Some things I cannot do.

I always dread this day.

It is the day that I have to keep my television turned off, and avoid my favorite internet news sites.

It is the day that it seems EVERYBODY wants to talk about what I don't ever want to talk about again.

And why should I? Even ten years later I remember every single thing about that day.

The phone call from my daughter telling me to turn on the television. "Daddy they are attacking New York!"

The day spent watching something happen which my mind refused to accept was even possible.

The next days spent watching the disaster over, and over, and over again. Until I could close my eyes and see every detail play out like I was watching it happen right in front of me.

Weeks spent wondering why, who, and how.

And just when the images had faded into the darkness of my psyche it was the one year anniversary, the two year anniversary, the three year anniversary, and here they came again, playing in a loop on every station, on every television, every year. The attacks only happened once, but through the power of the recorded image they continue to attack us again, and again, and again.

The news stations say they do it so that we won't forget. Who could forget?

Like all Americans alive at that time, I will NEVER forget.

So today I thought I would pay my respects to those who lost their lives on that fateful day, by living mine.

I went up to my favorite place and spent the afternoon appreciating the vastness of the world around me.

Absorbing the beauty that surrounded me.

Listening to the music that nature played for me.

And marveling at the images which inspired me.

After I finished my hike I felt revitalized, and renewed, and not a drop of sadness remained.

Perhaps some will decide I am not a "good" American for not sharing in our national grief. But I have already shed so many tears, and feared so many faceless enemies, and yet it changed nothing.

So today I decided it was not just something that I cannot do, I decided it was something that I should not do. And I do not believe I could have made a better choice.

If every year on 9-11 our nation succumbs to an overwhelming sense of loss, and spends the day re-watching the handiwork of those who wanted to terrify us, who wins then?

Well today, for THIS American, the bad guys lost.

Time for a July 4th hike up my favorite mountain.

One of my all time favorite places in Alaska is a local hiking trail which leads to the top of Flattop Peak.

Last year I made this hike about fourteen times during the summer.

Due to some unforeseen complications concerning my job, I have not been able to make it up even ONCE this summer. So since today was a holiday, and there were no phone calls to worry about, or projects that required my immediate attention, I decided to set aside about an hour and half and commune with nature. (Fortunately for me, this nature is only about a ten minute drive away from my house.)

The first part of the hike is called Blueberry Loop and even it can be a little taxing for those unaccustomed to steep hikes over rough terrain.

As you see in Alaska you can ALWAYS find someplace that does not yet realize that it's summer time. ("Hey snow, its' freaking July! Melt already!")

This sign lets you know that you are leaving the easy trail and that it is time to put on your big boy (or girl) pants.  I have climbed this peak hundreds of times so I am filled with confidence that I wll fly up the mountain. (And by "fly" I mean stumble over rocky outcroppings like an Alzheimer's patient, while sweating profusely, and using wildly inappropriate language.)

This is where it starts (That's right "starts") to get more difficult.  I often see families with small children heading up this trail. They are usually still smiling and getting along well at this point but another hundred yards or so up the trail that happy family dynamic starts to fall apart. (If you want to hike up without hearing the sounds of crying or complaining children and impatient parents, you have to go on a weekday.)

I call this the halfway mark, though in fact it is actually a little more than halfway.  However this is where the hike gets serious as you can see from the sign. People have fallen and had to be rescued or, in some cases, even suffered a fatality. (One of my great fears in life is that I will fall and have to be helicoptered down the mountain. I would NEVER live down the humiliation.)

Seriously is somebody adding more rock to make this damn thing higher?

The view from the top.

Breathtaking don't you agree? Though considering that I was still sucking wind and trying to slow my heart rate when I took this picture I did not exactly need the view to take my breath away.

Still, in my opinion it is one of the most beautiful views in Alaska!  And the fact that you have to risk life and limb to see it only makes it more so.

Well time to head back down.

Oh did I tell you that the descent is the most treacherous part of this particular hike?  Wish me luck!

Myth-Busting [Lemmings]

¡Hola! Everybody...
Before the New Year, I was thinking of putting more effort in my blogging. What’s happened instead is that I find myself putting more effort into some story treatments I’ve neglected for soe time. That means less blogging...

BTW, anybody else thought Brit Hume was off his rocker for suggesting Tiger Woods convert from Buddhism to Christianity? Yeah Brit, because Christianity helped, Mark Sanford, David Vitter, Newt Gringrich, Larry Craig, John Ensign, and almost all of the homophobic C Street Boys from having adulterous affairs... (click here for an exhaustive if incomplete list of right-wing sexual hypocrisy)

::blank stare::

As a practicing Buddhist, I totally agree with Hume and heartily endorse his suggestion... just so long as every Christian public figure that is caught with his pants down has to convert to Buddhism. Seriously, we need more Christians to come to the fore and express some outrage to what is surely an unChristian sentiment. Speaking of right-wing assholes...

.* * *

-=[ Of Lemmings and Dumb Twats ]=-

As I was ruminating on Brit Hume-like mental giants, my mind reflexively turned to everyone’s fave rodents the lemmings. Almost everybody knows that lemmings commit mass suicide right. I mean, we know this for a fact... right?

Wrong!

Sure, they are funny little rodents and if you were to visit the Arctic regions where they mostly hang out, you might have work very hard to spot a single lemming. On the other hand, you might see thousands of them, depending on what time of the year you show up. The lemming population rises and falls so dramatically that centuries ago people explained their sudden appearance by saying they fell from the skies. Conversely, their sudden disappearance was believed to be true due to the belief that lemmings committed mass ritual suicide by plunging into the sea. The idea is so ingrained that people today, many of whom wouldn’t know a lemming if it fell on them, still take this belief on faith.

Certainly, the image of all those animals plunging recklessly into the waves makes for a more dramatic effect (not to mention a great figure of speech with which to describe people like Brit Hume). Every time we spot a rabid horde of Tea Baggers, for example, lemmings are a useful reference. Personally, I prefer calling them dumb twats, but my more stridently feminist friends keep telling me I need a more evolved metaphor. But as linguists and other scientists have been saying for some time now, “the only animal that regularly commits mass suicide is Homo sapiens.” Nevertheless, we apparently need a vivid metaphor taken from Nature to illustrate the human tendency to self-destruction.

So what do scientists say? It is true that lemmings migrate in huge numbers, most likely in search of food or a place to breed. Many don’t survive the journey, especially the part that takes them across bodies of water or over unfamiliar terrain. Additionally, many lemmings obviously die as part of this population cycle. But this isn’t due to some instinct toward suicide. Biologically, zoologists tell us, it just doesn’t make sense. “After all, lemmings with a hypothetical death wish would never have a chance to pass this feature on to their offspring. Others without such an instinct would continue to reproduce and it would quickly disappear.

So what does happen to all the little critters? Disease? Predators? Weather? Rapidly shifting patterns of natural selection? The topic is still hotly contested amongst rodent specialists -- they still don’t know why. However, now I will need to use a different turn of the phrase to describe people like Brit Hume. I say dumb twats fits them perfectly.

Love,

Eddie