in addition to fiction, natural history, biography and history, once in a while i enjoy a solid work of science fiction. "solid" meaning well-grounded in physics, math, and astronomy. which narrows the field of eligible writers to an elite few, preeminent among whom is gregory benford, who has a PhD in physics, as well as a fecund imagination. i just finished one of his s.f. novels, Beyond Infinity. below please find a sampling of his wit and command of language:
~ hello, and welcome to my anecdote.
~ this reminds me of the time i felt deja vu.
~ i always wanted to be someone. (pause) maybe i should have been more specific.
~ the intellectual breeds of humans think in terms of abstractions. but most people have emotions and think that they are having ideas.
~ (referring to saintly types) they seldom have redeeming vices.
~ the past is not over. it is not even past.
~ i started out with nothing and still have most of it.
~ disasters, rather than being blows against life, were inevitable sways, bringing rejuvenation along with death. wildfires cleared tree canopies, letting in sunlight. floods swept silt from gravel beds, renewing river plains and deltas. nature's nature was change. it was not a museum.
~ this, even little children learned. that rapid selection pressure operated on what already existed. it added capability to minds, layering rather than snipping away parts that worked imperfectly. the human brain was always being retrofitted, and showed its origins in its cumbersome, layered workings.
~ though sunlight fell with the square of the distance from the sun, the available volume rose as the cube.
~ one of your philosophers remarked that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught. you must live through your world.
11 August 2008
08 August 2008
TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK
ok so what is the speed of dark?
this one got me thinking. we can approach it from several directions.
~ the speed of light is roughly 186,000 miles per second (mps). that's fast enough for a photon of light to circle the earth 7.75 times in one second ! assuming for the sake of argument (and i know there are those who will propose exceptions) that, as einstein posited, no matter can travel faster than the speed of light, then that speed is the upper limit for how fast light or matter can travel. so is it reasonable to deduce that the speed of dark might be the lower speed limit, i.e. zero? no motion. no energy. nothing. as in, deep space.
~ ah, but we know that deep space is anything but empty or sans energy. so, noting that 186,000 mps is a positive value, might the speed of dark be a negative value, something less than zero, say minus 186,000 mps? bends your mind a little, doesn't it? think of the implications for the space/time continuum. we might have events happening before they happen.
~ alternatively, think of the color wheel that we all had to construct in fine arts 101. three prime colors (red, yellow, blue in pigments) with initial blendings between them (orange, green, purple), and further gradations ad infinitum. but wait, where's black? absent, dear reader, because black is precisely the absence of color, not a color itself. extending this reasoning -- if that it be -- if darkness is the absence of light, then can it be said to have quality associated with either matter or energy? like, speed? back to zero. hmm.
i think there are scores of ways of approaching this, and i'd love to hear some of them. please feel free to add your thoughts by clicking on "comments". if you don't, i will feel sorely let down. ball's in your court ...
this one got me thinking. we can approach it from several directions.
~ the speed of light is roughly 186,000 miles per second (mps). that's fast enough for a photon of light to circle the earth 7.75 times in one second ! assuming for the sake of argument (and i know there are those who will propose exceptions) that, as einstein posited, no matter can travel faster than the speed of light, then that speed is the upper limit for how fast light or matter can travel. so is it reasonable to deduce that the speed of dark might be the lower speed limit, i.e. zero? no motion. no energy. nothing. as in, deep space.
~ ah, but we know that deep space is anything but empty or sans energy. so, noting that 186,000 mps is a positive value, might the speed of dark be a negative value, something less than zero, say minus 186,000 mps? bends your mind a little, doesn't it? think of the implications for the space/time continuum. we might have events happening before they happen.
~ alternatively, think of the color wheel that we all had to construct in fine arts 101. three prime colors (red, yellow, blue in pigments) with initial blendings between them (orange, green, purple), and further gradations ad infinitum. but wait, where's black? absent, dear reader, because black is precisely the absence of color, not a color itself. extending this reasoning -- if that it be -- if darkness is the absence of light, then can it be said to have quality associated with either matter or energy? like, speed? back to zero. hmm.
i think there are scores of ways of approaching this, and i'd love to hear some of them. please feel free to add your thoughts by clicking on "comments". if you don't, i will feel sorely let down. ball's in your court ...
03 August 2008
TUNNEL VISION
in today's online NYTimes there was an illuminating article on something just about all of us encounter to a degree -- a situation in which one must make a choice based on both expediency and principle. such decisions can be the hardest for anyone to make, and often the coin toss rests on whether anyone is watching or not, even for the most righteous among us. (see "feel the eyes upon you" at http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/03/opinion/03Judson.html?ex=1218427200&en=94b8048458ce19bc&ei=5070&emc=eta1 )
in this instance, it is a driving situation, in which multiple lanes of traffic must merge down into two lanes. the article's author is perceptive and funny, and has her finger on the pulse of contesting impulses most of us feel when faced with the choice between conforming to an unspoken rule, or defying it to further one's own progress. do we display our virtue by merging early, or do we zoom up that empty lane past the conformist sheep, knowing that up ahead some kind soul will probably let us in? check out the article, and see if it alters your own perception of which is the proper choice. you may be surprised. (see "the urge to merge" at http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/03/magazine/03traffic-t.html?ex=1218427200&en=66e0ac52c8a9fdbc&ei=5070&emc=eta1 )
in this instance, it is a driving situation, in which multiple lanes of traffic must merge down into two lanes. the article's author is perceptive and funny, and has her finger on the pulse of contesting impulses most of us feel when faced with the choice between conforming to an unspoken rule, or defying it to further one's own progress. do we display our virtue by merging early, or do we zoom up that empty lane past the conformist sheep, knowing that up ahead some kind soul will probably let us in? check out the article, and see if it alters your own perception of which is the proper choice. you may be surprised. (see "the urge to merge" at http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/03/magazine/03traffic-t.html?ex=1218427200&en=66e0ac52c8a9fdbc&ei=5070&emc=eta1 )
01 August 2008
THIS IS YOUR BRAIN ON BOOKS
i'm just finishing a mind-boggling book called The Brain That Changes Itself, by norman doidge, m.d. the central theme is neuroplasticity, a fundamental brain property describing the manner and degree to which our physical brain cells can adapt, reorganize, and regenerate, whether in response to environmental conditions or to our own focused efforts to retrain ourselves.
it is a marvelous and comprehensive journey, touching upon everything from sexual attraction, love, memory, pain, imagination, neuroses, obsessions, sensory perceptions, physical brain trauma, and on and on.
while the concept of building new neural pathways is not new, this book presents the biochemical, anatomical, and physiological research and anecdotal evidence in a manner that is accessible to the lay reader, while still engaging to those with a background in science. it contains insights into thought and behavior that just about anyone will find useful -- those little light bulb "aha!" moments that illumunate one's own life. highest recommendation!!!
it is a marvelous and comprehensive journey, touching upon everything from sexual attraction, love, memory, pain, imagination, neuroses, obsessions, sensory perceptions, physical brain trauma, and on and on.
while the concept of building new neural pathways is not new, this book presents the biochemical, anatomical, and physiological research and anecdotal evidence in a manner that is accessible to the lay reader, while still engaging to those with a background in science. it contains insights into thought and behavior that just about anyone will find useful -- those little light bulb "aha!" moments that illumunate one's own life. highest recommendation!!!
30 July 2008
CAN'T HELP MYSELF
there's a gathering of hell's angels in missoula right now. no big deal, mostly aging baby boomers out to recapture their younger days. marlon brando or lee marvin in "the wild one", they're not.
sadly, the contingent from north dakota didn't make it. it seems that when they got into montana, they didn't get past the first pull-out with a sign reading "chain removal area".
(this will only make sense to you if you've driven mountain highways in winter, when snow chains are required....and if you realize that most true hogs are belt or chain-driven. myself, i'll always opt for a shaft drive, very reliable and maintenance-free.)
a long way to go to explain a short joke.
sadly, the contingent from north dakota didn't make it. it seems that when they got into montana, they didn't get past the first pull-out with a sign reading "chain removal area".
(this will only make sense to you if you've driven mountain highways in winter, when snow chains are required....and if you realize that most true hogs are belt or chain-driven. myself, i'll always opt for a shaft drive, very reliable and maintenance-free.)
a long way to go to explain a short joke.
26 July 2008
CHUBASCO
in southern arizona, as in southeast asia, each year seasonally rains appear, driven by planetary weather engines like heat, humidity and prevailing winds. one feature of the arizona desert monsoon is the chubasco, a violent squall often accompanied by thunder and lightning.
this morning, during my daily check of the university of arizona webcam, i discovered that the site features a vault of time-lapse videos, http://www.cs.arizona.edu/camera/vault/ , including one on 26 june showing the arrival of the season's first chubasco. in addition, the 5 september 2007 video is a most impressive recording of a violent desert thunderstorm's arrival over the santa catalina mountains. check'm out !
this morning, during my daily check of the university of arizona webcam, i discovered that the site features a vault of time-lapse videos, http://www.cs.arizona.edu/camera/vault/ , including one on 26 june showing the arrival of the season's first chubasco. in addition, the 5 september 2007 video is a most impressive recording of a violent desert thunderstorm's arrival over the santa catalina mountains. check'm out !
25 July 2008
AND YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS
today is 25 july. which means .... only five months until christmas. it's not too early to start planning your gift for me.
i'm pursuing a new project. or more accurately, reviving an old one. i've owned and ridden motorcycles off and on for nearly forty years. but it's been fifteen years since i sold my last bike -- after a serious traffic accident, my ex told me "the bike goes, or i go". i obliged, sadly. but since she's now been an ex for over four years, that particular barrier no longer exists.
my first bike was a classic 1963 Triumph Bonneville 650. if i were to hear one today, i could still identify that distinctive sound. a cold start meant tapping the "tickler" a few times, essentially priming the carburator with fuel, which was a quirk on these brit bikes. it was even colored british racing green. i bought it for $600 cash from a guy named alan in tucson, az. when he later mailed me the owner's manual (this was a lot of bike for a virgin rider), he enclosed a note which i still remember: "hope you enjoy the wheel. best friend stole my girl, army after my ass, what next." recall that in 1969 the vietnam war and the military draft were on every young man's mind. but i loved that bike. sold it to a lucky guy in houston, tx, where i was attending a computer school and couldn't keep up with the insurance payments on a car and a bike both.
the second bike was another Bonneville, this time a 1970, brand new, having returned to tucson. the 650cc displacement suited me well -- easy to maneuver on city streets, but heavy enough not to get blown around on the open road. goldenrod colored, with a black nike-like swoosh accent. easy rider.
the third bike was a burgandy '82 Honda Silver Wing, full dress with fairings, windshield, hard shell saddlebags and interchangeable trunk/passenger seat. man, i loved that bike. in sunny tucson, while attending the UA, it was my only vehicle for nearly two years, and with wet weather gear in the bags, it was all i needed. i loved being able to pull into any crowded parking lot and find a triangle of open space available to slip my bike into, right near the theater or store or whatever. '82 was the last year that Honda made the Silver Wing in 500cc, after that they went to 650.
i loved that bike best of all. i could be in the rottenest mood in the world, and all i had to do was saddle up and go for a relaxing ride on the swooping curving paved desert roads around tucson, returning the wave of a friendly saguaro, hearing and seeing and smelling all that clean desert ... and things would be right with the world.
alas, my neat little touring bike and i were in two near-fatal accidents. in both cases, once in tucson and once in philadelphia, a little old lady in a big ol' oldsmobile/cadillac, left the oncoming lane and turned left in front of me. both women claimed they didn't see me coming, even with clear dry conditions and my headlight on. whatever.
the first driver nearly missed, tagging my tail and sending me head-on into the opposite curb. i was out cold for a few minutes, and ended up with severely strained ankles, road rash on one knee, and in a wheelchair for a while. which gave me a real appreciation for what people with disabilities contend with in our society, but that's another story. my saddle bags were destroyed, but i got the rest of the bike repaired and running again.
the second driver had better timing. i think she was leading me a little, since she arrived at the collision spot before i did, hitting my front wheel. again i went cartwheeling through the air, landing on the sidewalk, out cold. the chin guard on my fullface helmet was cracked, which gives you an idea of the impact (and the effect if there'd been no helmet.) this time a fractured clavicle, separated left shoulder, slight concussion. the responding ambulance crew did their best to kill me too, trying to insert an IV while the vehicle was negotiating a curving bumpy road to the ER. but it was at this hospital that i discovered divine morphine, after eight excruciating hours on a wooden backboard. aftermath, a couple of months with my arm in a sling.
alas, poor Silver Wing, you were beyond repair this time. after keeping you around for consolation for a year, i sold you for parts. sigh.
but now i'm in montana, where a motorcycle license is life long. i'm studying the manual, will take the written test and then the MSF (motorcycle safety foundation) course in lieu of a performance test, and will have my license without having to actually buy a bike. that will come later. it'll just be nice, very nice, to have that motorcycle endorsement on my driver's license again, knowing i can go rent a BMW and spend a day out cruising with a friend. and someday, either a Honda Gold Wing or a BMW touring bike. maybe after flying lessons.
that's my story, and i'm sticking to it.
i'm pursuing a new project. or more accurately, reviving an old one. i've owned and ridden motorcycles off and on for nearly forty years. but it's been fifteen years since i sold my last bike -- after a serious traffic accident, my ex told me "the bike goes, or i go". i obliged, sadly. but since she's now been an ex for over four years, that particular barrier no longer exists.
my first bike was a classic 1963 Triumph Bonneville 650. if i were to hear one today, i could still identify that distinctive sound. a cold start meant tapping the "tickler" a few times, essentially priming the carburator with fuel, which was a quirk on these brit bikes. it was even colored british racing green. i bought it for $600 cash from a guy named alan in tucson, az. when he later mailed me the owner's manual (this was a lot of bike for a virgin rider), he enclosed a note which i still remember: "hope you enjoy the wheel. best friend stole my girl, army after my ass, what next." recall that in 1969 the vietnam war and the military draft were on every young man's mind. but i loved that bike. sold it to a lucky guy in houston, tx, where i was attending a computer school and couldn't keep up with the insurance payments on a car and a bike both.
the second bike was another Bonneville, this time a 1970, brand new, having returned to tucson. the 650cc displacement suited me well -- easy to maneuver on city streets, but heavy enough not to get blown around on the open road. goldenrod colored, with a black nike-like swoosh accent. easy rider.
the third bike was a burgandy '82 Honda Silver Wing, full dress with fairings, windshield, hard shell saddlebags and interchangeable trunk/passenger seat. man, i loved that bike. in sunny tucson, while attending the UA, it was my only vehicle for nearly two years, and with wet weather gear in the bags, it was all i needed. i loved being able to pull into any crowded parking lot and find a triangle of open space available to slip my bike into, right near the theater or store or whatever. '82 was the last year that Honda made the Silver Wing in 500cc, after that they went to 650.
i loved that bike best of all. i could be in the rottenest mood in the world, and all i had to do was saddle up and go for a relaxing ride on the swooping curving paved desert roads around tucson, returning the wave of a friendly saguaro, hearing and seeing and smelling all that clean desert ... and things would be right with the world.
alas, my neat little touring bike and i were in two near-fatal accidents. in both cases, once in tucson and once in philadelphia, a little old lady in a big ol' oldsmobile/cadillac, left the oncoming lane and turned left in front of me. both women claimed they didn't see me coming, even with clear dry conditions and my headlight on. whatever.
the first driver nearly missed, tagging my tail and sending me head-on into the opposite curb. i was out cold for a few minutes, and ended up with severely strained ankles, road rash on one knee, and in a wheelchair for a while. which gave me a real appreciation for what people with disabilities contend with in our society, but that's another story. my saddle bags were destroyed, but i got the rest of the bike repaired and running again.
the second driver had better timing. i think she was leading me a little, since she arrived at the collision spot before i did, hitting my front wheel. again i went cartwheeling through the air, landing on the sidewalk, out cold. the chin guard on my fullface helmet was cracked, which gives you an idea of the impact (and the effect if there'd been no helmet.) this time a fractured clavicle, separated left shoulder, slight concussion. the responding ambulance crew did their best to kill me too, trying to insert an IV while the vehicle was negotiating a curving bumpy road to the ER. but it was at this hospital that i discovered divine morphine, after eight excruciating hours on a wooden backboard. aftermath, a couple of months with my arm in a sling.
alas, poor Silver Wing, you were beyond repair this time. after keeping you around for consolation for a year, i sold you for parts. sigh.
but now i'm in montana, where a motorcycle license is life long. i'm studying the manual, will take the written test and then the MSF (motorcycle safety foundation) course in lieu of a performance test, and will have my license without having to actually buy a bike. that will come later. it'll just be nice, very nice, to have that motorcycle endorsement on my driver's license again, knowing i can go rent a BMW and spend a day out cruising with a friend. and someday, either a Honda Gold Wing or a BMW touring bike. maybe after flying lessons.
that's my story, and i'm sticking to it.
22 July 2008
I'M SO CONFUSED
yesterday we broke 100 dF for the first time this summer, and i thought i was back in tucson. today it was cloudy and rainy, and about 30 degrees cooler. lovely. for a while i thought i was back in the vancouver/portland area. if tomorrow brings flashbacks to charleston (hurricane hugo), i'm moving to tahiti ! !
20 July 2008
CHINO AIR SHOW
gracias a mi VIEJA amiga irene in tucson, herself a pilot, for providing this link to a set of truly high quality images of WWII warbirds. my personal favorites are the P-40 Warhawk (flying tiger), and the twin fuselage P-38 Lightning. check'm out!
http://home.comcast.net/~bzee1b/Chino/Chino.html
a new friend and i were talking on the phone about flying (among many other topics), and we agreed that the ultimate pilot accomplishment is to land a jet fighter on a carrier deck. PBS recently aired a series titled (coincidence? i think not) "Carrier". each episode featured interviews with the mostly young residents of these floating cities, everyone from pilots to cooks to munitions personnel to flight deck crew. very interesting, even if you're not a plane freak.
http://home.comcast.net/~bzee1b/Chino/Chino.html
a new friend and i were talking on the phone about flying (among many other topics), and we agreed that the ultimate pilot accomplishment is to land a jet fighter on a carrier deck. PBS recently aired a series titled (coincidence? i think not) "Carrier". each episode featured interviews with the mostly young residents of these floating cities, everyone from pilots to cooks to munitions personnel to flight deck crew. very interesting, even if you're not a plane freak.
14 July 2008
13 July 2008
GAIA
my thanks to my friend bill for sending me the following links detailing the career and evolutionary thought of lynn margulis. she is, by any measure, one of the most original thinkers of this or any other age, and has influenced the course of biological/evolutionary theory with penetrating intellect and accessible prose.
her discourse on endosymbiosis:
http://www.edge.org:80/documents/ThirdCulture/n-Ch.7.html
wikipedia biography:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lynn_Margulis
i was privileged to attend one of her guest lectures at the university of arizona, in the mid-1980s. the power of her insights and her conclusions was inescapable.
her discourse on endosymbiosis:
http://www.edge.org:80/documents/ThirdCulture/n-Ch.7.html
wikipedia biography:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lynn_Margulis
i was privileged to attend one of her guest lectures at the university of arizona, in the mid-1980s. the power of her insights and her conclusions was inescapable.
12 July 2008
DREAM FLEET
this is just for fun. following are links to several modes of conveyance. some appear on my fantasy list, others are just quirky. a few assume that the cost of fuel and purchase is no object, which does not describe my current incarnation. enjoy.
on land, four wheels:
smart car. http://www.smartusa.com/
toyota prius. http://www.toyota.com/prius-hybrid/
BMW Z4. http://www.bmwusa.com/Standard/Content/Vehicles/2008/z4/Z4Roadster30si/default.aspx
on land, two or three wheels:
BMW touring bike. http://www.bmwmotorcycles.com/bikes/bike.jsp?b=r1200rt
Honda touring bike. http://powersports.honda.com/Motorcycles/Touring_Sport_Touring/model.asp?ModelName=Gold%20Wing%20Audio/Comfort/Navi/ABS&ModelYear=2008&ModelId=GL18HPNA8&w=829&h=634
Piaggio scooter. http://thekneeslider.com/archives/2006/05/11/piaggio-3-wheel-mp3-scooter/
in the air:
SR-71 Blackbird. http://portal.aircraft-info.net/article12.html
Javelin. http://www.avtechgroup.com/index.asp
Diamond DA40 CS. http://www.diamondair.com/
in the water:
Perception kayaks. http://www.perceptionkayaks.com/
running the Grand Canyon. http://www.raftarizona.com/
Caribbean sailing. http://www.windjammer.com/
in space:
ah, that's a whole 'nother posting. until then.
on land, four wheels:
smart car. http://www.smartusa.com/
toyota prius. http://www.toyota.com/prius-hybrid/
BMW Z4. http://www.bmwusa.com/Standard/Content/Vehicles/2008/z4/Z4Roadster30si/default.aspx
on land, two or three wheels:
BMW touring bike. http://www.bmwmotorcycles.com/bikes/bike.jsp?b=r1200rt
Honda touring bike. http://powersports.honda.com/Motorcycles/Touring_Sport_Touring/model.asp?ModelName=Gold%20Wing%20Audio/Comfort/Navi/ABS&ModelYear=2008&ModelId=GL18HPNA8&w=829&h=634
Piaggio scooter. http://thekneeslider.com/archives/2006/05/11/piaggio-3-wheel-mp3-scooter/
in the air:
SR-71 Blackbird. http://portal.aircraft-info.net/article12.html
Javelin. http://www.avtechgroup.com/index.asp
Diamond DA40 CS. http://www.diamondair.com/
in the water:
Perception kayaks. http://www.perceptionkayaks.com/
running the Grand Canyon. http://www.raftarizona.com/
Caribbean sailing. http://www.windjammer.com/
in space:
ah, that's a whole 'nother posting. until then.
11 July 2008
09 July 2008
A SEMINAL BOOK
in my april 20 entry (check it for commentary), i highly recommended a book called With Speed and Violence: Why Scientists Fear Tipping Points in Climate Change, by fred pearce. the book was relentlessly informative and thought-provoking. i've now discovered another work which asks original questions and poses possible answers that are stunning and, to this sometimes-misanthrope, much to be desired. i refer to The World Without Us, by alan weisman.
the author asks us to imagine what our world was like before we evolved into large-brained, bipedal, opposable thumbed planet-wreckers; and also asks us to imagine how our world might recover if we were to suddenly, hypothetically, vanish overnight. he goes into wonderful detail in describing the processes of decay and collapse of nearly all things human, as well as the processes of recovery and regeneration as nature reclaims our earth, sometimes in quite unexpected directions. it is a grand and imaginative thought experiment, and a window into one possible future for everything we've ever seen or known.
[as luck would have it, much of one chapter (pp. 55-67) describes the career and controversial paleontological thinking of dr. paul s. martin at the university of arizona. paul was my de facto mentor, and remains a good friend, as he has done for hundreds of those who passed through his tutelage at the UA's desert laboratory on tumamoc hill, overlooking tucson from the west. in his environmental education class, he once described a guest speaker, dr. andrew weil, as a true renaissance man. paul is certainly another.]
so. i suppose one might say that while the first book is about the mechanics and consequences of human-caused climate change, the second is about the resulting changes if we were suddenly removed from the scene. equally fascinating, both.
the author asks us to imagine what our world was like before we evolved into large-brained, bipedal, opposable thumbed planet-wreckers; and also asks us to imagine how our world might recover if we were to suddenly, hypothetically, vanish overnight. he goes into wonderful detail in describing the processes of decay and collapse of nearly all things human, as well as the processes of recovery and regeneration as nature reclaims our earth, sometimes in quite unexpected directions. it is a grand and imaginative thought experiment, and a window into one possible future for everything we've ever seen or known.
[as luck would have it, much of one chapter (pp. 55-67) describes the career and controversial paleontological thinking of dr. paul s. martin at the university of arizona. paul was my de facto mentor, and remains a good friend, as he has done for hundreds of those who passed through his tutelage at the UA's desert laboratory on tumamoc hill, overlooking tucson from the west. in his environmental education class, he once described a guest speaker, dr. andrew weil, as a true renaissance man. paul is certainly another.]
so. i suppose one might say that while the first book is about the mechanics and consequences of human-caused climate change, the second is about the resulting changes if we were suddenly removed from the scene. equally fascinating, both.
08 July 2008
WALKING THE WALK
yesterday i watched an excellent 1947 movie that i had somehow overlooked over the years, "Gentleman's Agreement". gregory peck plays a journalist who presents himself as being jewish, in order to understand and expose the roots and manifestations of anti-semitism. the film isn't preachy or condescending, and in fact is quite subtle in its exploration of the nuances of bigotry. dorothy mcguire and john garfield also appear, and the movie was directed by elia kazan.
prejudice is something i've thought about and resisted all my life, including a few harrowing passages of self-change. it just makes no sense to eliminate a substantial fraction of the world's wonderfully diverse cultures from my life, simply because of the negative stereotypes which may be attached to them. that's like listening uncritically to every rumor you hear, and believing it. by putting all that stuff aside, i've make my life infinitely richer by becoming friends with people from a wealth of racial, cultural, and national origins. our world is a rich tapestry. why limit our enjoyment of it (thereby limiting our own potential for personal growth) by choosing to notice only certain colors, certain textures?
the device of passing oneself off as being from another social group was described in a similar manner in john howard griffin's book, Black Like Me. and of course, racism against blacks was further exposed in harper lee's 1960 pulitzer prize-winning book, To Kill A Mockingbird -- made into an oscar-winning film two years later, starring .... gregory peck. both his roles stirred controversy, and provoked much thought and self-examination in american discourse. which in my eyes is the highest form of praise.
i've been a de facto minority member several times in my life -- as an anglo among latino co-workers in southern arizona, as a white among black g.i.s in the army, as a male among militant feminist females in the university of arizona's women's studies program (in which i minored for a time). each experience was an eye-opener for me. not that i'm any kind of expert on what it's like to be latino, black or female in our white male-dominated society. just that i've a window onto that experience, sufficient to declare myself an ally, to speak up against prejudice even when mine is the only voice doing so, and even when the prejudiced person is a friend or family member. it is hard at times. but it is also, ultimately, cleansing and liberating.
try it, you'll like it.
prejudice is something i've thought about and resisted all my life, including a few harrowing passages of self-change. it just makes no sense to eliminate a substantial fraction of the world's wonderfully diverse cultures from my life, simply because of the negative stereotypes which may be attached to them. that's like listening uncritically to every rumor you hear, and believing it. by putting all that stuff aside, i've make my life infinitely richer by becoming friends with people from a wealth of racial, cultural, and national origins. our world is a rich tapestry. why limit our enjoyment of it (thereby limiting our own potential for personal growth) by choosing to notice only certain colors, certain textures?
the device of passing oneself off as being from another social group was described in a similar manner in john howard griffin's book, Black Like Me. and of course, racism against blacks was further exposed in harper lee's 1960 pulitzer prize-winning book, To Kill A Mockingbird -- made into an oscar-winning film two years later, starring .... gregory peck. both his roles stirred controversy, and provoked much thought and self-examination in american discourse. which in my eyes is the highest form of praise.
i've been a de facto minority member several times in my life -- as an anglo among latino co-workers in southern arizona, as a white among black g.i.s in the army, as a male among militant feminist females in the university of arizona's women's studies program (in which i minored for a time). each experience was an eye-opener for me. not that i'm any kind of expert on what it's like to be latino, black or female in our white male-dominated society. just that i've a window onto that experience, sufficient to declare myself an ally, to speak up against prejudice even when mine is the only voice doing so, and even when the prejudiced person is a friend or family member. it is hard at times. but it is also, ultimately, cleansing and liberating.
try it, you'll like it.
05 July 2008
ANOTHER 4th, SURVIVED
few situations hold fear or unease for me. i've dealt with violence, hostility, confrontation, abuse, neglect, character assassination, court disputes, and assorted other forms of civilized conduct in more forms than i can count. but there is an annual event which i dread -- the 4th of july. the explosions, bright flashes, choppers overhead, parachute flares, all conspire to bring up vivid memories of vietnam. it raises the hair on the back of my neck to notice how a string of firecrackers going off sounds like a firefight.
so each year i either find a remote place away from people altogether, or stay home and build an aural wall around me so i can't hear the noise. a shame, really -- people seem to genuinely enjoy the spectacle. and my PTSD isn't a fraction as severe as it is for many vets. at least i understand what stimulates mine, and can mostly manage my environment to remove the stimuli. mostly.
i wonder how the inclusion of fireworks originated? are we re-enacting the aerial bombardment of fort mchenry on september 14,, 1814, the scene which inspired our national anthem? wikipedia doesn't shed much light on why pyrotechnics and explosions have become such an obsession: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/4th_of_july maybe it's connected to the u.s. being a gun culture. i dunno. i'm not anti-firearms in principle, though in the hands of anyone but me, guns make me nervous. this includes hunters, criminals, and the police. i think spending a year in a jungle landscape where everyone is armed, and either intent on killing you or may kill you by accident, has something to do with it.
whatever. i can now breathe a deep sigh of relief. until next july.
so each year i either find a remote place away from people altogether, or stay home and build an aural wall around me so i can't hear the noise. a shame, really -- people seem to genuinely enjoy the spectacle. and my PTSD isn't a fraction as severe as it is for many vets. at least i understand what stimulates mine, and can mostly manage my environment to remove the stimuli. mostly.
i wonder how the inclusion of fireworks originated? are we re-enacting the aerial bombardment of fort mchenry on september 14,, 1814, the scene which inspired our national anthem? wikipedia doesn't shed much light on why pyrotechnics and explosions have become such an obsession: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/4th_of_july maybe it's connected to the u.s. being a gun culture. i dunno. i'm not anti-firearms in principle, though in the hands of anyone but me, guns make me nervous. this includes hunters, criminals, and the police. i think spending a year in a jungle landscape where everyone is armed, and either intent on killing you or may kill you by accident, has something to do with it.
whatever. i can now breathe a deep sigh of relief. until next july.
04 July 2008
A FAREWELL
i am in mourning. two days ago, during the last of our daily phone calls, my love interest revealed to me that she wanted to end our relationship. this was a bolt out of the blue, as she had been sitting on her negative feelings for some time without communicating them to me, or giving us a chance to work through them. as with any couple, there were little things in each of us that bugged the other. unlike most past relationships i've entered into, J and i shared a high degree of mutual empathy, humor, sensuality, and the willingness to risk sharing our thoughts and feelings into intimate realms others rarely dare to enter.
she has certain perceptions of my behavior which she finds oppressive. i think her perceptions are distorted (through lenses which i shall not reveal, out of respect for her privacy). in my view there is nothing we could not have solved. but she ultimately admitted that she doesn't want to put in the work needed for any solid relationship to succeed. she says she is content to live alone, enjoying her circle of friends and the recreational activities she pursues.
all of which is inconsistent with her having sought out a relationship online to begin with. but there've been a number of contradictions in her attitudes and behavior (this being my perception, which in turn may be distorted), which might have been interpreted as red flags. i chose to live in hope. i still do.
the usual platitudes like "it wasn't meant to be", or "the end of this will be the beginning of something better", occur. but they don't erase the pain i feel now, or the regret over the loss of a transcendent level of romance, emotional ease, and intellectual challenge. i know i'll survive, and thrive. as will she. i wish her only the best. how vivid are the memory of her laugh, her touch, the sight of her dancing eyes. J, i miss you.
she has certain perceptions of my behavior which she finds oppressive. i think her perceptions are distorted (through lenses which i shall not reveal, out of respect for her privacy). in my view there is nothing we could not have solved. but she ultimately admitted that she doesn't want to put in the work needed for any solid relationship to succeed. she says she is content to live alone, enjoying her circle of friends and the recreational activities she pursues.
all of which is inconsistent with her having sought out a relationship online to begin with. but there've been a number of contradictions in her attitudes and behavior (this being my perception, which in turn may be distorted), which might have been interpreted as red flags. i chose to live in hope. i still do.
the usual platitudes like "it wasn't meant to be", or "the end of this will be the beginning of something better", occur. but they don't erase the pain i feel now, or the regret over the loss of a transcendent level of romance, emotional ease, and intellectual challenge. i know i'll survive, and thrive. as will she. i wish her only the best. how vivid are the memory of her laugh, her touch, the sight of her dancing eyes. J, i miss you.
29 June 2008
M.I.A.
i'm gobsmacked that it's been a month since my last entry. a combination of working more hours, and pursuing a relationship with someone who lives 200 miles away. but no excuses, i need to discipline myself to make this a priority, since it is (among other things) a stepping stone toward writing professionally.
here in missoula, the seasons have changed with a vengeance. two weeks ago we had our last snow, which browned most of the exuberant lilac blooms which i so love, for their color and scent. it has been a long, cool, relatively wet spring. suddenly, starting with the solstice as though choreographed, it's summer, with temps in the high 90s. climate shock, almost as severe as the sticker shock at the gas pumps.
why is it that there are no mass demonstrations against the obscene windfall profits the oil companies are raking in? they whine about wanting permission to drill for oil in national wildlife refuges and other treasures we're saving for the future, yet they're sitting on already-approved oil reserves which they are NOT producing from. to paraphrase george c. scott in the movie "the hospital", the greed in this country is positively dazzling.
but then, we're missing public demonstrations against our decaying health care system, against bush's oil war in iraq, against any number of conditions and situations which affect the public. i miss the activism of the 60s and 70s. you hear polite echoes here and there, but nothing attention-grabbing. perhaps we've all become numb. or just plain tired from the effort to survive in this depressed economy.
about the only signs of life i've seen have been in the presidential race, especially in the intense public interest in both clinton and obama. i hope that clinton's supporters, the ones who churlishly say they'll vote for mccain rather than obama, will come to their senses and vote for their party's candidate. he won the nomination fair and square, and he's light years preferable to (with a nod to radio talk show host stephanie miller) old grampy mcsame. what an amazing year this has been, in which a woman and a black man emerged as the most charismatic and progressive contenders for the democratic nomination! old-guard mccain pales by comparison, in every sense of the word "pale". that rictus grin of his gives me the creeps.
but life and death and climate change have gone on, in spite of our apparent apathy. this summer the ice cap over the north pole is projected to melt off completely, leaving the polar region as open water for the first time in tens of thousands of years. "but...but...", say the polar bears as they either look on hungrily from shore, or sink into the watery abyss where they once hunted on ice. i won't say i told you so.
but i did, starting a quarter century ago, when i was a student in the ecology & evolutionary biology program at the university of arizona in tucson. it doesn't take a genius to understand the basics of the planet's cycles, or to grasp the implications of our interfering with the life processes that sustain us. one would think this information would be right up there with english, math, history, music, physics, art, and philosophy in the priorities of our school curricula. alas, no. we're too busy picking fights with other countries to tend to our own schools, our own elderly, our own health, or what the future will hold for our grandchildren.
here's an interesting exercise for you, one in which i indulge from time to time. if i were the surprise recipient of a million dollars, what would i do with the money? or why not, make it a billion. how and where would you spend/invest that money to improve life around you? take a moment with that.
now remind yourself that this is precisely the question we should be answering vigorously and publicly every day, with regard to how our government spends our money. we're all in this lifeboat together, folks.
here in missoula, the seasons have changed with a vengeance. two weeks ago we had our last snow, which browned most of the exuberant lilac blooms which i so love, for their color and scent. it has been a long, cool, relatively wet spring. suddenly, starting with the solstice as though choreographed, it's summer, with temps in the high 90s. climate shock, almost as severe as the sticker shock at the gas pumps.
why is it that there are no mass demonstrations against the obscene windfall profits the oil companies are raking in? they whine about wanting permission to drill for oil in national wildlife refuges and other treasures we're saving for the future, yet they're sitting on already-approved oil reserves which they are NOT producing from. to paraphrase george c. scott in the movie "the hospital", the greed in this country is positively dazzling.
but then, we're missing public demonstrations against our decaying health care system, against bush's oil war in iraq, against any number of conditions and situations which affect the public. i miss the activism of the 60s and 70s. you hear polite echoes here and there, but nothing attention-grabbing. perhaps we've all become numb. or just plain tired from the effort to survive in this depressed economy.
about the only signs of life i've seen have been in the presidential race, especially in the intense public interest in both clinton and obama. i hope that clinton's supporters, the ones who churlishly say they'll vote for mccain rather than obama, will come to their senses and vote for their party's candidate. he won the nomination fair and square, and he's light years preferable to (with a nod to radio talk show host stephanie miller) old grampy mcsame. what an amazing year this has been, in which a woman and a black man emerged as the most charismatic and progressive contenders for the democratic nomination! old-guard mccain pales by comparison, in every sense of the word "pale". that rictus grin of his gives me the creeps.
but life and death and climate change have gone on, in spite of our apparent apathy. this summer the ice cap over the north pole is projected to melt off completely, leaving the polar region as open water for the first time in tens of thousands of years. "but...but...", say the polar bears as they either look on hungrily from shore, or sink into the watery abyss where they once hunted on ice. i won't say i told you so.
but i did, starting a quarter century ago, when i was a student in the ecology & evolutionary biology program at the university of arizona in tucson. it doesn't take a genius to understand the basics of the planet's cycles, or to grasp the implications of our interfering with the life processes that sustain us. one would think this information would be right up there with english, math, history, music, physics, art, and philosophy in the priorities of our school curricula. alas, no. we're too busy picking fights with other countries to tend to our own schools, our own elderly, our own health, or what the future will hold for our grandchildren.
here's an interesting exercise for you, one in which i indulge from time to time. if i were the surprise recipient of a million dollars, what would i do with the money? or why not, make it a billion. how and where would you spend/invest that money to improve life around you? take a moment with that.
now remind yourself that this is precisely the question we should be answering vigorously and publicly every day, with regard to how our government spends our money. we're all in this lifeboat together, folks.
29 May 2008
MULTI-TASKING? NOT SO FAST.
a friend was describing to me a tv documentary she'd seen, in which it was demonstrated that drivers who insist on talking on their cell phones while operating their vehicles, have approximately the same focus available for the task at hand (driving) as someone who is drunk.
i've seen this documented in past studies, as far back as ten years ago. my friend went on to tell me that in just about any "multi-tasking" setting, the brain is capable of paying primary attention to only one task, with the other tasks getting extremely short shrift on the cerebral back burner.
if you'd like confirmation of this phenomenon, all you have to do is pay attention to the behavior of drivers talking on their cell phones. they wander within their traffic lane, they suddenly realize they're about to miss a turn and veer across traffic, cutting off other drivers, they experience near-misses with adjacent vehicles, with pedestrians, with lamp posts. in short, they are a deadly menace on the road. one might as well be asleep at the wheel of an UNguided missile on wheels.
this irresponsible and hazardous behavior should be illegal in all states, just as driving under the influence is illegal. only a handful of states have enacted legislation making it so. oh, parenthetically, the excuse of using headphones, ostensibly leaving both your hands free, holds no water. it is what is going on inside the brain that is at issue.
bottom line -- hang up and drive ! ! !
by the way, the brain's inability to "multi-task" has implications for all those eager employment ads which describe a fast-paced work environment which requires energy, drive, a cheerful smile, and the ability to multi-task. gee, sounds like they're asking for the impossible, doesn't it? well, they are. it's far more productive in terms of quality and quantity, to slow down and focus on doing each task in turn. surprise.
back to vehicles for a moment -- the same splitting of attention occurs when one is listening to the car radio. the next time you're cruising, whether listening to talk radio or to music, try turning it off and notice how much more attuned you are to what's going on around you. it could save your life.
i've seen this documented in past studies, as far back as ten years ago. my friend went on to tell me that in just about any "multi-tasking" setting, the brain is capable of paying primary attention to only one task, with the other tasks getting extremely short shrift on the cerebral back burner.
if you'd like confirmation of this phenomenon, all you have to do is pay attention to the behavior of drivers talking on their cell phones. they wander within their traffic lane, they suddenly realize they're about to miss a turn and veer across traffic, cutting off other drivers, they experience near-misses with adjacent vehicles, with pedestrians, with lamp posts. in short, they are a deadly menace on the road. one might as well be asleep at the wheel of an UNguided missile on wheels.
this irresponsible and hazardous behavior should be illegal in all states, just as driving under the influence is illegal. only a handful of states have enacted legislation making it so. oh, parenthetically, the excuse of using headphones, ostensibly leaving both your hands free, holds no water. it is what is going on inside the brain that is at issue.
bottom line -- hang up and drive ! ! !
by the way, the brain's inability to "multi-task" has implications for all those eager employment ads which describe a fast-paced work environment which requires energy, drive, a cheerful smile, and the ability to multi-task. gee, sounds like they're asking for the impossible, doesn't it? well, they are. it's far more productive in terms of quality and quantity, to slow down and focus on doing each task in turn. surprise.
back to vehicles for a moment -- the same splitting of attention occurs when one is listening to the car radio. the next time you're cruising, whether listening to talk radio or to music, try turning it off and notice how much more attuned you are to what's going on around you. it could save your life.
26 May 2008
MEMORIAL DAY
i am a vietnam veteran. each year, amid the cataclysm of lucrative store sales and general foolishness to which american commerce is prone, i tend to withdraw into reflection, and sorrow, and cynicism over the prospects for the human species. you probably wouldn't notice these thoughts on my face if you met me. by and large, vietnam vets learned a long time ago to stuff their feelings, a result of being treated like monsters rather than honorable citizen-soldiers. the word "hero" wasn't broadly applied to everyone in uniform, as it is today. but that's another issue, already addressed in a prior entry to this journal.
no, we who survived the jungle war in vietnam, contrary to the movie myth of the deranged PTSD homicidal lunatic, tend toward quietness. we carry unhealed wounds for years, sometimes lifetimes. ours is a private history, shared with fellow survivors in the language that we alone understand. each war creates its own culture among its veterans, it seems to me. WWII vets, korean vets, vietnam vets, gulf war vets, iraq/afghanistan vets each have their shared slang, shared fears, shared music, shared struggles. the patina overlaying these differences, the commonality which binds us into a larger group with a mutual language, is that of war. visit any cemetery or war memorial and you will see the light of recognition light in the eyes of military veterans as they regard their ancient foe -- war itself. no one who hasn't been through it can hope to understand the feelings, any more than i as a male can understand the amazing complex of joy and pain that a woman experiences during childbirth. i can try, i can imagine, i can even empathize. but i'll never know what it's really like.
which is why vets so often become isolated, especially vietnam vets. unlike those who returned from WWII, or those who are returning from iraq, we had no decompression, no psychological check-in, no chance to sort through our raging confusion. one day in march, 1969, i was in vietnam. twenty-four hours later i was discharged and set loose in san francisco. culture shock to the nth degree.
but i adapted, i blended in, i found ways to pass as a member of the counterculture. the monumental disconnect between my exterior life and my wartime past didn't hit for about fifteen years. in the interim, starting ten years after my return to the states, i'd been reading hungrily about the experiences of others who'd been there. i'd seen the smattering of (mostly terrible and non-representative) movies about vietnam. it all came together like a 2 X 4 between the eyes, one fourth of july evening. my partner at the time and the three kids in our blended family had gathered with others to view a huge fireworks display at the base of "A" mountain in tucson. with the arrival of darkness, a powerful combination of stimuli coalesced as they never had since the war. suddenly i realized that i was back in country, parachute flares slowly falling, lighting up the landscape in red, explosions going off, the wop-wop-wop of choppers overhead. i found myself drowning in the first full-fledged panic attack of my life. i made certain that my son was safe with my partner, then literally ran for my life into the darkness of the nearby desert, finally finding a shadowy corner behind an adobe building in which to crouch, my senses in disarray, my heart racing.
i eventually pulled myself together, of course, and life went on. but to this day i cannot be around fourth of july fireworks. the sound of strings of firecrackers going off sounds eerily like M16s in a firefight. the flashes, the darkness, the disembodied voices, the threat -- all are still there. the beast continues to prowl the earth, and it is hungry.
and isn't it odd (we humans are such a contrary, paradoxical, glorious and strange species) that i've never lost my interest in guns, so long as they are in my hands. someone else with a gun has my full attention, even if it's holstered on a cop's belt. kids with guns give me the heebie-jeebies.
so, we each find ways to manage our neuroses. my PTSD isn't nearly as debilitating as that of many vets, who saw and did more horrific things that i. but it's real enough. i don't think about it much, and i don't think that it rules my life. but on days of remembrance like today, i allow myself to be swept back to those other times, to remember the heat and the humidity and the gigantic insects and the landscape populated by folks who came up only to my shoulder, speaking a language that could be piercing and musical all at once. and i remember the faces. the voices. the laughter. the anger. the sweat. the boredom. the exhaustion of working twelve hours a day, seven days a week. the nervousness, never knowing whether the next incoming mortar round or rocket or sniper round might have your name on it. the friendships, forged in those inhuman conditions.
and the deaths. men i'd known for weeks, or a few days, or not at all, amid confusion and explosions and blood and missing limbs and spilling brains and screams and gunfire and yes, those thumping chopper rotor blades.
understand: these are sacred memories. sacred to my life history, sacred to the nation which sent us all into such an abysmally useless war, sacred to the families of those who never came back, or who came back missing pieces of themselves. i wouldn't wish the experience on anyone, nor would i care to live through it again myself. but it was a cauldron i survived, a harrowing passage which helped shape the man i was to become -- partner, father, seeker, role model, dreamer, world citizen.
as are we all, though we sometimes forget.
one last thing: each time you learn that someone is a military veteran, on any day of the year, please, please say "thank you". the sentiment has nothing to do with political beliefs, or patriotism, or sentimentality. it has to do with allowing that person, man or woman, to pause, look up, and feel recognized for their sacrifice. they will be humbled, and grateful. finally.
no, we who survived the jungle war in vietnam, contrary to the movie myth of the deranged PTSD homicidal lunatic, tend toward quietness. we carry unhealed wounds for years, sometimes lifetimes. ours is a private history, shared with fellow survivors in the language that we alone understand. each war creates its own culture among its veterans, it seems to me. WWII vets, korean vets, vietnam vets, gulf war vets, iraq/afghanistan vets each have their shared slang, shared fears, shared music, shared struggles. the patina overlaying these differences, the commonality which binds us into a larger group with a mutual language, is that of war. visit any cemetery or war memorial and you will see the light of recognition light in the eyes of military veterans as they regard their ancient foe -- war itself. no one who hasn't been through it can hope to understand the feelings, any more than i as a male can understand the amazing complex of joy and pain that a woman experiences during childbirth. i can try, i can imagine, i can even empathize. but i'll never know what it's really like.
which is why vets so often become isolated, especially vietnam vets. unlike those who returned from WWII, or those who are returning from iraq, we had no decompression, no psychological check-in, no chance to sort through our raging confusion. one day in march, 1969, i was in vietnam. twenty-four hours later i was discharged and set loose in san francisco. culture shock to the nth degree.
but i adapted, i blended in, i found ways to pass as a member of the counterculture. the monumental disconnect between my exterior life and my wartime past didn't hit for about fifteen years. in the interim, starting ten years after my return to the states, i'd been reading hungrily about the experiences of others who'd been there. i'd seen the smattering of (mostly terrible and non-representative) movies about vietnam. it all came together like a 2 X 4 between the eyes, one fourth of july evening. my partner at the time and the three kids in our blended family had gathered with others to view a huge fireworks display at the base of "A" mountain in tucson. with the arrival of darkness, a powerful combination of stimuli coalesced as they never had since the war. suddenly i realized that i was back in country, parachute flares slowly falling, lighting up the landscape in red, explosions going off, the wop-wop-wop of choppers overhead. i found myself drowning in the first full-fledged panic attack of my life. i made certain that my son was safe with my partner, then literally ran for my life into the darkness of the nearby desert, finally finding a shadowy corner behind an adobe building in which to crouch, my senses in disarray, my heart racing.
i eventually pulled myself together, of course, and life went on. but to this day i cannot be around fourth of july fireworks. the sound of strings of firecrackers going off sounds eerily like M16s in a firefight. the flashes, the darkness, the disembodied voices, the threat -- all are still there. the beast continues to prowl the earth, and it is hungry.
and isn't it odd (we humans are such a contrary, paradoxical, glorious and strange species) that i've never lost my interest in guns, so long as they are in my hands. someone else with a gun has my full attention, even if it's holstered on a cop's belt. kids with guns give me the heebie-jeebies.
so, we each find ways to manage our neuroses. my PTSD isn't nearly as debilitating as that of many vets, who saw and did more horrific things that i. but it's real enough. i don't think about it much, and i don't think that it rules my life. but on days of remembrance like today, i allow myself to be swept back to those other times, to remember the heat and the humidity and the gigantic insects and the landscape populated by folks who came up only to my shoulder, speaking a language that could be piercing and musical all at once. and i remember the faces. the voices. the laughter. the anger. the sweat. the boredom. the exhaustion of working twelve hours a day, seven days a week. the nervousness, never knowing whether the next incoming mortar round or rocket or sniper round might have your name on it. the friendships, forged in those inhuman conditions.
and the deaths. men i'd known for weeks, or a few days, or not at all, amid confusion and explosions and blood and missing limbs and spilling brains and screams and gunfire and yes, those thumping chopper rotor blades.
understand: these are sacred memories. sacred to my life history, sacred to the nation which sent us all into such an abysmally useless war, sacred to the families of those who never came back, or who came back missing pieces of themselves. i wouldn't wish the experience on anyone, nor would i care to live through it again myself. but it was a cauldron i survived, a harrowing passage which helped shape the man i was to become -- partner, father, seeker, role model, dreamer, world citizen.
as are we all, though we sometimes forget.
one last thing: each time you learn that someone is a military veteran, on any day of the year, please, please say "thank you". the sentiment has nothing to do with political beliefs, or patriotism, or sentimentality. it has to do with allowing that person, man or woman, to pause, look up, and feel recognized for their sacrifice. they will be humbled, and grateful. finally.
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