Illness in the House.

Lisa's got a sore throat so she's likely calling it a week a day early. My old Jeep's better now that the exhaust manifold has been replaced. This "patch" will shore it up for at least another year or so. After that, I'll have to either get a new engine or vehicle. We'll see.

As for me, I need rest and a moment of peace. I feel like I've been run down by a freight train, and the pressure's getting to me some. Yet it is nothing comparative to the struggles of so many more with so much less. When I think like this, I remember what I have and not what I have not.

Advice I would hand to anyone else, and what I tell my wife while, at the same time, I tend to her and make her feel better.

Fingerpointing.

New information in the form of a new book entitled State of Denial by Washington Post reporter and editor Bob Woodward lashes out at the Bush Administration detailed in an online article on MSBNC today.

This will have an effect on the midterm elections without a doubt. Even more of one that the outlashings between the Clinton Gang and the Bush Horde. When will all of this "I (did what I could / am doing what I can) about Osama bin Laden" go away? After all, according to an unsubstanuated report in a French newspaper suggested that bin Laden died a month ago from typhoid after a complication from his kidney disease.

Way to work together, fellahs.

Wandering Words.

I'm usually quite assiduous over my writing style. As of late I have relaxed my typical prose while I pontificate on other matters. You see, I've been reading again.

I'll have a great deal more to write about after this book ends and the first few power point presentations for my class. Patience, dear readers. The corollary writings will return once my alternate attentions diminish.

Calling All Generalists.

This report from MSNBC states that by the year 2020, five states surveyed by American Academy of Family Physicians (AAFP) will show a serious shortfall in primary care practitioners. A main reason why this is occurring is due to more graduates of medical programs are "preferring [to work in] specialties that pay better and offer more control over work hours." The summary and complete reports can be found here.

With less generalists than what will be required to balance the demand, this gap will expand and deepen, leaving other health professional programs and practitioners to fill that crevice (i.e.: physician assistants, nurse practitioners, midwives and naturopaths.) Now's the time to make my push for P.A. school.

Teacher's First Day

Learning is really a matter of good time management. If you take the time to observe everything around you, the interactions of other people, how people keep their homes, language use, the opportunities to learn from them are miraculous. Today was my first day of learning as a teacher, and I think I passed the quiz with at least a B+.

Despite attempting to be open with my students about the potential way to have breaks (trying to change the scheduled class outline to having a 1:40 lecture then a 1½° lunch period rather than :50 lecture, :10 break, lunch, repeat), my best intensions were squashed by the program director after the other lecture instructor was informed of this idea. Simply put, I walked over the line with an idea. Hardly could this be considered surprising or awe-striking to those whom know me, but it does show the potential of where this Tuesday event of mine may lead should the powers-that-be decide more for their methodology on teaching than my interpretation.

Still, this is my first time teaching, and for those around me it is another term in which potentially harrowing repercussions are more present than ever. Budget cuts, a lack of bond funds and the anticipated site visit by the accreditation agency CAAHEP have obviously made everyone much more on-edge than the norm. I understand entirely and defer to their logic. However, I learned something from my father some time in the past: by pushing hard at the onset of any endeavor requiring initiative and a lack of subtlety, the forces in resistance will eventually offer an equal an opposing force .This is generally a sustained force over time and expends a great deal of energy to maintain. Whereas the immediate burst of power and subsequent ease to maintain equal force or slightly less than what is being expended in resistance, makes the initiator’s role simple.

I plan to teach my way, within the rules. All the while I can learn what can be done correctly and what can be done to keep the “rules of teaching” slightly bent.

Always the Student.

Tomorrow, I am a teacher.

Which means I get to study even harder than all the students combined will.

My presentations, lectures, pictures and information will have to be spot-on.

I can't wait to see what I'm made of.

Lazy Sunday: Part 9

Todd... I'm very happy for you. Soar far, my friend.

The future Dr. Todd Kelly, M.D., D.M.D. with Professor, Dr. Francis Curd, M.D., D.M.D.

Bicycle Bedlam.

Critical Mass has always made me smile. What's better than seeing thousands of cyclists riding in unison down the main streets of downtown, ringing bells, shouting and singing, and generally carrying-on without causing much of a ruckus? Well, not much trouble for pedestrians and on-lookers at least. The traffic system shuts down for a good thirty minutes or so while the mass of bicycles passes by, and some of the most progressive of riders willingly give themselves up to the Police Bureau for the obligatory roll-call of moving violations expected to be handed out each time this gathering takes place. Keep Portland Weird!

Friday Returns.

I'd say there was a lot to write about, but this is my first day back to the operating room after a week off. A lot changes in only four days. Surgery waits for no one. Injuries, disease, dispair, famine... it's all the same, yet different a few days removed.

Learning the Community College.

Next Tuesday will be my first day of teaching. Today, I have been called, with only a slight imposition, to meet with the surgical technology program director at Mt. Hood Community College to make certain all of my credentials are in place. Apparently the two earlier trips were not adequate for everything they needed despite my bringing all requested items or emailing scanned copies to them directly. I suspect that their strictness is directly related to the upcoming CAAHEP inspection of their surgical technology program in the coming months.

While I have prepared myself with reading materials on the subjects at hand and gathering supplies so that I might walk in knowledgeable and ready to learn from my students, the staff at MHCC have taken their summer off and left work to be done at the last moment.

This is a good lesson to learn when it comes to teaching: all cannot be done at once. Teaching, like learning, is a gradual process.

McMenamins' Grand Lodge.

This place is wonderful.

We have stayed a pair of nights in the most lavish room found in the Grand Lodge. The hand painted murals and small additions to the plumbing, makes this place more of a magical resort than "just a hotel room." Last year, we only saw this room for a few hours, but this trip has been what the last one was not: bliss.

The Compass Room Theatre across from our room.

Surgical Reflections.

There is one week left before I begin my teaching at Mt. Hood Community College, and I'm feeling the push to get everything done before the time catches me. Power points and teaching outlines and visual aides, oh my.

I can still remember the mantras of my own teachers who encouraged me to learn all I could and do my best at every task. One of my mentors in clinical rotations, Mark Baker, CST, told me, "Do it right the first time, and you'll have no need for an excuse the second time." I will pass this along to my students next week along with the idea that surgery is actually a simple concept. The majority of which is simply hemostasis, or stopping the bleeding. Though we use eletrocaudery these days, it's still the standard to clamp off and tie both ends of a bleeding vessel with 2-0 silk or Vicryl then cut the ends of the suture and observe if the bleeding persists. The mantra goes, "clamp, clamp, tie, cut, observe, repeat." Simple.

Still, I can only imagine that teaching about surgery would seem a taunting task to those that see surgery as a matter of delicacy and enormity. Though I still think surgery is both a serious and no small matter, I hardly think of surgery as difficult when I'm there. The surgeon is a well-attributed practitioner, assisted by capable staff and professional individuals. A lot of the complexity is likely brought about by those that watch television and presume that every case is harrowing, life-threatening or carries far-reaching consequences... and this is only partly true.

Not everyone who goes in for surgery will come out alive, this is true. However, not all cases are as life-threatening as acute trauma, advanced disease process intervention, organ transplantation or such high profile cases. These are the subjects of television shows who wish to hype their evening of drama to pad the show while stringing together weak sub-plots based on weaker sexual intercourse between the weakest of stereotypical characters. The "reality" of surgery is that it's an imperfect science, socially presumed to be a perfected one through advanced techniques and evidence-based progression in our understanding of the human body and its processes. These same people that presume surgery to be "a sure bet" will also admit that we do not know everything there is to be known about the capabilities of the human body. After all, many more people than not hope to become more than they are currently.

The chance that someone shall, by sheer will, beat cancer after chemotherapy, extensive drug regiments and tumor removal surgery is a well told tale. One that happens more often to the young rather than the elderly. Because of this preference, that of telling the success stories more often than the failures, surgery escapes the stigma of appearing as it truly is: that it has as many facets to it affording it the true standard of imperfection as there are idiosyncrasies inherent of the human body. Add to this that the body any individual human being, after making the conscious (or often unconscious if involved in trauma) decision to undergo surgery, processes many more individual characteristics (known and unknown) it is a wonder that we have willingly allowed ourselves to be subjected to the method of surgery for over several millennia.

We are a truly amazing facet of society. Those capable of being a part of surgery and surgical procedures possess qualities to witness the greatest of suffering and triumph. Clamp, clamp, tie, cut, observe, repeat.

One Year.

On this day last year, I had the pleasure of committing to spend the rest of my life with Lisa. Since that time last year I have grown to know and care for her even more than the year before it. I also know that there is still so much more for us to share in the years to come. We will be returning to the McMenamins Grand Lodge, where we were married, for two days of relaxation and further honeymooning.

The first year anniversary tradition is paper. Though my blog is electronic, I have writen down many of the little sayings my wife and I have used to one another since meeting (inside jokes, affirmations, and the like) into a little book for her gift. There will be enough room left in it to add as the years continue. Sweet things like this are the reason I love her so much, because she lets me be a complete sap and dork.

Lazy Sunday: Part 8

It's such a lovely day, I thought two photos would be nice for today. Enjoy!

Sunrise over Mt. Hood and the Willamette River from OHSU.

The word on the street is:

The Final Frontier.

The new wings on the International Space Station look terrific. What an amazing undertaking we have all committed to as human beings.

Currently there are three separate spacecraft in orbit of our planet. A Russian Soyuz pod heading to the I.S.S. with a Cosmonaut, American Astronaut and Iranian-American business woman. STS-115 Space Shuttle Atlantis is free from the station with all six crew members in fine health and heading home. Five Americans and a Canadian are aboard. Finally, the Station holds Expedition 13 with it's Russian Commander, American specialist and German-born E.S.A. Member.

That's 12 humans, representing five different countries, on three vehicles, around this beautiful, unique planet.

WE are an amazing species. Both terrible and wondrous in our actions. Yet, when we hold our one, irrefutable commonality in perspective of any dispute we may think could set segregate us, there is no end to our marvelous capabilities.

Jeep's Cry.

My poor old Jeep. She's getting loud, I presume it's the muffler, but it's clean. Also, the amount of noise I would think would come from the muffler is actuallycoming from directly under the engine. Translation: exhaust manifold. Impact: $1K at least.

I'll be taking her in to Jeepers! next week for a check up and we'll weigh the options then. I'd love to keep her, no matter the cost. Also, a new engine might be the best answer. For $4K, I get a new car, my old one. Sounds fine by me.

Autumn Nears.

We have had our first small rain today. It's a sure sign that the summer break is finally ending for the college students and that all is returning from three months of frivolity to routine. I do love the rain though. It's a cleansing process to watch everything get the blanket of fresh water. The dirt and dust congealing into mud after having such freedom to blow along wherever the wind might take it.

In so many ways, people are the earth. We become tied into mires of our own creation: studies, employment, the desire for "things". The rain reminds us of the changing seasons. From the time of doing as we like to doing what we must. I hope it was a fruitful break, my friends. I know mine has been most restful and eye-opening.

--------------------------------------------

Later:

Thanks to the lovely weather, my wife and I took the chance to hit our favorite bookstore, Powells on Burnside and find a few reading materials for our edification. Having read Al Gore's latest, and realizing the high-level brevity that Powell's employees possess, I thought the display for his book was simply, perfectly photographic for all to enjoy.

Op.-Ed.: Health and Wealth.

Weekly comment for potential printing in editorial pages of local periodical:

Perhaps it is too utopian of anyone to believe that any man or woman who honestly works hard, provides funds for their family to purchase both needed and desired provisions, and seeks to better themself through education in its many forms should receive access to affordable, portable, efficient, and quality healthcare. Those individuals that can afford such care typically have annual check ups, report mild or moderate concerns or changes immediately, and concern themselves with living a mostly-healthy style of living.

After all, if everyone lived with such concern for themselves, and had equal access to health professionals ready and prepared to attend to them, and overcame the fear to rework a failing system into one no longer run by the legions of poltroons that balk at the first hint of change, how healthy of a country would the United States become?

Hollywood-BLAND!

Yesterday evening Lisa and I took in this film and well, the title says it all, folks. It's not from a lack of trying mind you, but there were so few good points in this film to make it either exciting or interesting that I can actually name them all in this short posting.

First of all, Ben Afleck just proved that, given a calmer role, one where he doesn't have to work to hard to get his character's personality across, he can act quite well. Amazing, yes. True, believe it. The guy gets it right for a change.

Aside from Ben's performance, everyone else just phones-in theirs. Diane Lane dawns some ghastly make-up to provide us all with a preview of her future roles (think Lucille Ball as a bag lady.) The usually impeccable Bob Hoskins takes his chances playing the villain role (and one akin to Chistopher Lloyd's villain that played opposite to Mr. Hoskin's Eddie Valiant character in Who Framed Roger Rabbit?) and shows the audience a man who's both weak and unfinished in depth. Finally, Adrian Brody continues showing his fine acting abilities can go to waste in smaller films that overcharge him to take the lead with a character that's neither interesting or important. Some one in Hollywood had better give him a real role soon, or The Pianist will be his only hit.

Right, the good parts. Well woven flashbacks and current events make for a surreal setting which is what I'm presuming is what director Allen Coulter wanted his audience to buy into: that "Hollywoodland" is a fantasy world where what's shown and what's not shown often spills over into one another. Unfortunately for this film, Coulter's vision is still mulled with inserts of freaks (a smoking, sun-wrinkled workout grandad), gangster threats and uninteresting semi-sexual encounters. TV may have earned him awards, but this film's plots are dragged out for too long and made so convoluted that the audience is left wondering whom they should care for after 45 minutes. Two hours later, we leave knowing less and wanting lesser.

For those looking to get their fix on something based in the 1950s, await the upcoming Black Dahlia film or better yet read a Dashiell Hammett novel.

Oh... the best part of this film: because we went and saw this last night we didn't have to listen to the President's moronic speech on remembering 9/11 and renewing our fight against terror. Time well spent.

When the Bomb Drops.

For many years I have had a relationship with coffee not unlike a bad relationship: on again, off again. At one point I'd quit drinking it only to find myself a month or so later returning to a new haunt for the "dirt filtered with hot water." Mostly I found the places themselves to be more interesting than the drinks themselves. Before I headed in to work yesterday I stopped at my current, favorite coffee shop in Sellwood called the Ugly Mug. The owner of the cafe stood behind the counter as barista and asked if I'd have my usual: a short, double mocha, non-fat. I smiled and agreed that it was my wish.

"You heading in to work tonight?" she asked me. I told her that I was going in for my last of three 12-hour shifts and had recently overcome a cold. "I took NyQuil this morning before sleeping," I said. "Nothing like the drunken feeling that comes from waking up after being sick then cured by NyQuil." It was her time to smile, mostly in understanding of my condition. "The coffee will help," she proclaimed after a short giggle.

I paid for my drink and struck up conversation with her as I have in the past. She wanted to know more about my job and if it was exciting or not. Surgery has it's moments after all. Being neither the surgeon nor the circulating nurse means I have a lot more anonymity than they do and less, overriding responsibility; but my job really is pretty amazing. She seemed interested in my profession and stated she was looking to move ahead in her job, something in health care. She mentioned her degree in Fine Arts and enjoyment of running the shop, but admitted that she wanted to have a job that contributed to the grander scheme of the world. She wanted to know more about getting on with a life that is richer and full of greater meaning. I had little to say but this, "When it comes down to it, we all need so little and what comes to us naturally is only evident when the situation calls for it." We discussed what would happen to people's routines if a major global event happened: an earthquake, comet impact, nuclear fallout or other such catastrophe. We agreed that it would be the simpler, life-sustaining capabilities that we would display, falling back on our habitual interests (coffee preparation, showing art to children as social benefit, playing sports, etc.) as our way of preserving who we are as a species, not just as individuals. Until such an event happens we agreed that it's not wrong to dwell on what we each could become, but it is foolish to wait for it to happen on its own.

This woman is my age with only a couple of extra years added. A member of the so-coined Generation "X". The "lame-o" kids with nothing to do and nowhere to do it. Unproven, unfocused, Gen X. Yes, I am aware of today's date; and yes, I understand that there is pain and sorrow and grieving taking place across this country and globe. However I also know this is five years past. That the Pentagon, Flight 93 and N.Y.C. Trade Center attacks have been made into films, commemorating or expanding upon their details. To this I reiterate that five years have passed since the events of 11 September, and I ask you to consider this as our leaders equate 9/11 to the devastation of World War II: What was the situation for the war-ravaged lands of Europe in 1950, five years after the end of WWII? I would argue that it was much improved and getting even better because of the assistance of Europe’s neighbors and allies. The focus was kept for length not where the blame was to be placed, nor on carrying out retribution on those found responsible. Nor was it true five years later, when the world sought to heap pity, not on the country, but upon those victims most deserving of memorial service both in the honorific and vigilant reminder of their tormentor.

If my words are harsh or to historical to become personal, I offer you a simpler question that may help to simplify my message: How long ago did you lose a family member? Think back two, five or 10 years and try to remember something specific to you about them. I'll wager it's the first time you've done so in a while. You're strong and aware of yourself, right? You do not fear as you once did, of mortality, consequence or judgment. You do not hold the thought of their loss as a staple for determining your daily routines. Merely you would rather think that you hold the memories of that loved one as a benchmark for improving yourself and as experience to be passed to others.

I contend that we in the United States must call upon ourselves, not just our leaders, to survey our lifestyles and consider where we will be five years from this day, ten years removed from tragedy. That we have come around to find that half a decade later we are not living a more peaceful life as did 1950 Europe, despite technology that allows for greater information gathering, a more robust population than did the world have in 1950, and social causes that are arguably deeper in meaning and understanding than at any other point in our human history is

Are our wounds long since scabbed over and left as scar tissue, reminders that are skin deep to the body and passing memory in mind.

We have all of us become Zarathustra, ardent apostles to the prognosticators; and it is ourselves that have permitted this to happen.

This kind woman conveyed to me that she was one of many she knew; tired of the routine living I have only too often rebelled against only to return like a wounded animal seeking shelter from harm. My coffee habit reflects that observation: one of comfortable prediction. And when the bomb drops, when we are all left with our routines splayed open, our simplest needs now the most apparent, will we say it came to be because of inaction? That it was a freak occurrence unforeseen even by the soothsayers? Or will we look back on our most recent history, unafraid to reshape ourselves and show comfort and courage to those that may normally cower before the unforeseeable, accept the blame and use that strength to carry on? I can only hope so for tomorrow, for today I see reminders of events past and empty coffee cups in a deep impact crater.

Tomorrow, I will start to fill it in with a shovelful of audacity.

Lazy Sunday: Part 7

Simply, unequivocally, godspeed, Atlantis.

Launch of STS-115 Atlantis on 9 September 2006 at 11:15 EST

Amiga Emily.

I encourage many to start keeping an eye on mi amiga muy buena Emily's blog once she gets it running like the fiend she will A Blog to Pass the Time. This fine friend of mine has amazing skills in both conversation and writing. Her last years have been enriched both by personal growth in the form of potential ex-patriotism and in the fulfilling of her heart in the romantic rapture of a gentleman. She and our long-lost compadre, Christopher, complete the triad of those I believe will complete fine works of writing to be enjoyed by many should the audience and interest be there years from this day.

¡Buena suerte en Espana, amiga! ¡Que guay!

Trip Home: CB/NB

Nothing like an evening at the Zoo. My hometown has had this bar, where my great friend Disgruntled Davey works as the cook, Roger's Zoo & Bizarratorium entones the sort of locale similar to the cracker-barrel general store of old. This is true enough up to the point where you remove the milk, eggs bread with booze, fries and pizza.

The Grad.

I'm still away, but I thought I'd share a photograph of me on graduation day.

Away.

For those of you reading my blog I felt it only fair to write and say that I'll be on hold until I return to Portland on Friday. Today's post will be replaced by an op-ed. letter on the subject of Steve "The Crocodile Hunter" Irwin's death and two short entries on home.

I intend to relax a little and enjoy being at home with my wife and dog. Until Friday, my friends!

Trip Home: Port Orford

My wife, canine and I have returned to her mother’s home in the small, southwestern Oregon, coastal town of Port Orford for a day or two. I have always enjoyed these towns south of my own hometown for their local ilk and picturesque ocean views. Like my own town, P.O. sees the persistent dilapidation of its buildings, small business decline and fewer young faces as the lure of bigger profits and grander entertainments entice the population to cities like Ashland/Medford, Eugene and Portland.

My wife and I have been welcomed by her mother, brother, her precocious black cat Alanna, and mother's canine companion, Lizzy. Her home is a small one, but offers all the comforts that can only be found in at a in-law's: a backyard garden complete with a flourishing tree, engorged with semi-ripe apples, blackberry bushes aplenty, and conversation that's ready for picking year 'round. Pie and cobbler are immediately suggested as bakable goods during our visit.

Still, quaint as this township is to me and my family, I can’t help but find myself comparing it to the conveniences I have grown accustomed to in Stumptown. The accessibility of the Internet being similar and few shops with simple pleasures like coffee, bread and fruit are not lost here; but they are easily overlooked as uncommon when considered normalcy up North. I find myself almost an outsider, one that I’d regularly notice as such when living back here, due to my unfamiliarity with the surroundings. This has been the case since arriving yesterday until this afternoon, when I walked down the road (the main road being Highway 101) with my wife. The intension was for a morning coffee and as we looked at the closed shops, either by decree of their posted business hours or by closure of the business entirely, I saw before us the grandeur of Battle Rock and the open sea.

Few things, more than this, can remind me of why I miss home than to witness the Pacific Ocean and the natural geoforms that accompanies its coastline. As I looked out at the scene I thought of all the matters that I had just begun to complain about. The lack of shops, few people and seemingly placid lifestyle, all of which brought me back to how I was a part of that living for years in Coos Bay/North Bend; and I was quite content with it. My move north four years ago was hardly different from those of other youths: for higher education; new experiences; personal growth. I knew then and now that I’d return some day to the area of my youth and even knew that I would have a different perspective on its make-up. I see now just how much of a change that has become since this return to the area. It is a trip not as a single man, a college student escaping away to a shire of familiarity for a moment of brevity before returning to the glamour of the metropolis; but as a family man, with wife and four-legged “child” now a graduate of college with employment in the great city of the State. The view has changed just as time and my character have.

Home, once a place seen as somewhere to escape, the as a refuge for youthful memories, has become a destination sought after as a goal. Home is no longer that, but a future location to reside. I wonder now if I’ll see home in further new standpoints as I age and grow and live from afar.

Tomorrow, I will see my hometown and, of course, I will also see my mother and former workplace those remaining confreres whom have remained working there so diligently over these past four years.

An Open Letter: Mom

Occasionally I feel the need to explain some of my other methods of getting back into writing. Most of my friends know that I'm an avid writer of paper letters sent through the post and emails. This may not come as a surprise to anyone, but such close friends also know that I prefer the former to the latter.

I use a thick stationary and continue to write in hand using a fountain pen. Usually sending out a post to at least three friends or family members each month. I even blot my letters shut with a wax seal (dorky as that may seem, getting one has always put a smile on the recipient's face.)

The following post fits my theme this week of going home for a week. I wrote an email to my mother while she and I were both at our respective workplaces. As I'm about to see her in a few days, I felt that the speed of an email would better serve than once paid for with 39¢. After all, I'd win the race begun by the USPS. Enjoy this excerpt.

"I'm reading the Oregonian's Opinion section tonight (a "Sunday-evening-at-work" staple of mine) only to see that Susan Nielsen has a great column on "helicopter parents." These, she infers with her catechism, are the parents of college students that remain close to their offspring to the point of total coddling... as though the student had entered kindergarten or elementary school rather than a University. Emails, cell phones and other technological advancements allow the parents and students to remain in contact several times a day as opposed to the few times a month as was the norm only 10 to 15 years ago.

"Reading this article caused me to think back on how you handled it when I moved both to Eugene in 1994 and up here in 2002. I can't say thank you enough for being so far removed from the stereotype Nielsen describes today. You were not then and have never been a "helicopter mother." Hovering over my progress, ready to dive in and lower a rope to help me out of troubled waters into which I'd placed myself. Perhaps it was because we lived on the Oregon coast that this metaphor fits so well for us?

"I knew that I'd been taught the fundimentals as to how to swim and to sail the ocean of life while living at home. You and Dad always at the beach with me or at home when I was out with friends upon whom we could rely. You have been my Coast Guard, occasionally out sweeping the area for dangerous reefs and inspecting other vessels afloat. All the while you encouraged me to take responsibility for my own maritime practice: packing the proper safety gear; rationing supplies; inviting others to explore new areas of the sea; never overlooking the ocean for the beauty that it is.

"I feel true sympathy for those children that need to float in smaller boats or feel to dependent on others and so must remained moored to the docks. All the while, their parents extend the rope as they drift further and further out to sea, constantly looking back or at the pretty objects floating about. Meanwhile they are oblivious to the tides and other boats ready to crash over them. Their folly in this sea grew because they or their parents had taught them to fear whenever they couldn't touch the bottom of the pond with their feet. Also they feel overconfident thinking they can remain afloat indefinately thanks to the water-wings that their parents have long provided without want or expectation of reimbursment.

"You're a true guardian, Mom, as was Dad. What I've learned about sailing these seas has made me Captain of my own life. I have a fine crew and a star to steer by. It remains my honor to explore and learn and share."

The article I mention can be found here.

Lazy Sunday: Part 6

On the theme of heading home tomorrow, this is the image reminding me most that
I am home.

Later notation: After returning to work this evening I happened upon the Destinations portion of today's Sunday Oregonian only to find that I had been thinking ahead on the theme of bridges.

Serendipity indeed.

Heading Home.

On Monday, Lisa and Odysseus will pick me up after work and whisk us away to home. I get to sleep in the car and after a full weekend of work, this will be a slight pleasure.

Returning to the hinterland always refreshes me in ways that the city of Portland can only attempt to do. The smell of fresh ocean air and unblighted lands in invigorating to say the least. Seeing my family and friends and having everyone together... there's nothing that compares.

I'm coming home.

The Air Down There.

Leave it to the State to the south to start making headlines before Oregon can. They have the celebrities, stem-cell research groups, and the most votes in the Electoral College. You'd think California had done it all. However, what was done yesterday may make not just one state, but all fifty a little closer to cleaner; and that's something I'm quite content with Oregon being second or third behind.

California passed legislature in its Democratically controlled Congress to decrease statewide carbon dioxide emissions by 25% by the year 2020. This bill, already agreed to be signed into law by Republican Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger, "... could establish controls on the largest industrial sectors, including utilities, oil refineries and cement plants." Furthermore, "The agreement imposes the most sweeping controls on carbon dioxide emissions in the nation."

It's a strong start even though it breaks down to a seemingly inconsequential 1.8% annual decrease in CO2 emissions from all sectors in the State. However, considering the areas of greatest emission are also the most populated, this small amount could prove to be larger than the number suggests.

The real win is not just the beginnings of cleaning up some of the most tainted air in the nation, (as shown on this map) but it paves the way for other States to work on their forms of legislation to improve air quality and curb gas emissions that lead to global warming.

This is especially important as the Federal Government and Bush Administration continues to view the issues around global warming and CO2 emissions as "voluntary actions by States, companies and individuals." Malarkey, Mr. President.