stegner's 100th

A nice op-ed memorial-type piece in the Times on one of my very favorite authors.

On his 100th birthday, it’s worth remembering another lesson of his life — to choose authenticity over artifice. “If you don’t know where you are,” he said, paraphrasing the writer Wendell Berry, “you don’t know who you are.”

It's nice that a nod to Wendell Berry, one of Stegner's students, was included in the piece. It's those two, amongst others (Abbey, Williams, Duncan), that taught me to love place, and now I feel emotionally lost without it.

Perhaps that's why I don't so much like traveling by plane...or being a passenger on a long road trip--the new lacks its connection with the already familiar, and I feel lost, disoriented, without place.

Anyway... God bless the saints of literature. Happy birthday, Stegner.

...

If you haven't, and you're so inclined, start with this.

nature is an old lady with few suitors

Krabbe, from _The Rider_:


In 1919, Brussels-Amiens was won by a rider who rode the last forty kilometers with a flat tire. Talk about suffering! He arrived at 11:30 at night, with a ninety-minute lead on the only other two riders who finished the race. That day had been like night, trees had whipped back and forth, farmers were blown back into their barns, there were hailstones, bomb craters from the war, crossroads where the gendarmes had run away and riders had to climb onto one another's shoulders to wipe clean the muddied road signs.

Oh, to have been a rider then. Because after the finish all the suffering turns to memories of pleasure, and the greater the suffering, the greater the pleasure. That is Nature's payback to riders for the homage they pay her by suffering. Velvet pillows, safari parks, sunglasses: people have become woolly mice. They still have bodies that can walk for five days and four nights through a desert of snow, without food, but they accept praise for having taken a one-hour bicycle ride. 'Good for you.' Instead of expressing their gratitude for the rain by getting wet, people walk around with umbrellas. Nature is an old lady with few suitors these days, and those who wish to make use of her charms she rewards passionately.

That's why there are riders.

Suffering you need: literature is baloney.

a letter

I wrote a letter to my parents this evening. I've reproduced it here for your reading pleasure.

A while ago you suggested that the US health care system met the needs of Americans par excellence. You gave as evidence for this high praise the wealthy that travel from all over the world for American health care, and voiced the opinion that the greatness of the US health care system is due to the free market for health care; in other words, that US health care is not “socialized.”

Looking for something else, I ran across the following articles today (links to abstracts) and thought you might be interested:

(1) http://healthaff.highwire.org/cgi/content/abstract/21/3/182

In Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the UK, and the US, everyone expresses dissatisfaction with their health care. People with low incomes are more likely to express that dissatisfaction, though few report trouble actually getting health care…except low income US citizens, who reported more difficulty.

(2) http://www.ajph.org/cgi/content/abstract/96/7/1300

Americans, compared to Canadians, are less likely to have a regular doctor and more likely to have unmet health care needs.

(3) http://content.healthaffairs.org/cgi/content/abstract/25/4/1133

The poorest Americans (bottom quartile) are more likely to have poor health than the poorest Canadians. No differences among the rich (top quartile). Canadians experience fewer unmet medical needs. And despite Americans spending more on their health care than Canadians, the two countries generally have similar health status and access to care, except that in the US there is more inequality between rich and poor.

(4) http://content.healthaffairs.org/cgi/content/abstract/24/4/903

Americans spend $5,267 per person on health care, 53 percent more than in any other country. Contrary to myth, the reason for the increased cost of care cannot be accounted for by the cost of defending malpractice claims, which only accounts for 0.46 percent of the cost of health care in the US. Nor can it be accounted for by queuing in other countries. “Services that typically have queues in other countries account for only three percent of US health spending.”

…

These are obviously only four articles, but they provide sufficient evidence to call into question your claim regarding the privileged status of Americans in regards to their health care.

So why, you might ask, do people come from all over the world to receive their treatment in the US? I don’t know that they do, which is to say that a quick search revealed no evidence of that conclusion. But let’s suppose, for the sake of argument, that this claim is correct.

I would argue that it’s not to the US, per se, that the wealthy flee to for their health care needs, but that it is to centers of medical expertise. To the extent that more (who have means) come to the US for their health care needs, they are likely coming (1) to meet exotic health care needs which require very specialized health care knowledge (e.g. cancer treatment, organ transplant) and (2) because more centers of health care expertise exist in the US than anywhere else. (Certainly the US doesn’t have a corner on health care expertise, but, perhaps, on average, there is more in the US than anywhere else.)

So we then might ask, why is there more medical expertise in the US than anywhere else? You may remember that I argued that this has nothing to do with a “free-market” health care system (see * below), but more to do with medical related scientific research funding available in the US. Which is to say that because, over time, there has been more medical related scientific research funding in the US than elsewhere, there have developed more centers of medical expertise in the US. (I actually don’t know if it’s true that there has been, over time, more research funding in the US than elsewhere, but it seems a reasonable suggestion, for a variety of reasons.)

The interesting thing about medical related scientific research funding is that this money comes, by and large, from the government. You and I, the taxpayers, support the institutions that have created our medical expertise, to the extent that we have any. Isn’t that socialism? (And, I should add, it’s a cost that is likely not considered in the per capita figures of health care expense cited earlier.)

An interesting opinion piece, tangentially related:

http://judson.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/02/10/guest-column-letting-scientists-off-the-leash/?8ty&emc=ty

You’ll remember that this conversation arose when I pointed out that we (Americans) enjoy the benefits of a great many socialized institutions. Public schools, public roads and other public works, police and fire departments, social security, Medicaid/Medicare (despite their many faults), tuition assistance, public transportation (in some cases), public parks, forests, recreation areas, etc. And, of course, public research grants. Because of this, it hardly seems that socialism is something to be afraid of. Or, at least, that when you cry foul to “socialism,” you’re ignoring the complexity of the issue.

That public goods (including health care) in the US are already socialized is undeniable. It seems that the questions of policy are (1) to what extent should we socialize (rather than rely on regulation to control inequalities) and (2) what does or should our socialized systems look like?

Regards,

[signed]

* Looking over the fact that a good part of the US health care system is socialized (Medicare and Medicaid) and that very little about the market for health care can be considered free (as a practical matter, Americans’ only real option for health care are the options their employers provide).

hiking

These pics are from a few weeks ago. My car said it was -3 degrees (Fahrenheit) when I parked at Caledonia.


When it's that cold your breath freezes on your mustache hairs.


Man, I look old in that picture. The crows' feet...

I got on the AT and walked past this shelter. I was surprised to find it unoccupied, in spite of the cold. A couple of years ago I spent a night at the Big Flat shelter in about 10 degree weather and we were just one of three parties there that night.


Atop the ridge:


Leftovers from the ice storm a few days earlier:


The snowfall was recent, but the ice on these pines was from days before. Cold enough that week that even in the sun the ice didn't melt.

It was on this walk that my hiking boots disintegrated. I've never seen anything quite like it. After three hours of hiking I happen to look at my boots and notice that the big rubber soles had caverns the length of the shoe wide open on one side each. The rubber sole had been grinding away internally and when I took a boot off to investigate more closely several tablespoons of rubber shavings poured out. There was no sign of damage when I put them on.

messin' with hope

It's hard to come up with clever little words to put under your picture. It at once feels vain and suffocatingly cheesy. Like those ridiculous inspirational pictures you still see in people's offices...the only thing good to come of was their parody.

But misgivings aside, I still did it. And I still posted them here for all to see. So. I guess that means that I'm vain and suffocating.

Oh well.

I also made one for a old hero:

option #3

Yesterday: Option #3, Urban Assault.

I was thinking of skiing, but then came home to a belated Christmas present from my brother:


Are you getting a good look? Do you see that these tires have studs? Metal studs embedded in the knobs. Nuts, man. These things are gnarly.

So how couldn't I give these things a test ride in the newly fallen snow? (These tires say let's keep the snow fallen and not the rider.)

I gave them a two-hour test ride. I want to call it two hours of urban assault. However, as there's nothing remotely "urban" about Shippensburg, I guess I'll have to call it a "rural assault." But that doesn't quite fit either. As far as the descriptive image, I think "suburban assault" would describe the ride best, as I was riding through subdivisions, vacant lots, wooded parks, construction sites, people's back yards, and the occasional farmer's field, but doesn't there have to be the urban to have the suburban? I guess we need a new word to describe the modern American small town--the town that's big enough to feel the icy grip of evil Waldamort, but small enough to count the number of stop lights on two hands.

Anyway, the tires are pretty sweet. The sidewall reads "Klondike XT," but from the Kenda website they appear to be the Kenda Klondike Wide (gotta write the whole thing out to pick up the internet searches).

They are obvious good grippers. There were several points on my ride that I was sure my other tires would have failed, both climbing and side-hilling. They ride along smoothly and quickly on the snow, but rolled onto the asphault you get the sensation that your brake calipers are rubbing the rim. So for what they are, my first impression is good, though for the extra traction you sure pay a price in weight--I weighed them, and these tires add a solid 3.5 lbs to my bike! Though I should say I didn't really notice the weight when I was riding.

The real test will be the mountain fire roads after an ice storm. I'm anxious to exeriment (though I may bring along my motorcycle helmet).

Thanks, Eldon! (Now I get why you were all in a panic about my buying new tires. You need not have worried. It takes me forever to make decisions on things like that.)


...

Unrelatedly (and rather randomly), a picture of the tread pattern of my winter riding shoes:


I'm so glad I bought them, by the way. One of those things that while it's initially hard to pull the trigger, you know you're not going to regret the purchase afterwards.

...

Finally, the other day our little hodini hampster got out...again. This is where I found her:

an ice cream morning

I awoke this morning to an ice cream craving.

This is not particularly unusual. Ice cream is a common prelude to breakfast in this house. What is unusual is my telling you about it. So...here I sit, enjoying the creamy, refreshing goodness of some mint chocolate chip, which, minus the chocolate chips, is as white as the world outside (it snowed more last night...no school for the girls [smile], but still school for me [frown]).

LET IT SNOW!

What a day. I woke up to about two inches of snow and it is still (I just confirmed from my window) snowing. So what's a snow-lover to do? Options:

(1) Ski (downhill) all afternoon.

(2) Ski (cross-country) all afternoon.

(3) Rip tracks all over town on the mountain bike.

(4) Rip tracks in the hills on the mountain bike.

(5) Load either (a) tele gear or (b) cross country gear on the pack, ride the mtb up in the hills, ditch the bike, ski.

(6) Go night skiing.

(7) Some combination of 3 & 4.

(8) Some combination of 4 & 5.

(9) Some combination of either 3, 4, or 5 and 6.

A parenthetical thought:

How would you write that last bit formally? Like this?

((3 or 4 or 5) and 6)

Can you make the "U" sign and the arched, upside-down "U" in html? Maybe it can be written like this:

((3 ^ 4 ^ 5) U 6)

Hmm... That looks pretty lame.

The choices... It's almost too much to bear!

...

Bringing the girls into school today, and then again at the office, I've had to listen to every variation of moan and groan about the snow. And here I am, just about bursting with glee. The same environment experienced with such radical difference. Come to think of it, that reminds me of a conversation (it was barely a conversation--they're masters of dodge and evade) on politics with my parents Sunday.

Anyway...

Don't let the soggy-bottomed boo-hooers get you down. It's snowing, man. Get outside and play!

mtb - pics!

Ok, Marky. I've finally got some pics for you.

Played a little bike-fix-it today. New wheels. So I (finally) installed a rear disc brake! But, more importantly, getting that mangled old rear wheel off the bike means that I have rear brakes. This is a good thing.

I also got creative (not really) and hacked off a centimeter of handlebar from both ends. (I found I wasn't using it...so why have it?) Also, wrapped my bars with new tape. (I don't understand why mountain bikers don't use handlebar tape. So comfy. Bar grips just seem so...I don't know...fourth grade?)

The other day I got three flats, each less than a couple of miles after the last. I thought the culprit was my dinged up rim. Rather, I discovered today, one of my super-cool green tires was ripping apart at the seems. I'm so sad.

So now I'm sporting the super-ghetto two-tire, two-color look. I suppose I could have completed the look with rubber bar grips (har, har).


Seriously, though, since I don't know where I can buy these tires anymore, I'm very, very disappointed. I guess it's back to boring ole black.

Now to find a file tread 26" mtb tire with aggressive cornering knobs. Any ideas?

that pesky collarbone - pic

I was cleaning my desk and found the CD they gave me at the hospital, back in October, when I broke my collarbone.


The break is clear enough, but what's interesting to me is that it looks like it broke on the edge of the healed portion from the previous break. You can sort of see how, from the first break, it didn't heal straight, but with a big lumpy ball of bone...and in this picture that big lumpy ball of bone is just hanging out, there, in the great void of flesh that is my shoulder.

Funky.

...

I watched Obama's inauguration address yesterday. I liked it...yet couldn't help but notice that a lot of the tough-talk rhetoric seemed straight out of Bush's playbook. Last night I caught the first bit of The Daily Show and apparently they picked up on the same thing.

Still, there's no doubt that it felt different coming from the Prophet of Hope than it has coming from the Master of Disaster. Proof, I suppose, that who you hear a message from and how you hear it are just as much a part of the text of the message as the words themselves. Context is everything.

My favorite part of the hoopla, hands down, was this bit near the tail end of Rev. Lowery's benediction:

....help us work for that day when black will not be asked to give back, when brown can stick around, when yellow will be mellow, when the red man can get ahead, man, and when white will embrace what is right.

I am also fond of the triple "amen" conclusion...how the enthusiasm of the crowd built with each sucessive amen.

Black preacher, as an oratorical style, has a corner on delivery effectiveness (a conclusion I first reached after hearing Cornel West speak at Vandy).

Good stuff.

You can watch the whole prayer here.

slackline

I set up a slackline for the boy scouts on a campout last week. We're not yet this good:

easy carelessness

I ran into these two short films from Jeff Scher:

You Won't Remember This (2:21)

You Won't Remember This Either (1:45)

I like the second one best. A fuzzy little vision into the not-so-distant future.

I also like this, from Scher's introduction of the second film:

When toddlers are first walking, their every step is filled with suspense, and the exercise soon degenerates into a vaudeville act worthy of a Borscht Belt drum roll.... Toddlers toddling in their never-ending battle with gravity is a comic ballet...

Yes.

Though I'm also moved by the observation that 50 percent of the behaviors caricatured in that second film I associate with "boy." The easy carelessness. The oblivious disregard of consequence in every muscle movement. These are attitudes of which I am unaccustomed with my girls.

Sometimes I worry I won't much like my small male human.

lemond: the good ole days

I love this photo. What an awesome bike racer.

assorted 2008 photos

Not really the year in review, but the best you'll get from this blog. Miscellaneous pictures from the year that (almost) was.

The Tour of Pennsylvania...shots from the front porch:


Also Tour of PA, but not from my porch:


What Shippensburg looks like the rest of the year:


Broken mountain bike crap:


Father's day present (yes, it's a wallet made from a bicycle tube...and it's awesome):


The three natural-born goats (before there were four) on a ride through campus...Marian's taking the picture from her trailer:


Assorted shots of me, with others, engaged in my third favorite pass time...at home:


...at the hospital:

...camping:


...and with the new kid:


A shot of Mare and I with a lamb in the yard (yes, the lamb is wearing a pull-up):


The autumn rake-up (I'm not kneeling):


The lovely and ever-accommodating:

this nasty shoulder

All y'all remember that I broke my collarbone (again) in early October. Last Wednesday, Christmas Eve, I was headed out to deliver cookies to a few friends and fell on the ice.

My shoulder today:


(The bump, where it looks like my clavicle just ends, is from the first break. It's the bruising I want to highlight.)

I should have known better. It had been raining all night, the rain began to freeze, and upon closer inspection there was about a 1/4 inch of ice on my back steps. I should have known better, but apparently I don't. First step down--I didn't stand a chance--first step down and I was on my back.

Well... Not directly on my back. I saved the cookies in my right hand. Broke my fall with the left forearm. In retrospect, I would have been better off on my back, because what happened left my collarbone hurting like a mother.

After I determined I hadn't broken the bone again (at least not clean through, I'm not convinced that I didn't somehow crack it but probably just strained the new growth, the bone "patch"), muttered half a dozen words I didn't learn from my mother, repeated dozens of times, I grit my teeth, put on a plastic smile and made the deliveries. Once home, I took two oxycodone and went to bed.

But it can't be hurt that bad. That was Wednesday, and on Friday I rode 80 minutes on the trainer, learned to ride a Ripstik, and tried for about a half hour to ride a unicycle. Saturday I got 56 miles in on the road.

Collarbones... Definitely a human skeletal design flaw.