The consequences of caring

Note: If you're reading this expecting entertainment, you will be disappointed. If you're in the mood for reflective thought and, for better or worse, a dose of my own personal self-awareness you're in the right place.

So now my part of this is over. I'm heading home in the morning and then off to Florida with Ronnie the next day for a well-earned vacation. I've moved over to a hotel near the airport because I have a 6AM departure tomorrow. Whatever. I am completely disoriented as to what time or day it is at this point. Going into a situation this intense while completely exhausted has made the whole experience surreal.

Today was actually very low key. I went for a walk with my sister this morning. She's an excellent walking companion. Keeps a good pace, happy to talk or not talk. From basically nothing we've fashioned a pretty nice relationship over the past few years. It's a nice part of my life. We're pretty different but still have a lot in common, as one might expect from siblings 10 years apart in age and different genders but from the same family. There's a lot of my mom in both of us. We spent the afternoon just hanging out, we bought groceries, my sister made dinner, we all ate dinner. And it was great. She'll be here for a couple of more days, which will be great for everyone.

If nothing else, this trip has reminded me of the value of knowing what to hold onto and what to let go of. This is a struggle for me as a general rule, and the reminder doesn't necessarily make it easier but it does make it easier to see the necessity. Cute sentence structure aside, this is an important thing for me, because I've realized just over the past year or so that one of the results of being the person I am is that I can't not notice and I can't not understand and I can't not care. I have longed for the ability to transform myself into the clueless sitcom dad/guy who remains oblivious to whatever is going on around him. But it's not happening. I'm oblivious to almost nothing, and that's a problem if you can't let things go.

This was a goal for me during this break. I've gotten myself way too deep into too many things and needed some space to see my way out. I don't regret anything I've done, but I'm not really big on setting limits for myself (okay, maybe I should just say I'm not good at it) and I've always had confidence that I could take anything on and handle it. And I kind of can do that, but I'm now more aware of the emotional toll it takes. I'm a relative newcomer to emotional intelligence, so I'm always learning.

None of this has anything to do with today in particular. It's more that I've either hopped or tumbled off the treadmill, depending on whether or not you believe that the getting off was intentional. I think I knew it was necessary, and if coming into a end of life event doesn't shake you up a bit, there's something wrong with you. But more than that there is my relationship with my still living and breathing family, and these are the kinds of events that either pull you together or drive you apart. Fortunately, this was full of thankfulness and caring and genuine love. And let that be a lesson to me about what's really important. My cousins will struggle with the loss of their father but they will move on, in ways more positive than not.

The consequences of caring can affect you in all kinds of ways. I'll be the first to admit that I let them get the better of me from time to time, but I'd rather be out there and learn to deal with it than avoid the engagement in the first place. Most of my caring about people has been rewarding and soulful and in some cases really important to the people I care about. And I'll take the fallout any day, and in most cases not only don't I regret it but I'd probably do the same thing the next time around. I'll know how to handle things better but I don't think I'd change what I did.

I tell my students that one of the key questions you need to ask yourself are "Where am I and what am I doing?" And add in "how am I doing?" Well I'm here, and I'm being me, and I'm doing okay. And I'm heading home in a few hours. Things are good.

Not the end, but the next chapter

I woke up this morning to the not unexpected news that my uncle Mike had passed away not long after I'd left. He was at peace. I'll write more about him later; he was a remarkable man by any measure. The main immediate thing is that he died on his 103rd birthday, on Palm Sunday (he was a devout Catholic- more on that later), with his family at his side, hours after his friends had gathered to celebrate him, surrounded by love. It was a blessing and nobody deserved that kind of conclusion more than he.

I'm always reticent to talk about other people in my blog, because it's none of my business, so I will just riff a bit on how I feel.

I think I made it clear in my last post how strange the juxtaposition (how many of you knew how that word was spelled?) of celebration of and impending end of life was. Looking back on it less than 24 hours later it's clear to me just how totally fitting it was.

It's hard for me to isolate my feelings without going into too many details about Mike, (he was my mother's sister's husband) which is a whole 'nother essay. But I'll focus on a couple of particularly striking things. The first is that Mike had one arm. He had a hunting accident when he was a young man and had it amputated. The only thing I ever saw him need help with as a result of this deficit was cutting his food- he needed things like steak cut for him. He remained an avid sportsman for many many years and I remember watching him tying fishing lures onto his tine with hand and teeth. I also remember playing baseball with him on the front lawn and marveling at how he could hit the ball farther than me with one arm.

Baseball was a real connection for us. He was born in 1914 and grew up idolizing Babe Ruth, wanting to be Babe Ruth, and he remained a lifelong Yankee fan. He was nothing if not loyal to those he loved. One of the best things I ever did for him was alert him to the existence of the MLB cable TV packages that allowed him to watch the Yankees on a daily basis. I wouldn't say we were close- we were polar opposites in many ways. Back in the day when I was spending a lot of time with his family, he clearly disapproved of my long hair and foul mouth and affection for certain only-now-legal-in-California substances. But he never let that stand in the way of being a loving, caring uncle who was always up for thrashing me at cribbage.

I remember camping with him and his family in northern California and on the Santa Cruz beach. I love his children as dearly as anyone in my life. He had an mostly indirect yet profound effect on me.

Once I grew up, or whatever it is that I've done, I saw him far less frequently. But he was always in my heart and always welcoming when I would venture out to his home. And I'll have him with me from now until it's my turn to go.

24 or so unusual hours

If you have a particular outlook on the world and on life, you can divide days roughly into the categories of mundane, peculiar, quite peculiar, and most peculiar. If it seems to you like I'm reaching for unusual words to describe things you would be correct. I've just tired of using words like "weird" and "bizarre." Yesterday was most peculiar.

My original spring break plan was to go to D.C. to do Washington things and then to North Carolina to visit friends. But I realized a few weeks ago that I was too wiped out to do that and needed to lie on a beach. So that was the plan, and I kind of coasted through my last day of school. And during my last class I got an email saying that my not quite 103 year-old uncle Mike, who resides in Sacramento, was in his final days. I wasn't sure what to do, but by the time evening rolled around (how do times of day 'roll around?' and what does that even mean?) I decided I had to be there.

Keep in mind that I was in no shape to be doing this, but somehow I was doing this. So I first endured this very long flight.  It's very hard to get to Sacramento, considering it's the capital of a very large state. I'm not sure if it's hard to get to because there's no particular reason to go of if people rarely go there because it's hard to do, but I got in at 10:30 Pacific (1:30 Eastern) having not had dinner. The rental car agent pointed me to a nearby In-and-Out Burger so I had a burger and fries at the equivalent of 2 AM.

I got to the motel and saw a note that they were doing roof work, so I respectfully requested to not be on the top floor. This lead me to be placed in what they call an "accessible room." Everything is set up for handicapped people, so the good part is that there's a bench in the shower (always a bonus) and the bad part is that the bathroom has to be huge to accommodate a wheelchair, so the rest of the room is tiny. But I slept.

And in the morning I had the lovely breakfast that they offer at a Best Western Plus (by the way, the math teachers among us know that "plus" implies something more. Ain't seeing it here- I suppose one could be adding a negative...) and then went for a walk by the American River. That was all quite lovely. I had lots of thoughts that I believed I had recorded, but they seem to have been disappeared by my phone. Anyway, here's what happened.

After my walk I went to the house and was filled with memories of joy and love and all sorts of emotional complications over the years. I don't see my cousins nearly as often as I'd like because it's far (I had written a lot about this yesterday but my phone seems to have dropped it somehow) but they are my only really close extended family. We saw each other regularly as kids and less regularly as adults, but we've always been bonded in a way that's rare in my family.

I came in and sat with my cousins and uncle (I'm going to limit this to my own experiences as a matter of privacy for others). It felt really good to be there. I held my uncle's hand and spoke to him, and though he was mostly unresponsive, I'll believe that he knew I was there. I then was informed that because this was his 103rd birthday, that there was a party planned and that most of the people coming did not know his status. So I, along with my once-removed younger cousins, dealt with the caterer and ran to the store to get supplies and such.

I knew this was going to be strange and possibly quite awkward, but I did what I could. It was nice to spend the time with family. My uncle had a very large circle of friends and over the course of the afternoon, many of them came by to celebrate him. They were disappointed that he couldn't participate, but after the difficult part of "where's Mike?" they were still glad to be part of things. I'll write more about my uncle later, but if you live 103 years and genuinely care about people you make many unbreakable connections.

People stayed for a while. I was kind of floating in time and wasn't completely aware of everything going on, but it was a happy occasion. There was singing and story-telling and just the nice dynamic of people who have no connection with each other besides their knowing the same person getting to hear other sides of someone they cared about. My uncle was both very private and very public, so many people knew him in many different ways- neighbors, colleagues, friends from all aspects of his life.

I wish I could say that I was able to fully engage with all of this and I tried, but I didn't know any of these people nor they me and it was ultimately beyond my capacity. So eventually I had to step away for a little while. Fortunately, I had the good fortune to have the company of my brother and the husband of one of my cousins and a couple of the younger cousins. It was a separate but equally warm and caring time that I will always cherish.

Eventually the party dissipated and I went back to his room and spend some time with my close cousins and my uncle. Everyone seemed very happy about the way things had gone, even if they weren't a part of the actual goings on. We talked quietly and I held my uncle's hand for a while and talked about the past and the future. He seemed very at peace as I left, and I left thinking he was in a good place.

I went back to my crappy motel and promptly fell asleep.

More to come...

Final day, much too soon

So I mentioned yesterday how I felt like I was coming down with a cold? My nose was running all day from morning until bedtime. And now how many times have I had to do that today? Try zero. Bodies can be weird things, but I'm certainly not unhappy about it.

Right now I'm on the plane heading home. I went out to the beach for a while and picked up some pretty shells and then saw my daughter off to the airport. Then I wrote report cards (yes, I did work there. In fact, I carried large piles of tests down in my carry-on bag, which stayed in the bag untouched for the duration of the trip) until it was time for us to head to our final game, where we saw the Phillies play the Pittsburgh Pirates.

This game was fun-filled and action packed, and the first 2 innings took as long as 6 innings the night before. We left after 2 hours and 4 innings, to give you an idea. But we were sitting in the shade and perfectly comfortable, and there was lots going on.

Spring training games are funny in that they're not really games, they're practice, so it always seems weird when they try to pump up the crowd by playing the charge theme or worse yet, that grating artificial clapping sound that is more like some kind of grinding metal than anything else. During actual games, people clap along with that stuff, but most people don't care who wins spring training games. They cheer for good plays and when their team scores runs, but beyond that they are just hanging out, drinking something cool and having a snack. It's very relaxed compared to a game that "counts."

So off we went to the airport and headed home. I continued my work and tried to think about how to get through the next two weeks before spring break.

Second day in Clearwater (Sorry, thought I'd posted this yesterday)

This morning I went into Starbucks to get a cup of coffee before heading out for my long walk. It was busy, and they had people at 2 registers and a 3rd just taking orders. The third guy took the person in front of me, who ordered one of those silly sugary things they make, and he asked what her name was. "Stephanie," she replied, to which he replied, "With an f or a ph?" She said it was ph, and I was thinking why are you bothering to ask that question when a cashier asked for my order and when I told him my name was Frank, he said, with a totally straight face, "Is that with an f or a ph?" And then he cracked up and said "I couldn't help it."

So on that note, I set off toward Sand Key, a small island just south of Clearwater Beach. I've done this walk before and there's not much there, but the bridge over the bay has great views of St. Petersburg on one side and Clearwater Beach on the other. I don't have any pictures to share because I've done that before on previous walks.

Sand Key is sort of an odd name for a place that has no more or less sand than anything else around here. Everything here is made of sand. They wouldn't call the bay Water Bay. Or would they? The state beach is beautiful though, with bright white sand and an open view of the water. What it does not have, which I couldn't help noticing because of some personal connection to the matter, is any place to go to the bathroom. There's a vast beach with a huge parking lot and the one bathhouse is closed and there's nothing else in sight. So I hereby recommend this beach for short visits when you are slightly dehydrated.

The walk is very nice and takes me by everything on the south end of the island. There's a lot of hotel construction going on. Someone was wondering if that meant there were casinos coming, but there was no particular sign of that. There certainly has been a lack of upscale properties, and I think that niche is at the edge of getting much more populated. Maybe that means next year there will be more choice and better prices.

I've not been able to completely let go of everything, but a long walk and quiet contemplation was good for me. I'm okay all things considered, aside from feeling like I'm getting a cold. My body pretty consistently does this- manages to stay healthy throughout any kind of difficulty and then as soon as things get better it rebels. That's how I ended up with shingles, but this is just a cold.

Once back at the hotel I had breakfast and we went to the beach. It's a very nice beach, as I've mentioned before. We got some chairs and an umbrella and did the beach thing. I sat in the sun and the ladies were under the umbrella. We all read books and were ably assisted by Jimmy from Englewood, NJ, who told us all about his family and how he came to be in Clearwater and also helped with the umbrella. You can't enjoy an adult beverage on most of the beach, but on this one spot by our hotel you can, and they take advantage of it with a mobile bar called Tommy's Tiki Ranger. I had a nice cold beer and my daughter had a combo margarita/piña colada, which is as good as it sounds. After a few hours it was time to get cleaned up and head down to the jauntily named Ed Smith Stadium in Sarasota to see the Baltimore Orioles play the Minnesota Twins.

The drive down, which normally takes around an hour and a half at most, took almost two hours and was pretty unpleasant, but eventually we made it and got a parking space right across the street from the stadium. I'd been there before and the one thing I remembered was how friendly everyone was there. And I remembered correctly. Every single person working there was incredibly pleasant and friendly, and the vendors were attentive and funny ("Get your water here, straight from the bottom of the well to your lips.") and the whole atmosphere could not have been nicer. The game went quickly and had patches of action, ranging from home runs to someone walking and eventually scoring without another hit by virtue of 2 wild pitches and a fly ball.

He hit a home run, but it's disappointing that his name is pronounced "scope" and not "shoop."

Fortunately, the trip home was much shorter, and back in the hotel room I learned that, while it is not ideal or easy to cut up and de-seed a pepper with a teaspoon, it is possible. Sort of wish I'd done a video in retrospect; I was pretty impressed with myself if you must know.

So that's a day. Nothing incredible, just a mostly pleasant, uneventful day. Home tomorrow, but that's another story.

A day away

Anybody who has spent any time with me recently would know that these past few weeks have not been the easiest, which means here that within my sphere of people there have been some huge swings of emotion. Lots of good things, but also some pretty difficult stuff to deal with. Most of it didn't happen to me, but to people I care about, which for me is usually worse. Too much drama, lots of work, a good-sized portion of stress, and not enough sleep. So saying I needed a break was a pretty dramatic understatement.

As it turned out, this was a long-planned weekend in Clearwater Beach with my wife and one daughter, which could not have been more right place at the right time. The day of departure completely crazy. Honestly, I can't believe that I managed to get everything done that I did, from making up and giving tests to meetings to teaching a class while eating a Wawa tuna wrap to pretty much every other thing I ever do during a school day all packed in from about 6 AM until 1:30 when I headed home. And at least it seems that I didn't seriously screw anything up in the process.

So we got to the airport just at the right time for our flight, and got into Tampa airport and over to Clearwater earlier than expected. We're staying at the Hilton here, which is a first time for me. It's the 6th different hotel I've used on these trips and I'm pretty happy with the choice.

I usually use Tripadvisor as a primary source for hotel searches, and had always avoided this place, in spite of its almost perfect location, because everyone said it felt old and a little run down. But this year all the reviews said things about "newly renovated," so I decided to give it a try. It's definitely had a going over, and more of it is good than not. The room is good-sized and nicely furnished, if you're into hotel furniture. Hotels are strange things, if you think about it, and how they put rooms together often makes me think about the meetings involved in the planning. Why did they make this or that particular choice? Why is there something like this out here rather than behind the desk where it wouldn't be seen?

The bed is comfortable and there's a refrigerator rather than a minibar, which is always a plus. They have a small fitness center, though the hotel guide says it's on the 3rd floor, which it is not. I ended up finding it by accident looking for the lobby. The only really confounding thing is the bathroom. It's clear that the designers found the space problematic, because there are some quirks. The sink is very stylish and looks good when you are standing over it, but the faucet is on the side rather than in back, which requires more thought from the user than would be ideal to figure out how to get hot or cold water. And as nice as it looks up above you can see the entire plumbing system down below, which is just odd.

In the hundred or so hotel reviews I've written, I've never had occasion to mention the view from the toilet, because that just seems icky for some reason, even though I suspect that most if not all of the people reading this have sat on a toilet at one time or another. Anyway, the underside of the sink is what you see when you're sitting there. It's nice and new and shiny. but not exactly slick. And what you do not see is the toilet paper, or bath tissue as the labels read but nobody, and I mean nobody, ever says or even thinks. That's because it's behind you and hidden in a kind of cubby.

It's also facing away from you, so if you can find it you have to reach back to get at it. Hopefully I won't tear a rotator cuff trying to get at it. And I can't not mention the fact that the toilet itself is several inches lower than normal, which is far more disconcerting than one would think. Any why doesn't anyone understand that people in hotels want to be able to find and use the bathroom during the night without having to leave the bright fluorescent light on? Dimmer switch? Night light? Too difficult apparently.

But at least they designed crown moulding to accommodate the sprinkler...

But enough about that. We ate dinner at the hotel restaurant because it was easy. I got 8 hours of sleep, which is about the total I'd had the previous two nights combined. And by the time I had walked on the beach for a little while I felt so much better that I couldn't believe it. The beach here is spectacular- a wide swath of powdery white sand (Ronnie described it as feeling like walking on flour) with a hard packed part down by the water that's ideal for walking. 

It was so nice that I ended up walking 5 miles all told, and it was rejuvenating. Got back to the hotel and ate something and then we went to a ballgame at the jauntily named Florida Auto Exchange Stadium. Saw some nice practice baseball and I had a blueberry wheat beer with floated frozen blueberries, a first for me.

Back at the hotel I napped for a bit and then worked out. After a shower we walked up to Frenchy's Rockaway Grill, one of my favorite spots here. Right on the beach and totally casual, no reservations, so we got on the list knowing we'd have to wait an hour and then walked onto the beach to watch the sunset. Sunsets are a thing in Clearwater. Seeing the sun disappear into the Gulf of Mexico can be a real highlight if you catch a good one, which we did tonight.

Don't have more pictures because I was too busy watching it to be dealing with a camera. It looked like the sun was getting squashed down into the water- it almost seemed oval by the time it was halfway over the horizon. When it finally slipped below the edge the hundreds of people on the beach applauded. And hopefully it will rise and set again tomorrow as well. We walked back to the restaurant and waited a few minutes before our table came up.

The food at Frenchy's is good, but what really struck me was how happy everyone there was. Lots of laughing and friendly conversation. The whole day was like that. At one point we were going down to the ground floor and the elevator stopped at the lobby level, which is one flight up. The other people in the elevator apologized for having pushed the wrong button, and I said that considering that was probably the worst thing that had happened to me all day, that it must have been a pretty good day.

Tomorrow is a beach day- baseball at night. It's supposed to be 81 degrees and sunny, so hopefully we can keep the winning streak going. I've had a few occasions in my life where I really really needed a break and this was one of them. I feel blessed, whatever that means, that it's worked out as well as it has so far.

Leaving a part of me behind

This is a wistful title for a post about dentistry. I am having a tooth removed and replaced with an bionic tooth next week. I don't think that's what they're really called, but I prefer to think of it that way. I believe the correct term is an implant, which has an overly intrusive feeling about it.

I am fortunate in that the dentist doing this work for me is at the absolute pinnacle of the field. He's been teaching reconstructive dentistry at Penn for years and writes textbooks on it, and has developed a lot of the techniques that other dentists use. He was a lucky find for me, because I have terrible teeth, and the only reason this is my first implant is the work that he did for me nearly 30 years ago when I first started seeing him.

Before getting to see him, I was in a lot of pain in the toothal area, to adapt Woody Allen's parlance. Because it started of course on a Friday afternoon, I couldn't go see my regular guy, so I was left with a Doc-In-The-Box. This is the phrase used by doctors with regular practices to describe strip mall Urgent Care centers and their doctors. I don't think it's meant as a compliment.

I'd never been to one of these before, except when I was in Lake Placid once and came down with bronchitis. A nurse practitioner there prescribed the antibiotics one prescribes for bronchitis and that was it. This place near me has a sign saying it has dental services, so Saturday morning there I was.

I came in and the place was all but deserted. There was a dentist there, but nobody to help him, so I needed to wait until someone, who I never saw and sounded like he knew nothing, came to assist by bringing him instruments. As far as I could tell, everything he put in my mouth was coming from a sealed, sanitized package (or they were tearing paper behind me to fool me). He cleaned around it and said there might be some infection, so he prescribed me antibiotics (which ultimately helped reduce the pain). He also suggested that they take an x-ray, which I considered but rejected when I saw this sign on the wall in front of me (and I am absolutely not making this up).

Reads kind of like a ransom note, doesn't it? So I expressed my preference to have my own dentist take the x-ray, and as it turned out, the tooth needed to go. Bye-bye tooth. The weird thing is that my dentist said it didn't look like the kind of tooth that belonged in that spot in my mouth, and that I might have my wisdom teeth instead of regular molars. I seem to remember having my wisdom teeth removed, so this is mysterious, but it's a story for another day.

Scattered thoughts

I noticed that Sherlock is already advertising it's Season Finale. Yes, a Season Finale two weeks after the Season Premiere. Because they only make 3 episodes in a season. I'm betting the second episode is feeling pretty lousy about itself right now.

So the fragmentation of media is like going back to before there was no mass media at all. We're just not segmented geographically, it's by belief set.

I just saw a commercial for something called "Marriage Bootcamp, Reality Stars." Just to clarify, these people are on TV on a reality show already, so aren't all the people who are ever on the show reality stars? I'm willing to be further enlightened on this.

The headline in the Travel section of the newspaper says "America's Most Remote National Park." I've been to all 50 states, so I was curious. Where is it? Frigging Samoa, that's where. Doesn't seem fair, does it?

I started watching "The OA." For those of you who like me avoided it because you thought it was some kind of spinoff of "The O.C." I should tell you it is not and it is worth at least checking out. Maybe a little much after watching Westworld, but still pretty riveting.

I was walking through our local park and saw this sign on the building

Maybe I'm missing something, but isn't everything that's indoors confined space? That's the whole idea of "in," I think.

A Repeal of the Stamp Act Stamp? Why did it take so long for this to happen?

Looks like I've got about 168000 years to eat these at their best.

What's wrong with kids these days

I'll tell you what's wrong. They're small, immature, silly, contrary, alternately lazy and hyperactive, too smart for their own good and stupid beyond belief. They range from completely to selectively helpless and they don't know what's important. They're fascinated by the newest thing for no reason other than that it's the newest thing. They cluster in packs, eat stuff you wanted and don't enjoy the things they ought to enjoy, like art and classical music.

The significance of others

Of all the weird little turns of language that have reached prominence in the, what do we call this decade anyway? In the 20's century everyone was comfortable from every decade starting in the 1920's to be "the 20's, the sixties, etc." And then everything fell apart at the beginning of the new millennium and we started trying things like the "oughty-oughts.:"

And now there's been nothing to pick up the slack. I fear we are seeing a new generation that doesn't understand the importance of the round-numberness of the decades. We're in our teens now, aren't we?

Sorry, got sidetracked there. What I was going to say is that there's almost no phrase that I utter frequently that makes me feel more awkward than "significant other." Both of my daughters are in their 20's and it seems weird to call a 28 year-old guy a boyfriend. Though I have no trouble referring to my father's 92 year-old girlfriend (he calls her his 'companion.'). So often when I describe everyone coming to the house for Thanksgiving I refer to my daughters and their significant others. And I seem to be able to do it without irony, which is surprising, but it still doesn't seem right.

What made me think about this was the reaction by people we know to their coming, the awkward questions about "where are they going to sleep?" Honestly, do people really still think this way? That a 20-something kids in a serious relationship is not going to sleep in the same bed? "Not under my roof, I tell you!" Says...well, nobody I know. Maybe it's the time I grew up (The Sixties!) and maybe we're just cool parents. Either way I find it kind of laughable, so "Ha."

The word for these adult relationships is a long running joke with me and one of my friends. We remember reading something, in the National Lampoon or some such thing, where a narrator refers to someone as his paramour and then laments, "I wish there were a better word." And of course this is English, so there's almost always a better word, but not for this.

There's nothing inherently wrong with the phrase significant other, aside from the wild variations of meanings you can attach to those words. A significant other could be a statistically meaningful alien. So you could mean that when you're talking about your boyfriend and he'd never know. Are we all okay with that? I'm not sure. I'll be back to you in the 20's.

The only thing we need to stress about is stress itself

My senior class, who are now in their second year with me, were telling me today how stressed they were about their midterm in my class. I got uppity about that and told them not to let the stress they're feeling about everything else in their lives bleed over into my test.

The word of the year seems to be stress. I'm trying to think back to when stress was invented. I think it was in late 1990's, with the coming of the new millennium. We all needed a new mental state to carry us through the next 1000 years and the powers that be seem to have settled on stress.

When people tell me they're stressed out, I always mean to ask them what they're talking about. Mind you, I don't ever ask, because if I did they might mistake what I'm asking and start telling me about their lives, but I don't really know what they mean when they say that.

Here's my hypothesis: Stress was invented because people needed a new excuse when "I'm tired" ceased to be believed. Saying that you're stressed is a way of deflecting the blame for you getting yourself into the mess you're in. In nearly all cases I encounter, people claim stress because of outside stuff that's going on. It's never their inability to deal with it. For a while, what people would say when you asked them how they were would be the euphemistic "Too busy." But now they just come right out and say"Stressed out." It's the default reaction to any outside stimulus.

The problem  and the reason it's nothing but and excuse is that the outside forces themselves are not inherently stressful. They are just there. A test is not under any stress whatsoever, nor does it contain any stress among its pages. Nor does an IRS audit or a performance review or a budget meeting or college admissions notifications. None of those entities experience any stress. One hundred percent of the stress comes from us and the way we handle ourselves. We're the stressful things, the only stressful things.

And there's a problem with spending so much time and effort learning to deal with stress. The danger is that we're treating the symptoms and ignoring the disease. The world has changed rapidly in the last 10 years and we are not adapting well. We've lost homeostasis and we won't really feel okay until we understand why, no matter what techniques we use.

I'm aware that mine is not the prevailing opinion, and I don't presume to have the answer for anyone else. There are so many books about how we got ourselves into this position that we clearly have no clue, (it's well known that the number of books on a topic is inversely proportional to how well we understand it). That's why I'm not reading any of them. When there's only one book I'll read that. Keep me posted.

I'm not suggesting that there aren't stressful things in the world. But to paraphrase "Born Yesterday," if a building burns down, who are you going to blame, the fire? I think we owe ourselves a good hard look in the mirror and a good round of "What the hell am I doing? What is my life such that I feel so bad? Why am I doing this to myself? What changes should I make?" before we start blaming the world for the fact that we're not able to calmly deal with the world.

Tis the season to be annoyed

I'm annoyed at someone. And I'm annoyed at myself for being annoyed at this person. And I just wanted to let you all know that if it gets to the point where I'm annoyed with myself for getting annoyed with myself, just bury my ashes in the family plot because I will probably have spontaneously burst into flames.

I think if you made a word cloud from school that "annoyed" and "stress" would be the biggest words.

I wrote this next thing for a group of students recently because we were doing a unit on kindness. Yes, they have math teachers doing this. Go figure. Anyway, I thought it might be worth posting:

Trying to be kind without being lame

I think that one of the biggest problems that people have with thinking about being kind is that
“kind” has a connotation of weakness, the same way as “nice.” Someone called me nice to my
face on Friday and a little part of me cringed. I don’t think about being nice; I think about being a
good person. Since part of being a good person is treating others the way you want to be
treated, niceness happens without your trying.

Kindness, however, takes effort. It requires thinking about another person and considering what
would be helpful to them. I was in the supermarket today, carrying two avocados and a tomato.
As I headed toward the plastic bag dispenser, another woman, carrying pears, approached the
same bag dispenser and got there before me. She pulled a bag off and then looked up and
handed it to me. I thanked her and smiled, and it made me feel really good for several minutes
afterwards. That’s what a small act of kindness can do.

Someone in our advisory group asked me if I had a stock line when dealing with customer
service people and I think I said that I didn’t. I realized later that I do. If I carry something over
to the checkout and they ask me if I want a bag, I usually say “No, that’s okay. I got it over here
without a bag and I think I can get it out to my car without one too.” This is slightly cute and
slightly funny, but it always makes cashiers smile.

I think I know why. It’s because when they asked me if I wanted a bag I responded to them as if
they were actually speaking to me, not just reciting a line. And that’s what I do. I also take note of where they are and what they’re doing. I talk about how busy or not busy the store is. If they seem tired I ask how long they’ve been on and when their break is. We discuss the merchandise, or something that’s happening elsewhere in the store. 

Here's another example. Today a cashier at Giant routinely asked me "how are you?" and I replied "I'm annoyed at someone..." Both she and the woman behind me in line looked up at me and I continued, "...like most people, I guess." This got nods from both of them and soon the cashier was telling us how upset she is with her constantly-demanding sister and how selfish she was being and how unfair it was. I said, "You know, sometimes people just can't see outside themselves." And she looked at me and smiled and said "You're right. Thank you for that." And off I went with my adult beverages. It made my day.

What those things have in common is that I’m engaging in people's lives to some small degree. I think even customer service people prefer being treated as people and not as devices.

My point here is not to tell you all how wonderful I am. I can be a jerk sometimes just like
anyone else. My point is that sometimes all it takes to be kind to someone is to see them, listen
to them, and think for a moment what might make them smile or what would be helpful. It’s
being thoughtful. And I don’t think there’s anything lame about that.

The debate

I'm quoting here from Infinite Jest. " I believe I appear neutral, maybe even pleasant, though I've been coached to err on the side on the side of neutrality and not attempt what would feel to me like a pleasant expression or smile."

This is a good expression for how I'm feeling watching this debate. I am watching because, well, I don't know, maybe because I can't look away.

This is one of the most unpleasant things I've experienced semi-voluntarily in recent years. I have nothing left to say

The Death of Irony

I wish. Irony became cool in the 80's as a reaction to the post-hippie era, where the sincerity and generosity of Baby Boomers' younger years matured into arrogant, humorless sanctimony. It needed to be punctured, and people like David Letterman did an admirable job of doing that. But that was 30-something years ago, and I don't think it even occurred to anyone that ironic distance would be the new norm. But it kind of is.

Here's the thing though, irony is no better than sanctimony. Being cool and distant is not inherently superior to being holier-than-thou. They're the same thing. Irony is originally a literary device, using that perspective to communicate the author's point. It's a good thing to recognize. But there are other literary devices, like alliteration and metaphor. Why don't we try those out for a while? Wouldn't alliteration be absolutely amusing?

The common ground between irony and sanctimony is insincerity. Holding to a particular perspective for anything, regardless of what it is, necessarily separates you from everything. It's safe and cool and ultimately sterile. It's bad for you; it's the opposite of vulnerability, which is the only way we can let new feelings or perspectives inside ourselves.

I say all of this as someone who enjoys irony as much as anyone. I spent many years in a state of ironic distance. It has its place, which is not everywhere for everything. Those years were miserable for me most of the time. Vulnerability is scary and can be painful, but it's the only way to make deep connections with other people. Which is ultimately the most important thing, isn't it?

I'll finish with a quote (a paraphrase actually, but he was speaking stream-of-consciousness and I added a bit of structure) from Bo Burnham: "Ironic self-awareness isn't enough. It isn't okay to be a self-aware asshole- you need to stop being an asshole."

Here are some unconnected, but all from me and therefore not random, thoughts.

I'm still waiting to see the headline-
"Reality TV Star Alleges Media Conspiracy Against Him."

I always have this thing in my head that says every literate person appreciates a well-placed semicolon.

I used to wonder which I'd end up being when I got old, the wise sage that everyone came to for advice, or the cranky old guy shouting "Get off of my lawn." Based on all evidence to date, it appears I shall be both.

There's a wonderful quote (actually there are a great many) in James Brooks' excellent movie Broadcast News, where Bill, William Hurt's character, asks Aaron, Albert Brooks, "What do you do when your real life exceeds your dreams?" Aaron, who's jealous, replies "Keep it to yourself." That's a good punch line, but the question itself is more intriguing. It's a societal question and one I'll return to in another note.

Getting your money's worth

I'm never sure if people realize that images like this belong to you. You're free to download them and use them in whatever fashion you'd like. Yes, they're on the NASA site and other places as well, but you, as a taxpayer, own them, because NASA is an organization funded by the US government and therefore by you.

I'm holding back my inner scold here, but your tax dollars at work, ladies and gentlemen.

Space Station Flight Over the Southern Tip of Italy

http://www.nasa.gov/multimedia/imagegallery/iotd.html
http://www.uahirise.org/katalogos.php

Phun with Philosophy, or Give Me Novocaine

I'm finding it hard to live with myself from time to time these days. And I don't mean it in the soap opera sense of "I couldn't live with myself if I..." It's more existential than that.

Part of it is my physical age- when did stretching equate to excruciating pain? But the real problem is that my brain is never been particularly cooperative. Because that's how brains are. They are independent entities that have to be coerced to cooperate. I understand mindfulness and know it's not like you can't steer your brain one way or another, but technically, it's your brain that's doing the steering. Forget about how to do it; what does that even mean? And that, my friends is why philosophy is so paralyzing.

Maybe the fact that you can't actually know for sure if you're moving or have ever moved is kind of paralyzing too. Figuratively if not literally. I remember doing this stuff in college and knowing that somehow I liked it, even if I had no idea what any of it meant. Metaphysics versus Epistemology. Big words for simple but confounding questions. Do we exist and what do we know? Or is it the other way around? Where's the dividing line between conscious and unconscious thought? I need to sit down. Or am I already sitting?

My best birthday present (aside from the obvious)

As Facebook won't let me or my friends forget, yesterday was my birthday. I'm in Miami now, hanging out on a windy but pleasant morning until the coffee's kicked in enough for me to go for a bike ride.

Yesterday was a fairly typical day here, really. We've been to this place 6 or 8 times before and know the drill. I got up early and rode my bike over to the mainland (we're on Key Biscayne, it's an 8 mile ride to Miami proper) and then had breakfast, sat on the beach until it got windy and they took our umbrella away, then by the pool, where they have less wind and sturdier umbrellas.

For dinner, we went to Zuma, considered by many to be the best restaurant in Miami. We were in no way disappointed. It's what they called Contemporary Japanese, the word "contemporary" in this context meaning that they can do whatever they want and if it's similar to flavors from Japanese food it's good. I don't think that's what the word really means, but no matter.

We got the tasting menu, which was too much food, but just wonderful. It went on for a couple of hours. I think it was a dozen courses plus 2 palate cleansers. Everything was delicious, and the dessert presentation, featuring fresh fruit, sorbet, pudding and chocolate lava cake, was maybe the best dessert I've ever had. Raspberry-wasabi sorbet? Bring it on!

But the bonus was, we missed the debate! I've read about it, of course, but to not have to listen to it was a gift to the senses and a great extra birthday present.

Digressions from the swamp

Before I get started, I just was wondering why we call it "passing gas." Isn't the gas passing us? Unless it's short for "passing gas along to those in close proximity." Yes, long walks with the dog can lead to the mind wandering into strange places.

In the slightest of rebellions again people saying they're "too busy," I have been referring to myself as "swamped." It's not literally true, of course. I'm not even slightly damp, but swamped has evolved from referring to sinking ships to having too much to do and/or too little time available. Saying "too busy" seems to imply "busier than you," which is a needlessly competitive thought. It's actually kind of mathematical, now that I think about it. It's not just too much work or too little time; it's the ratio between them. If the ratio of time required and time available is greater than one, that's when stress starts to creep in.

If you think about it rationally (that's a math joke), there are two ways of dealing with this imbalance ('im' is a variant of 'in.' I'm not sure what's wrong with inbalance, but im is used before the letters b, p and m, while the variant ir goes before r-words and il before l-words. I'm sure you're all thrilled to know this). To cure the imbalance you need to either reduce the amount of stuff to do or increase the amount of time available.

There's no shortage of work that I'd rather not do, but there's more than enough of what I like doing to unbalance (wait, there's unbalance too? English is ridiculous) the ratio. My solution has generally been to try to increase the time available. Because I can't actually stretch a day, this necessarily involves less sleep. Not sure how that will work long-term, and the one time I tried to cut it shorter, (this involved a 5:45 AM CrossFit class on a day I had to be at school until 10 PM for back-to-school night, not such a good idea looking back) I didn't feel so good the next couple of days.

Nonetheless, I am going to push it to the limit because an extra hour awake every day adds up fast.

First rugby match

I saw my first college rugby game Sunday; my nephew is on the Haverford College club team. I have to say, I enjoyed it tremendously.

It's an incredibly dumb-looking game. And from watching it it appears that both the people who made it up and the people who played at are in on the joke. Who invented the game like that? People rolling around on the ground banging into each other with no padding, throwing a ball this way and that and then occasionally kicking it. It's wonderful.

I like it much more than I like American football. Football is equally dumb, but they take themselves very seriously. I can enjoy a rugby game without even knowing the rules. I wasn't even sure there were rules, but there was a referee who occasionally took the ball away from people and gave it to someone else, so there's that.

There are a lot of great things about it, but I think my favorite no doubt is the throw-in from the sideline, which is a little bit like soccer throw hands except not at all. In a rugby throw in, you hold the ball with two hands and throw it, similar to soccer, but people from both sides are lined up to try to catch it. The trick appears to be you throw it up in the air high and everybody lifts there tall players up in the air to try to grab the ball before anybody else does. I've never seen anything like it. If seems like cheating, but it's sort of like a jump ball in basketball except that instead of jumping people are lifted.

In the game I saw today, one team was definitely better at this than the other at this, so the team that was not as good eventually stopped trying to get the ball and instead just tried to whack at the ball and the opponents' arms to keep them from getting it either. That left the ball just go roaming free and it was surprisingly effective. I guess sometimes it's easier to prevent someone else from doing something that it is for you to do that thing yourself.

The other thing I noticed is that there are certain plays in which before you pass the ball with your hands, you need to touch it to your leg for some reason. Rugby is not like soccer, they never just kick the ball around unless they're just punting (or whatever they call it) to push the other team all the way back into their own territory. But I know they have to do this like touch thing because they penalize the team for not doing it once. And I got the sense the ball has to touch their leg below the knee. I cannot imagine what possible significance that could have. I played a lot of sports in my life and I'm stumped.

I'm sure I'll go again, and I'm determined to not learn the rules, because it was too much fun not knowing to mess with it.

Who put the Web in webinars?

As a teacher, I get invitations to a lot of webinars. I really wish they could have actually named those something instead just sticking "web" on instead of "sem."

Today I got a couple for teaching economics. Since I don't teach elementary school, I wasn't so interested in the "Furry Economics Lessons Using Children's Literature" (yes, that's really a thing- it's on October 25 if you're interested), but "Using Dytopian Fiction to Teach Economics." has a certain apocalyptic appeal.

More ruminations on death

Something very like an email I'm about to send.

Dear _________,

It was nice seeing you at ___________'s birthday party. It's always nice to catch up and I look forward to meeting up with you in the Adirondacks.

I'm writing you now because I want to enjoy myself when we meet up, but at least part of the time that I'm with you now, I think about death. Not your death, mine. I don't think about death a lot, but for obvious reasons it pops into my head when I see you.

I need to get my act together and get a cemetery plot, and since you're president of __________ Cemetery and I don't know anyone else in the business, I figured I'd check in with you before I did anything else.

So how do you do this? Is it like making a reservation at a restaurant? Plot for 2 please, at 11:30AM on April 23, 2042. Or maybe later. Is it like that? Or do I go to the place and look for a nice spot?

I'm always aware when I'm at a particularly pretty gravesite that I'll be choosing the location in a kind of peculiar manner. Even though I'm the user of the product, the product is not for me- it's for everyone aside from me who happens to be there. My own satisfaction is pretty much guaranteed no matter what. There aren't a lot of things you can sell like that, are there? As a marketing person, that's intriguing.

So I want to be in the Jewish section for the usual reasons. I know there is one because your sign says so, but I've never been there. I've never been to the grave of anyone I know in Pennsylvania- I've been to cemeteries, but for parents of friends, not anyone I've ever met. I guess I ride my bike through them from time to time as well.

Anyway, I want something for me and my wife, but is there any way to give my kids the option of worming their way (so to speak) in there as well? Do you have to purchase a larger site than you need just in case or can you have something more optional? How about a sublet? Can you lease it to someone with the understanding that they may be moved to a less desirable spot at a later date? I'd give them a good discount. Are there laws about this kind of thing? I don't know what kinds of laws there are about dead people.

I'm way off track here. Can we set up a time to talk and have a walkthrough? I might as well walk it while I still can, right?

I look forward to speaking with you. Best to ____________.

Frank

Two things I was thinking about this morning

I slept badly and woke up early, so I went for a bike ride once the sun was up. There's a lot of traffic, so I have to pay close attention to the road most of the time, but it made me think about an important distinction.

Often, when I'm riding home I do the last couple of blocks on a major road. It's the quickest easiest way. There's another way on smaller roads, but it's longer and harder. But as I approached today, I thought, "I shouldn't go on that road, it's stupid." And then I thought, yeah, it is stupid, but the problem with it isn't that it's stupid, the problem is that it's dangerous.

For me at least, that's an important distinction to keep in mind. I do stupid stuff all the time. I'm a human being; it's hard-wired into me and I don't torture myself about it. Plus stupid stuff is often fun, and I like fun. Dangerous, however, is a whole 'nother matter, and even though I've ridden probably 20,000 miles on local roads without even coming close to getting in a serious accident, I always try to minimize the probability that my chosen action will kill me. Not a bad rule to follow in general, even when you're not riding a bike. When in doubt, pick the option less likely to result in your death. Yes, I like that.

The other thing I was thinking about is completely unrelated. I have a large number of college recommendations to write, and as always, many of the associated students are applying to the same schools. I have to be careful about not repeating myself, so when I think about the whole process I find myself kind of stockpiling superlatives. Because if I have 3 students applying to one school and I've said about all 3 that they're exceptionally good at learning new concepts, that would be kind of contrary to the meaning of exceptional. It's a good test of my ability to say roughly the same thing a bunch of different ways, so weird as it may sound, I'll enjoy it. And I like sound of stockpiling superlatives. It sounds very positive and makes me feel good.

Parts of speech

Given that "deplorables" is now a noun, can you be a deplorable? Like is the singular also a noun? If so, time to ramp up some paraphernalia. Baseball caps anyone?

What happened to me?

Notice how different the sense of that title is just from my putting a question mark at the end. But that's the sense I'm looking for.

Here's what I don't understand. I'm part of this group that's supposed to help out with all the new computer systems that we all should have been trained on before it was introduced. So since we haven't all been trained, there are a bunch of us more tech-savvy (is there possibly a more attractive term for this? I hate ______-savvy people) teachers who are supposed to help the others.

Since none of us have been trained, we all have these pockets of things we've learned. So tomorrow we have a meeting where we're supposed to make small groups and help them. When asked to choose which group we wanted to lead, everyone else went for things they were good at. I went for things I am not good at, just give me advance notice and I'll figure it out.

Yes yes, I'm contrarian, but that's not the point. When did I become not lazy and disengaged? Notice how the sense of that line is not changed the question mark. I've been less lazy as I've gotten older, partly because my energy level is weirdly higher and partly because of fear of impending death. But when did I get engaged like this?

Ultimately I think it comes down to my feelings about the students and my colleagues. I guess it's not surprising that this somehow leaks over into feelings about the so-called institution. In a way, I'm disappointed because I have a general dislike of institutions of all kinds, but ultimately it's okay.

Start of school metablogging

I look at a lot of my recent notes and, aside from the travelogues, they seem awfully serious and earnest. I'm certainly capable of being serious and it's important to be earnest, at least sometimes. But I think I used to write more funny stuff.

In a way that's okay, but in another it's terrifying. Oh god, am I becoming that person who insists on constantly imparting life lessons to people? I hate that guy. When I was younger I always imagined that I'd grow up to be some combination of a sage and a cranky guy yelling at people to get off of his lawn. The person who drones on and on about stuff that everyone else should understand is important!!! was never what I was shooting for.

Fortunately, it's not too late. I'm not really the best judge of these things, but based on people's reactions to things I say I have not totally lost the ability to be funny, so I just need to bring it back into what I write.

One week down, or one week is up?

What a great language, man. How can you use two exact opposite words to describe the same thing?

So the first week of school is over. It was a whirlwind. I got to meet all of the students I'll be working with in some capacity and eventually even teach a little bit.

I should note, for those participating in the office pool, that it was exactly 6 minutes into the first class when we were interrupted by a PA announcement. It took a whole day for the bells to stop working.

I have to admit that the teaching part was surprisingly challenging this week. I never felt completely over my feet, which is unusual for me. It was better by the end of today. I asked a couple of my students if I was making sense and they said I was, so that was reassuring. I don't think you can ever take for granted that what you think makes sense is comprehensible to anyone else. That's part of why I like working with people who ask lots of questions, because I can tell from their reaction if I've given them an answer that they can understand.

I've had a weird transition in my relationship with the school over the course of the last few months. I've suddenly gotten myself involved in all kinds of things directly relating to the running of the school. I've always avoided that kind of thing like the plague, because it can be a black hole that just sucks you in and never lets go. But I think I've felt free-er (how do you spell that anyway? "Freeer" doesn't look right) to talk about this kind of thing to people who are in charge of such things.

I think part of this is that I'm just feeling more comfortable with my place in school. Until recently, I was sure that at some point someone would figure out that I had no idea what I was doing and that they'd fire me. But it's too late, because I actually am pretty good at this by now. The other thing is that, through no fault of my own, a lot of people in the school seem to like and even respect me. Unfamiliar as that feeling may be (no need to get into psychoanalysis at this time), it's pleasant and can be useful if I want to get something done.

I know I said people like me "through no fault of my own" before, but I can tell you what I do. I listen. When I ask people how they're doing, many of them actually tell me because they know I really listen and respond to them. It's really not that hard and people seem to really appreciate it. Too bad I didn't realize it until I was 50 or so.

Sorry to get meta, but that was 5 straight paragraphs beginning with "I." That usually means it's time to stop.

What I want my students to know

Here's what's most important: I have a motto of sorts, which I try to live by and which I would like you to try to observe, at least in our classroom. It is short and simple.

Be where you are and do what you're doing.

Of course, simple and easy are not the same thing and this isn't the easiest principle to live by, but it works for me. I've rarely found myself in a stressful situation that could not be improved by my asking myself. "Where am I and what am I doing?"

So in math class, what that means is be present. Don't be doing other stuff or thinking about your other classes or obligations. Do math class when you're in math class. It will simplify your life and reduce your stress.

Never doubt that I'm on your side. Your job is to learn, and my job is to motivate you and help you. I might push you and prod you and test you, but my only purpose is to help you learn and grow.

I cherish the time I get to spend with you. I truly love my job, and classroom time is pretty much my favorite time of day. I do not enjoy making up or grading tests any more than you like taking them, but it's part of my toolkit to push you along.

A classroom is a two-way interaction, at least my classroom is. The more your participate, the more you buy into what we're trying to do, the better your experience and that of your classmates will be. Don't worry about sounding dumb, you won't. And don't worry about embarrassing or upsetting me, you won't. I will try to answer every question I'm asked in every class.

Because the interaction is essential to the success of the class, nobody is allowed to comment on what any student says except me. This is simply a matter of showing respect to a peer. No insults, no sarcasm, and no praise either. You never know if you've hurt someone's feelings until you've done it, and you can't ever unsay it.

I will try to not waste your time, either in class or with too much homework. I will be completely honest with you about the practical application (or lack thereof) of the particular work we are doing at any time. So you have to trust my judgement about the wisdom of working with material that may not seem valuable or interesting.

I need you to be honest with me and with yourself. Don't try to tell either one of us that you're busting your butt when you're not. It isn't really that hard to tell; I'm pretty observant. And along those lines, I promise I will try to always listen to you and be fully present when I do so. I expect the same from you, both with me and, more importantly, with your peers.

Students think this is kind of funny, but I'm not really a math person. I'm teaching math because I like to teach and math is something that makes sense to me. And math is a useful thing in the world; life is better if you can do some math. But I spend very little time aside from class and class prep thinking about math.

Finally, try to have fun. There's no such thing as boring material. The material is what it is, the boring part comes from how you approach it. Don't expect everything to be awesome. There are lots of great things that inspire absolutely no awe whatsoever. You just have to look carefully and think about what you're doing.

(I may edit or amend this, because I'm writing a parallel thing for parents and I want them to be complementary).

More Favorite Fifteens

I know I haven't written for a bit; it's been busy. I'll share a few of my Favorite Fifteens with you though.

On my last ride in Lake Placid, there's a 6 mile descent after you've climbed seemingly endlessly out of town. It then drops 1200 feet in a series of 3 hills. My cycling computer was dead, so I have no idea how fast I was going, but I was pretty sure that if I crashed out that I would be dead. It did occur to me though, that if I had to die in a cycling accident, that this would be where I wanted it to happen (as opposed to, for example, a 4-way stop in Narberth). Needless to say, I (1) did not crash or die, and (2) was exhilarated beyond belief. That makes it an easy Favorite Fifteen moment.

I should note that you spend the last 15 miles of this route regaining all of this elevation, but it's easier than doing it in the other direction, which I've done a couple of times. It's amazing how steep a 5% grade seems when you're going up it for 2 miles straight, times 3.

Since I got home, I've had some other favorite moments, ranging from picking up our very happy dog, to sitting with my 16 year-old twin niece and nephew for nearly an hour, just talking, to having an old friend from high school whom I'd not seen in 25 years drop by for an afternoon, to spending a couple of hours with a much-missed former colleague.

It's easy to pick out the peak moments when you're doing something exciting, but it's equally important to savor what you get every day. On today's bike ride, I felt like everything was flowing perfectly and I just enjoyed the sensation of being strong and smooth, and then a jump in the pool to cool off was wonderful.

Please sir, may I have another?

And it's over. They always have to end. I've been here probably 20 times and there has never been once (except maybe the time I was severely injured) that I've wanted to leave, felt like I'd had enough. I could easily handle another week here; I actually teared up a bit on the way out of town.

In the 6 non-rainy days I rode my bike 153 miles, including yesterday's 43.5 mile, 3 hour loop that includes a total of over 2000 feet of climbing. I've swam (swum?) further than I'd ever done in open water, kayaked and SUP'ed all over the lake and various walking things. Eaten lots of good food and had company for our children the entire time. It's been a great 8 days and I'd like 8 more just like them. I'm already trying to figure out how to stay longer next year.

The ride home was awful. It started off badly when I got honked at a red light in Keene Valley, a tiny town 25 miles east of Lake Placid. The guy behind me wanted to make a right turn, and so even though I was in my lane, he wanted me to move over so he could use the road and the shoulder. It wasn't a polite little "May I please?" kind of honk. It was long hard one, and the guy looked angry too. Sorry I couldn't read your mind bro, I'll try to do better.

The entire drive wasn't horrible- it was mostly okay until we reached Albany, but the New York Thruway is an awful road. I guess it doesn't have potholes, so I can't say it's substandard in every way, but certainly as a road you pay to drive on it's bad. The road is only 2 lanes for most of its length, so any little thing, like a merge, causes a back-up. It took us 3 hours to go a bit more than 100 miles. The rest areas are tiny and horribly overcrowded. It makes the New Jersey Turnpike look like heaven on earth.

Once we got through that part it was fine, aside from the heavy rain and the stupidity of people driving in it. I don't know why people think they can drive the same during a downpour. There were the remains of crashes left and right, and people are still swerving on and out and even more honking. Assuming they were all coming back from vacation, it must not have been as relaxing as mine was.

So now I'm home and I have to get back to it. School starts, the student part anyway, in 2 1/2 weeks but meetings start next week. Ugh. One more week, that's all I ask.

Fifteen seconds of drinking pleasure

Thursday in Lake Placid started with my daughter's taxi taking her to her plane in Plattsburgh. That all went smoothly.

Somehow, in the course of her departure, I tweaked some muscle in my leg. I'm not sure how that happened; all I was doing was walking up and down a few steps, but it affected how I approached the day. My intention was to try to tackle a hill that I had been unable to successfully climb on previous visits. It's a vicious little thing, coming after about 1000 feet of climbing from low point to high, there's a fairly steep uphill followed by a short flat followed by a 200 foot rise in about half a mile. That may not sound like much but you try it.

I decided that a wiser course would be to nurse it through a more forgiving course (though there are no flat rides to be taken here of more than 3 or 4 miles and I am not here to do laps) and see just how bad it was. The idea was that if it was actually injured that I only had one hard ride left in me and I didn't want to do it 3 days before the last day. I did around 15 miles and it was sore at times but not awful. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, I think. I kayaked a couple of times (including an unusually close encounter with a loon- they really are beautiful birds) and had another long swim.

I think my Favorite Fifteen (and I'm not going to blog about these forever though I will continue to think about them) was fifteen seconds this time. It was my first sips of a very delicious beer at the restaurant where we had dinner. It was a really delicious farmhouse ale, which is one of my favorite varieties, and it just hit the perfect spot at that moment. I just read that, thanks to the microbrewery explosion, there are now more breweries in the US now than there have ever been, and as someone who has been a beer drinker since 1973 (drinking age was 18 when I was in college), I really appreciate the quality of many of these small batch beers and ales.

I had such a busy summer that I was counting on my time here to actually unwind and relax. I don't like staking so much on any one thing, but in my experience, Lake Placid rarely fails me. I've slowed down but kept my sharpness. I've slept more than usual and spent the vast majority of my time outside in this marvelous air. I don't want to go home. But I'll be back.

And by the end of the day, my leg wasn't hurting at all. A 60 year-old body is such a weird thing.

A very long day

Wednesday was a really up and down day. I got up ready to go for a bike ride and even though the weather looked not so great, out I went. But after around 3 miles I was just starting to think more and more that I was simply not enjoying myself, so I came back and walked around the lake instead.

One of my kids was supposed to fly home from the local airport in the afternoon, and the other kid and her boyfriend were due here around the same time. So I drove her over (around a half hour) and saw her through security and came back, where the others had arrived. And then about 45 minutes later I got a text from her saying they were having a mechanical problem and there was no mechanic on site. So they had to cancel the flight because the mechanic was at another airport 2 hours away and I had to go back and get her.

The stupid part was that there was another flight arriving later and the plane was then returning to Boston. They could have gotten on, but thanks to our Republican friends in Congress and their budget cuts, TSA couldn't authorize the overtime to keep someone on staff there, even though they had all already cleared security. Apparently someone has to stay and watch them.

When I arrived, Joann, the sole airline (Cape Air) employee, was trying to help 3 people at once. My daughter was the only person just going to Boston. Everyone else was missing connections, including someone traveling on frequent flyer miles to Amsterdam. If you've never had missed connections on a rewards ticket, count yourself as lucky. Because the canceled flight was not part of the award ticket, Delta wanted to charge them $6000 for new tickets. It only got worked out because Joann from Cape Air had the bright idea to call her colleague in Boston and have them personally walk over to the Delta office and work it out.

As for my daughter, they first wanted to put her in a van to Boston (which the people who missed the Amsterdam connection took), but ultimately they paid for a taxi to Plattsburgh this morning and a flight from there on another commuter airline. So she’s back in Boston finally.

So we arrived back at the house tired and cranky. I got on my bicycle and rode for an hour on a beautiful clear late afternoon, and then had my Favorite Fifteen, which was a swim across the lake. It's only about a third of a mile round trip, but I'm not really a swimmer. I mean, I can swim okay, but I don't do a lot of swimming for exercise and open water swimming is much harder than swimming laps. I'd wondered if I could make it, and I did with surprisingly little trouble.

I guess I do enough endurance exercise that even if I'm not an efficient swimmer I can keep going. I made sure to stop a couple of times on the way to just look around at where I was, there in the middle of the lake. The weird thing is that there's a law in New York that if you go out on a boat you need a life jacket, so everyone in kayaks or on SUPs had life jackets on. But I could swim without one. Does that make any sense? They are out there with a floating thing and I am not, yet they are the ones who need the life jackets.

At this point I was no longer tired and cranky, so we went out to dinner and had some very good Bar-BQ with pretty atrocious service. Still it was fun. And again the evening ended with some Olympics. So it ended up okay.

Wednesday morning in Lake Placid

I got up yesterday knowing that the weather forecast was ugly. Cloudy, then rainy, then cloudy and then rainy again plus windy. So I decided to get my stuff in early.

I started off with a paddle around the entire lake. I'd never done that before. You kind of have to do it first thing in the morning, because the wind seems to pick up as the day goes on. When I went out, the lake was so smooth that my stepping into it made ripples that seemed to go halfway across the surface. Once I was out on the lake, I immediately had a sense of well-being, the feeling this place always brings me, bad weather or not.

My Favorite Fifteen of the day happened early, on this paddle. Once I'd looped around toward the middle of the lake, I saw 3 loons. I will here admit to being big loon fan. I love their calls and I love watching them in the water. I'd never seen 3 together before, so I stopped paddling and watched as they swam, flapped their wings and then dove, first one and then the other two.

If you don't know loons, they dive for fish and can swim underwater for a good amount of time and distance. Typically, once they go down they are gone for about a minute and then pop up somewhere completely different, sometimes out of my field of vision. So you play a little mental game, guessing where they'll pop up.

We saw them again near the house later, but I then paddled the rest of the way around the lake. It was raining lightly, so I didn't feel like cycling, so I took my raincoat and headed for a walk around the lake. My Favorite Fifteen the first evening here, when the weather was miserable, was on my walk. If I go clockwise from where we're staying, I walk for about 20 minutes and see nothing but houses and trees, and then at one magical point, the houses are done and you see Mirror Lake, reflecting the town and its evening lights. It's always my favorite moment on this walk, which I do almost every day when I'm here, regardless of the weather.

It's always beautiful, but I was so looking forward to being here and the weather had been so awful (and it still wasn't very nice out) that the sight filled my heart with joy. I was here. Ahhh.

As for the rest of yesterday, it was fine considering the weather. After I'd walked around, I did a bit of reading and writing. Went to the supermarket. That kind of stuff. I even did a bit of schoolwork.

We had dinner at a small lakeside restaurant. It was stormy and windy out, and we were right by the window. It was magnificent. Until we had to go back to the car, but what can you do?

Then an evening of watching the Olympics and that was Tuesday. Now the sun has come out and it's almost hot. Think I'll go for a swim.

New feature!

I'm in Lake Placid now. One of the things I especially love about being in Lake Placid is riding my bike. Unlike my usual suburban deal, here there are very few traffic lights and even the roads are miles apart, so you can have a wonderful, long ride without ever having to even slow down, much less stop.

I'll tell you about yesterday later, but today I rode to Wilmington, the town closest to the Whiteface ski area. It's about 12 miles from here- downhill the whole way there, uphill the whole way back. But today I had to take a detour on my way, because there's stretch of back road, called River Road, that runs from the ski jump area outside of town 4 miles to the main road to Wilmington. This is my favorite place to ride a bicycle for a bunch of reasons, all of them having to do with its natural beauty, its quiet, and a faint but noticeable spruce forest smell that is always there.

As I was riding along, it occurred to me that in all likelihood, this would be my favorite moments of the day, which leads to my newest feature, Favorite Fifteen. What are your favorite fifteen minutes of your day? Today mine was this piece of what ended up being a 31-mile bike ride. The road is rolling hills, first through farmland, and then with the woods on one side and a river on the other. There's a school and around a dozen houses along the road, and a designated fly fishing spot. Today I saw 2 cars the entire time. Sometimes there are a few more. It doesn't matter.

The main road is not too shabby either, with (I think the same) river on one side with mountains beyond it and woods to the right.. Eventually you see a chairlift on top of one of the peaks and you know you're getting close to the ski area. It's kind of behind you when you're traveling northbound, but I got a quick peak. After that, it's into Wilmington, a scruffy little resort area highlighted by North Pole, home of Santa's workshop and a road that goes up near the top of Whiteface Mountain.

I've taken that road before. It goes up. And then you park, where someone built a small castle for some reason (vanity, in all likelihood) that now has a snack bar and bathrooms. You can then either climb up to the top (1/2 mile trail with a 200+ foot vertical) or walk through a long, spooky passageway and take an elevator. Yeah, an elevator in the middle of a mountain. Amazing views from the top on a clear day.

But for me it's just a turnaround, and the climb back to Lake Placid (about 800 ft. vertical) was harder at the beginning because of a headwind, but easier at the end than I remembered. You get a clear view of the ski area in this direction. They're always interesting to look at out of season. Took a bit more than 2 hours of riding overall. But that fifteen minutes on River Road were the peak.

Yesterday, my Favorite Fifteen was a kayak ride with my daughter. Mirror Lake is very nice. Pretty small, maybe a mile long and a quarter mile wide, with no motorboats allowed. It's quiet, and smooth and, well, mirrory. I love being out in the middle of it and just looking around and breathing the air, and doing it together was wonderful.

Anyway, I will keep reporting on my Favorite Fifteens and will ask about yours when I see you.

The wisdom to know

For whatever reason, I had the old Serenity Prayer in my head this morning while riding my bike along Lobsterville Road. I can't just reject such thoughts out of hand, because I try to live by a well defined code. Maybe not so much a code as much as guidelines. Anyway, if you don't know or remember it, it goes something along the lines of "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can't change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

From my perspective, this is all perfectly sensible. I think the problem with it is that you can't go there without checking the first draft of the prayer, which, if you must know, I just made up. That one reads, "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can't change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know that you probably don't understand what the words serenity and courage mean."

If most people knew what serenity meant, there wouldn't need to be the current craze around mindfulness, because you can't have serenity without it.  It's not the same as accepting Jesus or whatever the person who wrote the prayer actually meant (the full version mentions that fellow- the familiar part is just the first 3 lines). I think of serenity as true inner peace, where you are completely present and your mind is clear. In other words, a rarity, something that most of us rarely or never touch.

Courage is even stickier, because being serene requires simplicity and courage is much more complex. It's also gotten stuck with a connotation about physical bravery, which is not at all what the prayer is talking about or what courage means. Courage is some sort of indescribable mixture of fortitude and boldness; it's not just about going out and fighting for something, though sometimes that's exactly what it means. And it's not about simply enduring, though sometimes that's exactly what it means. It kind of means doing both at the same time, which is a little hard to picture and a lot hard to do.

I know if I try to go any deeper right now that I'm not going to finish, so I'll have to settle for one of three results. Either I have ruined your favorite little prayer, or I've helped you think a little more deeply about the things you read and hear, or I've accomplished nothing. And I can accept that.

How I write something that takes way too long to get to its point

I'm writing this on a boat from Quonset, Rhode Island, home of the world-famous Quonset Huts (kind of like Pizza Hut, but without pizza) to Martha's Vineyard. We're taking, for the 3rd time in 7 days, something called the Vineyard Fast Ferry.

One of the nicer Quonset huts you'll see.

One good thing about Rhode Island is that nobody ever asks where something is in Rhode Island. If it's in Rhode Island that narrows it down enough. In Providence/near Providence, that's it. And before you start wondering why this involves Quonset, let me state that Martha's Vineyard is a pain in the butt to get to no matter what, especially from Philadelphia. It's an island, so you can go by plane or boat- no other options. The pain can be financial (had we flown into the island airport this weekend from Philly it would have cost $2500 for the two of us for a trip that requires a change of plane in both directions, making a 250 mile trip take 4 1/2 hours from takeoff to landing) or mental (the closest place you can drive for a direct flight is JFK Airport, which is its own kind of anguish) or literal (drive 5 or 6 hours to a ferry and I guarantee your butt will not forgive you).

So Quonset is the place where you can catch something called the Vineyard Fast Ferry. It's the closest ferry to New York and points south, which makes it our best option if we're not flying. Last weekend, we flew to Providence and took a taxi to the ferry. That was okay, but the connections required us first sitting in the teeny ferry terminal (not in a Quonset Hut for some reason) for an hour and a half, and then on the way home, at Providence airport for 2 1/2 hours. This time it was a 4 1/2 hour train ride and then a van shuttle to the ferry.

Admittedly, this is a lot of whining and it's not the point I'm trying to make. I've buried the lede. The point is that on this trip, for the first time, I went outside onto the deck of the ferry to see what that was like. And it was pretty great. You don't really understand what Fast Ferry refers to until you step outside. That boat is cooking; 35 miles an hour over water is really fast. The wind is incredible and feels amazing and ultimately is so strong that it renders you unable to see or breathe normally. I loved it.

I'm about to fall into a trap that is endemic to people my age; everything is a metaphor. Going out on the front of the boat was a step, just a small one, outside my comfort zone. That's where the peak experiences can happen. In your comfort zone, the best you can get is, well, comfortable. Outside is where the high highs and the low lows take place, and if you're prepared to deal with the occasional bad experience, you will find yourself feeling more alive.

I guess this is why mindfulness is so important. If you're truly present, there is no comfort zone. Everything is new and fresh, even if it's familiar. It's something I strive for all the time and manage to achieve sometimes.