Short Stories

So, I'm taking a break from social action to indulge in my second favorite subject: My sister, but if I had written that at top, my brother would've been livid. So, in the name of sibling equality I'll donate this to Dani and a future post to the B-ster.

Dani has been my inspiration for how to lead a socially responsible and personally fulfilling life. As a yoga master, English teacher and outdoors leader she has let her heart guide her path. Through this pursuit, she has met her husband (we should all take note). Meeting a Middlebury man on the mountains on Montana was her destiny. Now, after teaching and helping me in so many ways, I'd like to help her (does this count as social action?)

I would like you, yes, YOU! The person reading this blog now, to think of one great, fantastic short story that made a lasting impression on you as a student and leave a comment about it. It can simply be the title or if your feeling benevolent, a comment as well. Can you think of a more democratic way to teach? As DanDan would say: Smiles

Toilets!

Ok- I'll admit it. There is nothing like toilet humor to make me laugh. Just the thought of it can elicit a giggle. (Many of you already know that). So when I came across the news that the newly formed World Toilet Association was having its first conference on November 22, hosted by none other than South Korea's Mr. Toilet, I smiled. That's so funny! The World Toilet Association!

However, once I stopped giggling, I began thinking. This, I realized, is a fantastic way to gather all these disparate people together to discuss how to save water by reducing the amount each toilet flushes. So provincial were my views. I only focused on the environmental benefits. Little did I consider the international health implications of a Toilet Association. It could save lives. (Scroll down to buy a toilet to save a life).

A Toilet Association has the power to bring toilets to those who don't have them. Specifically, to the 2.6 billion people who do not have them. As some of you might know, about 2 million people die each year from diarrhea, 90% of whom are children. I have always maintained that it is an outrage that children are still dying of diarrhea. While access to toilets is certainly not the magical panacea for this and other causes death, it's a fantastic and underrated start.

Let's first start with the leading causes of preventable death. These are: lower respiratory infections, HIV/AIDS, diarrheal diseases, tuberculosis, malaria and measles. They account for 90% of preventable deaths worldwide. Astounding. Cholera, while not in the top six, also takes a substantial amount of lives. (Footnote 1) Of these diseases, malaria, diarrhea, tuberculosis and cholera would be far less fatal if clean water and adequate sanitation was widely accessible. Why? Because these are communicable diseases, meaning diseases that one obtains from physical contact with infected persons or things, such as foods, body fluids, liquids, the air and other contaminated objects. This means that the cruder and more overcrowded your living conditions are, the more likely you are to get a disease from your neighbor. This is particularly true if the disease is transmitted through airborne inhalation, or is a water-borne disease like diarrhea. Hence, the dire need for toilets.

Disease and bugs carrying diseases are naturally attracted to the waste that a toilet disposes of. One gram of feces can contain 10 million viruses, one million bacteria, 1000 parasite cysts and 100 parasite eggs (footnote 2). Imagine how many children are killed due to this simple equation. A toilet would eliminate these 10 million viruses and parasite eggs, which go on to breed terrible parasites in children and adults. In fact, according to the organization Wateraid, safe disposal of human waste can reduce childhood diarrhea by 40%. Pretty astounding?

Here's another way to look at it. You really have to go, but there are no available facilities. We've all been there. Now, imagine its not a matter of holding for a few more minutes or even hours, but days. In fact, a clean, available facility might never be available. Think about how hard it would be to focus on your classes as a second or seventh grader knowing that your choice is between holding it for six hours, incontinence or a filthy toilet with worms and bugs. You'd probably do what many women and children do, which is develop a habit of avoiding toilets for extremely long periods. This, of course, disrupts the body's natural cycle of eating and disposing and causes dehydration, fissures, urine infection, kidney failure, constipation, incontinence and bladder disease to name a few (Footnote 3).

So, now, just as with recycling I encourage you to take action. Donate a few dollars or even just one to help prevent this atrocity. Think about it- if every person who views this blog donated two dollars to toilets, we could really make a difference.

Some links to donate and or check out are:

1. Articles:
a. Dugger, Celia. Toilets Underused to Fight Disease, U.N. Study Finds. New York Times.
11/10/2006.
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/11/10/world/10toilet.html
b. Practical Action: World Toilet Day: http://practicalaction.org/?id=sanitation

2. I love the Water Aid website (http://www.wateraid.org/uk/get_involved/world_toilet_day/default.asp)
because it gives many practical suggestions besides donating, along with facts about the crises. They also have a Tasteless tie and tacky earrings competition, writing campaign, posters, games (yes- tinkle time and others) and a fantastic four page booklets: http://www.wateraid.org/documents/campaigners_sanitation_pack.pdf

3. For the toilet lovers, you can buy a toilet from Oxfam. Go in with your friends. Buy one in your parents/boss/boyfriend's name for Christmas. Or buy one in my name for Hanukah.
http://www.oxfam.org.uk/shop/ProductDetails.aspx?catalog=Unwrapped&product=OU2648

4. The frugal might want to buy a toilet through World Vision Alternative Gifts. Not as nice,
but does the trick:
http://www.greatgifts.org/GiftCertificateSelection/GiftCertificate.aspx?CertificateID=733&ParentTypeID=2&ParentType=Water

5. Donate to Bio-latrines in Kenya and help keep schools open: http://practicalaction.org/?id=appeal_biolatrines

Footnotes:
1= http://www.globalhealth.org/view_top.php3?id=228
2= http://www.wateraid.org/uk/get_involved/world_toilet_day/default.asp
3= http://www.wordinfo.info/words/index/info/view_unit/3948

Building that Are Alive

In this day of Green Everything, there is LEED platinum and then there is a living building.
What is a living building?
A living building is a self-sustaining structure. Think of it as a Kibbutz in the vertical variety.
It catches and uses its own water. Its toilets flush with one pint (compared to 1.6 gallons for efficiency toilets) and self-compost. Getting the point? It might or might not generate its own electricity through solar panels and/or vegetation by using the heat generated by the building for a greenhouse.

The architecture firm SERA in tandem with the developer Kenton Living Building is creating an excellent example of a living building in Portland, Oregon. While this project does not capture the waste heat generated by the UHI, it pushes the envelope of green building by limiting the amount of water and electricity each tenant consumes. Additionally, to garner enough usable water the team is lobbying Portland for a variance on the anti-gray water ordnance to harness the water from the faucets (10% of the total water supply).

Check it out the project for yourself at: http://www.djc.com/news/en/11189630.html

If energy is not a primary concern and a building has tons of roof space to spare and free falling water from the Catskill Mountains delivered to your apartment, as we do in NYC, it might become alive by harnessing all the resources of its roofs. Stay with me. The luxury high-rise readers of this blog are probably wondering a) if I am on drugs (I'm not) b) what roofs have to offer besides a view, place to smoke, and lounge chairs. Others might be aware of some sort of movement to put plants on roofs, but do not realize the larger context. Plainly put roofs have many resources.

Roofs are not only the homes of HVAC systems (Heating, Ventilation, Air Conditioning and Cooling) or satellite dishes, but are homes to vast harvestable flat areas that offer space for energy, ecology and light, partially due to Urban Heat Island (UHI) effects.

The ho-ha what Island? An UHI is land that had been changed by urban development. The change causes an enormous amount of energy to be generated because of the material properties of cities, i.e. asphalt and concrete, lack of natural cooling systems, like vegetation, pollution, and, most relevant to this blog, large amount of tall buildings. The buildings have multiple reflective surfaces which bounce and absorb sunlight, block the wind, another natural cooling system, and generate waster hear from air conditioning, factories, industry and other function.

This excess heat, known as waster heat, alters the climate of the city. As we all know the temperature in NYC is much warmer in the night than in the outer lying suburbs, which are geographically quite close.

So how does this relate to green roofs? Well, this waste heat can be harnessed and used to create vegetated systems for roofs. A waterproof, filtered floor or soil is placed on the roof on which vegetation is planted, grown and consumed by the residents of the building. Therefore, the residents are trapping and using the waste heat to grow their own vegetables, grossly reducing their food carbon foot print. Pretty efficient, huh?

40 million bottles a day

Why doesn't the gym recycle? That question has always gnawed at me for years. It has become particularly dominant recently as I have been aware of the extreme explosion in the consumption of water bottles, the large carbon footprint of each bottle and inexcusable abdication of recycling responsibilities by wealthy corporations.

First, bottled water consumption has doubled over the past decade. Specifically, there are approximately 15 billion water bottles now consumed a year. So what you say? People also enjoy soda, beer, and sports drink. The difference is that bottled waters is usually consumed at the gym, on the train, while walking and the office (also in the car- but since I live in NYC, I'll shelve that problem). Because these places are not residential, there are few opportunities to recycle. As a result, some forty million bottles about 87% of all water bottles are trashed each day. Wrong? Yes. Solvable? Yes.

Why report? Why bother? Excellent question.

Toxic byproducts such as chlorine gas and are produced when bottles are incinerated.

Water bottles that are not incinerated but buried take 1,000 years to biodegrade.

By some estimates 40% of PET bottles were exported to China for recycling demonstrating the high need for domestic bottles. There are simply to few people recycling in the US threatening the livelihood of the domestic plastics recycling industry.

What are the solutions?

First of course is to go nalgene or some other way that elements or drastically cut consumption of water bottles in the first place. Short of that, a few concrete solutions do come to mind.

First, comes with the understanding that about 30% of soda bottles are recycled. This is because they are consumed in the home. Logically, then we should have opportunities to recycle outside the home. Specifically there must be recycling opportunities at the gym, where an unbelievable number of bottles thrown in the trash as a result of there being no onsite recycling option.

Second, create a financial incentive for recycling water bottles. There is no reason that water bottles should be exempted for the recycling deposit levied soda cans and bottles.

Thirdly, and simply, report or speak to business that do not recycle so that they will be forced to comply creating a greater supply of plastic available for recycling and reuse. http://www.nyc.gov/html/dsny/html/contact/requests_comm_recycling.shtml. Report abuse!

Water Bottles and Terrorism.

Ok- so you understand why recycling is good. You might even vaguely understand why people, like me, carry around water bottles. What I'd like to do is make you aware of how buying water bottles supports terrorism. By buying water in a plastic bottle that has been mostly likely transported some distance you are a) most likely paying more per gallon for water then you are for gas and b) buying gas, and therefore making terrorist supporting states wealthier.

1) Massive amounts of fossil fuel are burnt by the extremely long distances bottled water often travels to satisfy needs of Americans to have European water. By some estimates, one quarter of all bottled water crosses a national border. Think how many trucks, planes and boats that Fiji water used because the clear, reservoir isn't good enough for some.

2) The packaging of water requires fossil fuel. Bottles are usually made from a plastic called polyethylene terephthalate (PET) which is derived from crude oil. In just creating the bottles, some 2.7 million barrels of oils used (1.5 domestically). Gives you a pause, doesn't it?

3) Drilling oil for the plastic and transportation of the water bottles realizes gases that contribute to global warming.

4) As little as 12% of water bottles are recycled, meaning their garbage must be burnt or transported requiring more oil.

5) Enormous amounts of nickels, benzenes, ethylbenzene and ethylene oxide and other toxic emissions are generated in the manufacturing of PET. In fact, according to the Berkeley Ecology Center, is 100 times the amount generated in the production of glass.

Convinced yet?

Where are all the recycling bins?

So, I ate at my favorite organic, vegan restaurant and immediately felt comforted by its a pseudo-Portland vibe. I consumed a delicious vegan lasagna full of vegetables, flavor and tomatoes- what could be better? Then came do or die time- the moment at which it is revealed if the store/restaurant/cafe truly espouses the philosophy it promulgates. It was time to through out the trash.

Let me rewind a bit and state preemptively that I did not request a plastic container, or asked if I intended to eat in or out, but was simply handed my delicious lasagna (see above) in a plastic container. Put that thought on hold. So, I walked to the trash and was shocked to find this store, which places such a huge emphasis on wholesome, vegan foods, and general health to lack a visible recycling receptacle. Confused, I approached the counter and asked where to recycle my plastic container.

"We don't have recycling" the girl told me, "you must put it in the rubbish. We should, I know, but there are many things we need to work on," she continued "like more space." Surprised, disappointed but at least engaged in conversation I returned to the initial offense, the one that would have obliterated the problem from the get go: "Why aren't there plates for orders to stay?" I asked, intrigued by the paucity of environmental awareness. "Why, she asked?" I then explained how, unlike more space which would require a bigger store, but or hiring a recycling company, which commercial enterprises must do and can be expensive for small business, buying biodegradable plates and utilize would not require a loan, and almost eliminate the need to hire a recycling company, because plastic objects would no longer be consumed on the premises. In fact, according the the NYC government website, all NYC businesses are required to recycle. The link below will give you a way to report business that do not recycle and make this city a better one.
http://www.nyc.gov/html/nycwasteless/html/recycling/recycling_businesses.shtml

One important question for today

Why, no matter how dry it is outside, is the area under the stairs at the Warren exit of the Bergen stop always wet?
I would love any answers or possible answers to this questions.
Tell me please!

Accountablity for Pre-K? Don't include the rich!

My passionate feelings about education are not easily silenced. I was recently reminded of this during my GRE course in which we discussed how to argue with an excerpt opprobriously stating "the problem of poorly trained teachers that... is bound to become a good deal less serious."

Never mind that this sentence is clearly not written in English. It brings out the misguided notion that teacher training, whatever that ambiguous term means, produces great teachers. While teacher training is certainly valuable, I argue that most parents want an efficient and effective teacher. If s/he happens to become one through rigorous teacher training, so be it. However, if people happen to be conversant and proficient their subject area and has a natural knack for teaching, that works for me too. Most parents of students have taught, which now numbers around 400, want to know a) if their child is understanding the work b) if I am maximizing learning in the classroom (i.e. not passing off the job of instruction to the parents in the role of homework or enrichments). Yes, these parents are almost always poor. Yes, these parents mostly did not go to college. No, these facts do not matter. What matters is that I was expected to teach a large quantity of skills and information in a physically safe environment during a specific and confined time. Period.

Is this what rich parents want? I don't know. I’ve never taught their children. However, judging by their constant and vocal opposition to any initiative to make teacher's responsible, I would say no. They tend favor classrooms centered on emotional growth, and fostering intellectual curiosity. The skills, information and arguably most importantly behavior and language needed to succeed in the general world is naturally absorbed by their offspring outside the classroom simply though exposure.

Does this approach to learning work for lower-income parents? No. More often then not, these parents want teaching not play in school. I don’t think this is a ridiculous desire. Berkeley professor Bruce Fuller, author of “Standardized Childhood: The Political and Cultural Struggle Over Early Education” notes these parents believe schools should reinforce children’s deference and respect for adults, and that teachers have the ability and responsibility to teach math and reading. Crazy wants? Apparently to the parents from the elite whose schools are stocked with teachers who are encouraged to abdicate these responsibilities because these parents know these essential skills are being taught at home. How do they know? Because it is they, the parents, who are teaching these skills and reinforcing them.

Who suffers? When these parents who are teaching and reinforcing early reading and math skills at home through enrichment programs, activities and games start forcing their pedagogy on those who cannot or do not wish to teach these skills at home, and start removing explicit and/or direct instruction from the schools and replacing it with a student centered culture of discovery, who suffers? You got it. The poor. Great job progressives.

23.5 m.p.g. for SUVs in 2010 vs. 27.5 m.p.g. for passanger cars now?

Zero value placed on reducing carbon dioxide emissions. Could that be? Why? By Who?

Bush's federal regulators. Now are you surprised? Maybe not, but you might be pleased to know that deliberate disregard for climate change is no longer legal. Today, the 9th Circuit U.S. Court of Appeals in San Francisco aligned with other courts and rejected the administrations fuels standards for trucks and vans because they failed to value emission reduction. Since transportation is responsible for about 25% of total carbon emissions and that this country prides itself on exporting innovation and leadership, it would seem logical that our government would try to gradually reduce the carbon emission number not stagnate it. Right?

The lawsuit, brought on by progressive states like New York, California and Vermont represents an important proactive movement among states to try and initiate their own environmental regulations, and take climate change into their own hands. This is movement is necessary as states realize the health and environmental costs caused by the federal government's damaging denial of this issue. In fact, the judgment flatly denied Detroit's claim that these states were usurping the federal governments power by setting their own tail pipe emission standards, echoing an earlier September decision by a Vermont Judge.

Four environmental groups and 13 states and cities argued that the regulations, which are for light trucks built in the years 2008-2011, did not place a value on reducing emissions. Anyone reading the standards would have to agree. They were set to rise from 22.5 m.p.g. to 23.5 m.p.g in 2010, significantly below the current standard for passenger cars, which is 27.5 m.p.g. Notably, the judges pointed this glaring discrepancy out and asked the government why light trucks, which includes SUVs and Minivans, were subject to different and lightly regulations than passenger cars.

The Ninth Circuit wrote:

We hold that the Final Rule is arbitrary and capricious, contrary to the [Energy Policy and Conservation Act] in its failure to monetize the value of carbon emissions, failure to set a backstop, failure to close the SUV loophole, and failure to set fuel economy standards for all vehicles in the 8,500 to 10,000 gross vehicle weight rating ("GVWR") class. We also hold that the Environmental Assessment was inadequate and that Petitioners have raised a substantial question as to whether the Final Rule may have a significant impact on the environment. Therefore, we remand to NHTSA to promulgate new standards as expeditiously as possible and to prepare a full Environmental Impact Statement.

Equally egregious and notable is the exception of the 8,500 to 10,000 Hummer from any fuel-economy standards. Hopefully, the logic that the court used in finding with the states, that a prior lack of regulation is no justification for continued neglect, will be applied to the Hummer and other vehicles that slip through the cracks.

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/16/business/16fuel.html

http://www.ens-newswire.com/ens/nov2007/2007-11-16-02.asp

Transferring Our Taxes to Terrorists

As most of you who read this blog know, I am an avid believer in a carbon tax, as I firmly believe that is the only viable way to exert pressure on Detroit and other to create viable gasoline alternative, substantially higher fuel mileage and discourage extraneous driving (which, of course, is mostly undertaken by one person completing short trips which who would be better served by walking for their physical health but that a different post, now isn't it?).

So, while still supporting my tax that will I fear will never pass, I came across an interesting op-ed extolling the virtues of a gas tax. Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda by Thomas Friedman on 11/14/07 starts by simply stating the obvious "Two dates — two numbers. Read them and weep for what could have, and should have, been. On Sept. 11, 2001, the OPEC basket oil price was $25.50 a barrel. On Nov. 13, 2007, the OPEC basket price was around $90 a barrel." He then goes on to extol the virtues of a gas tax, to "to diminish the transfers of wealth we were making to the very countries who were indirectly financing the ideologies of intolerance that were killing Americans and in order to spur innovation in energy efficiency by U.S. manufacturers." Good point. As a society, however, we have allowed and encouraged our politicians to become so fearful of even uttering the T word, that this will never happen. While I could go on paraphrasing the op-ed, I'd rather you read it for yourself as I abdicate any claim to be more persuasive that Friedman is in this piece. Read, and eradciate yoru own fears of the T word.... http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/14/opinion/14friedman.html .

Go Greenbuild!

What are you doing in Chicago? Everyone has been asking. So here goes my explanation. I am here for Greenbuild 2007. What, you now ask, is Greenbuild?

Greenbuild is a three day conference of workshops, vendors, engineers, architects, suppliers and speakers focused on

• Many Sustainable building. Ok, but what is sustainable building? Well, if your asking that either you don't know me, or have gotten into the habit of tuning me out and didn't realize its time to tune back in.
  
  Sustainable building means building with the least amount of impact to the environment. One way to do this is to work with the US Green Building Council (USGBC) to make sure your building is LEED (Leadership Energy and Environment Design) certified. This entails compliance in the areas of sustainable sites, water efficiency, energy and atmosphere, materials and resources, and indoor environmental quality.

Sustainable What a tecture?

What do you do Molly and what have you been doing in Oregon?

Many of you have professed your utter confusion about what I do, so I am dedicating this post to you, particularly my mother and my dear friend DE who has been the recipient of my cough since we were ten.

I work in sustainable architecture. Don't look at me like that- I'm going to explain. On a basic level, sustainable building means building with the least impact to the environment. So, sustainable building is architecture built the smallest carbon and environmental footprint possible. This means considering the buildings carbon footprint, site selection (i.e. is it near public transportation or must everyone drive there), brownfield redevelopment and habitat protection (does it make the site, and therefore world better and less polluted or more so), provide space for bicycles so that people will be incentivized to bike to work and maximize open space. Are you getting the picture?

Other areas of sustainable architecture include water efficiency, energy and atmosphere, design, materials and resources, and indoor environmental quality. Those are pretty self explanatory except for indoor environmental quality. This is a fancy way to say it is a measure of the air and light in the building. The objective is to create an environment in which people have greater productivity because adequate ventilation, clean air (no smoke), outside pollutants and natural light dominate. Seems intuitive, huh? Surprisingly, there is an agency, called the USGBC (US Green Building Council) that actually must create these standards because despite caring immensely about the build environment (by nature of being) all architects do not necessarily gravitate toward these objectives, and building owners do not really care about the health of their residents.

However, the big picture, is that after reading this blog, written in the true form of a sleep deprived member of my profession, do you understand what I do?

The Public Citizen

Over eight million tons of trees are consumed each year in the production of paper catalogs!!!!!

As many of you know, nothing stirs my ire more then the enormous amount of junk mail I magnetically attract wherever I go. Not spam, physical junk mail. I have multiple tools to combat this problem. I
a) Rip off the back covers and call the magazines with my customer id demanding to be taken off. Date the call on the cover, xerox all the covers on one or two pieces of papers for record.
b) Put the offensive, tree killing material in the return to sender envelop and scrawl stop mailing me across the offending material
c) List myself on the "do not mail" register of the Direct Mail Association
https://www.directmail.com/directory/mail_preference/
d) List myself on the catalog choice website- newest and greatest weapon against junk mail as it is sponsored by the NRDC , National Wildlife Federation and Ecology Center
http://www.catalogchoice.org/
e) Call/email the political campaigns that mail me everyday and ask them how environmentally concerned they are (Note: this does not work as well, but gives me comfort).

Ok- so what's my point? Here it is. Today, I sat down for my usual combat. I was armed with the numbers of the offenders- this time it was mainly political organizations: The Hillary Clinton campaign (one of the absolute worst offenders, btw), the DNCC, the food bank, NRDC (Natural Resources Defense Council, NARAL, NCTE, America Votes. I also called a few catalogs, Victoria's Secret, Garnett Hill, even the owner of my website, Domain Registry of America just for balance. No problem, they all said. We'd be happy to take you off our mailing list. All except Public Citizen. I mention this because I find it extremely paradoxical that Victoria's Secret can take me off its list, but the one organization that defines itself as the "public interest organization" that explicity states on its website that it "fight[s] for openness and democratic accountability in government... [and] for strong health, safety and environmental protections" (http://www.citizen.org/about/) flatly ans absolutely REFUSED to take me off their mailing list. This has never happened before. Never,ever, in my two years of calling business, non profits and lobbies has an organization flatly refused to take me off their mailing list. But there is was the Public Citizen refused to take me off their mailing list. Wow.

The Rain

Story starts with long standing plans to go gallery hopping with a friend, thwarted by rain the second we headed out. Quell suprise. Why stop for rain? Oh, your obviously not from New York, if you were asking that. In NY, you see where going out in the rain is an acrobatic feat necessitating arm strength (for holding the umbrella perpendicularly for extending periods of time, raising and lowering as people bump past you, and competing with the wind), stamina, and sheer athleticism (for jumping over lakes mislabeled puddles and jocking for position in the few shallow spots). So, forgoing the wet crowded outdoor gymnasium, we opted to have coffee and lunch in Brooklyn, where the greatest hazard was huge upsplahes from the passing cars (totally foreseable, and therefore manageable).
We ended up dining at the fantastic French restaurant, where the proprietor came up to us and asked if we had heard the story of the women and the python. Of course, we affirmed. "It vas me!' She exclaimed and proceeded to tell us how every city agency thought she was crazy and refused to help. Finally her ex-husband posted the event on Bong, the media got hold of the story and showed up in time to see her, her current husband and plumber sawing apart the toilet and extracting the seven foot python. What an unexpected lunch story....

So much material so little time

So, I finally, after five years met up with my friend Charlotte. And, despite loosing one earing of every pair I've every loved, I've somehow maintained to keep her feather earing in tact and in sight throughout. So, as I bestowed upon her the one piece of jewelery I have kept track of, I thought that Brooklyn is in deed the greatest borough (that that comment is a nonp0sequitor I am fully aware)... After the dear exchange, Charlotte and I went off to enjoy the fruits of global warming, namely, 72 degree weather in late October. Off we went to the Gowanus Yacht Company, where we drank beer and engaged in a lively debate about vocational schools and the general state of education. All of the sudden, two beers appear from the bar tender.
"they're from those guys over there"
Shocked, we tried to figure out who sent us beers. After searching unsuccessfully for the culprits who would nod in acknowledgment, or who we could acknowledge, we resumed our animated discussion. A few minutes later, a Guatemalan man showed up and said: "That is from Frankie, enjoy". We were immensly thankful but puzzled- why would this man with limited English waste his money on us? Baffled, we of course, resorted to drinking to find an answer. Upon near completion of the second round, and no where closer to a conclusion, we were delivered a second round of drinks from our Guatemalan friend Frankie. Inebriated and horse, we as the bartender for advice on beer receiving etiquette. What do we do? Should we go over? We fell uncomfortable, send ti back. But our protests would not be heard. The bartender simply said, "he's Frankie, that is what he does. He sends drinks. He's like the beer Santa." But what should we do we demanded? Drink up! He said, as if we were absolute morons. So drink we did and ended up engaging Frankie and

Characteristics of Kinkos.

Have you every realized that all persons at Kinko's talks to themselves? No, seriously. I think its an unstated law: thou must go to Kinkos, break a machine or two, demand immediately attention and talk to yourself. A big contributer to this situation is that everyone at Kinkos has a problem. Again, I am being serious. Because if you didn't have a problem- like unemployment, an out of ink printer, or broken copier you wouldn't be at Kinko's. You'd be in your office, or home printing, copying and talking to coworkers. But your not because you have a problem, so your at Kinkos. Most people at Kinkos, like myself suffer from the first ailment- unemployment. Or, as many prefer to call it "starting a business". (FYI- if you have not business plan and are at Kinkos copying frayed newspaper articles, you are unemployed, not "starting a business). On that note, I was privileged to hear an actual conversation between two people at Kinkos the other day (this being as opposed to the more popular alternative of the one sided conversation). The incident went something like this:

Disorganized, disheveled man busts in to Kinko's heads for the first copier and turns to a the women next to him. "I know you don't work here, but do you know how to work this thing?"
Woman: "Yes, what are you trying to do?"
Man: "I have to copy this for my business" ("this" of course being a frayed newspaper article).
Woman instructs him, and three copies are made.
Man: "Now, how do I laminate this?"
Woman: "Why do you need to laminate it?"
Man: "To look professional. You see, I have a business and I need to look professional"
Woman: "What kind of business do you run?"
Man: "A cell phone business. You see all these companies, they be ripping people off. I have a business where I tell people use verizon, t moble and figure it out for them"
(Me- is this a traveling cell phone store?)
Woman: "So why do you need to laminate the article for the business?"
Man: "See, this article is about the cell companies be ripping people off"
Woman: "Well, if you show that article you should have the date and name of the paper"
Man, concurring, "good point"
The exchange continues, with her explaining that she too has a business, a marketing one and would love to help him. Can she make an appointment to call him?
"Leave a message at my day job. Right now, I don't have a cell phone".

New York Moments

From where, I beg someone to tell me, did the laudable custom of through shoes on street cables germinate? My mother informed me that her Queens childhood was filled with unburdened cables, but also realized that mine was not. That narrows the scope to about twenty years. The impetus for asking this, is of course, a shoe cable incident. As I was ambled over to the neighborhood drugstore I was almost impaled and knocked over by a clunky object, that soon revealed itself to be a pair of heavy black shoes fell out of the sky. While I regained my footing, the proud tosser of the shoes expressed his disappointment in missing his target to his cohort. They tried- and missed again. This time I knew to stay clear. I went inside the drug store, purchased by breath right strips, which my doctor assured me would cure any sleeping ailments I might have, and prayed that the shoe tossers would be gone when I left the store. No such luck. Now, of course, a small, male only crowd had gather to discuss the best shoe tossing techniques. One man left the movie trailer he was working from that was shooting on the street to come over and suggest using the tape from a cassette- he testified that it always worked for him. Oh, the tosser said, and tried (and failed) again. This time though, the failure to attach was surely due to the lack of cassette tape. As an unwitting passerby, I wondered how many times in life one sees a crowd gathered to singly focus on throwing shoes on a cable on a street closed to traffic due to a movie being shot? Not often, and only in New York.

Back in NYC

Waking up in Brooklyn, I realized that I had so much to do! I had to get my stuff in Manhattan (I seem to be always getting, moving, or shleeping stuff), go home, eat and get to synagogue before sundown. Ugh.

After circling 75th street for 1.2 hour, I realized why I hate the UWS so much. It is an absolute war. The pedestrians move whenever they want, a benefit I certainly reserve for myself and take with me to other states, cars can only turn when the pedestrians have the right of way, and there are more beat up white vans double parked then citizens of South Dakota. Thankfully, I was only honked at once, and was able to park at the hydrant. Later, the owner of a legally beat up white van graciously offered me his spot, further ameliorating my situation. Did I mention that I love New York?

I drove home, showered ate and made it to the elderly reconstructionist synagogue in time. What is with me and the old people lately? Hm....

Homeward Bound

Waking up in Le Porte, Indiana, I realized, much to my delight that I still had the world's best cheese sandwich with me. I opted to eat it for breakfast, realizing that eating out in Indiana would certainly cause a blunt end to my streak of wonderful and interesting breakfast experiences. It was good- actually, very good, but not amazing. The cheese sandwich that is. This, of course, could partially be because it was 12 hours old and had been sitting in a car. After the cheese sandwich the day proved to be relatively boring. Let me modify that, if the cheese sandwich was the highlight of the day, the rest was incredibly boring. I drove almost straight through to Brooklyn with a few rest stops, and a brief stop at the scrap book store where I found my sister a Middlebury sticker. Fortunately, I found a spot in Brooklyn at 2am and went to sleep in my bed for the first time in three months.

Cheese Head

Waking up in Austin Minnesota, I realized that I should explore the local offerings. I mean, when, am I ever going to be there again? A brief search on the internet revealed that Austin is really Spamtown, USA (who knew?) and is very proud of its history as such.

During breakfast the waitress, elderly couple in the adjoining booth and I watched O.J. newest trial on CNN. A fascinating experience because I was informed by my female booth neighbor that the elderly woman that the only reason O.J. was acquitted the first time was because “they [who is they? I’d love to know] were afraid the black people would riot” huh? “You know, like they did with that beating business". Oh, racism, how utterly undisguised in the Midwest.
Based on this, is it not surprising that the sole cultural heritage of this town surrounds Spam?

I went to the Spam Museum the first museum because it was the first museum I encountered and to fill the void of knowledge about the processed meat industry that I maintain. This venerable institution taught me that spam is cooked in the little metal bins (for two and half hours), that Hormel used to have an all women's band (all of whom had to have been in the army) and that in 2003 men and women both worked full time jobs. Good stuff. I left Minnesota quickly and headed out to that fabulous state where bright orange cheese is the norm and the state school uses a badger its mascot.

I was so excited to eat cheese Wisconsin that I could hardly maintain composure. I called everyone I knew “I’m eating cheese in Wisconsin!” I enthusiastically yelled into machines. It was like chocolate cake only better. At four o’clock I arrived at the cheese outlet where I sampled many cheeses, settling on the most obnoxiously orange and smelly ones. What a far and pleasant cry from the odorless processed pig shoulders cooked in metal tins.

As I was driving, I got a call from my mother, who had heard, along with the rest of the Western world that I was eating cheese in Wisconsin. Try the ice cream she urged me, its just as good. Obviously! How could I overlook this? If the cheese was stupendous, the ice cream must be orgasmic. Good thing the blue spoon, a little bakery on the side of the highway happened to be in my path with homemade Gelato. How serendipitous is that?

My Gelato had to be followed with, of course, cheese. So, I headed south to Monroe Wisconsin which proudly boasts of it German heritage and blares lovely elevator music from the town hall, into the town square all night. My search for the cheese shop was fruitless but yielded an ice cream store that sold the good stuff by the weight (how great is that) in containers labeled "do not think of asking about the nutritious value of this product. It is made with cream and is delicious. If you want nutrients eat carrots." Fair enough. The ice cream really is stupendous.

The girl at the ice cream store steered me to the cheese shop which doubled as a German beer garden and restaurant. (you see why I missed it the first time?) Here, I got more orange stuff and a sandwich for 2.75 which was advertised on every possible surface to be the best cheese sandwich in the world. My cheese binge starting wearing on my waistline, breath and everything else so I decided to bid Wisconsin goodbye and head down to Illinois.

In Illinois I had the task of finding my relatives which was relatively easy as the highway is clearly marked with signs for “the northwest suburbs”. This signage was immensely amusing me, a New Yorker as we don’t label things and would never dare to undertake such a move as to categorize, group or brand our suburbs. I mean really, how pedestrian is that?

My family and I had a great, but short visit, after which I headed out to Indiana, home of, well, nothing really. I should note here my immense disappointment in Gary, Indiana which I had idealized and looked forward to visiting since I first heard it sung about in The Music Man in 1985. It is not anyone’s home sweet home. It is, rather, the big and ugly Newark of the Midwest. Unfortunate for everyone, particularly me, who was planning to sleep there, but refused to after seeing the unending smoke stacks and hearing about the murder rate. I slept instead in Le Porte Indiana a truly unremarkable town, where my shower lacked drainage and the internet is accessed through dial-up.

Spamtown USA!

Yes- you read the title right I am in Austin, Minnesota the official Home of Spam and the spam museum.
I finally busted ass and drove eight hours solely because I was tired of everyone asking "You're still in South Dakota?" Its a big state people! Look at a map- what are you all Ms. South Carolina?
Anyway- before I took off, I thoroughly enjoyed Hot Springs South Dakota all morning. I went to the post office where lost mail was retrieved by the postal clerk and then refused by the main who asked her to find it, ate a delicious veggie omelet, browsed at the organic store, and enjoyed the hot spring (which is not so hot, more than a bit run down and populated by four retirees and me). The hot spring, I should mention is indoors, costs ten dollars (which for South Dakota is a small house) and has slides which require mats for no obvious reason. One might assume they are needed for hygienic purposes, however, this reason is negated by the sheer fact that when paying for my entrance fee I was given the option to rent either a towel, bathing suit or both. Gross.
Hot Springs the town is neither gross nor run down. It has been around for over 100 years and boasts the beautiful red sandstone buildings including a large, well kept quite V.A. facility. Let me tell you, when I come back as a vet I am hopping on the first plane to Hot Springs and receiving all my services there. I aint never going to that shaaady facility on east 23rd street with leaks and sirens everywhere.
Before wrapping up my trip in hot springs I should mention that I passed the county jail on my walk back from the hot spring. Outside the jail, along Main Street, is an enclosed basketball court not notable itself except for the bizarre spectacle it creates for the occasional pedestrian. What is notable is that as I walked by court/jail and snapped shots of the historic sand stone building behind it, I was shouted at by the four men playing ball and got mooned. Yes- you read right I got mooned. Jason an inmate at the Fall River County Jail., who was playing ball with four others, cavorted with the others to make up a name and get my attention. He then turned around and... One should note that according to city-data.com there are only 18 people in the Fall River County Jail. Therefore, counting the two women I saw playing ball earlier while I was on my way to the springs I saw a full 1/3 of the counties' inmates and a full 1/18 of all the inmates asses.
After thoroughly enjoying the mooning, sand stone buildings and omelet of Hot Springs, I realized by the repetitive cry of "You're still in South Dakota??" that it was time to leave. (Have I mentioned by hatred for cell phones?) On my way out I managed to stop and grab a few rock shots at the mammoth site for my new brother in law as the sign unambiguously stated that the site is a "geologists dream."
On the road I had my longest and most productive drive yet stopping only to get gas, eat TCBY at Burger King and eat a salad at subway - which, btw has pizza, who knew?
Now, I will go to sleep with fond thoughts of Wisconson cheese filling my mind.

South Dakota

South Dakota is amazing. Rewind. How did I end up in South Dakota? Well... after three hours of extraordinarily frustrating conversations with the airline, during which time everything from my flight departure time to my airplane model and carrier was recounted countless each time the return flight was changed, only to be asked after submitting my money would I like a window or isle seat, to which I answered "window seat" and was informed, in a very pleasant Indian voice "I am sorry, there are no window seats available." So faced with taking a red eye to from Seattle to White Plains with a stop in Atlanta, I decided my driving was the best way to NYC.
Subconsciously, of course, I am delaying my arrival into the very harsh and broke reality that awaits me in New York as long as possible.
So, South Dakota. I arrived here after starting my day in Billings Montana, where, upon inquiring about the rigidity of id laws at check in I was informed that a girl had been brutally raped and murdered in the hotel next door next door. Well, after informing the girls at the desk that that information did not increase my sense of security, I was told that I was staying in the part of the hotel where the "extenders stay". This, apparently, is Montana lingo for burly men who live in two star hotels. So as I ask one girl about the murder, I hear the other call Earl, my next door neighbor, and tell him, rather loudly to "watch out for the single girl who is traveling to New York". Great. Now not only am I alone, but the entire hotel knows it.So after my fantastic and horror free night thank to Earl's psychic protection, I headed out to Wyoming.


Let me tell you, they really like that Rodeo logo. I mean really. So I got off at the "historic town" of Sheridan and had lunch. I mean really, what in Wyoming isn't historic? How many people have really moved there since the gold rush? Four. I can say this with veracity because I met them all. Today. I was also blessed by falling into several tourist traps, two healthy eating establishments and a wonderful cowboy boot store (highly recommend Brian's next time your in Sheridan Wyoming). Fearing I wouldn't make it to my dead presidents in time, I fled Wyoming and heading east to South Dakota.

As I entered South Dakota, I could hardly contain myself. Mount Rushmore was almost tangible. I had seen pictures but knew it was going to be so much better. My heart was rushing as I saw the 127 mileage sign at 4pm, fearing that I had spent way to much time schmoozing and eating in Wyoming and would get to Mt. Fantastic at six just as it was closing. Luckily it didn't close and certainly didn't disappoint.
Fortuitously I am no longer a teacher, or employed for that matter, and was able to go when there were no crowds, no kids and noise. It was just me, some randoms and two bus loads of ol' folks. I easily parked and sauntered through the hall of flags to the porch joyously taking minimally obstructed pictures. There they were- the four presidents. It was simply amazing. I know you have seen the pictures, but it is nothing like the real thing. Mount Rushmore is just absolutely breathtaking. The size and height of the mountain makes you realize the sacrifices people used to make just to create art for this country- let alone protect it. I just couldn't get enough - I wanted to snap every angle, and luckily I could. I leisurely walked along the path examining the fine stature from every angle,




















taking in inappropriate amount of pictures. A peril of digital snapping that I have decided to accept.
Finally I got to back to the amphitheater and waited for the show. To warm up, the park ranger asked a bunch of completely random questions, such as "which president was arrested and had his horse and buggy impounded by the police for speeding in D.C.?" to which my companions, all being a good forty years older then me, answered easily. Another ranger came out to officially initiate the ceremonious lighting. He did so by explaining how the ghost dance religion contributed to both the end the Indian wars and unnecessary massacre of Lakota men, women and children at Wounded Knee Creek on December 29 1890. This powerful speech was followed by a cheesy propagandaesque movie which discussed the achievements of the four presidents that made them worthy of their place on Mt. Rushmore. It also spoke, albeit minimally, to the suffering and loss the American expansion caused the Native Americans. Lastly, as the statue was lit, veterans and all persons who had served in the military were asked to get on the stage. After the flag was folded and the anthem sung, they introduced themselves and revealed their unit and sometimes their war as well. Whew. How emotionally. So, three hours after enthusiastically entering Mt. Rushmore, hoping to see some very big dead presidential heads, I left feeling invigorated, moved and hopeful that we can overcome the horrors of the war we are fighting abroad and maybe even help out the people living in poverty here.

Benji's Arrival

Ben arrived today. Unfortunately I had to get my hair done at the same time. Your probably saying or at least thinking I didn't "have" to get my hair done at the same time, but really I did. I waited three weeks for this women and this was the only slot she had- any women would empathize. I should also point out that this trip was planned before the flight was booked.
So he arrived, found my at the underground hair salon and we went home to pack up. A very unfortunate duty to have to undertake considering it was costing me a valuable good hair day. Thankfully, I packed up the remainders of my apartment in time for us to thoroughly enjoy happy hour. For those unlucky few who have yet to experience happy hour in Portland- let me say four o'clock, $3 drinks and cheap food.

We started off at a bar which made its own tonic and sake sangeria- how yummy. Unfortunately, they had no food or beer on tap, the later being insulting in the microbrew capital of the country. Our search for beer landed us at a bar near 14th street where we grabbed a few bitter micro-brews and drunkenly debated the appropriate percentage of hops with our neighbors. Having temporarily satiated our need for microbrew and faced with rumbling stomachs and the end of happy hour, we went to the odd Bento place that shuts too early and looks like a gas station. There my brother was given free bento food (don't ask any questions- that's my official vegetarian summation) solving two problems in one- hunger and cost. We then found ourselves in the Northwest area, where I dared my brother to ring the doorbell of an acquaintance. Well, of course he did it- throughly amusing me. Her, not so much. So then we had to proceed. Food being my object thought ninety percent of the time, I steered us to the gelatto place, where we indulged in Portland's best. Next, of course, was more beer. This was my brother's first night here. We stopped at the ubiquitous and quintessential Portland favorite- McMenamins. Friends met us there, and we had a great time enjoy the offerings of 23rd Avenue. With the urging of the tired waitress we then headed to the hotel we were entertained and had an otherwise boring descention into sleep.