Love Your Neighbor

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Although none of the four suicides was recent - the last was in 2008 - I read this story by the Associated Press today. And I am sickened. Four teens from the same Cleveland suburb killed themselves in two years. And all were bullied.

I don't know what causes people to hurt each other. I don't know why acting or looking different inspires hatred in some people. What I do know is there were others who knew this was going on. There were students who witnessed it, who sat by and let it happen. And that is so wrong. The teens who knew and chose to do nothing were failed by their parents and by society. It is incumbent upon us, both as parents and as Christians, to teach our children that cruelty in any form is not acceptable.  It is absolutely not acceptable, and is not to be tolerated. And it is the responsibility of those working with and assuming responsibility for children to be vigilant. We must be involved, and must look for signs. We cannot wait for a child or young person to come to us; we must go to them. Lead by example, and teach the right way. Guide them along their path.

Do unto others...

Mark 12:31

A Tragic End

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I just read a story about a Rutgers University student killing himself after his roommate secretly videotaped him having sex with a man in his dorm room. The video was broadcast on the internet. The only thing I can think of is...WHY?

Why did the roommate do that? Why did he post that video of Tyler to the internet? Would he have done the same thing if Tyler Clementi had been having sex with a female? I doubt it. I think the videotaping and posting was intended to embarrass and humiliate Tyler. Why? Is the roommate homophobic? If so, I can understand that, because I am not comfortable with homosexual relationships. However, I don't strive to ridicule or embarrass others. I just don't empathize. Did Tyler hide his sexual orientation, thereby causing the roommate to be eager to "out" him? Did the roommate hope to dissuade Tyler from rendezvousing with other men? Was Tyler leading a double life?

Why?

Every day I am challenged by passive-aggressive people. These are the folks who want to tell you something, usually to express dislike or displeasure with something, but don't have the nerve or skill to just say it outright. Instead, they convey their thoughts and feelings with snide remarks and underhanded behavior. Effectively dealing with passive-aggressive folks is the bane of every good manager's existence. It's hard!

We all need to do a couple of things. First of all, each and every one of us needs to practice empathy. Always, always, always, put yourself in the other person's shoes. Then act accordingly. You want to tell your co-worker that she is the most annoying person on the planet? Imagine her telling that to you. Would you appreciate it? Would you accept is as constructive criticism and improve? Really? If not, think very carefully about how you tell her. Think very carefully about what you are going to say. Because although we can forgive, rarely do we manage to forget.

Unintended consequences are the hardest to suffer. I am positive that Tyler's roommate never dreamed that he would jump off a bridge in response to what was done. The roommate may have even intended it as a joke. Regardless, he did not think it through. He didn't consider all the possibilities. He didn't know as much about Tyler as he thought he did. 

I certainly am not perfect. I have intentionally and unintentionally hurt others. But, I try to remember that none of us knows what the other is thinking, living with, or going through. None of us. NO ONE OF US. I try to treat others the way I want to be treated. The way I expect to be treated. 

Remember that each action causes a reaction, and act accordingly. 

It's that simple.

Remembering

"Somewhere inside ourselves we all have had a terrible tragedy, no matter how grand or minute." - Anthony La Femina, New York City police officer, reflecting on the events of September 11, 2001.

Today we remember the events of September 11, 2001, and we reflect on what was lost to us. I am one of the lucky people who can think about it once a year, and who don't have to live with the pain and memories every single day. My heart goes out to those who do.

When I was a child, everyone old enough to remember could tell you where he or she was when President Kennedy was shot. To me, it seemed to be the defining moment in our nation's history. In elementary school, I was assigned the task of interviewing someone who remembered November 22, 1963. I interviewed my father, and his story was an interesting one. My father happened to be in the U.S. Army in 1963, stationed in Fort Knox, KY. When news of the Commander-in-Chief's assassination  broke, Dad's unit was placed on red alert. My father and his fellow soldiers prepared for war. It was believed that the United States was under attack, and that World War III was upon us. Especially since Kennedy's death came a year after the Cuban Missile Crisis, nuclear war was the first thing everyone thought of. The President had been killed, and Castro and Krushchev were making a move. At least, that's what my father thought. He recounted his anxiety as they waited for orders, waited for news, waited for the end of the world.

I always knew where my father was on that November day, but I didn't understand how powerful his experience was, until a day in 2001. That was the day that I, and everyone in my generation, understood the meaning of "national tragedy." 

I was at work, and I had gone to get some hanging file folders. I heard talking down the hall, so I made my way to the lobby area in our office, to see what was going on. I remember standing there, dressed in my long sleeved shirt and khaki pants, holding those green folders and staring at the television. It was about 9:00 a.m., and the image on the television screen was of the north tower of the World Trade Center, smoke pouring from it. The reporter was saying that an airplane had flown into the tower, and it was assumed to be an accident. If you think about it, an airplane crashing into a high-rise office building in New York was one hell of a story, anyway. As we watched and listened the second airplane flew into the south tower. The reporter was incredulous. So were we.

I think we were watching NBC, but I am not sure. Things started to happen very quickly after that. The news anchors began mentioning "terrorist act" and the location of President Bush was announced. That is also when I first heard the names "Osama Bin Laden" and "Al-Qaeda." As we continued to watch we saw the man whisper the news to President Bush as he watched children in a Florida classroom read. The news anchors were relaying all sorts of information and speculation about whether or not the country was under attack, where the Vice-President was, and what Bush would do, when the news that a plane had crashed into the Pentagon, and another plane had crashed in Pennsylvania, was announced.

While all of this was unfolding before our shocked eyes, we were learning that our co-worker's aunt was trapped on the 105th floor of the burning north tower. Unbelievable! Missy's aunt Stacey had called her mother and said that the building was on fire, and she and the others were trying to get out. She told her mother that she loved her, and she had to go. It was at this point I walked on shaky legs down the hall to my office, and called Steve. I asked if he knew what was going on, and he said no. He was out on a job site, and hadn't heard. I told him that two planes had flown into the World Trade Center buildings, one into the Pentagon, and another into the ground. I told him that we were under attack, and that the news said that other planes may have been involved. He said nothing. I finally asked if he was there, if he had heard me. He answered with a question, "Is it World War III?" And that's when I became truly frightened. Was it? "God, I hope not," I managed to say to him, thinking about our kids.

The rest of the day is a blur. We watched the television constantly. We watched the buildings collapse, and we watched people wander the streets of Manhattan in shock, covered in ash. We spent some frantic time trying to locate our boss, who was on a flight from Los Angeles, and we prayed for news of Missy's aunt. We watched as every airplane in the country's air space was grounded, and we tried to understand who Al-Qaeda was, and why they did this.We watched the world change forever.

I think we as a nation, and as a people, drew closer together in the immediate aftermath of September 11. We talked about how quickly everyday life can change, how important loved ones are, and how our very existence is not to be taken for granted. But, it seems to me that in the years since that time, we have become more separated from one another than ever. I believe there is a great rift in this nation, and I believe that in the end, that may have been what those 19 murderers wanted most of all; to pull us apart. Could an act that killed 2,996 innocent people ultimately destroy the greatest nation under God on Earth?

Only if we allow it to.

Holy Moses, My Fridge is Kosher

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File this one under "You Learn Something New Every Day (whether you want to, or not)." Some of you devoted readers (bless your heart, Doreena) may recall my entry about my new refrigerator the husband brought home last year. That's a picture of it, up there, fingerprints and all. I was so excited, because for the first time in my life, I had an ice maker! Well, I gotta tell ya' - it's been a good year. I sure do love having ice all the time. And, I also love that water in the door, but the fridge started hollering about needing a new water filter quite a while ago, and I haven't gotten around to it (Seth just needs to get over it).The ice recently became clogged in the dispenser mechanism, and the husband thought he had it cleaned out. Unfortunately, he did not, so this evening he was beating and banging on the ice holder, again "fixing" it. While I was thinking about it, I Googled the user's manual. The fridge was on clearance, and did not come with the user's manual, but the internet makes that a moot point. Anyway, I downloaded it, and was reading how to use the controls (better late than never, right?), and I reached "Holiday Mode." That was right after the instructions on how to increase ice production, for those especially hot times, I guess, so I figured it was probably related to Thanksgiving and Christmas, and times when all those people at your dinner table need ice. But, it was not. "Holiday Mode", as the manual informs us, is designed for those whose religious observances require turning off the lights and dispensers.

Say what?

Like the Amish? I stupidly wondered. No, that wouldn't be right. They don't use any electricity, at all. I guess. Now that I think about it, I have no idea how they keep food cold. But, that will have to wait for another time, because I have laundry to do. Okay then, what religion requires a "Holiday Mode" on a refrigerator? And, why? Another Google search informed me that my refrigerator's "Holiday Mode" is actually a Sabbath mode. This mode allows someone to keep the Sabbath according to Jewish law. The site, www.allaboutappliances.com explains, "According to the written Torah and Jewish Oral Law, it is forbidden to ignite or extinguish a fire on the Sabbath. Modern day rabbinic authorities explain that electricity is included in this prohibition. Therefore any appliance that is activated by a person’s direct action such as a refrigerator light or fan that turns on when the door is opened is categorically forbidden on the Sabbath." 

My refrigerator is kosher.

Well, isn't that interesting? And, one of the dumbest things I've ever heard. Of course, that is merely my opinion, but this is my blog, and I am allowed to say that. And, I do. That, my friends, is stupid. Oh, I understand Orthodox Judaism, and keeping the Shabbat, and not writing God's name (G*d), and observing dietary laws, and if that's your religion, hey, more power to you. But, electricity is flowing in the house all the time. Unless the electricity is entirely turned off, it's still there. If the refrigerator is cooling, then there is electricity flowing to it. Activating a light by opening a door is irrelevant! Opening the door is "work." Why would a light not turning on make a whit of difference? It seems to me that if one were to strictly keep the Shabbat, one would not have any electricity flowing, at all. And since lighting a fire is forbidden, one would probably go to bed at sundown on Friday, and fire up the oven at sundown on Saturday. 

And, dispense the heck out of that ice!!

Shalom!

Excellent Eagles!

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While at Rough River Lake this weekend, our friend David mentioned going to look for the bald eagles. Immediately interested, Steve asked, "What bald eagles? There are bald eagles here?" David answered that yes, there are at least three at the lake, and they can usually be seen in a certain cove. David said that he had seen "him" on the 4th of July, sitting there on the tree branch, as pretty as you please. We laughed when he said the sight made him feel like a proud American, and we made plans to go by boat to see the eagles that afternoon. 

Our luck being what it is, we looked for hours and never saw anything but buzzards. "You do know the difference between a buzzard and a bald eagle, right, David?" I kidded him. Several people around verified their existence, with one woman saying that she had photographed one of the eagles catching a fish and feeding it to the juvenile bird. We left the cove determined to return the next day, and to see the eagles for ourselves.

Steve and I set out at around 10:30 the next morning, journeying the 40 minutes or so by boat to the eagle cove. As soon as we pulled in, I spotted an eagle. "There! Right there in that tree!" I exclaimed and pointed. "You can see the white head!" (I am glad I spotted it first. I "won.") The eagle was sitting in a very tall tree, just as David had described. We could also hear the shrieking sounds they were making. I've heard that sound on television, and it cannot be mistaken for anything else. As we intently peered into the foliage, we were able to identify not one eagle, but three. And one of them was huge! Big, black and, honestly, quite ugly, it dwarfed the other large bird on the branch above. The one facing us looked like in the pictures, with the white head and yellow beak. The eagle sitting off to the side was the smallest of the three. We took photos of them and simply floated in the water, watching for any movement. Eventually, one flapped it's wings and left the tree. I scrambled for my camera and managed to get some shots of it flying. I hoped it might swoop down and pluck a fish out of the water, but it instead flew higher and higher. Immediately, I was struck by just how high the eagle was. He quickly became a speck in the sky. I understood for the first time the meaning of "soar," while witnessing his flight. He disappeared from view, and one of the others flew off. The third one moved to another tree, and out of our sight. We marveled at our experience; neither of us had ever seen an eagle in the wild before. It was remarkable. 

Steve decided that the biggest eagle with the white head was the male, the other white-headed one was the juvenile, and the black one was the female. He reasoned that she would be less attractive, as is usually the case with female birds. Steve's cousin had told us that he has been under the nests when the trees are bare, and the nests are wide enough to lie down in. Still amazed that no one had ever mentioned the eagles to us before, we decided to look for them each time we visit the lake.

Today I did some reading about eagles, and I discovered that Steve was wrong. The female is larger than the male, and colored the same, and the juvenile is black and brown. It takes 5 years for the eagle to reach it's adult plumage. This means that the black bird we saw is an enormous female younger than age 5. (At least that's what we think.) Bald eagles mate for life, but when one dies, the survivor will take a new mate. Eagle's nests are typically five feet in diameter, and the birds often return to the same nest, year after year. The nests are usually about 100 feet up in a tree. And, the birds fade from view so quickly because they fly at 10,000 feet! Amazing!

Ben Franklin wrote that he wished the bald eagle had not been chosen as the symbol of our country, because he felt it was a bird of "bad moral character." Franklin thought the turkey was a much better choice. I, for one, am glad that the decision was not up to Ben Franklin!  

The turkey. Good grief.

Seattle cartoonist launches "Everybody Draw Mohammed Day" - Seattle News - MyNorthwest.com

I am going to refrain from ranting about jihads and all that crap, and simply say that I will draw a picture and post it. What are they going to do, kill us all? Bring it on...

Seattle cartoonist launches "Everybody Draw Mohammed Day" - Seattle News - MyNorthwest.com

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Debby Stallings

Debby was my husband's first cousin. She was a remarkable woman, full of life, laughter and love. Debby was a mother, wife, daughter, sister, aunt, cousin, and friend. But above all else, Debby was a child of God. She loved the Lord with all her heart, and she lived her Catholic faith in her words and in her deeds, each and every day. We are attending mass at our church tonight in her honor. I received this message from a friend today:

"God is sooooo Good! When Debby returned from Texas, Eddie went to the parish office and set up some masses for her. God's will had it so Eddie would set up tonight's 6:00 mass for Debby not knowing it would be the day she would be going home to God.

I thought it would be a great honor and pleasure if most of us could attend mass tonight in honor of Debby and her family. It has been such a blessing knowing Debby. She touched so many lives here on earth and now she is with her heavenly Father whom she loves so much. That was apparent in her daily life. She set a high standard for all of us to try to live by.

Tonight will be a celebration of Debby's life!!! See you there!"

This says more about Debby than any one of us ever could. This is how she believed; this is how she lived; this is what she has left for us.

The following poem could have been written about Debby. It suits her perfectly:

You can shed tears that she is gone,

or you can smile because she has lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back,

or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see her,

or you can be full of the love you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,

or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember her only that she is gone,

or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind,

be empty and turn your back.

Or you can do what she'd want:

smile, open your eyes, love and go on.”

 

- David Harkins

 

We will miss Debby terribly. But we take comfort in knowing that she is with her Lord and Savior, and she is beyond the kind of happiness we know here. We will see her again. Rest in eternal peace, Debby.

 

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There's No Accounting for Taste

I really don't like the way cilantro tastes. I was never aware of cilantro until I started eating in Mexican restaurants, and then I figured out that the chopped up green stuff in salsa is cilantro. Some restaurants use a little, some a lot. When I eat salsa with cilantro in it, all I can taste is the herb. It literally overpowers everything else. I am also the same way about celery. I have tried to like celery, I really have. I have dieted all my life, and I know that celery is the ultimate diet food. I can't, though. I just can't eat it. In my opinion, it ruins the taste of anything it is added to. I am hesitant to eat chicken salad in restaurants because it might have celery in it. I can't drink V-8 juice because all I taste is the celery. It doesn't matter if I put peanut butter on it, or not. To me, it tastes bad!

I have always been fascinated by the subject of taste. I think how food tastes different to everyone is so interesting. I do not consider myself a picky eater, but I do have a list of foods that I do not like, and will not eat. People say, "It's a texture thing," and I agree that the way it feels in my mouth is part of it. For instance, a piece of gristle in my mouth will cause me to reflexively spit it out; I don't care if the Queen of England is at the table. It absolutely gags me. I won't eat chopped mutton because I manage to bite down on a piece of gristle or bone every single time. I had a bad experience with a piece of chicken just yesterday, and I am not planning to order it in a restaurant again, or at least until I stupidly forget about it. If I were to get a piece of fat in my mouth...oy vey!

Obviously, smell is a huge component of taste. We know this because when we have a bad cold and a stuffed up nose, we can't taste food. My friend is missing her sense of smell. She can't smell anything. This is called anosmia. She thinks she tastes food, but that is just because that is all she knows. She does not eat much, and is very thin. I think because food is literally fuel for her, and not really enjoyable, she doesn't over eat. Perhaps a key to weight control is knocking out the sense of smell?

At one time, I thought that I might be a supertaster. About one third of all Americans are "supertasters," but now I think that I probably am not. The way to test for it is to put a chemical called PROP on a piece of paper, and to put the paper in your mouth. Nonstasters taste nothing, medium tasters will find the taste moderately bitter, and supertasters will find the taste overwhelmingly bitter. This sounds familiar to me, because I think I once heard this about crepe paper. I distinctly remember the first time I tasted crepe paper! I was in elementary school, and we were having a program. We all had white shirts with red crepe paper bows. I went to get a drink of water, and my bow got in my mouth. I was shocked at the taste! It tasted bitter and salty, all at the same time! I couldn't get over it! Weird! I think that I once read that some people think crepe paper tastes that way, and some don't detect a taste at all.

I think that my son Seth may be a supertaster. He is even worse than I am about the taste of foods, and we like and dislike most of the same things. Neither one of us likes anything sweet. We definitely do not like birthday cake. I can tell you exactly the last time I had a piece of cake, and I can tell you what kind it was. It's that rare. Ditto with candy. I like sour things, but not sweet.

Here is an interesting article about supertasters, from Prevention magazine:

 http://www.prevention.com/health/nutrition/healthy-eating-tips/supertaster-test-how-to-tell-if-you-re-a-supertaster/article/7d4b323b0b803110VgnVCM20000012281eac____

Let me know what you think about this subject. Like I said, I am fascinated!

It Goes On.

I don't often feel sad about my kids growing up. After all, it's part of life, and honestly, it has its rewards. However, I occasionally run across something that makes me melancholy. Tonight I found this, and it made me a little sad. Seth wrote this in elementary school. My boy is almost 19 years old, and his brother is 16. D.C. the cat is still alive (lucky me) and Daisy the Dalmatian died last year. My nephew Dustin recently became a father, and we still live in the "country."

As Robert Frost said, "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life. It goes on."

The Most Dangerous Jobs in America

The tragic mining accident in West Virginia has been all over the news this week, and I have read numerous articles about the history of safety violations at the Upper Branch Mine. Simply based on what I have read, it would appear that the owner and executives of Massey Energy Co. were criminally negligent and responsible for 25 recent deaths. The latest headline to catch my eye was, "West Virginia disaster: Will Congress take on coal mining companies?" I found myself thinking that someone should do something. Rules were broken! Why wasn't this stopped, I wondered? Why wasn't Massey Energy Company forced to clean up its act? Hell, yes, let's get Congress to do something! Hold hearings! Make laws! Pass acts!


And then I wondered: is mining the most dangerous occupation in America? The answer, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, is no.


According to data for 2008 (the most recent on the BLS website), there were 5,071 fatalities in the workplace. Of those, 969 were in construction. However, although construction had the highest number of fatal injuries in 2008, agriculture, forestry, fishing, and hunting had the highest fatality rate, at 29.4 deaths per 100,000 full-time equivalent workers. (I don't know any full-time hunters, but that's just me.) Mining came in second, with 175 fatalities, or 18.0 fatality rate. Looking at selected occupations, the top five deadliest were fishing and related fishing workers in first place with 128.9 deaths, followed by logging workers with 115.7, aircraft pilots and flight engineers with 72.4, structural iron and steel workers with 46.4, and farmers and ranchers with 39.5.

Within all occupations, can you guess what the most common cause of death was? It was transportation incidents! That's right, even if you were a secretary, you were more likely to die while running an errand in a car than shredding paper. Or even arguing with your boss! The second most common cause of death was falls. That makes sense, considering roofers and construction workers. Ironically, the most common cause of death among taxi drivers and chauffers was not transportation incidents - it was assaults and violent acts! I always marvel that the taxi drivers in Chicago manage to get me where I am going in one piece, and I guess I should have more faith.

So, while I agree that the deaths of the miners in West Virginia this week were tragic, they were not alone. Mining is not the most dangerous job in America, at least it wasn't in 2008. And though we might be tempted to call on Congress to do something, we must realize that there are deaths at work every year, and no one is immune.


Oh, that's right. That's why we have OSHA!


Bureau of Labor Statistics


The 15 Most Dangerous Jobs in America

Not Your Common, Ordinary Fool!

My friend Julia made me think of this by mentioning Schoolhouse Rock. When I was a student at good old Highland Elementary, the teacher would occasionally wheel in the projector and we would be treated to a movie! I can remember being excited yet disappointed at the same time. The films never lived up to my expectations, although I don't really know what those were. At the time there were three television channels to watch, so anything was exciting. And, since it was the 70's, also boring. I couldn't remember anything about this clip except the song, "I'm No Fool." Of course, since the internet is the repository of everything people take the time to write about and upload, there is an entry in Wikipedia about Jiminy and "I'm No Fool." Here is what it says: 

In the 1960s and 1970s, Jiminy Cricket appeared in two series of educational films aimed at grade-school-aged audiences. In the "I'm No Fool" series, he advised children how to steer clear of dangerous traffic, sharp objects, strangers, exposed electrical lines, and so forth. In each short, he sang the refrain:

I'm no fool, no sirree!

I'm gonna live to be 23 (then 53, 93, and finally 103)

I play safe for you and me

'Cause I'm no fool!

The other series was called "You", which teaches about the human body with the refrain "You are a human animal...".

In the video, Jiminy warns against playing in dangerous places, like excavation sites. He also covers hiking, high, rocky places, railroad tracks, swiftly running streams and foliage you know nothing about! Oh, and there is a little history lesson about the advent of the 40-hour work week. The best part is when he mentions the difference between YOU (that's y-o-u) and the common, ordinary, fool.  

 

That Jiminy Cricket. What a guy! 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Udk1S93KGc4

 

 

 

Page 75

So, this was weird. I was out on the patio today, enjoying the sunshine and the fact that it was a Saturday, and I was reading a book. A real book, not an electronic one. It was the last book I bought before I got my Kindle; Sue Grafton's "U is for Undertow." I was reading right along and as I reached page 75 I noticed that the page had a faint mark on it. I took a closer look, and I could see that the page had been dog-eared. I bent the corner, and, sure enough, it turned  right along the crease. Today was the first time I had read the book, so I didn't do it, although I will admit that I had to think about it. But, no, it wasn't me. How odd. Someone else had done it. This led to all kinds of thoughts. I think I bought the book at Wal-Mart, but I am not sure. It would have been Wal-Mart or Target, because I haven't been in a bookstore in a while. The book otherwise looks new; the dust jacket and everything is pristine, or at least it was before I roughed it up on the patio today. In any case, the simple crease on a book page made me wonder about so much.

What could have happened?  I never before thought about returning a book. I can see why someone would, for instance, if they received two of the same book as a gift. Even if that happened to me, I doubt that I would have returned it. I am too lazy. I probably would have given it away, maybe to Goodwill.  But, would I have read it first, before returning it? No way! So what else could it have been? Maybe someone stood in the book section at Wal-Mart, reading for free. Ok, maybe, but would they have marked page 75? Page 75? Why, so that when they returned the next day they would know where they left off? Was it a Wal-Mart associate? Now that makes sense. But, do they "let" you do that at Wal-Mart? I once heard that Books-A-Million associates get to read any book they want. For some reason I kind of doubt that Wal-Mart would be the same way, but maybe.

I used to religiously check books out of the library, and I was always a little grossed out by the thought of all the hands that were on the book before mine. I always wondered at the little "noted" mark written on any damage. Sometimes it would say "noted" and I couldn't tell what the problem was. It looked ok to me, before someone "noted" invisible damage. I wondered if the library workers checked every book, or what. I always hated when I opened a book and the smell of cigarette smoke wafted from the pages. If a borrowed library book smells like cigarette smoke, imagine what the borrower's house smells like! And I especially hated running across what looked like a booger on a page. Disgusting!

The mystery of who read this book before I bought it will never be solved. It would make a good short story. Life from a library book's perspective would make a good story! Imagine if those books could talk! If they could I doubt any of us would bring one in the house...

Remembering Jenny

                                           http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VF6MiJMedbc

Water, Water, Everywhere...

Day after day, day after day,

We stuck, nor breath nor motion;

As idle as a painted ship,

Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, everywhere,

All the boards did shrink;

Water, water, everywhere,

Nor any drop to drink.

---From The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,

by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

My third class this module is Environmental Science. I have to take it in order to graduate on time, otherwise, I wouldn't be. However, I did learn something interesting already. This week's assignment was about water. It turns out that water is a fascinating subject, and not one I frequently think of, other than to cringe once a month as I pay the bill. I should be thinking about it more, though, and you should, too.

According to my textbook, and it should be fairly accurate since it was published in 2008 and cost me a fortune, we do a poor job of managing our water resources. I think we can all agree on that, since we all know that there is always media coverage about one drought or another. Unfortunately, as with most things, the media is paying attention to the wrong thing. Droughts are devastating, but what's even more devasting is what we are doing to ourselves. Droughts are part of nature, but the damage we're causing to the hydrologic cycle is not.

You may have heard of the Aral Sea. It is a freshwater lake located in the former Soviet Union.  In the 1930s the Soviet regime decided that the area surrounding the sea could grow cotton if it were irrigated. The regime wanted to become the world's largest exporter of cotton, so the two large rivers flowing into the Aral were tapped for irrigation water. By 1960, millions of hectacres of land came under irrigation, and the Soviet Union became the world's second-largest cotton exporter. The project was deemed an enormous success. However, the water the sea was receiving was reduced to zero by the 1980s, and the sea began to shrink.

Death came quickly. Because no new water was entering the lake, the salinity began to increase, and the lake's ecology was devastated. The first to succumb was the fishing industry that had employed 60,000. As the lake continued to shrink, eventually reaching a tenth of its original size, the exposed lake bed caused pollution and choked people for miles around. The population around the lake suffers from increased cancer and a higher infant mortality. The climate changed, and the gowing season shortened. Farmers switched from growing cotton to rice. Animal species unique to the have become extinct.  The lake is now three times as salty as the ocean, and the only life it sustains is brine shrimp.

Stupid, right? But, it was those ignorant Soviets, and something like that could never happen again, right? Not necessarily. The Rio Grande, the second-largest river in the United States, disappears about 300 feet from the Gulf of Mexico because its waters are drawn down all along its course for domestic use and irrigation. The Colorado River is almost completely drained by the United States before it reaches Mexico. The Dead Sea may disappear by 2050 because its inflow of fresh water is diverted by both Israel and Jordan. The extinction of any of these bodies of water would have devastating consequences on the world.

And what about the water that comes out of our taps? Are we cautious about its use? No, we are not. A developing-nation family living where one must spend most of the day finding and carrying water finds that one gallon per person per day is sufficient to provide for all of its essential needs, including cooking and washing. In contrast, a typical household in the United States consumes an average of 100 gallons per person per day. If all indirect uses are added, this figure increases to 1,300 gallons per person per day. That's crazy! Obviously, we don't appreciate water for the precious resource that it is. And, if we had to work harder than turning a faucet on, we would be very conservative in its uses. As with most things, we in the United States are blessed and don't even know it. 40% of the world's food is grown in irrigated soils, and present-day irrigation wastes huge amounts of water. Much of the water applied is lost to evaporation, percolation, or runoff. Farmers have no incentive to install new water-saving methods, though. The drip irrigation system can reduce water use by as much as 70%, but costs about $1,000 per acre to install. In comparison, water for irrigation is heavily subsidized by the government, so farmers pay next to nothing for it. And neither do you or I. 

I intend to educate my family on the importance of water conservation, and I wish the schools did a better job. What I've written here should be taught to every child in school, so that they can learn to look at water in a new light. I also intend to be more responsible with our use (or waste) of water.

I believe I'll have a glass of water. I promise to use it well.

Strategic Default???

I watched the news tonight. Big mistake. I have been repeating "Serenity Now, Serenity Now," or, as Frank Costanza advises, "Hoochie Momma!" It isn't working because my blood pressure must be in the stratosphere. There really is no telling what will set me off these days. The last time it was tipping. I bet you're wondering what it is this time. I'm glad you asked! Well, my friends, it's a practice called "Strategic Defaulting." Yes, that's right. A newly coined term to go along with the burst of the housing bubble. A justification for losers to walk away from their home loans, when they can pay. How...charming.

NBC featured a loser who explained that his (very nice) house in Florida was valued at $200,000+ when he purchased it, but now it is valued at $134,000. I will be the first to admit: that sucks! However, instead of making the best of it and paying, this guy has decided to walk away. Yep, he's defaulting on his loan. As he put it, why should he continue to pay his mortgage and cut back on the other things he enjoys, when his house just isn't worth it?

Is he serious? Why? He wants to know WHY???? I'll tell him why! Because it's the right thing to do! How many times have you inquired about a loan for something and been told that you could afford xxx amount, and you knew that was ridiculous? I haven't tried it lately, but back when I was buying a house it happened all the time. SURE, I thought. I could afford that IF I never spent a dime on anything else, but that was stupid. Hey, toots, ever heard of the saying, "Too good to be true?" Do you live in the real world? Are you going to need money in the future for home repairs, illnesses, car repairs, vacations, hell, even FOOD? That's what I thought! Did a banker hold a gun to your head and make you assume that mortgage? No, he did not. You made an agreement.

But, this shameless character isn't even saying that he can't pay, or that he was taken advantage of, or that he didn't know what he was getting into. He isn't one of the misled who assumed an adjustable rate mortgage and is now looking at a payment twice what it originally was. No, he's saying that he chooses not to pay. Yes, he knows that his credit will "suffer" for 7 years, and he will have to rent. He's okay with that. Well, you know what I say? I say that idiots like him hurt us all. I say that the people who faithfully make their payments and meet their obligations will end up paying for him and every other person who "strategically defaults" on a loan. We will pay in the form of higher interest rates and a bad economy. I say that he is a thief. I say that he is a dishonorable man. I say that his feet should be held to the fire; his wages should be garnished to pay that loan. He should be forced to keep his promise to pay. Would he hang in there and wait for the tide to turn if that were the case? Maybe. Maybe not. You know, some people have to be made to do the right thing, and some people never will, no matter what. But, isn't it worth a shot?

Well, I suppose I am finished with my rant. Good luck. I have a crappy house I cant rent to you. You loser. 

Oh, for more information check out the website www.youwalkaway.com. 

Nice. Real nice.

The Scoop on Poop - bird, that is...

Have you ever heard that getting pooped on by a bird is lucky? I have. As a matter of fact, I read it in Judy Blume's Starring Sally J. Friedman as Herself when I was about 9 or 10 years old. I have been pooped on by a bird twice that I remember. The very first time was in the summer, and my family was getting ready to go camping. The ice cream truck came by, and my friend Katie and I ran to the street to buy some ice cream. We were returning to my house when PLOP, a bird got me. It was on my arm, warm and gross! I held my arm out and ran to the house; I couldn't wait to wash it off! My family sat in the car in the driveway, while I ran in and cleaned it off. Yuck! The second time was when I was watching Nathan play baseball, and we were heading to Florida right after the game. I had on my favorite t-shirt, and PLOP, suddenly there was runny, gross bird poop on the sleeve of my shirt! This time I was really aggravated, because the poop had berry seeds in it, I had no way to clean it off, and I was soon getting in the car for a 12 hour drive! You know, I was never able to get that stain out of my t-shirt...

So, I have always wondered about birds and their pooping, and their dying, too. What are the odds of getting pooped on by a bird, I wonder? And, isn't it odd that we don't see more dead birds? I realize most birds spend time in trees, and they probably die while sitting on a branch or something, but doesn't it stand to reason that occasionally a bird's heart stops in flight? It's a wonder we don't get hit in the head with a dead bird!

How many birds are in the world, anyway? Well, how many are in the United States?  I looked and, of course, found it on the Internet, the source of all knowledge. Through some complicated calculations involving bird census and square miles (my brain read it as blah, blah, blah) the estimate is that North America may support 10-15 billion birds in spring, and 20-30 billion in fall. That's a lot of birds! And some of them poop 50 times a day! Fifty times a day. There are approximately 528 million people in North America, and if I could, I would do something impressive with those numbers. I can't, so I will simply say that I don't think it's good luck to be pooped on by a bird. No, I now believe it's good luck not to!

Good luck avoiding the birds, and remember, if you hear birds flying over,  don't look up!

                                                               

Chickens Have Earlobes?

The spouse and I got into an argument today, and I really can't remember what sparked it. But it was about eggs. That's right; eggs. He complained that I don't let him buy, nor do I buy, brown eggs, to which I responded that they taste different. I don't like brown eggs. He then opined that there is no difference nutritionally, or in taste, between white and brown eggs, and I disagreed. It kind of went downhill from there, leading me to Google the question, "Is there a difference between brown and white eggs?" 

Interestingly, there is a woman named Amy Batal, PhD, who is an assistant professor of poultry nutrition at the University of Georgia. What a job she has! Anyway, Dr. Batal says that the color of the shell has nothing to do with quality or nutritional value. It turns out that egg color is determined by the breed of the hen. Breeds with white earlobes lay white eggs, while breeds with red earlobes lay brown eggs. Consumer preference drives the demand for egg color: Americans prefer their eggs white, which is why you'll see row after row of white eggs at the supermarket. Europeans, however, favor brown eggs.

Wait, what was that? Chickens have earlobes? Unfortunately, I don't have a chicken handy, or I would certainly have a look for myself. I guess I will have to trust the doctor on that one, but it makes me wonder why most "farm fresh eggs" are brown, meaning the hen has red earlobes. Are white-earlobed chickens more expensive? Is there some underlying reason farmers choose red-earlobed chickens? 

After I announced my findings, the spouse triumphantly exclaimed, "SEE! I told you there was no difference between white and brown eggs!" I calmly responded, "OK, then why do you prefer brown?" He changed the subject and left the room...

So, there you have it. The expert and my husband say there is no difference between brown eggs and white. I say there is.

Of course, I am right...

Disappeared

What could be worse than never knowing what happened to someone you loved? Even an unsolved murder pales in comparison to the mystery of a disappearance.  As terrible as a death is, and as hard as it may be to accept, at least there is an end.  At least the outcome is known. The disappearance of a loved one is a story without an end, and the anguish of those left behind is unimaginable. 

The following was written by Glenn Schmitt, Acting Director, National Institute of Justice, and appears on the website http://www.dna.gov/identifying-persons/missing-persons/missing-persons-projects:

"On any given day, there are as many as 100,000 active missing persons cases in the United States, and every year, tens of thousands of people vanish under suspicious circumstances. Missing persons and unidentified human remains (UHR) investigations-—particularly, if a case goes cold—present a tremendous challenge for financially strapped state and local law enforcement agencies.

The Nation's missing persons and UHR problem is compounded by the following facts:

1. There are more than 40,000 human remains held in the property rooms of medical examiners, coroners, and police departments across the country that cannot be identified by conventional means.


2.Out of these 40,000 cases, only 6,000 have been entered into the National Crime Information Center (NCIC) database. Twenty-five percent of the 6,000 cases are known homicides, and another 25 percent are likely homicides.


3.Many cities and counties continue to bury or cremate unidentified remains without an attempt to collect DNA.


4.Many crime laboratories are unable to perform a timely DNA analysis of human remains, especially when they are old or have degraded.


The National Institute of Justice (NIJ) is working to help local jurisdictions meet these challenges through the President's DNA Initiative, a 5-year, $1 billion plan to maximize the use of DNA technology in the criminal justice system. The NIJ is funding projects to eliminate backlogs of unanalyzed DNA samples from sexual assault and murder cases; stimulate DNA research and development; promote state legislation requiring that DNA samples be taken before cremation or burial of UHR; and train the criminal justice community on DNA technology.


In one of the NIJ's projects, DNA identification methods such as those featured in the TV drama CSI are offered to law enforcement in the real world. At the Center for Human Identification (CFHI) at the University of North Texas Health and Science Center in Fort Worth, any state or local law enforcement agency can have nuclear (STR) and mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA) testing performed at no charge. Tests are provided for human remains and for reference samples provided by families of missing persons. The CFHI also performs examinations on human remains (also at no charge) to determine the manner and cause of death. The DNA profiles are then uploaded to the CFHI's special database for searching nationwide.


The NIJ's funding of this revolutionary project means that every jurisdiction has access to one of only three laboratories in the country (the other two are run by the FBI and the California Department of Justice) capable of searching both mtDNA and STR profiles. The CFHI's work continues to solve missing persons and UHR cases, like the recent "cold hit" in the Marci Bachmann investigation.


Marci Bachmann was 16 years old when she ran away from her Vancouver, Washington, home in May 1984. Although her remains were found a few months later near Deer Creek in Missoula, Montana, and information on "Debbie Deer Creek" was entered into the NCIC, a connection to Marci was not made. And, less than two years later, the entering agency removed her missing persons entry after receiving a report that Marci was spotted near Seattle. However, the sighting wasn't Marci, and her remains lay in a Missoula morgue for the next 20 years.

The case couldn't have been colder when, in 2004, a Missoula detective heard about the CFHI and sent a femur from Debbie Deer Creek's remains to the lab. The CFHI's scientists ran DNA tests and uploaded the profile into the database. Meanwhile, in a completely unrelated investigation, detectives working the Green River murders in King County, Washington, came across Marci's missing persons file. When a telephone call to Marci's mother revealed that Marci was still missing, they secured a DNA sample from Marci's mother and sent it to the CFHI. The database revealed a potential match with the remains of Debbie Deer Creek. After DNA from Marci's brother and father was also then analyzed at the CFHI, on April 6—over 21 years after her body was unearthed from a shallow grave—Marci Bachmann was "found." Investigation revealed that Marci had been murdered by Missoula serial killer Wayne Nance.


Neither chance nor luck The CFHI’s program manager George Adams quotes from Vernon Geberth’s Practical Homicide Investigation: Tactics, Procedures, and Forensic Techniques when he talks about “cold hits” like the one that occurred in the Bachmann case.


“Solving a cold case like Marci’s is not a matter of chance or luck,” Adams said. “It is a matter of design and protocol.”

The “design” is the CFHI’s “CODIS + Mito” database, and the “protocol” is intended to work like this: If a missing person is not found within 30 days, a family reference sample, such as DNA from a close relative (using a buccal cheek swab) or a personal item (like a comb or a toothbrush) belonging to the missing person, is sent to the CFHI. The sample is analyzed, using both STR and mtDNA methodologies, and the profile is uploaded to the database. Meanwhile, human remains, wherever they are found, anywhere in the country, are sent to the CFHI for analysis.


“If we already have the family reference sample, we will get a match,” Adams said. No longer does solving a missing persons or UHR case have to depend on a break in the investigation because, he added, “we now have the ‘design and protocol’ of pure science.”


However, getting hits that help solve missing persons and UHR cases is dependent on the CFHI’s receipt of family reference samples to load into the database.


“We’ve seen a tremendous increase in the number of remains samples, but we really need to work on getting family reference samples,” said Dr. Arthur Eisenberg, a member of the Missing Persons National Task Force and the person who heads up the CFHI. “If families don’t send reference or biological samples—which, at this stage, must be collected by a law enforcement official—human remains cannot be identified.”


The challenge is to spread the word that this free resource is available. And, as word spreads, it is hoped that the CFHI’s DNA analyses and database will come to be regarded not as a tool of last resort in a missing person or UHR case but as a primary investigative tool."

CSI meets the real world Contact CFHI

1-800-763-3147

missingpersons@hsc.unt.edu

Cool New Technology

This would be a nice show to catch. I don't have a lot of new gadgets; I remember reading the definition of "laggard" in marketing class many moons ago, and thinking that it applied to me. I do, however, appreciate the new and improved, and think it's really cool to look at. 

Check it out at Cool Stuff Unveiled at the Consumer Electronics Show

7 of the Deadliest Threats to Humanity

This video is sensationalized, but worth watching.  I really like Neil deGrasse Tyson; he seems pretty cool for an astrophysicist.  Or maybe all astrophysicists are cool?

Modern Family

I haven't found anything on TV this likeable since "The Office."

The Sleeping Prophet

Edgar Cayce was born near Hopkinsville, KY, on March 18, 1877.  Cayce was known as a psychic and a faith healer. For over 40 years of his life, Cayce would lie down on a couch with his hands folded over his stomach and enter a self-induced sleep-state. In this state he would be given  the name and location of a person anywhere in the world and he would give answers to any question asked about that person.  He called the answers "readings" and a stenographer would write them down, keep a copy for Cayce's files, and mail another to the person who had requested the information.  Cayce numbered the readings instead of using names, and he never charged for them.  There are more than 14,000 copies of readings on file at the Association for Research and Enlightenment in Virginia Beach, VA.  Think about it: Cayce averaged a reading a day for 40 years.  That is incredible, considering the readings took at least a half-hour each and drained Cayce mentally and physically. The readings discuss 10,000 topics, and range from ESP to the lost civilization of Atlantis.

Information about Cayce and the A.R.E. can be found at  www.edgarcayce.org.

For an opposing view, the Skeptic's Dictionary discusses Cayce at http://skepdic.com/cayce.html.  

For an interesting video about Cayce, see:  Decoding the Past - The Other Nostradamus. 

Cayce died in 1945, and is buried in Hopkinsville.