The Cost of Greatness

It's probably the most common greeting I receive each day but people rarely think about what they are saying. You've heard it recently, I'm sure:

"Have a GREAT day!"

It sounds nice but have you thought about what's now required? This supposedly kind and rational person is DEMANDING that I have a GREAT day - not an ordinary day, not a regular day, not a typical day - no! I must now have a GREAT day.

Geez! Do you know how much work it takes to have a GREAT day? Do you think GREAT just happens by itself? No! If this day is going to be GREAT then I'm going to have to really maximize every moment, and frankly, I'm not sure I have the energy.

When somone forces GREATNESS apon my day, I must then instantly analyze which GREATNESS outcome is even possible given my usual work and family constraints. I've got responsibilities, pal, and up until now I thought I could pretty much handle them. On top of that, the chances I'm even going to be able to somehow magically construct a GREAT day out of my normally drab existence are slim, at best, don't you think? But, no, you didn't think, did you!!!

Further more, if this mindless proclamaion is issued towards the end of the day, then I have very little time left to make it GREAT. Talk about pressure. Further, maybe it's been a terrible day so far and now I have to really make things EXTRA GREAT just to compensate for the terrible part! That just gets me mad!

Hey, I'd like to think I'm a man who is usually content with his lot in life but when someone tells me to "Have a GREAT day!" then suddenly I'm reminded of how un-GREAT my day has been. Needless to say, I'm then overwhelmed with powerful feelings of regret, dispair, and failure. What was, up to that time, an OK day is now ruined by the mind-boggling expectations of a GREAT day. Man! Thanks a lot!

These well-wishers don't even tell me HOW to have a GREAT day. They just send me off, with a smile on their face, expecting me to figure it out. A little guidance would be helpful. At least, they could say something like, "Have a GREAT day by winning the lottery!" Now THAT would be a GREAT day!

Listen! Why couldn't you wish me a GOOD day? GOOD is doable - some effort required but not overwhelming. How about a FINE day? That's ambiguous enough to fit almost any situation - FINE covers from "pretty good" to "just OK". There's some lattitude there. Rarely, I'll hear some people say, "Have a NICE day!" The word "nice" can mean "agreeable" but it can also have the sense of doing something with great precision or care. If all you are asking is that I'm a little more careful today, I can do that! But "no!", almost invariably, those miserable people insist I have a GREAT day.

"Have a GREAT day!"

"Have a GREAT day!"

"Have a GREAT day!"

No! YOU have a GREAT day - you idiot!

Car Thief?

Would it surprise you to know that a Holy Joe like me could be a car thief?

A while back, I was spending a couple of weeks taking classes in Florida and needed a vehicle to make a few trips around town. My good friends John and Barb kindly offered me the services of their van. The problem was that they were out of town.

No problem! They said their son would put the keys under the front door mat and the van would be in front of their house. I could come pick it up anytime.

My friend Joe even volunteered to drive me to John & Barb's house. I had printed directions . . . except . . . and this is key . . . I left OFF the last page that had their actual street address. Step by step, the directions led me to their very street but I had to guess which was their actual van/house. "This will be easy!", I thought.

Joe and I slowly drove down the street. Eventually, we spotted a white van. We checked the mat by the front door and sure enough the keys were there. I took them and fired up the van. As I was adjusting the seat and mirrors I looked in the back of the van. If was full of strange mechanical equipment. I know John is a handy guy but this was weird. I told Joe, "I don't think this is John's van!"

Just then, the front door opened and a lady came out, "Jeff said you'd come by to pick of the van." Jeff!?! I didn't know a Jeff! Sheepishly, we returned the keys to her and suggested there might have been a mix up. Good thing, because just as we were walking away a big burly guy, presumably named Jeff, came out and saw that we were certainly NOT HIS friends. We quickly jumped in Joe's car and got moving.

A little more searching down the street brought us to a red van. Yes, the keys were under the mat by the front door. This proved to indeed be the van owned and operated by John & Barb and, with much relief, I took possession of it.

However, as I was heading out, I was wondering, "Is there a chance that I am, in fact, a car thief?" I cannot deny that I actually took possession of a stranger's vehicle, just for a minute or two. And although I returned it immediately, I'm concerned that technically, according to a strict interpretation of the law, I stole a van. I hope Jeff is a reasonable guy because my finger prints are all over that vehicle.

Possible next blog: "Life from Prison!"

Attack of the Lattes!

I have noticed a very disturbing trend: People attacking lattes. And the worst part is that these are well-intentioned individuals - those making financial appeals.

Typically, the attack takes this kind of form:

"Here's a very worthy cause (fill in a favorite worthy cause). All you have to do is donate a mere $15 a month to support it." (And, then, here's the justification). "Think of it as just giving up a latte each week."

I don't know how many times I've heard financial appeals in terms of lattes. I want to know, why do they attack lattes? Why don't they attack things that really are a waste, like bank fees. "Give $15/month. Think of it like paying your credit card on time and avoiding interest fees!" Or, how about movie popcorn? For a family of 4 you're talking $50 for popcorn and drinks. Talk about a extravagance!

And, the truth is, I don't want to give up my lattes! My hot-caffeinated beverages are very important to me! Life without lattes is not worth living, even if charities around the world go belly-up. First of all, it's a comforting ritual: Ah! The smell of coffee beans as I enter the shop in the morning; The nuanced beverage order, as the barista gives me a nod and a smile, noting my sophisticated choices; There's the pride as they yell out, " Venti Vanilla Latte, half-caf, 140 degrees, extra shot of espresso, for Duncan." I imagine everyone in the coffee shop is thinking, "Man, that guy knows how to order coffee (and perhaps, "I'm never going to name my kid Duncan")!"; I like adding the soothing spice, cinnamon; And then there's that first sip as the hot comforting liquid warms the body and, perhaps, even the soul.

Dear Mr. fund-raiser, are you saying you want to take all this away from me? Well, then, you are just plain mean. I'll give you $15/month, or more, if you just stop the attack of the lattes!

Further, the boost in productivity that my caffeinated beverage produces in me must translate into greater earnings in the long run, I'm sure. I'll give the extra to charity, already. I'll sell a pint of blood if I have to; Just keep away from my lattes! Trust me, the world will be better off for it.

Tricked! (Warning: an honest discussion of underpants may include material that is offensive to some. Please read with care).

I have recently grown quite fond of colored underwear. Having worn white briefs all my life, I thought I should do something different, especially because they are frequently on display. That's right! Ever since I joined my Masters Swim Club, changing in a locker room is a necessity and thus my undergarments are silently evaluated from time to time. (Brings back bad high school memories, doesn't it?) And, for me, the "tighty-whities" are vaguely embarrassing but colored underwear is very cool, and I found a very acceptable variety pack at the local Target store (featuring various blue, grey, and black options) and I purchased them. I am sure my swim-mates were quietly impressed.

Meanwhile, some of my older "tighty-whities" were getting worse-for-wear and I was "retiring" them regularly. Eventually, my underwear supplies got so low that I was running out of clean skivvies before the week-end laundry could refresh them. So, obviously, I need new ones and if I got new ones, I was going to get even more colored ones.

So, I trustingly went back to Target and found the underwear section, which was, thankfully, full of underpants but free of people. I began to inspect the various wears. Great to my surprise, they did not have my colored briefs in stock. Oh, no! What was I going to get? I need to say here that I am not a fan of boxers. There is a lot of unofficial PR trying to make boxers very cool but I don't support the "boxer" option because, frankly, they don't support me. Now there are some hybrids, boxer briefs, for example, but those are just too weird and what's the point! Then my eye caught a new product I had never seen before - Sporting Briefs. This was promising! They were colored, and, although I'm no superstar, I think I deserve an underpant that matches my active lifestyle. So, I bought them and brought them into my home.

A few days later, it was time to break open this new purchase. I chose one with a fancy blue checker-board design and put them on. I immediately sensed something was wrong but I couldn't put my finger on it at first. They were comfortable. They were supportive. They fit. Then I noticed! There was no fly! Was this going to be a problem? I don't know about you other gentlemen, but I don't really use the fly on my underpants, ever, but I was used to always having that as an option, should some special occasion arise. Reluctantly, I decided I could live with out the fly.

Next, I noticed that these Sporting Briefs were cut very high on the sides (like a Speedo swimsuit). Of course, these were obviously underpants for very active people, like me, and they needed to have a certain freedom of movement in the hip area. So, I guess that was OK.

As I was considering these various new developments, my wife walked in on me. "Wow," she said, "you bought panties!" Yes! It was true! It all added up now - colorful patterns, no fly, a "V" cut design- I had been tricked into buying male panties! Oh! The humiliation!

After the initial shock wore off, I grew to accept my feminized underpants. And I think my locker-room friends have too, because they haven't said a thing, at least not to my face.

Symbiotic Farming

Did any of you think about where your lunch came from?

Maybe your first thought is McDonalds, Subway, Taco Bell, Chick-Fil-A, Pizza Hut, or wherever you happen to be dining this afternoon. But where did those ingredients come from? Where were the animals raised? Where did the plants grow? Where were the minerals dug up?

Questions like this led Berkeley Professor, Michael Pollan, to write "The Omnivore's Dilemma." This is a fascinating book that explores the origins of four different meals. I heartily recommend it.

For me, the most interesting part of the book was the discussion of Polyface Farms. Polyface Farms is so organic that it calls itself "Beyond Organic" to distinguish itself from what might be called "Industrial Organic." They only sell their fresh meat, eggs, and other products to individuals and restaurants within 100 miles of their farm in Virginia. Many of the best local restaurants swear by the produce of Polyface Farms and feature them explicitly on the menu.

What makes Polyface Farms so fascinating is the symbiotic systems the farmer uses to manage a complicated but mutually beneficial relationship between different animals and the land. The farmer calls these HOLONS from the Greek word "holos" meaning a "self-contained whole." I'd like to share with you three of the holons from Polyface Farms.

Holon #1: The farmer puts up a portable electric fence around an acre of pastureland and releases the cows for just one day. The cows eat the lush grass and, of course, leave behind lots of cow patties. The next day they are moved to a new acre of land where fresh grass awaits them. Meanwhile, back on the original acre, exactly three days later a portable chicken coop is wheeled up and these truly free range chickens are released to eat bugs. But their very favorite is the nutritious fly larvae that are rapidly developing in the cow patties. Remember, they are also spreading around their nitrogen rich chicken manure over that same acre of pastureland. With a serving of cow manure and a helping of chicken manure, perhaps it is the pastureland that is getting the best meal of all! The whole cycle moves from acre to acre until the whole area is covered, the cows are fat (grass-fed), and the chickens produce eggs so nutritious that there yolks are carrot-colored.

Holon #2: In the winter the cows need to be indoors, in a barn. The farmer lays down a layer of sawdust on the ground. Of course, the cows do their thing and pretty soon the floor is a layer of organic muck. The farmer adds another layer of sawdust and a new secret ingredient - handfuls of corn. Layer after layer, this matting builds up. By the end of the winter, when the cows are released back to the pasture, it can be three feet thick. Then the pigs are let into the barn. Now, keep in mind that this manure and sawdust mixture generates lots of organic heat which ferments the corn embedded in it. Well, if there's anything a pig loves it's alcoholic corn! They begin to root round that barn like mad porcine plows and soon that barn floor is churned into the most incredible compost you have ever seen. This is then placed on the corn field and elsewhere. This holon gives you warm cows, happy pigs, and tall corn.

Holon #3: Rabbits are cute and fuzzy but their pee is toxic. In fact, the ammonia in it is so strong it can scar their own lungs if they are trapped in cages above. There are three stories in this holon. The rabbits live above and the chickens live below, all on a layer of dirt and wood chips which is full of earthworms. The chickens love earthworms and vigorously dig around the wood-chip mixture to find them. This action somehow transforms the toxic rabbit pee (and droppings) into a powerful carbonaceous bedding that the worms thrive in. The chickens are fed. The rabbits are protected. And, the worms are happy (at least until they are unceremoniously plucked from the muck).

Polyface Farms is an interesting place: local produce, completely organic, and animals doing the things that come very naturally to them. I don't know about you, but I think this is the way farming should be done.

3 Things You Should Know About Beethoven

There is no surprise that Ludwig Van Beethoven (1770-1827) is considered to be one of the greatest, if not the greatest, composer of all time. He certainly deserves it. His music still sounds fresh and interesting 200 years later and it's important we understand why.

Fact #1: Beethoven was a motivic composer. This means he would take a small and seemingly ordinary little note pattern (a motive or motif) and create a whole movement (or even a whole symphony) out of that one little idea. By repeating it, expanding it, condensing it, layering it, breaking it, transforming it, turning it upside down, inside out, backwards, etc, Beethoven would create something that was unified and diverse at the same time. One commentator rightly compared it to a mosaic - a beautiful image that is created from similar little chunks of tile. For example, his Fifth Symphony is built on that famous "Da-da-da-dum" motive at the beginning. Such creative genius won him instant recognition which leads us to our next point.

Fact #2: Beethoven was instantly popular, at least as a musician. He was notoriously rude, ill-mannered, and egotistical but the musical elite of Vienna still loved him. This translated to sponsorship. Many struggling musicians must compose pieces for other purposes such as dance music, church music, or requiems for the dead. (For example, Mozart never had a permanent commission). But Beethoven was free to compose as he wished. This leads to our next point.

Fact #3: Beethoven's music was self-expression. Essentially free from financial constraints, Beethoven created a music that was, above all, a unique expression of what was going on in his heart. He had a difficult childhood which included an abusive father. In fact, Beethoven fantasized for years that he was, instead, the illegitimate offspring of a Prussian king. As noted, he had very few social graces and his homes were veritable pig-styes. He was not handsome and did not care about his grooming, hence the now iconic wild hair. But the greatest challenge was his growing deafness. This considerable handicap haunted him and caused him to avoid people even more. Disturbed and isolated, music became Beethoven's therapy, if you will. Indeed, in his music I think you can hear the anger, the sadness, the struggle, the courage, the hope, the triumph, and more. A lesser man might have caved-in, but Beethoven overcame his many challenges, channelled that angst, and forged a body of work like no other.

There is much more to this celebrated composer but these simple observations will begin to help you understand why his music was so unique, innovative, and inspirational. I sense that Mozart is like a fine wine: smooth, refined, appropriate for all occasions. But Beethoven is more like hard liquor: fascinating, often harsh, with a much bigger kick. It's true he stands, historically, between the High Classical style of Mozart and Haydn, and the Romanticism of Mendelssohn, Chopin, and Brahms, but, truly, . . . he stands alone.

White Christmas in Hawaii

I fell in love with and married a woman from Hawaii. Since all her relatives live there, I have been forced to make many trips over the years to these fair isles. Once again, I am obliged to spend this coming Christmas lying on the beach, hiking volcanoes, swimming with sea turtles, and other required activities. But all is not paradise for this mainlander. If there is one thing I've learned during my dozen or so trips to Hawaii, it's this: Hawaiians are strange!

Let's get one thing straight. When I say "Hawaiians" I mean all the local people who live there. Hawaii is a true melting pot, a complex mix of Native Hawaiians, Japanese, Chinese, Koreans, Okinawans, Filipinos, Puerto Ricans, Portuguese, and, believe it or not, quite a few caucasians (called "haoles" (pronounced "how-lees")). Their cultures and languages have mixed, resulting in a unique blend that takes some getting used to. Here's what this haole has learned:

The locals speak a difficult-to-understand dialect called Pidgin (developed so all the different cultures could speak to each other). For example, the phrase "da kine" (kine is pronounced like kind without the "d"), can mean almost anything. It can refer to a person, a place, thing or whatever the local person can't remember. So it is possible a local might say, "She wen da kind foa get da kine foa da kine." This means, "She went to (a place I can't remember) to get (something I can't remember) for (someone I can't remember). Perhaps the Hawaiians need some memory enhancers.

I don't recommend that tourists attempt to speak Pidgin. Believe me, I tried. Sometimes, it can get tricky. If a local says, "Eh, dat Duncan, he so lolo he wen call dat moke one mahu and he wen crack him an now he all bus up." This means, "Duncan foolishly suggested that this large Hawaiian man was a homosexual and he then physically assaulted Duncan beyond recognition." I guess I learned my Pidgin the hard way.

Hawaiian food, overall, is excellent. The first lesson is to not be worried when someone says "OH NO!" when eating. They are actually saying "ono" which means "delicious"!

However, there's a few food mines in the culinary landscape. Take poi. Or, rather, don't take poi. This is a traditional Hawaiian food that is essentially mushed taro root. It's as appetizing as it sounds. They make the tourists try it at luaus and stuff but, here's the secret, even the locals don't like it despite it's purple color and high nutrition.

Here's the funny thing: Hawaiians think SPAM is ono (delicious). SPAM, in this case, is actually a canned Spiced Ham product, although some think SPAM stands for "Something Posing As Meat." Most people in America and Europe remember SPAM as something people had to eat during World War II because there was nothing else edible. Hawaiians actually like it and eat more of it than the entire universe combined. They'll eat it with almost anything - SPAM sandwich, SPAM casserole, SPAM & eggs, etc. The most iconic item is the SPAM musubi, which is a slice of SPAM packed in rice, and, if that were not bad enough, they wrap it in seaweed. (Pretend you like it or they will be very upset with you!)

A big heads up: On the mainland we put "poo poos" in the toilet. In Hawaii, they put them in their mouths! That's right! A pu-pu platter is a tray of hors d'oeuvres that one brings to parties and such. So, don't be put off when the locals ask you to try their delicious "poo-poos" because they are just trying to be hospitable.

The Asian influence on the local Hawaiian culture is very strong. Asian culture emphasizes the importance of the group over the individual. In Hawaii, I have had to learn the art of going "back door" on things. This means getting what you want in a round about way (since being direct is considered very rude). It's funny seeing a group of people try to decide what restaurant to go to because, by that code, no one can push their own opinion strongly. By hint and innuendo, subtle suggestions are floated and tested. Whatever is decided, the important thing is that everyone agrees (even if no one particularly likes the restaurant in question). This is very frustrating to a hungry outspoken individualist like myself. I keep having to remind myself "Different, not wrong! Different, not wrong!"

Well, as you can see, this white man doesn't fit in too well into the Hawaiian milieu. I guess I could try a bit harder to adapt to the Hawaiian culture I find myself in this Christmas, but, frankly, I'm dreaming of a white Christmas.

And could someone tell me why everyone here is yelling "Mele Kalikimaka" at me? I'm sure it's something very rude.