Germ warfare

As I lay here on the couch, recovering from my FOURTH major cold/sinus infection since May, I am reflecting on how it is that only some of the millions of germs that surround us, actually make it through to become full fledged illness. Having very little scientific knowledge, and mainly first hand medical information learned along the illness highway during my life so far, I don't have much idea. Now I know there is that thing called the immune system. Which, it appears, some of us got less of than others. But really, doesn't it seem like there are these sneaky little germs that play some sort of physical bait and switch on us from time to time in order to slide a little virus in here or there? Germ delinquents.
I honestly think I would have been one of those described with the "weak disposition" who was often "sickly", if someone were writing about me in the pioneer days or something. (Weren't we the first to go in the Donner party...?) It's very disgruntling. I guess with the progression of a technologically based civilization that is able to research and test almost anything, we are inadvertently creating these mega bugs- super germs. But not super in the same sense of super man or wonder woman unfortunately. Just super annoying and super disgusting.


And before you tell me all the things I could be doing to prevent these attacks, let me explain that I am WELL armored and fully locked and loaded. I know what every over the counter medication does; have multiple steroid sprays and inhalers and prescription allergy "preventers", etc.,etc. I carry them with me EVERYWHERE. (If you've seen Sleepless in Seattle, you can think of Meg Ryan's perpetually allergic boyfriend and get a good idea of my daily routine.) Anyone that knows me will tell you that a Kleenex has been my calling card (or at least evidence of my visit) all my life and had I been a little more forward thinking, I would have invested in their stock a longgg time ago. This onslaught by these invisible invaders has pushed me to the point where I am tempted to declare martial law within the Land of Lynn to somehow put these attackers at bay once and for all! The riots and mayhem going on in my nasal passages deserve some special germ tear gas; or maybe I'll just bring in some germ tanks and germ bazookas and blow that stuff right outta ... my nose?

Car-hopping

Well, I am soon to be the owner of a new (to me) Nissan Murano. I have been excited about this car since I first saw it in Florida about mid 2003. So basically it's been calling out to me ever since. This is a poignant thing because I have NEVER bought a car without being impulsive. They ALL call out to me. I've owned (as in bought on my own) five different cars over the past 14 years, and believe me, if it hadn't been for ending up so upside down in the last car, there probably would have been more.
There have been 3 cars I've always considered "dream cars" since I was young. A Ford Ranger truck, of the circa 1978 design; a Jeep Wrangler; and a Ford Mustang- the new GTs are awesome. And my very first car purchase just out of college was a new Ford Ranger...of the 1994 design, but still- it fulfills the majority of that category! (Mine was navy blue)
I later traded in the Ranger for a used, red, Nissan 240sx sports car. I have no idea why other than I wanted a change and back in those days, if I stopped at a car dealership, it was like being at a toy store and I was bound to leave with something (typically more debt). But the Nissan proved to be a very decent car, and while it was my first step backwards in the equity ratio, I had a lot of fun in it!
Then I got real stupid a couple years later, missing my truck, I traded the Nissan for another Ranger, I dont remember what year, and it was silver like the picture. I had that for a year or so, and then moved up to the big leagues and got a new Ford F150 truck. And this was a sweet vehicle, but unfortunately, it was bought in Iowa, where there's LOTS of black ice in the winter. And I learned first hand how poorly a truck handles in the snow and ice after sliding off the country highways at 55 miles and hour a few times. Anyway- it eventually got traded in too for the last in the line up, the 1995 Isuzu Rodeo which I was chained to for the last 9 years.
All this to say that while I still have 2 more dream cars to hopefully experience one day, this latest car will certainly feel like a dream for quite some time!

Always a welcome guest.

Ahhhh...the spectacular dog-days of summer. Well, they're almost gone where I live, but I'm pleading with mother nature right now to keep squeezing a few more weeks out for me! I have to tell you, I really don't mind the heat (so I rarely have to get out of the kitchen...) I really don't- the humidity bugs me, but I'll take what I get when it's finally warm.

This summer has been rich with fun little weekend trips to bodies of water and the associated lonnnggg car rides to get there and back. Reminds me of my family summer vacations of yesteryear... My mom was always determined that we get to go SOMEPLACE for a summer vacation. Now, as my memory recalls, it seems like we went to some city named Carbonville or something on one of these trips. I don't remember there being much in that town. Maybe dinosaur bones, which I was VERY into at that time. But WOW, what an enterprising name for a city! I also remember going camping and there being these huge moths on all of the trees- some migration thing I guess- I don't think they bothered me as much back then as they did my sister? (Feel free to comment sister). Regardless of where we went, there was always a "delicious" potted-meat lunch to look forward to at our rest-stop picnic table (I still shudder at that). There were also at least 3 vacation-like trips that involved moving cross-country, and taking my sister to her first year of college. Those trips also entailed the extremely long car rides, where there was a distinct line down the middle of the back seat where sis and I sat, and crossing it meant really nasty glares and stuff. Of course I crossed it often.


And I'm not forgetting the every 4 year AIRPLANE trips to my parents' home state of Florida to see all the relatives. Those were great fun as a kid. You can't beat a plane ride to a warm, tropical type place. Especially since we lived in very non-tropical places growing up. We spent lots of time around my Granddad then, playing around in his plant nursery with golf carts and he always was willing to buy junk food treats for us when we were there! Not sure if mom knew that or not?
It's hard to "grow up" and not get summers off anymore. No matter what age I am, I'm still wanting to be riding my bike all over the neighborhood and playing in sprinklers and pools and laying around eating popcicles and soaking up the sun. Up here especially, if you don't take advantage of it while you got it- it's gone in no time and you're right back to wishing for it all over again! You can almost come close to "summer overload" (I know, it does actually feel almost blasphemous to say it). But you have to be outside absolutely as much as possible, from dusk til dawn, and believe me, you need those sun vitamins up here! But, I would absolutely NOT complain, and besides, my tan is certainly not suffering! (Though my mother reminds me often that my skin may suffer from excessive wrinkling later in life....). I think the essence of summer is the permission to be tranquil. It's a season of (hopefully) balmy indulgence. And who doesn't like a little of that! Even my dog enjoys her dog days, once she gets a little "coolin off". Probably what we ALL really need is a good splash of cold water to remind us not to take life too seriously. But please don't experiment on me to see if that works.

The great thing about getting older is that
you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been.


~Madeleine L’Engle

One of these things is not like the other....

Different, an adjective, is defined by Webster's as: 1: partly or totally unlike in nature, form, or quality : dissimilar; 2: not the same: as a: distinct; 3: unusual, special and;
Oriented: intellectually, emotionally, or functionally directed.

Even Sesame Street tried to tell us that it was okay, but nobody truly likes to be different. I think it's because our human nature prefers what we are familiar with or have experienced to be like us. So that which is farther away from our "norm", becomes uncomfortable. I think different is not an easy thing to accept on the whole- but especially not when it has to do with us personally. I've tried to remember my first experience of meeting someone who was atypical from the usual line-up of everyday people. I'm sure it was someone from the inner-city Massachusetts church where my Dad was pastoring when I was between the ages of 2 and 9. You really could meet just about any walk of life, culture, age, shape, smell, and so-on there. My bad memory tells me that it was probably someone from the street that first caught my "Oh wow that's peculiar" eye, and probably their not-so-fresh aroma that put the exclamation point on the end of it. Needless to say, that kind of semi-alarming differentness sticks in the memory as being not too appealing, not very normal, and certainly not desirable. This my friends, sets the tone for future encounters with those of an "alien" nature- whatever orientation that might be. Our own culture has been telling us it's better to look, act, think and feel a certain "acceptable" way, for ages. And that's pretty easy to buy into when you're surrounded by so many others who ALSO want to align with that. I observed from an early age the kids that can't afford or maybe even choose not to ascribe to the social status symbols necessary to help you get through school a little more unscathed. They are the left-outs, the name-called, the weird kids with a myriad of stereotypes, and they eventually flock together to help feel a little less ostracized, a little less unusual. So you end up with a lot of groupings of sameness. And for whatever reasons, some of the groups are "better" than the others, and some are not. But what about the kids that don't fit into ANY of those? The ones that seem to gravitate toward the extreme of "freak" and "weird"? I guess I call that an attempt to embrace their differentness- they make their own place amongst all of the social haves and have-nots. And most of the time that evens out eventually, and sometimes it doesn't.

Even into adulthood we find names to describe the different. Eccentric seems to be a polite term for someone that people would call a "few fries short of a happy meal." Or there's offbeat, whimsical, unconventional, and one of my favorites, quirky. Oh yes, and let's not forget queer... I think we learn early on how we're going to respond to what seems unusual either by how we choose to interpret the behavior of the person, or by choosing to believe the collective societal say-so's about those atypical orientations. In selecting the first option, that means ignoring whatever name and stereotype someone is given, and seeing what they're actually like. That seems to be a difficult concept for a majority of people, unless the unorthodoxed person effects them personally in some way. I just love when this happens, because now all of a sudden, those that could be so far removed, are no longer behind the front lines anymore. Because now all of what goes along with those stereotypes may possibly apply to them as well- if they apply to the one you know, or love or are related to.

This word has been a part of me personally for as far back as I can remember. And for many reasons. One of these being that I intrinsically did not want to do what everyone else was doing, or wanted me to do, from a very early age. This unfortunately resulted in a few less friends in the neighborhood ( which certainly helped to develop my "creative side")and also apparently encouraged a few bratty kids to hold a little "Lynn protest march" out in front of our house one day. And let me tell ya, that's not an easy thing to forget. But I didn't like those kids, and wasn't willing to be bossed around by them, so thus was an introduction to my first feelings of being different at around 7 or 8 years old.
I would say next to follow in the different line-up would be moving to a place where no one is the same religion as you are- and most all girls are raised to be as feminine as the day is long. So I was already going in with 2 strikes- and the older you get, the weirder you seem if you don't act like everyone else, especially when A LOT of the everyone elses have a specific thing in common. So I was "weird" and "strange" and it was hard to find that group to fit into.
Now when you start to realize that you are, indeed, peculiar- thoughts rush back to all of those people you thought were weird and strange and smelly and whatever, and you really do panic for awhile wondering why you have to be the one that has a permanent freak flag flying? And of course, there are different levels of dissimilarness which some of us can change if we want to, and some of us cannot. And when you end up with one of the cannots, there's either a long process of finding acceptance within yourself for that, or a life-long battle of never really knowing who you are and why you have always felt...different. It's a wonderful thing to figure out why you're different, but unfortunately, not much that is unusual is celebrated. To finally put together all of the feelings and interactions and thoughts with an explanation- to find that "missing link", is a monumental figuring-out moment in the "different" life. But no one throws a party for something like that. It's no easy thing to embrace being "strange or odd from a conventional viewpoint." We would be a world of bland, insipid people without the different. No Einsteins or Da Vincis or Tchaikovskys. And somehow, someway, there's got to be something that assists those that are afraid of the divergent to realize that they are just as strange to those that have been in social exile.

I will admit that no matter how much you work to discern and deal with the nature of our humanness, you still can't take the human out of the nature. Because no matter how many times I have been left out or set aside or presupposed there are still times when I struggle to accept and or understand those that are exceptionally foreign in their orientations to me. So I too have to remind myself, that we are all searching for our own definitions within our different orientations.

Getting crowned today.......

Climbing- for fun.

One small aside before I start- I realize, as this whole blog thing moves along, that I am leading more and more into writing my own column I guess? Though it has no real direction- like some cooking or dating or advice column would. I would welcome suggestions on what a possible leading could be. But for now, I will just continue along with my random thoughts, constructed musings and occasional rantings.


When I was young(er), I used to climb a lot of things. I don’t remember specifically when this started, but my first recollection is of climbing a tree out by the street in front of our house in Worcester, Mass. I climbed it many afternoons to watch for my sister coming home from school. Her being 6 years my elder, I figure this went on for a couple years or so- and eventually I just climbed it because it was there and I could. My Dad seemed to encourage playful climbing because he rigged up some poles in our back yard, that also hooked into a tree, and I remember climbing around on those with my sister and various other friends as well.
Once we moved to Utah, my wonderful parents gifted with an amazing “jungle gym” in the back yard (now that I think of it, probably to help keep me occupied)- and I could get way up on top of that, and build and construct all kinds of things on and around it as well. But that didn’t seem to be enough as I eventually started climbing and walking along the 6 foot privacy fence, and then up onto the ten or so foot brick wall, and up onto the roof of the house. I made a game out of it by the time I was 10 or 11 and was provided the opportunity for hours of practice via numerous groundings which forced me to find things to entertain myself within the constraints of the yard. So the game was to somehow make it around the backyard on various objects without needing to touch the ground. Somehow, I miraculously managed to not prompt more trips to the emergency room in these escapades- I don’t know how though.
I provide all of this fairly mundane history to set the stage for today’s wondering about why we (I) lose sight of the fun of things in life(?) At what age does playing on the jungle gym become no longer acceptable? Man it is SO easy to get caught up and duped in the constraints of “adult” life. It’s no wonder even Hey-suess made a point to say we should be like little children, because it seems something VITAL often gets lost in the processes of “growing up”. We lose our interest in climbing trees for fun and start climbing those ladders in some career or social status that don’t really seem to lead to anywhere.
I’ve never been one much for ladder climbing of that sort - but there are situations where you can kind of get sucked in to that place of "status"; and my most recent induction into what that club is like, most certainly left me with even more distaste for it. I got to observe first hand how a large element of consideration for others seems to get lost once one "reaches the top." And no matter how masked in public this might seem, the absence is VERY apparent behind the scenes. I also see the absence of people being able to appreciate down time anymore- of being able to do nothing. DOING, seems to be ever so much more important for those that aren't able to stand having a void, what I've heard called the "overscheduled lifestyle."
It's amazing the kind of stress we can heap upon ourselves for a career or ambition or even "dream". By now you'd think I would have learned that once the stress from the job begins to outweigh the ideal of the job, it's not worth doing anymore. But noooooooo- I guess it had been long enough since I'd been in the thick of it to remember the signs. Things like on-going fatigue; lack of enthusiasm; a waning respect for those you are working for. And then there's the physical indications- for me, that almost always means the gut-rot. And this time it began to include high blood pressure and an occasional panic attack. But while all those things were familiar, and I was seriously considering taking the last train to Quitsville, for some reason I thought I should "stick it out" a little longer... to prove what, I'm not sure. Likely it was the Holden credo of giving it your all until it almost sucks the life out of you. And then came the Sunday night when I started crying because I dreaded having to go back to all that the next morning. That's when it's time to stop. That's when you feel the reality of how empty all that junk of status and prestige and who you know is. That's when you realize that no matter how much you don't allow the mindset of others to change your mindset- if you fall under their "rule" (so to speak) that expectation for you to value what they think is important, is still there. So you either subscribe to it. Or get out of that box as fast as you can.

And that's when I remembered that the only climbing I've ever wanted to do- is for fun.

I don't believe I'll need to be reminded of that again. I may not climb trees too much today, but I'd be more than happy to hop on a jungle gym anytime.

Will I weather the weather?

THAT is the question!

Let's start off with a tidbit from "The Minnesota Weather Almanac" by Mark Seeley - In a state that often sits at the crossroads of weather systems, interest in the topic runs high. It's a phenomenon Seeley dubs "meteorological affected disorder, or MAD.

Hmmmm. Yes, I believe you could say the weather has made me MAD this year. This isn't fun for someone who also gets to deal with SAD as well. So you could easily say the MAD makes me SAD or vice versa- whatever. People, there were frost advisories the other night. So as far as I'm concerned, we have for all intents and purposes, skipped Spring this year. I mean, we have about 22 days left on the calendar before summer solstice, though this past weekend was the unofficial start of summer- so either way spring has pretty much been sprunged. My native-Minnesotan girlfriend admonishes me not to "talk bad" about MN weather, (a person who rarely wears a coat in the frigid temps) but COME ON! It's not like this past winter was an easy one, and the thought of maybe only getting two or three months of actual warmth OUTSIDE just makes me cringe.
Look. I have truly lived in and experienced all climates the U.S. has to offer, with the only one exception being the Northwest (which would just not work for me- see above...) and this one has by far been the toughest. My Floridian-bred, thin blood just is NOT getting thicker and my mind just can't keep jumping over "matter" - even if there are skyways connecting 52 blocks of downtown Minneapolis together! At some point, you have to step outside and then it just takes hours to warm back up again.

Part of the problem, I think, is that Winter is celebrated here folks.... In 1885 a New York reporter wrote that Saint Paul was "another Siberia, unfit for human habitation" in winter. Offended by this attack on their Capital City, the Saint Paul Chamber of Commerce decided to not only prove that Saint Paul was habitable but that its citizens were very much alive during winter, the most dominant season. Thus was born the Saint Paul Winter Carnival. This just serves to confuse Mother Nature or the Solstices or whatever you subscribe to, so they just keep making winter hang around longer and longer... (And here we have a picture of one of the many "Ice Palaces" constructed each year...Not sure if that big flame thing is to make the ice melt faster or for people to warm up with?)

No wonder the state bird up here is the Loon!














So Mom- you may be seeing more of me this year if we don't end up with a long summer to offset the long winter!
P.S.- What global warming?

The convenient holiday for inconvenient events.

In honor of honoring those that should be remembered on this upcoming 3-day weekend, here are my thoughts......
Being the history lover that I am, I thought I'd first provide some background on this whole Memorial Day thing. This American "celebration" originated after the Civil war, reportedly to assist communities in healing after being torn apart by the war. It was originally called Decoration Day, (for decorating the graves of the soldiers) and while the intent was for this commemoration to take place nationwide on the same day, the southern, confederate states resisted joining in on this, and held their remembrances on a separate day. This lasted up until the end of WWI, when it was "declared" (I don't know by whom) that all states would use the same day as the Memorial Day holiday, May 30th. Interesting enough however, it did not become a Federal holiday until 1971. Seems odd to me when all of those that we are supposed to be remembering died for the country....What's worse is that at that same time, they changed Memorial Day from May 30th, to the last Monday of May, and here's why -
***At present, Congress has designated ten legal holidays. Since 1971, a number of these have been fixed on Mondays rather than on a particular calendar date so as to afford workers a long holiday weekend *** I mean, we wouldn't want to inconvenience people in having a holiday that might fall in the middle of the week or something. That might cause us to actually think about what the holiday's purpose was in the first place!

In the actual context of this holiday, I have to say that I don't think we Americans have any idea in this day and age what it really means to "remember the fallen". Our wars these days don't really "win" anything- and in my opinion, haven't since WWII. History shows that the whole country had to sacrifice and "pull together" during most of the wars that took place between the Civil war and WWII, something we don't know anything about today. I think it was that communal suffering that made celebrating such a day as Memorial day entirely more poignant given that you knew your remembered one had
not "died in vain", so to speak, and because you had suffered your own hardships to support that "mission" as well. No doubt it certainly lent much more meaning to Independence Day as well....
Now. Let's talk about what really happens these days. And I won't shy away from saying that I am sometimes an offender in what I'm about to say as well. But Memorial Day was truly established for those that died fighting in wars for this country. And this holiday continues into this day, because our government continues to send soldiers into battles, on behalf of this country. The holiday, way back when, started off as a much quieter observance- in placing flowers and flags on graves- where as now we have parades and picnics and vacations that really have nothing to do with memorializing anything. And there are still soldiers dying. Right now, in fact. But my suspicion is that not much "remembering" is going to happen this weekend, unless you are the widow or parent or child of the person with the flag across their casket. Meanwhile, we have these parades and picnics that don't really seem to have anything to do with what the day was intended for, and as usual, the (convenient) 3-day weekend usually involves a lot of food and drinking and is better known as being the "start of summer" than as a day of rememberance.
Once again, I have to wonder how those that died to keep this country free would feel about what their America is like now. It's taken for granted. And like sooooo much else in this country, it's an assumed privilege. A privilege that seems to get flaunted around an awful lot these days too, in my opinion. But that's a whole different blog.
So my goal this weekend, is to spend even just a few minutes, actually thinking about what it must have been like for my great uncles to fight in WWII- and to think about how much so many other soldiers had to give up and go through with the belief that they were fighting, and dying, for something. And they were! The freedom to choose how I worship, and think and work and love and am governed. It might do us good to also keep in mind that those who are serving this country in the Middle East will not come home having "won" anything. I think it will be as equally (if not more) difficult for them to adjust as it was for those returning from Vietnam...I personally would find it extremely hard to bear such sacrifices with an interminable mission that holds no discernible victory.

"Let no vandalism of avarice or neglect, no ravages of time testify to the present or to the coming generations that we have forgotten as a people the cost of a free and undivided republic." -- General Logan - May 5, 1868

The Memoir? (See Lisa's blog)

How about-

Tenaciously composing my own drum beat.

The importance of being earnest?

What is this word, melancholy? Because I sort of like it. I think it teaches lessons of life. I think it is proving ground for the heart and prevents complacency. Here is my reasoning... And as my mother is steadfast in saying..."this will eventually get to my point"...Winter brings its own shade of this word, this "state of being." Maybe it's because we are more often "trapped" inside with our thoughts and feelings, left to contemplate about our lives, our habits, sometimes, our everything. I appreciate the recourse of the Thesaurus' explanation of similar aspects of this word. Because I often find myself meditating on my place in life. I also enjoy ruminating over what I've done, but rarely on what I have yet to do. It's such a common descriptor of so many artists- that they can even assume a "period" of such earnestness.

I enjoy this word, because it is at its peak that I am left to deal with myself, by myself. And sometimes, somber can be inspirational. Sometimes, always being rational, isn't rational anymore.
If there is no severity in my effort to live, then what is it's purpose? It's often at the bleakest times, within the depth of doom and gloom that I realize the purpose is to still believe when all hope is lost; to persevere when everyone else has given up; to keep searching when all light has gone dim. What is my meaning of life? To live - and to live with purpose. This is some of what melancholy has taught me, and not without trial and tribulation, I assure you. But it is because of those "character building experiences" that I am reminded that life is not to be lived in all seriousness. That living should also embody frivolity and mischief and playfulness. So I enjoy this word, melancholy, because it teaches best its most opposite of meanings- pure bliss, priceless joy. For if we do not know sadness and its countless intricacies, how do we ever understand happiness?
Make no mistake, I solemnly appreciate the importance of being earnest. Because in that most sedate comprehension, I have realized my earnestness is only best realized when it is directed toward its antonym.