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Showing posts from August, 2013

Smarty

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Even though I couldn't get past the title, I read the review with an open mind.  Then I read it again; a close reading just to make sure I understood the premise and the process.  With a title like The Smartest Kids in the World And How They Got That Way , I knew I was in for a treat.  At the outset, let me confess that I detest the word smart.  There is something aloof about it.  It's nose in the air snooty.  It seems to imply that I know something you don't know.  I much prefer intelligent.  In face I strongly prefer intelligences.  There are at least 8 kinds, you know.  But it doesn't matter what I think, what matters here is that this new book with this publisher's dream title by Amanda Ripley, will spark a good deal of conversation. "Smartest Kids" will take its place with all those comparison studies between the education offered and the education systems of the U.S. and, in this case, South Korea, Finland, and Poland.  If you want to find the ed

Inheritance

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Every now and then a line or two from the play "Inherit the Wind" floats through my mind.  Being a universal work with a timeless message, I can't say I'm surprised.  Today, while stopped in front of a crosswalk, I watched a pair of Twenty somethings cross in front of me.  They were unrelated, she walking a few steps in front of him.  Both had their heads tilted downward, eyes focused on a smart phone screen.  They were obviously preoccupied but managed to walk in front of the cars stopped without looking ahead, behind or to the side in any way. I've long thought that people in the city never look up and therefore miss much of their environment.  Now it seems many don't even look straight ahead.  This certainly is the work of the new technology. I see tis more and more all the time.  People seem to be in this world but certainly a lot less involved in it.  They manage to maneuver with their own soundtracks, their own conversations aloud, their own prioriti

Name Game

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It was bound to happen.  Most major sports venues have corporate names or logos attached to them.  But when it happens in your home town, the dart stings just a little bit more. In Portland, The Trailblazers are the only major pro team in town.  In the "Rose City" their arena was aptly named The Rose Garden.  Nobody ever got it confused with the famous literal rose garden in Washington Park.  Both draw millions of visitors yearly. It's the corporate name that sticks in the craw. In this case it's now called the Moda arena in honor of a health care system that paid $40 million to advertise their name and remove the neon roses that light the arena now.  Of all the recent reactions to this news locally there is one that stands out as most amusing.  Up here we have a product called "Dave's Killer Bread."  It's a healthy loaf that comes in various incarnations of whole grains and named for it's founder, Dave, who turned his life around after

I Coulda...

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One of the things I love about horse racing is no matter how many races you have seen in your lifetime, there is always the possibility of seeing something you've never seen before.  Watching a baseball game is like that too.  Just when you think that something so simple as hitting a small sphere and running around the bases, or a small pack of horses running in a circle, is a dull, repetitive, uninspiring endeavor, it isn't.  Things happen.  Unpredictable things happen.  Maybe not all the time, but they do happen. A perfect life metaphor, no?  Of course it is.  This last month has been filled with such unpredictabilities.  Which is to say it has been predictable.   I'm forced to move, and then I'm not.  I'm moving downstairs, and then I'm not.  I'm going to vacation in Central Oregon, and then I end up in the East Bay dealing with a family emergency.  And in the end, some sort of balance restores itself and I'm reminded why it is crucial to live life a

We're Rolling

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I set the alarm for 3:30.  That would give me half an hour to get on my waders, warm up some coffee, gather up all my gear, and maybe make a piece of toast.  If I left the house by 4 a.m. I'd have 45 min. to get to the Sandy River on time.  This was no ordinary fishing trip.  There would be lots of fishing but no catching.  Lots of casts into the rushing stream, lots of anticipation, but no real fishing.  I was an actor in a commercial.  That's right, cast as a caster! Long story short, I'd signed up to be in extra for the IFC series Portlandia and in filling out the questionnaire mentioned that one of my interests is fly fishing.  Five years later a casting company making a commercial for Ramada Inns gives me a call and I get the part: one of three fly fishers to be filmed casting their hopes to the Sandy River, one of Oregon's classic steelhead streams. I don't know what the better story is, the actual making of the commercial, or all the prep work that goes int

Her Own Pace

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The call came on a Saturday night.  She'd fallen and not only couldn't get up, she was in the hospital. My 88 year old mother-in-law.  No ordinary person, Betsy is complex.  She's generous and stubborn. She's conniving and warm.  We don't call her the dowager for nothing. Betsy likes her wine.  Sometimes too much.  Initially, we thought that might have something to do with her latest misadventure.  Wrong.  She'd been the victim of an irregular heart beat and was in intensive care.      Over the next week, we made the 12 hour drive and headed for the hospital.  In a couple of days we were in another hospital and sweet Betsy from Berkeley had been given a pacemaker.  The symbolism was not lost.  At almost 99 her pace is fast and faster.  When the heart slows down the body can't help but follow.  This is one reason why we worry.  Betsy has two speeds: moving and sleep.  She's not going to follow doctor's orders very well and seems to be operating a