Santa Barbara, North Carolina

I have mentioned in a couple of posts about the wonderful three days I spent recently in Santa Barbara, California. At church on Sunday morning while there I noticed a number of men wearing traditional Hawaiian-style shirts: loose, square tails worn out, open collars, and beautiful designs and patterns. I wasn't surprised—I've always loved some of these shirts I've seen over the years, especially black ones with huge, white and pink and red hibiscus-family flowers on them.

So Sunday afternoon, my friend Priscilla and I walked up and down the eclectic and charming State Street, Santa Barbara's "Main Street," looking at Hawaiian shirts. We stopped in The Territory Ahead's outlet store and retail store, as well as several smaller shops that had new and vintage shirts. We saw a number of interesting shirts—especially the "real" ones made out of rayon that drapes so nicely—but nothing really stood out. Besides, I was having a hard time convincing myself that I, back in Charlotte (okay, Stallings—even worse), North Carolina, needed a Hawaiian shirt. So I came home without one. No harm, no foul. Life moved on.

A couple of days after being back I came across a video interview with John Lasseter, the Oscar-winning head of Pixar Studios (Toy Story, Cars, etc.). Turns out he's a Hawaiian shirt freak, wearing a different one to work each day, matching the design on the shirt with what he would be working on that day at Pixar (e.g., a shirt with vintage cars on it when working on Cars). The video interview showed him in his house-sized closet at his home where he had 370 different Hawaiian shirts neatly hanging, organized by themes (with another 630 shirts in storage for lack of space in the closet—1,000 Hawaiian shirts total).

I was so turned off with this conspicuous consumption (okay, maybe that would be me if I had a zillion dollars like Lasseter) that I sent the video link to Priscilla with sort of a "see where this Hawaiian shirt thing could lead?" kind of attitude. Nonetheless, she did her research thing and sent me some links to online sources for Hawaiian shirts. "Nope," I wrote back. "I'm not buying a shirt. It's the last thing I need." Case close. Life moved on.

So today I ran an errand to Costco and was cutting through the men's clothing section on the way to get white vinegar when a table of beautiful Hawaiian shirts grabbed me by the tail of my T-shirt and pulled me over. Hawaiian shirts at a Costco in Charlotte? Was I wrong about these shirts being out of place in Charlotte? Apparently so! I caved.

$15 later (a bargain compared to Santa Barbara prices!) I was the colorful owner of my first (and hopefully last) Hawaiian shirt. Having gotten that out of my system, life can finally move on. (I am available for pool parties and vegan luaus within a 50-mile radius of Charlotte. Heck, make it 100.)

Epilogue: While standing in the check-out line at Costco with my shirt sitting protected in the cart's baby seat, there was a friendly looking guy standing behind me, a bit younger than me. I pointed at the shirt: "Think I can get away with wearing that in Charlotte?"

He studied the shirt and smiled: "Sure."

I told him I'd seen lots of guys wearing them in church in California a couple weeks earlier and finally decided to get one. "I guess if God doesn't mind seeing them in church, I shouldn't mind wearing one," I said.

"He doesn't care what we wear," the guy said, "as long as we're there."

Charlotte is one of the (few?) large cities in America where you don't hesitate to mention church to a stranger in the check-out line at Costco. I wasn't too sure about the shirt, but apparently God and Hawaiian shirts have bonded in my hometown. And I'm down.

Pass the pineapple, ya'll.

Rohan Designs: Taking Care of Customers

Quick props to Rohan Designs (LOTR fans have to love the name), a British maker of outdoor clothing that Aragorn and J.R.R. himself would have been proud to wear. They took care of a customer service request for me, at their expense, which they weren't obligated to do. The request was handled without objection—quickly and courteously.

Thanks to Emily, their stateside service rep, who solved the problem for me and who linked me up with her British counterpart to complete the transaction. Even though they could have said "No," they did their best for a customer. Why aren't all companies this eager to serve and win a loyal customer base? I'm happy to point out folks who go above and beyond in the line of duty.

Check out Rohan—they're even having a huge sale right now.

The Thrill of Victory, The Agony of Victory

Today's stage in the Tour de France was among the greatest in the history of the race, or so said the commentators. If you're not a Tour follower, the details will take too long to explain. But these pictures, as usual, are worth thousands of words:

The rarified heights of today's stage climb—the highest in the history of the Tour. There were places where the road literally clung to the side of a sheer mountainside:

This young man, Luxembourg's Andy Schleck, broke away from the pack and crossed the finish line alone, moving up to second place in the overall standings:

His father, Johnny Schleck, a former Tour rider himself, had to help Andy walk after he got off the bike:

The price these guys pay is unimaginable to us who haven't done it -- up to six hours a day on the bike for 21 days (w/ two rest days) riding and climbing from one end of France to the other:

But the rewards are sweet. Not only did Andy win today's stage (first pic), he also won the Most Aggressive Rider award for his solo breakaway (second pic):

This man, France's Thomas Voeckler, has been leading the Tour for the last 9 days, and he held on to the leader's (Yellow) jersey today by a mere 15 seconds after nearly three weeks of racing. He was cooked when he finished:

Voeckler couldn't even get off his bike at the end. He stayed in this position for a full minute, trying to get oxygen at 8,000 feet, while his team manager kept the press away—who stood respectfully quiet while Voeckler tried to recover:

But recover he did, to receive his tenth Yellow Jersey as leader of the Tour:

It was appropriate, after such a historic stage, that Belgium's Eddy Merckx (background, in blue shirt) was on the podium to congratulate Schleck and Voeckler. Merckx is considered the greatest professional bike rider in history, and was known as "The Cannibal" in his racing days for the way he chewed up opponents on the road:

ABC Sports' Jim McKay was well known for opening the Olympic games on ABC for decades by describing the "thrill of victory and the agony of defeat." Today's Tour stage showcased not only the thrill of victory, but the agony of victory as well.

Vive Le Tour!

Want to See Why Nobody Pays Attention to MSNBC?

Ha ha ha! Let's hear it for smart people who politely reveal the arrogance of some talking heads. Mo Brooks is the Republican Congressman from the fifth district of ALABAMA. (Alabama mamas taught their boys to say, "Yes, ma'am." Respect the skirt if not who's wearing it.)

(Thanks to Daniel for the link.)

Santa Barbara Beauty

A few more pics from my recent visit to Santa Barbara.

Part of the beach (at high tide) at the base of a high plateau on the north side of Santa Barbara called The Mesa. My friend, Priscilla, grew up on The Mesa and used to play on this beach as a child. I took this pic standing on a LONG set of stairs leading from the top of The Mesa to the beach -- affectionately called "the thousand steps":

A section of the thousand steps:

Near the bottom of the thousand steps:

Reportedly the largest fig tree in America. Notice the size of the roots compared to Priscilla sitting among them. (Disclaimer: we didn't see the "stay off the tree" sign until after taking the pic of Priscilla sitting on the roots.)

Thoughts for the Day 12.0

From Small Is the New Big by Seth Godin:

If your target audience isn't listening, it's not their fault, it's yours.

From Bruce Wilkinson's The 7 Laws of the Learner:

It's the teacher's responsibility to cause the students to learn.

Santa Barbara Courthouse

Recently in Santa Barbara, I was given a weekend tour of the area by a native who knows every nook and cranny—including the historic Santa Barbara County courthouse. For whatever reason, I have always pictured Santa Barbara as being farther north on the coast, but it sits just above Ventura County which is just above L.A. County—i.e., in the southern third of the state. This southern proximity accounts for the heavy Spanish Colonial influences in the architecture and history of the region as Spanish explorers, accompanied by Catholic missionaries, merged with the native Indian populations.

All that to say—the Santa Barbara courthouse is stunning. First built in the 1870s, the current courthouse was completed in 1929 after a 1925 earthquake destroyed much of the city. It just goes to show what a vision for blending art, architecture, and service can accomplish. This structure -- indeed, the entire Spanish Colonial feel of all Santa Barbara -- makes other modern cities feel a bit sterile by comparison.

The ceiling of the main entryway into the courthouse:

An interior hallway:

This room is the most famous -- the mural room -- where official city, civic, and community functions are held, including service as a courtroom. The murals depict various events and stages in the settlement of Santa Barbara. The pictures hardly do it justice:

Another shot of part of the interior of the courthouse:

These pictures came to mind when I found a jury summons in the mail upon my return from Santa Barbara. While Union County, NC's, historic courthouse still stands -- and it represents the traditional image of historic Southern courthouses -- my jury duty will take place in the bland, shiny, new courthouse that has replaced it for most county government work. I wouldn't mind reporting to and serving in the old courthouse -- walking on old wooden floors, sitting in old wooden chairs, smelling the history of Union County while I help decide the fate of a stranger (unless my ordained religious status causes me to be excused). That would make the wheels of legal tedium turn faster, for sure. If I lived in Santa Barbara County, I might volunteer for jury duty just to spend a week reveling in the beauty of what is possible when people really try. (Thanks to Priscilla for the grand tour.)

What Happens to Your Luggage?

Ever wonder what happens to your carry-on bag when it goes under the x-ray hood at the airport?

On a cross-country flight recently, I had to check one large bag. Arriving at my destination and opening that bag in my hotel room, I found a printed note from our friends at the TSA (paraphrasing): "Your luggage was selected for a random security search. If your bag was locked, we cut or broke the lock to gain entrance to your luggage. Sorry 'bout that."

Being the trusting sort, my bag wasn't locked (nor was there anything in that couldn't have been easily replaced if stolen). But I had mixed -- okay, negative -- feelings about this intrusion. I suppose I was warned about it in some cryptic TSA reg which I hadn't read. And I don't have a good answer for the trade-off between privacy and security.

What did cross my mind was the entertainment fodder this exercise must represent for the bag searchers. Think about the variety of surprising things the searchers much encounter as they explore the lives of ordinary Americans vis-a-vis their luggage: "Whoa! What the heck?" I can think of one thing in my bag that likely caused that reaction. And I smile even today at the thought that some handler is still wondering what I was doing with that. (Just like you are.) :-)

Oaks and Acorns

Another view:

Thanks to Jennifer—wife of the oak and mother of the acorn—for the original picture.

Swiss Chard Seed

Last summer I had a couple of Swiss chard plants that did well. I left them in place during the winter, surprised early this year to see they had survived intact through many freezing nights. They came back to life this spring and immediately bolted, growing to 6+ feet tall. I let them grow hoping they would go to seed. The branches were covered with tiny flower pods out of which one would expect seeds to come. But as the plants began to dry up this summer, their reproductive mission over, I didn't realize that the flower pods would dry into seed pods. Each pod is actually filled with numerous tiny seeds so when you plant a "pod" you're actually planting several seeds -- resulting in multiple swiss chard stalks from each pod.

Here's what the plants look like at present:

You can see the countless seed pods hanging on the stems and branches:

I collected a big bowl full to save:

And planted a few to see what would happen -- they immediately sprouted:

They're even sprouting around the base of the plants where they had fallen into the dirt:

So, I'll plant some more this fall when it's cooler -- and try to harvest as many seed pods as I can from the two plants before they all fall off.

Obeying the Law Can Be Hazardous to Your Health

How Does Venice Work?

I have never understood Venice—a city with canals instead of streets. The following video does a great job explaining how Venice works—produced by a municipal company formed to oversee needed maintenance and preservation. This excellent video is 18 minutes, but worth it for those interested.

Venice Backstage. How does Venice work? from Insula spa on Vimeo.

Coming Back to Life

I wrote previously about the brilliance of David Gilmour's musical skills, and I continue here with more. The song you'll find below -- "Coming Back to Life" -- captured my attention because of its arrangement and beauty. (You'll hear it playing in the background on my vacuum sealing video from a couple days ago.) But I hadn't paid attention to the words until this morning -- the rock genre has conditioned us not to focus on the words because they are often indistinguishable over the din of the music. But enough of the "Coming Back to Life" words seeped in to pique my interest. And once I read all the lyrics, and watched how Gilmour arranged this song -- volume, lighting, instruments, choral voices -- to enhance the lyrics, I was brought to tears. Literally.

I'm not sure why. It may be because it's a song about "coming back to life" after experiencing a personal loss -- perhaps the death of a vision -- a universal theme in all of human existence, but especially at the individual level. I can certainly identify with that theme, and the song may have touched a tattered hem that has yet to be trimmed and stitched into a new edge made serviceable for life.

But it's also because I, along with millions of other 'wannabes, want to be "David Gilmour." Not him specifically, but a person involved in the composing, arranging, and producing of music that moves human souls as this piece does. I know I don't have the talent for that, so am happy to revel vicariously in the fruits of those who do -- and enjoy the emotional catharses that arise unbidden in the presence of great music.

David Gilmour wrote this piece and it was first performed on a 1994 Pink Floyd album, The Division Bell. Wikipedia says Gilmour wrote it about his (second) wife, Polly Samson. Whether it is about her throughout the song -- both the dying and the rebirth -- or whether it is only about her role in his rebirth, I don't know. And it doesn't matter for my purposes here: the way arranging of music enhances the telling of a story. (There's also a Royal Albert Hall version available, but neither it nor the Pink Floyd version can match the one below for production value and emotional impact.)

This is the version from the 1998 Meltdown Concert and I think is far superior to the later version of the Royal Albert Hall Concert which lacks the power of the choral voices. Here are the lyrics and my interspersed notes on the arrangement:

[Dark stage, spare acoustic guitar opening, contemplating his pain,

the choral voices, like a Greek chorus, amplifying what he's feeling]

Where were you when I was burned and broken

While the days slipped by from my window watching

Where were you when I was hurt and helpless

Because the things you say and the things you do surround me

While you were hanging yourself on someone else's words

Dying to believe in what you heard

I was staring straight into the shining sun

[Guitar picks up strength and rhythm;

a glimmer of hope and possibility of life.]

Lost in thought and lost in time

While the seeds of life and the seeds of change were planted

Outside the rain fell dark and slow

While I pondered on this dangerous but irresistible pastime

I took a heavenly ride through our silence

I knew the moment had arrived

For killing the past and coming back to life

[Lights come up, the audience buys into the story, full band enters,

underscored by the bass line, almost like a heartbeat,

bringing light and life to what he's just realized:

"the moment had arrived for killing the past and coming back to life."]

I took a heavenly ride through our silence

I knew the waiting had begun

And headed straight..into the shining sun

Of course, the audio on YouTube videos is never as powerful as on the DVD itself -- I can tell a significant lack of dynamics in this version. But hopefully it will be adequate: (this really only works if you have adequate speakers for listening to music via your computer -- a subwoofer makers all the difference in the world.) Hats off to Gilmour for tackling this kind of song on an acoustic guitar -- he uses electrics on the other two versions linked above.)

There is another reason this song resonates: it brings to mind Saint John of the Cross's 16-century treatise, Dark Night of the Soul. I am less familiar with Saint John's travails than I am with those of the apostle Paul, when he realized "the moment had arrived for killing the past and coming back to life:"

Yet indeed I also count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him . . . [that] I may attain to the resurrection from the dead. . . . forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

(Philippians 3:8-14)

USDA: Still Trying to Get It Right

The USDA's attempts to give nutritional guidance to Americans via an all-encompassing graphic image has a painful past. With the latest rendition, released a few weeks ago, they have gotten closer: simple, attractive, almost accurate.

This is the original "food pyramid" issued in 1992:

A backward step was taken in 2005 -- an image that communicated nothing but confusion:

The upgrade released a few weeks ago is the best yet:

But notice a couple of things about the image above:

1. The inclusion of "protein" as a food group. Protein is not a food; it's a nutrient that is found in the other three foods (mostly in grains, then veggies, very little in fruit). In other words, it you eat lots of a variety of veggies and grains (and legumes -- see below), you'll get all the protein you need. There is no need to put it as a fourth food group on the plate. Guess why they did? An obvious favor to the hugely influential farmed-meat industry. At least they didn't use the word "meat," but they didn't need to include the protein quadrant at all. If anything, they could have devoted it to "nuts, seeds, and legumes" which are protein dense foods. But the USDA wouldn't dare risk offending the meat lobby by not giving it its own place on the plate.

2. Same for "dairy" in the small glass or bowl to the side -- an obvious encouragement to consume milk and dairy products daily -- the throwing of another bone, this time to the "Got Milk?" folks that own Washington. How silly and unnatural for a human to gather his nutritional inputs from the plant kingdom that grows abundantly around him, then suddenly say, "Wait -- let's go over and drive that calf away from its mother and squeeze the cow's mammary fluid into a glass to wash down our vegetables, fruits, and grains." Who thinks of this?

Removing the protein quadrant and the milk/dairy glass, and adding "nuts, seeds, and legumes" to the fourth quadrant would have made this a truly healthy nutritional graphic.

3. But here's the real irony. Compare the plate image above -- the amount of room taken up on the plate by veggies and fruit -- with the graph below that shows federal food production subsidies.

Notice any inconsistencies? On the food plate, veggies and fruits take up half the plate. But in reality, LESS THAN ONE PERCENT of federal food subsidies go to farmers who grow fruits and veggies. Look where the VAST MAJORITY of food subsidies go: to the meat and dairy industry. The USDA is saying, "Do what we say, not what we do." If they really believe that half of the American diet should come from fruits and veggies, it would make sense for them to use taxpayer dollars to promote the production of those foods on a percentage basis.

Finally, here's the best nutritional recommendation graphic of all, produced a couple of years ago by the Physician's Committee for Responsible Medicine. Do you think the USDA borrowed any ideas from PCRM's food plate? You'll notice on PCRM's plate there is (correctly) no "protein" food group. Instead, there is a "legume" quadrant (basically, beans, lentils, etc) which are super high in protein. This is as it should be -- not mixing "foods" with "nutrients" as the USDA plate does. (Thanks to PCRM for the unauthorized use of their image.)

All in all, the most recent USDA plate is a step in the right direction. Thanks to PCRM for setting the standard in simplicity and accuracy so the folks at USDA would have something to go by.

Blackstrap Molasses

Though blackstrap molasses is a highly processed food, it retains a high mineral and nutrient content. One tablespoon supposedly provides 20 percent of the RDA of calcium, magnesium, potassium, and iron, along with a healthy shot of vitamin B6. Blackstrap is what remains after the third boiling of the raw sugar from sugar cane. It retains (somehow) far more nutrients than refined white sugar which is mostly empty calories. (But blackstrap is far less sweet than refined sugar.)

As well as being good for humans (I eat a Tbsp daily in my oatmeal), blackstrap is used as a food for microorganisms in the production of compost tea. A few years ago when I had a large garden and was making lots of compost tea I bought a five-gallon bucket of blackstrap. I needed more (both for consumption and for tea), as did my son who makes lots of compost tea for his garden, so we went together and bought another five-gallon bucket. We did the numbers and discovered we paid less than a third the price of blackstrap sold by the pint or quart bottle in grocery stores. The molasses is unsulphured, produced by the Amish in Pennsylvania, and purchased from The Grain Mill of Wake Forest here in NC.

We split the five gallons, so I had 2.5 gallons to store. I vacuum-sealed 1.5 gallons in three half-gallon Ball canning jars using my FoodSaver vacuum sealer: (Since blackstrap is a liquid, you could fill the jar to very top, thus eliminating almost all the air. Oxygen is the great destroyer of food -- it's why vegetables have skins -- to keep the cells from oxidizing by coming in contact with air. One of the main ways I'm using vacuum sealing is for preserving the enzymatic activity in fresh-juiced vegetable juices, stored in 8-oz. Ball jars, for 2-3 days at a time after juicing. So I'm beginning to learn how to vacuum seal food in an experimental sort of way.)

I'll store these jars in the back of the refrigerator just to keep them cool: (You can see in the first two jars how the vacuum in the top half-inch of the jars is pulling TINY air bubbles out of the molasses toward the vacuum. I may try unsealing these in a few days and re-sealing them in an attempt to pull out even more oxygen. A little OCD there, but experimenting is part of learning.)

And I used an empty maple syrup container to store enough on the pantry shelf for daily use:

And the small remainder stayed in the food-safe five-gallon container to be used for compost tea this summer.

Dimming of the Day

I've been watching and listening to a lot of David Gilmour lately—the driving force of the 'Eighties version of Pink Floyd. I've been watching two concerts: David Gilmour in Concert which has songs from two different concerts (Meltdown Concert - 2001, and the Royal Festival Hall Concert - 2002) and Remember that Night—Live at the Royal Albert Hall - 2006. I missed Gilmour in the 'Seventies and 'Eighties, but am enjoying this exposure to him in his senior years. He seems to be a total gearhead (musical perfectionist), obsessed with experimenting with sound and instruments. Many of the songs he wrote or co-wrote and all of them are beautifully produced on the concert stage.

For years I've maintained a short list of the most creative musician/writers/performers in the "rock" genre. Admittedly, my knowledge and experience are relatively shallow (and everyone has their own favorites) but I'm adding Gilmour to the list: Michael Omartian, Sting, Paul Simon, Dave Matthews, and now—David Gilmour. (James Taylor is a possibility, but not yet.) This isn't a list of "my favorite bands," but a list of people who seem to stand head and shoulders above the crowd when it comes to musical genius and creativity.

The following song is from the David Gilmour in Concert DVD and is one of the few he didn't write. It must be one of the most beautiful love songs ever written, and Gilmour's production with the chorus of singers is gorgeous. (Rock trivia fans will recognize ageless English rocker Sam Brown, daughter of Beatles'-era Joe Brown, among the female backup singers -- fourth from the left. She and her father were both featured on the iconic Concert for George DVD, Sam bringing down the Royal Albert Hall with George Harrison's "Horse to the Water.") "Dimming of the Day" was written by Richard Thompson and has been covered by numerous artists, but I think David Gilmour's version is as good as any:

Thoughts for the Day 11.0

June 13

Faster no step moves God because the fool

Shouts to the universe God there is none;

The blindest man will not preach out the sun,

Though on his darkness he should found a school.

It may be, when he finds he is not dead,

Though world and body, sight and sound are fled,

Some eyes may open in his foolish head.

June 15

Who sets himself not sternly to be good,

Is but a fool, who judgment of true things

Has none, however oft the claim renewed.

And he who thinks, in his great plentitude,

To right himself, and set his spirit free

Without the might of higher communings,

Is foolish also—save he willed himself to be!

(George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul,

readings for June 13, 15)

Thought for the Day 10.0

"Twenty years after my own graduation, I have come gradually to understand that the liberal arts cliché about teaching you how to think is actually shorthand for a much deeper, more serious idea: learning how to think really means learning how to exercise some control over how and what you think. It means being conscious and aware enough to choose what you pay attention to and to choose how you construct meaning from experience. Because if you cannot exercise this kind of choice in adult life, you will be totally hosed."

(The late David Foster Wallace in a commencement address delivered at Kenyon College, 2005. Cited in Alan Jacobs, The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction, p. 85)