the suitcase at the foot of the bed on the floor. Using good lifting technique, lift the suitcase up onto the bed. Now place the suitcase back on the floor. Lift again, this time tossing it to the center of the bed. Back to the floor. The third time, heave the suitcase to the head of the bed. Begin this activity when the sun rises and end when you can no longer stand. Repeat tomorrow. Continue bailing for a minimum of 3 weeks.
The final Amish fitness tip is the action of persuading. Picture, if you will, a mule that no longer wants to do his chores or a cow that will not go through the correct gate. Persuading livestock to follow your will is a full body workout that takes several layers of muscle involvement.
I understand that you do not have livestock in our apartment. Again, I have thought of a solution. That overstuffed chair by the TV will do just fine. You will also need a rope of some sort. You could use the colorful rope you purchased six years ago when you thought you would be a rock climber. If you don’t have that, I suggest you collect extension cords. Tie all the extension cords you have (hopefully 3 or 4) around your overstuffed reclining chair. Kick the foot rest out if you need a place to tie on. Now face the foot rest while holding the cords in your hand and back away until the chords are stretched tight. Pull/drag the chair across the room until it rests beside you. Turn the chair 180 degrees, back across the room, and begin again. You may yell at the chair if you find it helpful. To take this exercise to a new level you can drag the chair to the front door, wrestle the chair through the door and back in, and then drag back to its original spot. Like before - begin this activity at sunrise and continue until you can no longer stand. Continue for three weeks, at which time you are ready to begin a circuit of all three exercises. Remember to drink water.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Solutions to your problems, 3
Following is the third of a series in which I endeavor to assist my coworkers by clarifying a problem they are having and offering a solution. You might like to find the 2 previous postings to understand the full picture.
Taking the stairs
The problem, dear coworker, is it has been so long since you have walked up the stairs you have forgotten that the climb is healthy and even fun. And during the time you have opted out on stairs you have continued to eat as if you were climbing them.
Let me pause, here at the beginning, and state that I am not calling any kettles black. I need to climb all the stairs life might put in my path and now that I write this I am obligated. But I don’t wine and complain after the one time our office had a fire drill and are forced by a higher power to take the stairs back to our desks. And I don’t look at the steps as if they were vengeful creation for knee deterioration.
While returning from the outside during our fire drill I overheard a coworker say something like, “they have to find a way for us to get back up when we can’t use the elevator.” I was stunned, dumbfounded, speechless (almost, I’ve never really been at a loss for words). “They” have found a way to get past the first floor. We as humans have been using it for centuries.
Quick history of stairs through time, off the top of my head: Jesus and his friends met in the upper room. It seems the construction workers at the pyramids used them. The Mayans put them to good use well before my people walked over the land bridge (possibly assisted by some stairs of ice).
The solution begins slowly and gains strength as you see fit. If you are of a certain age you might want to discuss this with a health care professional, but you must get your legs, knees, ankles, and feet more active. Maybe that could begin at your desk with some leg lifts. You could visualize the stairs while you move your feet up and down. However, for this plan to work you must actually climb the stairs. In our case, working on the third floor, you could use the elevator and the stairs in equal portion. This might mean that the first trip of the day you go manual and the second trip find the elevator. Or it could mean you take the elevator part of the way, and then switch to the stairs. In our building I suggest getting to the second floor before you begin to climb. The first floor stairwell is considerably longer than the second.
To recap, begin with visualizing the stairs and you climbing them. Move your feet in tandem with your knees. Then you are ready to put thought into action. As you become fit you might find that you enjoy the challenge of climbing all the stairs. Even trying them at a brisk pace or two at a time. But this suggestion is for later, and again may need doctor’s approval.
Taking the stairs
The problem, dear coworker, is it has been so long since you have walked up the stairs you have forgotten that the climb is healthy and even fun. And during the time you have opted out on stairs you have continued to eat as if you were climbing them.
Let me pause, here at the beginning, and state that I am not calling any kettles black. I need to climb all the stairs life might put in my path and now that I write this I am obligated. But I don’t wine and complain after the one time our office had a fire drill and are forced by a higher power to take the stairs back to our desks. And I don’t look at the steps as if they were vengeful creation for knee deterioration.
While returning from the outside during our fire drill I overheard a coworker say something like, “they have to find a way for us to get back up when we can’t use the elevator.” I was stunned, dumbfounded, speechless (almost, I’ve never really been at a loss for words). “They” have found a way to get past the first floor. We as humans have been using it for centuries.
Quick history of stairs through time, off the top of my head: Jesus and his friends met in the upper room. It seems the construction workers at the pyramids used them. The Mayans put them to good use well before my people walked over the land bridge (possibly assisted by some stairs of ice).
The solution begins slowly and gains strength as you see fit. If you are of a certain age you might want to discuss this with a health care professional, but you must get your legs, knees, ankles, and feet more active. Maybe that could begin at your desk with some leg lifts. You could visualize the stairs while you move your feet up and down. However, for this plan to work you must actually climb the stairs. In our case, working on the third floor, you could use the elevator and the stairs in equal portion. This might mean that the first trip of the day you go manual and the second trip find the elevator. Or it could mean you take the elevator part of the way, and then switch to the stairs. In our building I suggest getting to the second floor before you begin to climb. The first floor stairwell is considerably longer than the second.
To recap, begin with visualizing the stairs and you climbing them. Move your feet in tandem with your knees. Then you are ready to put thought into action. As you become fit you might find that you enjoy the challenge of climbing all the stairs. Even trying them at a brisk pace or two at a time. But this suggestion is for later, and again may need doctor’s approval.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Solutions to your problems, 2
This post is part 2 of a new series where I endeavor to clarify and solve problems facing my coworkers. Having been at my current job for more years that one hand will handle I have been witness to several problems that go for years without being addressed. This series of posts hopes to rectify the situation.
Problem 2 Loud music at your desk The problem as see it, or in this case hear it, dear coworker is that the music coming from your hand held device, or worse yet stand alone radio, is so loud I can hear it over the music in my head phones. To add insult to my auditory injury the music you chose is frantic, totally devastating my calm enjoyment.
Don’t get me wrong. I know the loud music you are listening to on your cheap player. I own the album; it’s here in my desk drawer. But I have chosen to not listen to it this morning, it being a slow morning and I have not completed my desk rituals. (Afore mentioned rituals are nothing intense, check the phone, the email, the daily tasks, and the week’s calendar. It takes some time, and during that time I would like to control how things move. This does not include your multi voiced chorus backed by large brass ensemble with all the trappings of current studio wizardry).
The solution is clear, although two fold. The first step applies to both listening to the radio or hand held device; turn the player off when you leave your desk. This not only allows you to hear the entire song you have chosen, it allows me to not hear it. The second part is about your headphones. For goodness sake invest in decent head phones. The ones your niece got you from that guy she knows are not good, they are simply not good.
I realize that times are tight and the economic climate does not allow for frivolities. I also know roughly how much you earn; in this case you should go for it. Twenty dollars will go a long way to helping you here/hear. If you wait till one of those big sale days you might get an even higher quality pair for the same amount of money. But I am not suggesting that in this specific case. I would rather you stop on your way home from work and find some quality head phones, maybe even with noise cancellation.
Problem #2 : Loud Music – solved. You are welcome.
Problem 2 Loud music at your desk The problem as see it, or in this case hear it, dear coworker is that the music coming from your hand held device, or worse yet stand alone radio, is so loud I can hear it over the music in my head phones. To add insult to my auditory injury the music you chose is frantic, totally devastating my calm enjoyment.
Don’t get me wrong. I know the loud music you are listening to on your cheap player. I own the album; it’s here in my desk drawer. But I have chosen to not listen to it this morning, it being a slow morning and I have not completed my desk rituals. (Afore mentioned rituals are nothing intense, check the phone, the email, the daily tasks, and the week’s calendar. It takes some time, and during that time I would like to control how things move. This does not include your multi voiced chorus backed by large brass ensemble with all the trappings of current studio wizardry).
The solution is clear, although two fold. The first step applies to both listening to the radio or hand held device; turn the player off when you leave your desk. This not only allows you to hear the entire song you have chosen, it allows me to not hear it. The second part is about your headphones. For goodness sake invest in decent head phones. The ones your niece got you from that guy she knows are not good, they are simply not good.
I realize that times are tight and the economic climate does not allow for frivolities. I also know roughly how much you earn; in this case you should go for it. Twenty dollars will go a long way to helping you here/hear. If you wait till one of those big sale days you might get an even higher quality pair for the same amount of money. But I am not suggesting that in this specific case. I would rather you stop on your way home from work and find some quality head phones, maybe even with noise cancellation.
Problem #2 : Loud Music – solved. You are welcome.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Solutions to your problems
This is the first of a series where I endeavor to clarify some problems and then offer solutions. As mentioned before, I work in a large office. One where several (specifically 5) coworkers sit close enough that I could touch them without getting up if I really tried. Due to this geography I know a lot about what irritates them, and in turn what about them irritates me. I do not hold any festering feelings that need further delving, nothing like that. Just simple irritants.
Never one to complain without enacting change, I have decided to share not only the problems I see but offer the solutions you need. “You” here is a composite coworker. No one person, but a portrait of many. I am sure you have met them, and sadly some of you embody them. But fear not, solutions are offered freely for all.
Problem #1 Foods you don’t like
The problem as I see it dear coworker is you are way too picky about the foods you eat or will not eat. I know this because you complain 3 times a week about the food you are consuming, and once a week about the food you simply cannot consume because it is below your standards. This food finds itself disposed in the trash can as a noxious reminder of your overly demanding palate.
If you did not make such a public display of not enjoying your lunch this would not be a problem. Here we find your first solution. Keep your mouth shut while chewing your food.
I have a further suggestion for getting over food textures. Textures appear to be one of the main points of contention while eating your styrofoam encased lunch. This assumes that you care to change your texture aversion, as I strongly encourage. (A quick thought would be to not buy food from a place that was a Winnebago in a past life, but that’s up for debate).
What you can do is travel to some new, faraway place, and stay for more than a week. Eat whatever is served without asking what it is. No questions like, “pollo con salsa verde. That means chicken with green sauce, right? Um, how is the chicken cooked, is it fried, and what exactly makes the sauce green? Are there hot peppers involved?”
Although these questions are reasonable, you cannot ask. You must eat and then decide if it was enjoyable or not. If it was not enjoyable I offer a new set of questions. Would I eat this again? If I have not "eaten well" for a week or more, could this become good food? Would I rather lose my big toe than eat this again?
When you return to your culinary home you will think anything could be good. Atleast you know it is clean and will not have any microbes that will tear you inside out. This method is especially potent when you are in a country that is really different and hopefully has a language barrier. So different that you see fruits that are not what you would call “fruit shaped” but taste sweet and nice. And you think to yourself, “well that was surprising, I might try that again, but how do I tell him not to put chili powder on it this time?”
Problem #1: food textures – solved. You are welcome.
Never one to complain without enacting change, I have decided to share not only the problems I see but offer the solutions you need. “You” here is a composite coworker. No one person, but a portrait of many. I am sure you have met them, and sadly some of you embody them. But fear not, solutions are offered freely for all.
Problem #1 Foods you don’t like
The problem as I see it dear coworker is you are way too picky about the foods you eat or will not eat. I know this because you complain 3 times a week about the food you are consuming, and once a week about the food you simply cannot consume because it is below your standards. This food finds itself disposed in the trash can as a noxious reminder of your overly demanding palate.
If you did not make such a public display of not enjoying your lunch this would not be a problem. Here we find your first solution. Keep your mouth shut while chewing your food.
I have a further suggestion for getting over food textures. Textures appear to be one of the main points of contention while eating your styrofoam encased lunch. This assumes that you care to change your texture aversion, as I strongly encourage. (A quick thought would be to not buy food from a place that was a Winnebago in a past life, but that’s up for debate).
What you can do is travel to some new, faraway place, and stay for more than a week. Eat whatever is served without asking what it is. No questions like, “pollo con salsa verde. That means chicken with green sauce, right? Um, how is the chicken cooked, is it fried, and what exactly makes the sauce green? Are there hot peppers involved?”
Although these questions are reasonable, you cannot ask. You must eat and then decide if it was enjoyable or not. If it was not enjoyable I offer a new set of questions. Would I eat this again? If I have not "eaten well" for a week or more, could this become good food? Would I rather lose my big toe than eat this again?
When you return to your culinary home you will think anything could be good. Atleast you know it is clean and will not have any microbes that will tear you inside out. This method is especially potent when you are in a country that is really different and hopefully has a language barrier. So different that you see fruits that are not what you would call “fruit shaped” but taste sweet and nice. And you think to yourself, “well that was surprising, I might try that again, but how do I tell him not to put chili powder on it this time?”
Problem #1: food textures – solved. You are welcome.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Naked Shortcake
Something very sad happened this morning. I went to my Uncle’s farm for some fresh strawberries and went home empty handed because there has been too much rain. The red ripe strawberries were rotting on the ground due to excessive water from the sky. Oh the sadness that will weigh down my naked shortcake this evening.
It made me reflect, as I am wont to do, about my own situation. Barring nude desserts, the weather has almost no impact on my day. I must be rich or something. There is very little the weather can do to slow me down. Sure it can cause some inconvenience or even throw the schedule off, but my work day will continue no matter what the conditions outside. And my entertainment is found in many places, outside if possible or inside if not.
My job in front of the computer could conceivably happen anywhere with one of those magic connections. The information I work with is personal and sensitive, so I do not take it with me to the local coffee shop or open air market. But for arguments sake I could. If the weather were nice I would find my way to some dappled sunlight. If the weather were treacherous I would stay in my underclothes all day and still complete my assignments. Even as it is without the freedom to roam I am able to get to my job’s building in all matter of inclement conditions.
Not that I do, I mean come on, if two feet of snow were to fall, and it has, I would stay home, and I have, and will again.
But it does make me pause and remember my family on the farm. They have a very different relationship with the weather. There is a reason the farmers have come up with their own almanac. It is more than just important, the weather is the one factor that makes the day or crushes the crop. Just look as those little red delicious fruit with the blue bruised underbelly.
I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about being out to sea on a long boat when the north wind has taken a turn for the worse. Count yourself blessed if you do not have a visceral memory of your nose hairs frozen to the interior of your nose as the mucus trails toward your cheek blown by the biting wind. It’s not pretty, and it kind of hurts.
But these are not things I deliberate over. I have arrived at a place where I look out the window in the morning and think, “oh, nice it’s raining” or “great, it’s sunny” with never more thought than if I need a hat for my bald head. From time to time I am surprised by the sudden change in the weather. But even then I can go to the grocery store and get strawberries grown in Maryland or Florida.
It made me reflect, as I am wont to do, about my own situation. Barring nude desserts, the weather has almost no impact on my day. I must be rich or something. There is very little the weather can do to slow me down. Sure it can cause some inconvenience or even throw the schedule off, but my work day will continue no matter what the conditions outside. And my entertainment is found in many places, outside if possible or inside if not.
My job in front of the computer could conceivably happen anywhere with one of those magic connections. The information I work with is personal and sensitive, so I do not take it with me to the local coffee shop or open air market. But for arguments sake I could. If the weather were nice I would find my way to some dappled sunlight. If the weather were treacherous I would stay in my underclothes all day and still complete my assignments. Even as it is without the freedom to roam I am able to get to my job’s building in all matter of inclement conditions.
Not that I do, I mean come on, if two feet of snow were to fall, and it has, I would stay home, and I have, and will again.
But it does make me pause and remember my family on the farm. They have a very different relationship with the weather. There is a reason the farmers have come up with their own almanac. It is more than just important, the weather is the one factor that makes the day or crushes the crop. Just look as those little red delicious fruit with the blue bruised underbelly.
I’m sure I don’t need to tell you about being out to sea on a long boat when the north wind has taken a turn for the worse. Count yourself blessed if you do not have a visceral memory of your nose hairs frozen to the interior of your nose as the mucus trails toward your cheek blown by the biting wind. It’s not pretty, and it kind of hurts.
But these are not things I deliberate over. I have arrived at a place where I look out the window in the morning and think, “oh, nice it’s raining” or “great, it’s sunny” with never more thought than if I need a hat for my bald head. From time to time I am surprised by the sudden change in the weather. But even then I can go to the grocery store and get strawberries grown in Maryland or Florida.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Language Instructions
When I was young my grandparents taught me to speak Pennsylvania Dutch. Before you jump to obvious conclusions, no I can’t speak it today. The things you don’t practice, you lose. I can still greet you, say thank you, and follow simple commands. I can speak like a 2 year old.
Maybe you have had this experience with a new language. You remember the first and the last things in a conversation. Somehow everyone seems to ask the same things and respond in pretty much the same way when you are first introduced. When that happens I can keep up with conversation, but when someone veers from my script I am lost and clearly a linguistic 2 year old.
The same years my grandparents taught me to speak with them they taught me a new practice, they taught me to apologize. I did not know at the time that their people have been well practiced in being like minded, and because of that understood the value in apologies. Looking back these language instructions are an obvious pairing. Speaking a new language takes conscious repetition. And learning to say, “I made a mistake, and I’m sorry” takes equal practice and repetition.
I don’t remember feeling phony or fearing that my words would come off as contrived when I was younger, but that is clearly an issue now. I would rather avoid, or otherwise massage the situation than walk into an apology that I am not committed to. I am sure that people can see right through my half hearted words spoken only to mend the social construct. It feels like I’ve reverted back to my, “fine thank you, and how are you” “yes, I will hold that hammer” “I would like milk with my wet bottom shoo fly pie.” Same when they know I am being coerced into talking with them. “Grandpa says I need to tell you I let all the horses out and that’s why the cabbage is smashed in side yard, sorry about that.”
But when I think about feeling contrived I remember my grandfather telling me about accents. He was able to tell you where each person in the community learned to speak based on how they said hello and goodbye. He could have been just showing off for me, but I think he was really able to do it. He could also tell who had learned to speak his Dutch as a second language.
Every time he spoke with a new learner he would slow down his cadence and make solid eye contact. He would wait patiently while the other person fumbled over word choice or stood silent themselves while they reformed their thoughts to use words they knew. He would gently nudge them to topic of conversation they could handle, and then smile wide when they found the right words to say. What had begun as awkward soon settled into a confident exchange.
Maybe you have had this experience with a new language. You remember the first and the last things in a conversation. Somehow everyone seems to ask the same things and respond in pretty much the same way when you are first introduced. When that happens I can keep up with conversation, but when someone veers from my script I am lost and clearly a linguistic 2 year old.
The same years my grandparents taught me to speak with them they taught me a new practice, they taught me to apologize. I did not know at the time that their people have been well practiced in being like minded, and because of that understood the value in apologies. Looking back these language instructions are an obvious pairing. Speaking a new language takes conscious repetition. And learning to say, “I made a mistake, and I’m sorry” takes equal practice and repetition.
I don’t remember feeling phony or fearing that my words would come off as contrived when I was younger, but that is clearly an issue now. I would rather avoid, or otherwise massage the situation than walk into an apology that I am not committed to. I am sure that people can see right through my half hearted words spoken only to mend the social construct. It feels like I’ve reverted back to my, “fine thank you, and how are you” “yes, I will hold that hammer” “I would like milk with my wet bottom shoo fly pie.” Same when they know I am being coerced into talking with them. “Grandpa says I need to tell you I let all the horses out and that’s why the cabbage is smashed in side yard, sorry about that.”
But when I think about feeling contrived I remember my grandfather telling me about accents. He was able to tell you where each person in the community learned to speak based on how they said hello and goodbye. He could have been just showing off for me, but I think he was really able to do it. He could also tell who had learned to speak his Dutch as a second language.
Every time he spoke with a new learner he would slow down his cadence and make solid eye contact. He would wait patiently while the other person fumbled over word choice or stood silent themselves while they reformed their thoughts to use words they knew. He would gently nudge them to topic of conversation they could handle, and then smile wide when they found the right words to say. What had begun as awkward soon settled into a confident exchange.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Letter home from Lancaster
Just the other day my mother sent me a package containing letters I had sent. These letters were written during my time visiting my family during my summers of character building. I’ve decided to share some with you as a way to gain a deeper connection and understanding. I decided to retype them for you, my penmanship hasn’t improved much over the years.
July 5, 1987
Hi Mom and Dad,
I hope your day is going well. Mine is good. This morning Uncle Ab told me we needed to milk the cows again. He let me sleep yesterday because we went to the neighbor’s house for the Fourth of July.
I don’t think Uncle Ab had ever done that before, he was glad you told him about the holiday. I don’t know how he made it this far without setting off fireworks. He really liked it, and he had some great ideas for making them bigger. Did you know that plastic doesn’t really burn, it just kind of melts and smells bad. And if you don’t mind getting your fingers burned you can make it into different shapes. And did you know that there is a plant that after you break it open you can use it to smoosh on your burnt fingers and it really makes them feel better, its like medicine.
Aunt Kathy cooks really good food. She made enough salads for 3 parties. There was potato, pasta, warm potato and cheese, macaroni, spinach, broccoli, and macaroni and cheese which is not really a salad but was on the salad table. I had some of each of them because I know you say its rude not to have what is provided, and then I had 2 hot dogs and 2 hamburgers. I had some deserts too, she made 4 different pies with fruit in it and a wet bottom shoo fly pie. It totally cracked me up every time she said that name. Did you know that there is a plant for when your stomach makes those sounds that sound like something is grumbling under your belly. It doesn’t work as well as the burn your fingers plant.
I really like our bathroom at home. I can’t wait to see you guys. Have a neat summer.
July 5, 1987
Hi Mom and Dad,
I hope your day is going well. Mine is good. This morning Uncle Ab told me we needed to milk the cows again. He let me sleep yesterday because we went to the neighbor’s house for the Fourth of July.
I don’t think Uncle Ab had ever done that before, he was glad you told him about the holiday. I don’t know how he made it this far without setting off fireworks. He really liked it, and he had some great ideas for making them bigger. Did you know that plastic doesn’t really burn, it just kind of melts and smells bad. And if you don’t mind getting your fingers burned you can make it into different shapes. And did you know that there is a plant that after you break it open you can use it to smoosh on your burnt fingers and it really makes them feel better, its like medicine.
Aunt Kathy cooks really good food. She made enough salads for 3 parties. There was potato, pasta, warm potato and cheese, macaroni, spinach, broccoli, and macaroni and cheese which is not really a salad but was on the salad table. I had some of each of them because I know you say its rude not to have what is provided, and then I had 2 hot dogs and 2 hamburgers. I had some deserts too, she made 4 different pies with fruit in it and a wet bottom shoo fly pie. It totally cracked me up every time she said that name. Did you know that there is a plant for when your stomach makes those sounds that sound like something is grumbling under your belly. It doesn’t work as well as the burn your fingers plant.
I really like our bathroom at home. I can’t wait to see you guys. Have a neat summer.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Floatation device
After my third time warming the bath last night I began to wonder about water. (Every so often I enjoy a long bath, a really long bath. This is a reaction to my time of going weeks without a good cleansing, times change. And I really enjoy my new aquatic learning tools). Floating in the tub reminded me of the time spent bring down trees with my uncles. We would chop them, drag them with the mules, and then float them to the mill.
Water is the great choice when trying to move a huge tree from the forest down to the mill in order to make some floor boards for the neighbor’s house. Have you ever noticed that mills are near a river or stream? Party this local is to harness the strength of the river to power the saw blade. But another great reason is to float your newly felled tree with the water and not break your back in the process. The current can work for you and carry the load.
You can also go with the current when transporting your long boat through the narrow straights surrounding the arctic north. The water knows where it is able to go, and the current will tell you where you’ll be able to go as well. The ship’s pilot still needs to be vigilant and watch for glacier peaks, but on the whole the current can work for you.
Beyond the bath tub and the occasional trip to the beach I am not around water that often. But I still see the influence of currents. I see currents working in my social and financial life. Books that my friends like are the ones I want to read next. Music that is held in high regard by people I trust deserves a listen. The people that know about saving and how to find a deal are the ones I want hanging around.
I do my best to keep these streams of influence small. Many friends and acquaintances have drove head first into quickly moving rapids of social fun only to find out they need a floatation device. The new computer ploy to take my money and time is not a current I want to move with. Find yourself a group of frugal fun loving folks are you are free to float. Just be sure the current is not guiding you toward a saw mill. That blade will tear you two ways to Tuesday. (For real, don’t mess with that. I knew a guy once, I won’t go into it, but he doesn’t play cards any more, or the guitar. He’s got Velcro sneakers; it’s sad). All I’m saying is you have to stay aware while you float.
Water is the great choice when trying to move a huge tree from the forest down to the mill in order to make some floor boards for the neighbor’s house. Have you ever noticed that mills are near a river or stream? Party this local is to harness the strength of the river to power the saw blade. But another great reason is to float your newly felled tree with the water and not break your back in the process. The current can work for you and carry the load.
You can also go with the current when transporting your long boat through the narrow straights surrounding the arctic north. The water knows where it is able to go, and the current will tell you where you’ll be able to go as well. The ship’s pilot still needs to be vigilant and watch for glacier peaks, but on the whole the current can work for you.
Beyond the bath tub and the occasional trip to the beach I am not around water that often. But I still see the influence of currents. I see currents working in my social and financial life. Books that my friends like are the ones I want to read next. Music that is held in high regard by people I trust deserves a listen. The people that know about saving and how to find a deal are the ones I want hanging around.
I do my best to keep these streams of influence small. Many friends and acquaintances have drove head first into quickly moving rapids of social fun only to find out they need a floatation device. The new computer ploy to take my money and time is not a current I want to move with. Find yourself a group of frugal fun loving folks are you are free to float. Just be sure the current is not guiding you toward a saw mill. That blade will tear you two ways to Tuesday. (For real, don’t mess with that. I knew a guy once, I won’t go into it, but he doesn’t play cards any more, or the guitar. He’s got Velcro sneakers; it’s sad). All I’m saying is you have to stay aware while you float.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Nesting
The nesting instinct is real. Lest you doubt, take for example the cardinals in my back yard. (As an aside, I live in an affordable row home in a large North Eastern City, and I have a back yard with trees, I love our realtor). Back to the majestic birds with the deep red plumage preparing nests in our yard. At this time of year the yard is alive with transition.
The grass is preparing to grow strong and thick, the crocuses are beginning to bloom, and the daffodils are on deck to display their deep yellows. But these grounded changes are slow in comparison to the flittering above the vegetation. The birds are preparing their spaces for the coming brood. Especially busy is the female cardinal. She flies back and forth through the yard collecting material for the nest as her bright red partner keeps a protective eye.
In her natural habitat the North American Pregnant Spouse (NAPS) is not so different. My wife is one of 10 intimates that are going to add to their brood in the next month or two. And goodness is our house flittering with activity.
Up to this hour we have; cleaned the car inside and out, built new shelves and subsequently redistributed the contents of the basement, cleared the old growth from the garden, installed new exterior doors, revamped the budget with all the necessary debates and agreements, made a list to track the lists that we will need to complete, packed a bag, assembled the crib, vacuumed with abandon, stocked the freezer, and ordered pizza. It’s been a good morning.
Like the male cardinal I mostly stood watch and added opinions when needed. I enjoyed the construction in the basement and cleaning the car. But mostly I am here to lift heavy things and give a reassuring nod.
The grass is preparing to grow strong and thick, the crocuses are beginning to bloom, and the daffodils are on deck to display their deep yellows. But these grounded changes are slow in comparison to the flittering above the vegetation. The birds are preparing their spaces for the coming brood. Especially busy is the female cardinal. She flies back and forth through the yard collecting material for the nest as her bright red partner keeps a protective eye.
In her natural habitat the North American Pregnant Spouse (NAPS) is not so different. My wife is one of 10 intimates that are going to add to their brood in the next month or two. And goodness is our house flittering with activity.
Up to this hour we have; cleaned the car inside and out, built new shelves and subsequently redistributed the contents of the basement, cleared the old growth from the garden, installed new exterior doors, revamped the budget with all the necessary debates and agreements, made a list to track the lists that we will need to complete, packed a bag, assembled the crib, vacuumed with abandon, stocked the freezer, and ordered pizza. It’s been a good morning.
Like the male cardinal I mostly stood watch and added opinions when needed. I enjoyed the construction in the basement and cleaning the car. But mostly I am here to lift heavy things and give a reassuring nod.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Consider the vegetable
Looking back over my week I recognize that I have not eaten any meat. I have enjoyed noodles, veggies, and even pizza with no meat in sight. I am considering being vegetarian.
I’m not considering if I want to be a vegetarian, I know that answer. I’m considering what it means to be a vegetarian. For instance, is there a time threshold you must cross before you can claim the title. “I have not consumed meat for one full month, I am now a vegetarian.” Or do you claim the title and then live into the reality, something like, “from this day forward I am a vegetarian, bring on the quinoa.”
Image you are on a boat somewhere off the coast of Greenland. You and the crew have been out to sea for many days, possibly weeks. You have eaten the meat rations and all that is left are potatoes and continually souring cabbage in a big wooden barrel. The boat is not in any danger of running out of these and other life sustaining options. But gone are the days of braised rabbit over field greens. Are you now on a boat full of vegetarians?
Now you know full well that once the boat gets back to shore every person will walk their leather boots to the local tavern for fresh water and a big hunk of an animal’s leg. Every one of them will relish the tearing and chomping of the whole ordeal. But while on the boat they had no meat; vegetarians?
Or you are on the farm in early spring. Flowers are blooming and the young animals are learning to walk on their spindly legs. It will be months until any of these new young are ready for the grill, so we eat from the bounty of the garden. The season is filled with steamed vegetables and wonderful salads. Are we currently vegetarians, or simply waiting for the day when the bird is plump enough for the feathers to be ripped off and the skin to crackle over the charcoal?
So if this week has been filled with pizza but no pepperonis, spaghetti with no meat balls, and salads topped with bacon bits that never knew a pig, can I call myself a vegetarian? Or should I wait a week or two before I claim the title?
I’m not considering if I want to be a vegetarian, I know that answer. I’m considering what it means to be a vegetarian. For instance, is there a time threshold you must cross before you can claim the title. “I have not consumed meat for one full month, I am now a vegetarian.” Or do you claim the title and then live into the reality, something like, “from this day forward I am a vegetarian, bring on the quinoa.”
Image you are on a boat somewhere off the coast of Greenland. You and the crew have been out to sea for many days, possibly weeks. You have eaten the meat rations and all that is left are potatoes and continually souring cabbage in a big wooden barrel. The boat is not in any danger of running out of these and other life sustaining options. But gone are the days of braised rabbit over field greens. Are you now on a boat full of vegetarians?
Now you know full well that once the boat gets back to shore every person will walk their leather boots to the local tavern for fresh water and a big hunk of an animal’s leg. Every one of them will relish the tearing and chomping of the whole ordeal. But while on the boat they had no meat; vegetarians?
Or you are on the farm in early spring. Flowers are blooming and the young animals are learning to walk on their spindly legs. It will be months until any of these new young are ready for the grill, so we eat from the bounty of the garden. The season is filled with steamed vegetables and wonderful salads. Are we currently vegetarians, or simply waiting for the day when the bird is plump enough for the feathers to be ripped off and the skin to crackle over the charcoal?
So if this week has been filled with pizza but no pepperonis, spaghetti with no meat balls, and salads topped with bacon bits that never knew a pig, can I call myself a vegetarian? Or should I wait a week or two before I claim the title?
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Penna Black Bear
Yesterday I did a pull up. For some of you that means very little, and might not sound like much of an accomplishment. Well, dear reader who has never seen me, take my word for it, this was no small thing.
This is because I am no small thing. Let me draw some mental pictures. I’m built like a Penna black bear just before hibernation. I called myself the Amish Viking, gentle but broad. Something of a lumberjack, not really surly, but burly to be sure.
Part of the tendency to be broad is my lineage (German mostly), but mainly I eat too much and exercise too little. I should be plowing fields or rowing through the cold north instead of sitting in front of little boxes that light up and sing for me.
But that has been changing. If you refer back to the first sentence I did a pull up yesterday. Take that you flannel shirt, horned helmet, neutral colors wearing old self. There’s a new me breaking through, mostly in my back and shoulders at this point. We’ll see about the gut later in the year.
And I don’t have any plans to lose the neutral colors or horned helmet, they will just fit more comfortably.
This is because I am no small thing. Let me draw some mental pictures. I’m built like a Penna black bear just before hibernation. I called myself the Amish Viking, gentle but broad. Something of a lumberjack, not really surly, but burly to be sure.
Part of the tendency to be broad is my lineage (German mostly), but mainly I eat too much and exercise too little. I should be plowing fields or rowing through the cold north instead of sitting in front of little boxes that light up and sing for me.
But that has been changing. If you refer back to the first sentence I did a pull up yesterday. Take that you flannel shirt, horned helmet, neutral colors wearing old self. There’s a new me breaking through, mostly in my back and shoulders at this point. We’ll see about the gut later in the year.
And I don’t have any plans to lose the neutral colors or horned helmet, they will just fit more comfortably.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Sunny Days are Here Again
In an effort to follow my own instructions, I will now tell you that I am enjoying today’s mild winter weather. If you have not noticed, it is sunny outside. Not just sunny, downright delightful. Especially after all the days of frozen streets that do not allow motorcycles to drive freely. Days that demand extra layers comprised of wool and cable knits. Days that will not allow the bald amount us to walk with no lid. Today is markedly different, I left all of my cable knits and lids at home and rode off into the sunrise with little more than a leather jacket (okay, I did wear a helmet). Today is a good weather day.
If you are reading this on the north east cost of the US I suggest you turn off the monitor/television/hand held display. I promise not to take too much time and I assure you that when you return Gilligan will still be on the island, the kid with a sword will still be searching for the princess, and our favorite local sporting team will still have a fighting chance.
But you, my friend, have an opportunity to step out into the sun light, the light that provides reprieve from your long hard slog of a winter. If you suffer from the winter blues you could even add a walk for good measure. If you miss your time in the sun today they tell me tomorrow will be more of the same.
However take the opportunity while it is here. I just looked ahead, and forecast is not that good. Apparently it will rain and maybe snow next week. It is still February, lest we forget. But my focus is not on possible weather next week. My focus is out the window.
I’m sorry, have nothing more to say, I must go.
If you are reading this on the north east cost of the US I suggest you turn off the monitor/television/hand held display. I promise not to take too much time and I assure you that when you return Gilligan will still be on the island, the kid with a sword will still be searching for the princess, and our favorite local sporting team will still have a fighting chance.
But you, my friend, have an opportunity to step out into the sun light, the light that provides reprieve from your long hard slog of a winter. If you suffer from the winter blues you could even add a walk for good measure. If you miss your time in the sun today they tell me tomorrow will be more of the same.
However take the opportunity while it is here. I just looked ahead, and forecast is not that good. Apparently it will rain and maybe snow next week. It is still February, lest we forget. But my focus is not on possible weather next week. My focus is out the window.
I’m sorry, have nothing more to say, I must go.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Books in the Hull
Months ago my work was located in what we call an up and coming neighborhood. You could also call it gentrifying. I did benefit from the growing economy of restaurants and small stores, mostly I benefited from the library one block from my office door. It was easily the best part of my work day. It was truly a sanctuary from my day of forms and nagging computer responsibilities. I visited every day. If I was not inside the building reading I was there long enough to pick up and drop off my book as I went to the local park bench.
Four months ago my office moved. No doubt it was influenced by the development in the neighborhood we left behind. The biggest problem with the new place is that the closest library branch is not an easy walk away, and there are no park benches anywhere in sight. Add to this picture the fact that the temperatures have been downright frigid. So I have been forced to become creative and lower my expectations of a comfortable place to read.
This reminds me of my time spent on a Viking long boat with my uncles. You may have heard that long boats are very fast. Fast enough to outpace the boats carrying the poor saps from that little village on the inlet. There are several reasons for the quickness in our boats. One major contributor is the lack of any space you might call comfortable. Everything on the boat was designed with utility in mind. All the objects in the ship add to the practical matters of making a boat move swiftly through the surf.
This makes finding a quiet place to read during our down time very difficult. I did find a few spots to get away. Generally that meant going up in the ropes (not particularly comfortable) or down in the hull (mostly too dark to read). It was difficult to finish a good read, but I managed.
The people who designed our current office had a Viking mentality. There is very little here that does not aid in completing our job. There is a lunch room, but only enough space for about ¼ of the staff. There are bathrooms, but I have yet to take a book in there. And there is a conference room, however it is being used to store back files. So it leaves me one place to get away from my desk and read in relative quiet.
My solution is to walk up the stairs from the third to the fourth and simply stop half way. I stop and find a seat when the stairwell turns 180 degrees. No one in my building walks down the stairs from the fourth floor, hasn’t happened in 3 months.
There are two problems with this plan. Stairs are not really a place to lounge and relax, they are drastically practical. And in the current season the concrete gets cold and stays cold. No amount of newspaper can insulate the frigid seat. When I’m done reading it takes my backside a couple of minutes to regain the proper warmth.
Four months ago my office moved. No doubt it was influenced by the development in the neighborhood we left behind. The biggest problem with the new place is that the closest library branch is not an easy walk away, and there are no park benches anywhere in sight. Add to this picture the fact that the temperatures have been downright frigid. So I have been forced to become creative and lower my expectations of a comfortable place to read.
This reminds me of my time spent on a Viking long boat with my uncles. You may have heard that long boats are very fast. Fast enough to outpace the boats carrying the poor saps from that little village on the inlet. There are several reasons for the quickness in our boats. One major contributor is the lack of any space you might call comfortable. Everything on the boat was designed with utility in mind. All the objects in the ship add to the practical matters of making a boat move swiftly through the surf.
This makes finding a quiet place to read during our down time very difficult. I did find a few spots to get away. Generally that meant going up in the ropes (not particularly comfortable) or down in the hull (mostly too dark to read). It was difficult to finish a good read, but I managed.
The people who designed our current office had a Viking mentality. There is very little here that does not aid in completing our job. There is a lunch room, but only enough space for about ¼ of the staff. There are bathrooms, but I have yet to take a book in there. And there is a conference room, however it is being used to store back files. So it leaves me one place to get away from my desk and read in relative quiet.
My solution is to walk up the stairs from the third to the fourth and simply stop half way. I stop and find a seat when the stairwell turns 180 degrees. No one in my building walks down the stairs from the fourth floor, hasn’t happened in 3 months.
There are two problems with this plan. Stairs are not really a place to lounge and relax, they are drastically practical. And in the current season the concrete gets cold and stays cold. No amount of newspaper can insulate the frigid seat. When I’m done reading it takes my backside a couple of minutes to regain the proper warmth.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Little Sledding Hill
My house growing up had a nice little hill in the back. If you managed the snow and your sled correctly you could slide left across the hill, around the tree, and then edge back toward center to extend the ride. My siblings and I became quite good at building a berm at just the right spot to push us to our goal. It was alot of fun, but I did not know what sledding could be.
Thankfully, as I have grown my sledding has grown with me. I can now say that I have gone down some very big hills and been pulled behind some very strong four by fours. The largest hill I have sled might be more accurately called a mountain. Not the Alps or anything, but a foot hill of the Appalachians. I was driven to the top in the back of truck and we then slid on our stomachs about a mile and a half down a utility road. The only other people we saw were on snow mobiles. It was intense and crazy fun.
The other side of intense and crazy fun is being pulled behind a truck across the snow filled fields of the Amish farm land. (The trucks are provided by our English neighbors). The first time around the field is generally easy and somewhat lazy, but soon there are ruts and waves of snow and everything changes. There’s nothing like the rush of mowing down the remains of corn stocks at about 20 mph behind a truck with all four tires spitting powder.
I have now found a parallel for my city dwelling neighbors. (It was new to me but maybe not to you). This past weekend I enjoyed my first sledding experience down the steps of the PMA. You have seen these steps before when Mr. Balboa ran up them in his grey hoodie. But now you must envision those steps encased in a frozen water fall. Every ninety degree filled with snow and the lip of each step serving as a rumble strip. There are 5 flights with a small landing that gives the rider 2 choices. You can either take the small landing as a place to slow down and establish your balance before moving on, or let the landing be the launch pad for the next set of steps and sail on with ever gaining speed.
I had just come from dinner and was dressed in my earth toned finery, so I opted for the more subdued ride. But even so there was very little subdued about thundering down 72 steps with nothing but a rubber trash can lid protecting you from a snowy grave. I highly recommend it.
Thankfully, as I have grown my sledding has grown with me. I can now say that I have gone down some very big hills and been pulled behind some very strong four by fours. The largest hill I have sled might be more accurately called a mountain. Not the Alps or anything, but a foot hill of the Appalachians. I was driven to the top in the back of truck and we then slid on our stomachs about a mile and a half down a utility road. The only other people we saw were on snow mobiles. It was intense and crazy fun.
The other side of intense and crazy fun is being pulled behind a truck across the snow filled fields of the Amish farm land. (The trucks are provided by our English neighbors). The first time around the field is generally easy and somewhat lazy, but soon there are ruts and waves of snow and everything changes. There’s nothing like the rush of mowing down the remains of corn stocks at about 20 mph behind a truck with all four tires spitting powder.
I have now found a parallel for my city dwelling neighbors. (It was new to me but maybe not to you). This past weekend I enjoyed my first sledding experience down the steps of the PMA. You have seen these steps before when Mr. Balboa ran up them in his grey hoodie. But now you must envision those steps encased in a frozen water fall. Every ninety degree filled with snow and the lip of each step serving as a rumble strip. There are 5 flights with a small landing that gives the rider 2 choices. You can either take the small landing as a place to slow down and establish your balance before moving on, or let the landing be the launch pad for the next set of steps and sail on with ever gaining speed.
I had just come from dinner and was dressed in my earth toned finery, so I opted for the more subdued ride. But even so there was very little subdued about thundering down 72 steps with nothing but a rubber trash can lid protecting you from a snowy grave. I highly recommend it.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Community Labor
The way my Amish cousins live together and build community has made a strong impact on my way of thinking. If an action or attitude is not good for my neighbor I must consider if it is good for myself. If there is a need in the community and I can help, I will try. Specifically if my neighbor needs to raise a barn, I will grab my tools and head to the job site. There is little better than working beside nearly every person you know to transform a small hill of boards and joining pegs into a shelter for your livestock and telephone.
Barn raising is an awesome display of many hands making light work. It has only happened a few times in my life, but for many it is a common occurrence. If you are not familiar with the process here are the high points. A newly established family needs to establish a new barn. They find the plot of land and make some plans. Then they buy some lumber and fashion the other pieces needed. Contact the community with the time (by now everyone knows the place). Request that people bring side dishes for the lunch break. Get out the bar-b-q and some chickens, and then the construction begins.
The construction is the wildest part. First you frame the walls, all four of them on the ground at the same time. Each wall has its own small crew of workers. The completed frame is raised into place and joined with its neighbors. Then add some trusses and beans, a roof and some sides, maybe a door and windows, and soon you have a barn. My description does not do the whole process justice, but it does illustrate how long the process takes. In the amount of time it took you to read these words you could have built a barn.
I do not get to many barn raisings these days, living in a row home has slowed that down for me. But I do get to participate in heavy labor with my community. This week about 15 inches of snow was dumped on my fair city, but specifically on my sidewalk and back alley. I know some of you reading only received 4 inches, that’s nice for you. To gain some perspective of what 15 inches of snow is like I suggest you stand up beside your chair. Imagine that the spot where your leg hits the chair is cold wet snow and you will have a fair picture of the height of our snow. Now imagine a shovel in your hand for the next 2 hours while you move the snow from where it is to where you’d like it to be.
The picture I’ve created is true but somewhat harsh. To complete the picture you will also need to image all of your neighbors outside working. Not just working but also talking and catching up. It was a great time to learn that guy’s name, the one who just moved in on the end. Or reestablish a relationship with the older gentleman up the street that works nights. Did you know that the young family down the street is pregnant?
I worked alongside my neighbors all morning. Cookies were passed around freely, we took water and coffee breaks. We even yelled up to the second floor of a neighbor who was apparently taking advantage of the time to sleep. We all agreed he had slept too long.
We made light work of that wet heavy snow. We cleared the cars, the sidewalks and steps, the back alley, and even the side alley that no one owns but everyone needs to use. It was a great time for community building. Next time the snow dumps (the coming week from what they say) I suggest you make a pot of coffee or hot chocolate and take the opportunity for friendship that it presents. Bring a shovel too.
Barn raising is an awesome display of many hands making light work. It has only happened a few times in my life, but for many it is a common occurrence. If you are not familiar with the process here are the high points. A newly established family needs to establish a new barn. They find the plot of land and make some plans. Then they buy some lumber and fashion the other pieces needed. Contact the community with the time (by now everyone knows the place). Request that people bring side dishes for the lunch break. Get out the bar-b-q and some chickens, and then the construction begins.
The construction is the wildest part. First you frame the walls, all four of them on the ground at the same time. Each wall has its own small crew of workers. The completed frame is raised into place and joined with its neighbors. Then add some trusses and beans, a roof and some sides, maybe a door and windows, and soon you have a barn. My description does not do the whole process justice, but it does illustrate how long the process takes. In the amount of time it took you to read these words you could have built a barn.
I do not get to many barn raisings these days, living in a row home has slowed that down for me. But I do get to participate in heavy labor with my community. This week about 15 inches of snow was dumped on my fair city, but specifically on my sidewalk and back alley. I know some of you reading only received 4 inches, that’s nice for you. To gain some perspective of what 15 inches of snow is like I suggest you stand up beside your chair. Imagine that the spot where your leg hits the chair is cold wet snow and you will have a fair picture of the height of our snow. Now imagine a shovel in your hand for the next 2 hours while you move the snow from where it is to where you’d like it to be.
The picture I’ve created is true but somewhat harsh. To complete the picture you will also need to image all of your neighbors outside working. Not just working but also talking and catching up. It was a great time to learn that guy’s name, the one who just moved in on the end. Or reestablish a relationship with the older gentleman up the street that works nights. Did you know that the young family down the street is pregnant?
I worked alongside my neighbors all morning. Cookies were passed around freely, we took water and coffee breaks. We even yelled up to the second floor of a neighbor who was apparently taking advantage of the time to sleep. We all agreed he had slept too long.
We made light work of that wet heavy snow. We cleared the cars, the sidewalks and steps, the back alley, and even the side alley that no one owns but everyone needs to use. It was a great time for community building. Next time the snow dumps (the coming week from what they say) I suggest you make a pot of coffee or hot chocolate and take the opportunity for friendship that it presents. Bring a shovel too.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Remembering the Good Old Days
This is not a story so much as a plea. A chance for me to share my hope for a brighter day. More specifically this is a time to say, “remember the brighter days, and do it out loud.” Tomorrow more snow might come, but today there is no snow. All I am asking is that you mention the good times while they happen.
Yes it is cold. Pretty cold really, but nothing a hat and some gloves cannot handle. It’s going to rain or snow tomorrow, but it is sunny today. And let us remember, rain and snow are helpful to we Earth dwellers, the water literally keeps us alive. The little plants in the backyard need it, I’d bet the big farms are glad for it too. Precipitation is a good thing.
All day long all I’ve heard from my coworkers is that the snow is coming, followed by speculation of how long this current scourge will stay with us. It’s more than annoying, I’m disappointed.
Yesterday and the day before were sunny brisk days with cotton ball clouds. The kind of day that makes me long to be a park ranger and roam the woodland tracking some large game. (Certainly, I would need a good jacket, hat, scarf, gloves, boots, and maybe a flannel shirt). I only get that feeling a few times a year and mostly I am grateful for climate controlled buildings. But yesterday was a day to run free and feel the burn in your lungs. I would have settled for reading a book on a park bench but I have responsibilities that keep me inside listening to my coworkers gripe.
And did any of them mention the great weather while it was nice? Phrases like, “you couldn’t have asked for a nicer day.” Or “dial up more like this for the whole week.” Sadly, no such phrases were spoken. They already felt threatened by the possible cold front moving in, bringing with it life giving water from the sky.
All I’m saying is this. If you’re going to complain about the weather you don’t like you can atleast give a little air time to the days you do like. Let me know what you enjoy so I can dial up a good one for you tomorrow.
Yes it is cold. Pretty cold really, but nothing a hat and some gloves cannot handle. It’s going to rain or snow tomorrow, but it is sunny today. And let us remember, rain and snow are helpful to we Earth dwellers, the water literally keeps us alive. The little plants in the backyard need it, I’d bet the big farms are glad for it too. Precipitation is a good thing.
All day long all I’ve heard from my coworkers is that the snow is coming, followed by speculation of how long this current scourge will stay with us. It’s more than annoying, I’m disappointed.
Yesterday and the day before were sunny brisk days with cotton ball clouds. The kind of day that makes me long to be a park ranger and roam the woodland tracking some large game. (Certainly, I would need a good jacket, hat, scarf, gloves, boots, and maybe a flannel shirt). I only get that feeling a few times a year and mostly I am grateful for climate controlled buildings. But yesterday was a day to run free and feel the burn in your lungs. I would have settled for reading a book on a park bench but I have responsibilities that keep me inside listening to my coworkers gripe.
And did any of them mention the great weather while it was nice? Phrases like, “you couldn’t have asked for a nicer day.” Or “dial up more like this for the whole week.” Sadly, no such phrases were spoken. They already felt threatened by the possible cold front moving in, bringing with it life giving water from the sky.
All I’m saying is this. If you’re going to complain about the weather you don’t like you can atleast give a little air time to the days you do like. Let me know what you enjoy so I can dial up a good one for you tomorrow.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Hunt and Gather
Maybe you have seen a group of hunters come back into the village carrying fresh game between them. Likely it was the end of the winter season. After the frost has broken and the Northern pass has been cleared from this season’s avalanches. You can see for what seems like miles through the brisk morning air. And you know for certain that the little dots you see speckling the horizon signify your weeks of waiting for a dinner filled with protein will soon come to an end. It will be a good night’s sleep tonight.
Finally a dinner made up of more than soaked cabbage and boiled potatoes. One that does not require you to decide you are full instead of truly being full. A dinner that requires chewing, not merely mashing. It will be a good night’s sleep tonight.
You have woken every morning with little more than a grumble in your stomach, looking out the window of the hay loft where you sleep with your siblings. Hoping that today might be the day when the reprieve will come. Arriving with the food will be your father and uncles. They are tired from the trip, but excited by the welcome the community will provide. Mother and your older sisters will be busy all afternoon in preparation and maybe even you will join in the work. It will be a good night’s sleep tonight.
Your memory does not include the negative attributes of such a day. How your older brother pushed the youngest to the side to get in line. Or how your uncle took all the credit for what was clearly a group effort. That the choice meat when off to your neighbor because your family still does not own the land or the house. Or even that your mother after all her hard work got no affirmation but instead went to begin cleaning up the mess. You simply went back to the loft and found yourself dreaming of the distant lands of your father’s hunt.
Soon it will be Girl Scout Cookie time. No doubt you have your favorites and memories from past years. Maybe you have never witnessed the mayhem and ugliness that accompanies this time. You look past the coworker, well into her 60’s, that demands she get two of her choice even though she made no previous order. Or the one that is shouting across the office instead of walking his old bones to where the calories lay in wait. Or the most pathetic, the person who loses a year of maturity with every step she takes toward your desk. The one that sinks from a well respected and capable peer to the conduct of a 2 year old. All of this because she saw her favorite cookies walk past and was told there will be no more. She is nearly in tears as she explains how much it would mean if you could please find another box. That you must find another box. She is unable to understand that you are not a retail store, and put bluntly you simply do not care if gets her thin mints. If she’s looking for thin she’s better off where she is with no box of cookies.
All you see are the pictures of smiling teens playing sports, learning about nature, and accomplishing their goals. You glory in every one of those young lives growing and maturing into the woman they can be. These wonderful feelings accompany the taste and smell of the cookies you were fortunate enough to receive. It will be a good night’s sleep tonight.
Finally a dinner made up of more than soaked cabbage and boiled potatoes. One that does not require you to decide you are full instead of truly being full. A dinner that requires chewing, not merely mashing. It will be a good night’s sleep tonight.
You have woken every morning with little more than a grumble in your stomach, looking out the window of the hay loft where you sleep with your siblings. Hoping that today might be the day when the reprieve will come. Arriving with the food will be your father and uncles. They are tired from the trip, but excited by the welcome the community will provide. Mother and your older sisters will be busy all afternoon in preparation and maybe even you will join in the work. It will be a good night’s sleep tonight.
Your memory does not include the negative attributes of such a day. How your older brother pushed the youngest to the side to get in line. Or how your uncle took all the credit for what was clearly a group effort. That the choice meat when off to your neighbor because your family still does not own the land or the house. Or even that your mother after all her hard work got no affirmation but instead went to begin cleaning up the mess. You simply went back to the loft and found yourself dreaming of the distant lands of your father’s hunt.
Soon it will be Girl Scout Cookie time. No doubt you have your favorites and memories from past years. Maybe you have never witnessed the mayhem and ugliness that accompanies this time. You look past the coworker, well into her 60’s, that demands she get two of her choice even though she made no previous order. Or the one that is shouting across the office instead of walking his old bones to where the calories lay in wait. Or the most pathetic, the person who loses a year of maturity with every step she takes toward your desk. The one that sinks from a well respected and capable peer to the conduct of a 2 year old. All of this because she saw her favorite cookies walk past and was told there will be no more. She is nearly in tears as she explains how much it would mean if you could please find another box. That you must find another box. She is unable to understand that you are not a retail store, and put bluntly you simply do not care if gets her thin mints. If she’s looking for thin she’s better off where she is with no box of cookies.
All you see are the pictures of smiling teens playing sports, learning about nature, and accomplishing their goals. You glory in every one of those young lives growing and maturing into the woman they can be. These wonderful feelings accompany the taste and smell of the cookies you were fortunate enough to receive. It will be a good night’s sleep tonight.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Summers with the Family
Since we are among the longest days of the year I find myself thinking of summer. I especially look to the summers of my childhood.
When I was young my parents would send me to stay with my extended family for most of the summer. The time was meant for me to learn about their different cultures and history, and give my parents some time without a rambunctious and overly imaginative child. It was fun, I learned a lot. But very little is applicable to my present life. Certainly it formed character as my parents had planned. But what can you do with a long boat and the ability to navigate with only your beard to guide you? Some skills don’t transfer to large American cities.
Just to clear things up, Vikings do not use maps in navigation. We use what God gave us, the stars, wind and waves, and an innate ability to understand due North by the way our beard curls at the edge. That’s why Vikings are always smoothing out their beards, they are actually triangulating their current position with respect to the sun and the southernmost tip of Norway. I cannot go into detail for reasons related to intellectual property. But it comes down to how you comb your beard and the metal in your helmet. The Vikings are surprisingly knowledgeable about magnets and hair follicles. Using this knowledge in tandem is very useful for navigation, it takes some practice.
I learned in the same summer that oddly enough the Amish have a comparable trick for plowing their fields in perfectly straight lines. Although for the Amish there are no magnets involved. It is a simple matter of keeping the mules in line with your shoulders and your beard equally aligned between your suspenders. This also requires a few summers of repetition.
During those summers I developed some intense calices. They would first start out in the open water with ore in hand. Thankfully I had plenty of sea water in which to dunk my screaming hands. Then I would move onto the farm to plow and bail for the remainder of the summer. Soon my hands looked like the leather pouch where my Uncles kept their tobacco. I felt good about myself until I returned to school to find I could not hold a pencil due to the quarter inch of tough skin between my knuckles. But I managed.
All of this reminds me that someone should shovel the snow off my sidewalk. I would do it but I gave up calices after I graduated from high school.
When I was young my parents would send me to stay with my extended family for most of the summer. The time was meant for me to learn about their different cultures and history, and give my parents some time without a rambunctious and overly imaginative child. It was fun, I learned a lot. But very little is applicable to my present life. Certainly it formed character as my parents had planned. But what can you do with a long boat and the ability to navigate with only your beard to guide you? Some skills don’t transfer to large American cities.
Just to clear things up, Vikings do not use maps in navigation. We use what God gave us, the stars, wind and waves, and an innate ability to understand due North by the way our beard curls at the edge. That’s why Vikings are always smoothing out their beards, they are actually triangulating their current position with respect to the sun and the southernmost tip of Norway. I cannot go into detail for reasons related to intellectual property. But it comes down to how you comb your beard and the metal in your helmet. The Vikings are surprisingly knowledgeable about magnets and hair follicles. Using this knowledge in tandem is very useful for navigation, it takes some practice.
I learned in the same summer that oddly enough the Amish have a comparable trick for plowing their fields in perfectly straight lines. Although for the Amish there are no magnets involved. It is a simple matter of keeping the mules in line with your shoulders and your beard equally aligned between your suspenders. This also requires a few summers of repetition.
During those summers I developed some intense calices. They would first start out in the open water with ore in hand. Thankfully I had plenty of sea water in which to dunk my screaming hands. Then I would move onto the farm to plow and bail for the remainder of the summer. Soon my hands looked like the leather pouch where my Uncles kept their tobacco. I felt good about myself until I returned to school to find I could not hold a pencil due to the quarter inch of tough skin between my knuckles. But I managed.
All of this reminds me that someone should shovel the snow off my sidewalk. I would do it but I gave up calices after I graduated from high school.
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