Hope

I was at an event over the weekend and the heads of various organizations herded up for a little jawing. A common thread was the color of the hair, what there was of it. The subject eventually wound around to the recurrent theme of the following generations failing to take over the reins.

I’ve never reached a conclusion on the root of this. Is this a generation of slackers or does every senior stratum just think that? My leaning is influenced by whichever segment of the younger population I happening to be encountering at the time. The needle is tilted toward optimism today.

Last night, I attended a high school graduation party for a young lady who earned cum laude honors. On top of that, she’s a McDonald’s All-American athlete (among other high honors in her sport) and is one heck of a person. Granted, she’s a sampling of one. But, two years ago, I was at a similar event for her brother, who moved on to pre-med after racking up similar accomplishments in high school. Okay, that’s just two.

A lot of their friends and cousins were at this party and I had the opportunity to talk with many of them. They were, on the whole, bright, articulate and motivated individuals. I’m sure the birds-of-a-feather principle applies, but there were enough of them to provide hope for the coming generation.

Purist

In regard to the previous blog, a friend had asked me what people wear in the race. I told her that some people wear something like a wetsuit designed for these things and some wear a bathing suit, like you’d see at a swim meet. I’m in the latter category.

“You mean, like a Speedo?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“You’re going to wear a Speedo downtown?”

Well, it’s not like I’ll be parading up and down Fourth Street. I’m doing this as a purist, and that means the minimum amount of equipment.

Also, the wetsuit alternative provides buoyancy, enhancing your speed. The insulation retains warmth and energy, which helps. I don’t want an asterisk beside my record time.

Yeah, right.

Priorities

Yes, I’m babbling on the keyboard now. I’ve got a big event this weekend and the truck’s been packed since last night. Now, I’m into displacement activity, trying not to think about what I might’ve forgotten.

But, the main event is one month away. The Great Ohio River Swim. Across the Ohio River and back. The measured course is about 900 meters or six tenths of a mile. The swimming distance is longer because you have to angle to correct for the crosscurrent. And, you never swim straight in murky water, anyway. You’d better plan on pounding away for a mile to be on the safe side.

And, that’s not a pool mile. This is open water swimming. There are no mini-rests at or push-offs from the walls every half lap. The chop also interferes with your form (such as mine is) and breathing, as does the necessity to check and correct course. But, that’s part of the challenge that attracts me.

Someone mentioned that these adversities will limit the field, enhancing my chances to win. Not really. While the numbers aren’t great, those who do swim are serious competitors and have been most of their lives. They play hardball. If you don’t know that going in, you’ll find out in the middle of the pack, especially jockeying for inside position at the turn.

So the serious training begins Monday, after my big event, a party and a picnic. Okay, maybe Tuesday.

I regularly work out, but that’s not competition shape. For the next 30 days, it’ll be a lot more intense. Well, except for when we go down to the Hiwassee River and whoop it up for a long weekend. One must have priorities.

So, why a month? Why not a year? At this stage of life, hedonism exceeds the gratification of a medal. I want it, but I just don’t want it that badly.

Recreational math

I was just getting home from performing the joyous task of bringing home the new baby. Figuratively speaking. It’s a kayak, which is almost as good as the real thing.

I made the final turn onto my street and was giddy with the anticipation of commencing the fiddling around with the new toy. And then, the buzz kill. Ned popped his head out the door of the travel trailer he was cleaning in his driveway. I didn’t have to check the rearview mirror to know he was trotting down the road after me.

“New boat?” Ned doesn’t know much about kayaks. However, when he senses someone doesn’t want anything to do with him (most people in the neighborhood), he affixes his nose firmly into every aspect of your life.

“Yes, Ned, a new boat.”

“How much did it cost?” I told him. “And, it only has one seat?”

Ah, the powers of observation. “Yes, one seat.”

“Well, if you multiplied the cost times the number of seats in a minivan, you could’ve had the van. And this doesn’t even have an engine.”

“But, I couldn’t lift the van up onto my racks.”

“You wouldn’t have to. You could drive it. See my point?”

“What I don’t see is why my choices are of any concern of yours.”

“Just saying.” There’s your sign.

Recreational purchases often don’t make economic sense. But, they can yield a substantial return on quality of life. If you worry about the numbers, don’t spend the money. Otherwise, life is a big canvas. Throw all the paint on it you can.

I looked toward his driveway. There sat his Brobdingnagian travel trailer and the proportional truck required to tow it and his brood the three or four times a year they use it. “You have, I’m guessing, at least $80,000 tied up in that rig. Straight-line the depreciation and add in insurance, license and cost of money, it drains you about $10,500 a year if it just sits there, not to mention you lose use of half your driveway and are in violation of the neighborhood regulations. Drive it and you rack up an incremental cost of about $900 per trip in fuel, plus another few hundred in camping fees. And then you have to drive the behemoth and now you’re spending your day cleaning it out. I’d just throw the kids in a minivan and take them to Disneyworld.”

“But, I like trailering.”

“That’s my point.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business?”

I thought I had been.

Chains of events

In one of Len Deighton’s earlier books, he observes that the southeastern terrain of the United States, that lends itself to military training, accounts for soldiers from all over the country taking southern wives. In my college orientation, one of the predictions proffered to us was that many of us would find out mates over the next four years. It struck me that, by selecting a college, I had also unintentionally plotted my life course in other ways, which turned out to be the case.

I find it interesting that many decisions have a chain reaction effect that shape our entire lives, especially as they almost randomly intersect with those of others. It can be which job we take, church we attend, neighborhood we reside in or whatever. The ramifications are far-reaching and may extend beyond what we anticipated at the time.

I was reminded of this last night at a pool party. Well, a pool party kayaker style. We bring our toys with us. Carolyn made reference to a kayaking couple, labeling them as the class after her. She had already referred to me as being in the class before.

It hadn’t dawned on me until then, but I got her point. Decades before, we had all gone through paddling courses offered by a club, and then became immersed in their paddling outings to various degrees. Hence, Carolyn’s reference to which class we were members of. However we made our decisions to enter that portal, many of us were making life decisions, aware of it or not.

Perhaps the reason I didn’t share her perspective was that I was married with young children at the time, and was not as involved as many of them. Carolyn and a lot of the others were younger and single.

As she spoke last night, I recalled the many weekends they spent away together in their shared avocation and how that resulted in a lot of marriages, including hers. So, by simply signing up for a weekend paddling course, she and the others set into motion a chain of events that led to where they are now with children, residences, etc.

Think of that today, as you decide where to shop, eat or take your walk. You may be altering the course of your life.

Here's to Hup

Three days until Paddlefest and I’m about as revved up as I can be without blowing a gasket. It’s the culmination of year of work and an opportunity for us to enjoy the fruits of that labor. As it winds down, there’s that elation of accomplishment, knowing we pulled it off and it was bigger and better than the previous year.

But, this time, I’m thinking of Hup, who died late last year at the age of 89. He wasn’t a paddler, just someone I looked out for.

Over the past few years, I sadly watched his decline. But, there was always one thing that ramped him up. His annual reunion of Pearl Harbor survivors. People he’d shared something special with and had known for decades. He relished that event.

The dots are connecting this year and I see that in Paddlefest. I really look forward to uniting with a multitude of good friends who I’ve known for decades and shared a lot of fun times with. There will be a great deal of reminiscing about that, which pretty much makes all the work worthwhile.

And, I’ll drink a silent toast to Hup for helping appreciate this even more.

The high cost of education

When I set up the aforementioned sea kayak training and posted it on our club’s event board, there were the usual questions about the cost. I hesitated to answer.

I knew the price of lessons and lodging, and could estimate the gratuity, but do I footnote the potential hidden cost? Or, is that universal and understood?

As example, some time ago, I attended a seminar on road riding (long distance bicycle). I already had a bike that I had been using for a couple years. However, with what I learned in the course, it seemed inadequate for getting the most out of my enhanced skills. I’d have to take it up a notch with frame and equipment.

My children were both musicians. As they progressed to higher levels, it became incumbent upon us to upgrade the instruments commensurately. The cost of lessons was being eclipsed by that of equipment.

I think that’s the norm and everybody knows that. A friend of mine is a gourmet cook and had all the bells and whistles required to turn out a drop-dead feast. And yet, after taking a few days to study under a renowned chef, she came back and ordered an expensive new stove, pots and pans, and other implements.

It is necessary to distinguish here between the enthusiast who develops skills and acquires equipment to leverage those advanced abilities, and the one who fails to build proficiency and buys more sophisticated gear, thinking that’s an easy way to improve results. That’s often a fool’s errand because that gear is designed to deliver for a higher level of competence and punishes those at a lower level.

Going into an advanced sea kayaking course, I thought it was safe to assume that participants would be aware of the possibility of the outcome. I joked with some about that, warning that the instructor was also an equipment dealer, so bring your checkbook. I already had a good touring boat, capable of hauling a good deal of gear for multiweek trips. And, a top-of-the-line speedster. So I was, of course, immune. Of course.

Glad I didn’t take the checkbook. By the end of the first day, I had the fever for a kayak that could really surf and play the rough stuff, leveraging my augmented skill set. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a checkbook with me that spared me. Credit cards are welcome. But, the instructor was one of those people who is in the field for the love of the sport and didn’t have much of a business or sales mentality. When I inquired about a particular model, he simply said that he didn’t have one in stock and let it go at that.

The kayak is just one aspect. When you take lessons or tour with an outfitter, you become aware of the equipment they use. You notice their gear (paddles, tow bags, wet gear, etc.) and their facile use of it makes it appear superior to yours. Plus, there’s the implied endorsement of a pro who relies on the equipment every day. Again, we were spared by the provider’s disinterest in selling.

Or, were we? We did get out of town without our plastic seeing the light of day. But, as we banter about practicing to apply the new skills, I detect the seed of desire to do some shopping.

That will be the real cost of the course. But, money well spent.

Ordinary people

Through positions I’ve held in businesses and other organizations, I’ve met and worked with prominent people in sports, entertainment, government and other walks of life. Perhaps that’s why I don’t get all aquiver when I meet the latest and greatest quarterback or governor. They're just people.

But, yesterday, I paddled kayak escort for Mimi Hughes, a woman who’s swimming the length of the Ohio River. This isn’t her first feat. She swam the length of the Tennessee River and also across the Bering Sea, from Alaska to Russia, among other things.

What strikes me most about her is that she doesn’t appear to be someone gifted with attributes at the high end of the bell curve. She just seems like an “ordinary person” who took control of her life, decided what she wanted to do and did what she had to do to accomplish things others would consider outside of the realm of possibilities.

Now that impresses me. And, gives hope to all the rest of us ordinary people.

Hanlon's Razor

I’ve been familiar with Occam’s Razor for some time ("Entities must not be multiplied beyond necessity"). Last night, we were discussing group dynamics and someone tossed out Hanlon’s Razor. I wasn’t familiar with it and looked it up (“Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity”). It’s common to attribute recurrent malevolence to some kind of mental defect, but there’s probably some truth to this.

The ties that bind

The crucible of trying situations can create a bond that is a treasure and can endure. High school teams, religious rites, fraternity rituals, and time in the service can do that even if, in retrospect, we grasp that we were spoon-fed a rich dose of rhetoric in our feckless youth designed to program us to submit without question. Even those who later discern the process still share an affinity with their fellow subjects of the indoctrination.

Later in life, we enter challenging situations on our own free will with eyes wide open. Because of that, the ensuing relationships can be even richer. Such was the training session I participated in over the past couple days.

It was a training exercise in advanced sea kayaking conducted on Lake Erie, which would provide the proper stage for a trying regimen. The eight of us had paddled kayaks for years, but it would be more than a stretch to classify any of us as advanced in skills or ability. The average age was north of fifty.

We camped together the night before. I know these guys and could tell something weighed upon them. Cold water, high winds and waves, and self-doubt. I’m sure there was some element of projection, as I had my own concerns.

But, once we had leapt into the fire, self-concern evaporated. We all encouraged and applauded each other, keeping a sharp eye out for anyone who showed any sign of fear or fatigue. It was two long and exhausting days of testing our ability and waning stamina, but the bond grew in strength and buoyed the group.

In the end, there was a profound sense of accomplishment; accomplishment as individuals, but also as a unit. Some relationships existed going in, in varying degrees of intensity. But, coming out, there was something much more.

We are all changed and enriched for the better. And, it has little to do with the enhanced abilities. This was something that will always be important to us. And, we are all grateful for the gift.

Working vs. doing

I had to laugh, reading a web site that belongs to a friend who owns a kayak/canoe shop. It said that people are always saying to them that they must love the water. “If we loved the water, we’d be out paddling it every day. What we love is the people.”

I came to the same conclusion the first time I “retired” about seven years ago. One of the things I considered doing was starting or buying a business related to something I enjoy, with paddling being among those interests. I looked into several alternatives and quickly reached the conclusion expressed by my friend.

Working in paddling meant not paddling, at least not to the extent I do or during the prime times my friends were out on the water. The business model didn’t make sense either; too much risk for too little potential reward.

It is possible to pull it off. I’ve had businesses in fields I enjoyed. But working in them was doing them.

I’m getting ready to leave for six days of enjoyable paddling, which wouldn’t be possible if I was running a shop. There’s something to be said for working in what you love, but not at the expense of not doing it.

Grumpy old men - not!

I was listening to the radio with the morning java and the host referred to grumpy old people who are unhappy and have nothing better to do with their lives than keep their noses in someone else’s business. This is not incongruent with the stereotype, but I read an article last week that a recent study showed that does not appear to be valid.

Older people are happier, especially the male of the species. Maybe we fret less about aging. Basically, the elderly have learned what doesn’t matter and is of no concern, and enjoy more of what they should.

Another recent study at the University of Virginia revealed that happiness doesn’t correlate with age. For the most part, people with a negative affect (anxious, depressed or neurotic) are the unhappy ones, regardless of age. It supported the other study in that the elderly shifted values and gained emotional regulation and improved relationships.

For example, poor health was thought to be a possible factor among the elderly. Older people who stewed about that were unhappy. Those who viewed their situations as better than things could be retained a positive outlook. Negative affect is a strong predictor of life satisfaction.

What about cognitive function? That must be broken down into two segments. The fluid type is reasoning, abstraction, making inferences, etc., or what you might call the ability to think. Crystallized is what you have learned, memorized or experienced.

Neither type had any impact on the relative happiness of the elderly. However, lower fluid intelligence did correlate with unhappiness among middle and lower age test subjects. Researchers theorized that sharper thinkers enjoyed greater success on the job and in other endeavors, generating higher levels of life satisfaction.

Social relations are the strongest predictors of well-being. People who retired to places where they had better social networks were happier than those who gave priority to culture and recreation.

Grumpy old men? They think not. Or, not all. They conclude that the most important determinant is attitude. If you’re positive and around positive people, chances are you’ll be among the happy ones. “Good health and an active mind are nice, but if you’re depressed, anxious or neurotic all the time, you’re just simply not going to enjoy their benefits.”

Sounds like a good reason to party.

New technology vs. good ol' thinkin'

I was sitting in a theater last night and observed that it reminded me of the tooling industry.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” responded my companion.

“That announcement they just ran.”

“I’m listening.”

Plastic molds used to be made by machinists. Artisans, really. They were quite expensive because of the time and care involved. Then, the industry migrated to CNC machining. Instant molds, to some extent, but they were often flawed. The artisans began to disappear as molders embraced the computer driven metal cutting. Those who remained could name their price and hours. You could have a mold cut faster and cheaper, but just try to get it tweaked into working correctly. New technology is a wonderful thing. But, only if you apply it to supplement the art, not supplant it.

The same is true with marketing and public relations. Today, you can get your message out in a heartbeat through a multitude of channels. But, where did the thinking go?

The theater is part of a complex supported by a tax levy. In other words, it’s funded by taxpayers. The show was preceded by a high tech presentation about the theater. In that, there was an announcement that the recent renovation included all new seating, which was made in Spain. A collective groan arose from the audience.

There may be good reason for importing the furnishings. But, do you really want to trumpet that in a depressed economy? Is it prudent to boast that taxpayer dollars are being spent to employ those abroad while people are out of work at home? Nice presentation, but I’m not sure the message was a good decision.

Last week, I was invited to a rally for a political candidate. He used an effective multimedia approach for recruiting attendees. One of the principal planks in his campaign platform is job growth in Ohio. The rally was being held at a Kentucky venue, which was broadcast as widely as the invitations. Again,
I’m sure there was some reason for that. But, it does raise the question about his perceptions of ways to augment Ohio business.

New technology is a good thing if it’s employed to amplify good thinking, not replace it.

The first day of school

Not any first day of school. The first day you entered junior high, high school or college. Trepidation about the unknown.

The thought occurs to me because a friend told me she signed up for a course in whitewater kayaking. She’s my age and fairly new to the sport, so I give her a lot of credit.

She was excited when she told me about enrolling. Even though she’s game, I detected a note of apprehension and offered to take her out for a preview. She was relieved. It’s always better to know.

I took the same course about six years ago, so I could appreciate her position. Well, not quite. I had gone in with canoeing experience and had taught that with the organization that’s giving the courses. So, I had more prior knowledge of what would transpire than my classmates.

The course I took was held in the early spring to ensure adequate flow to apply the principles of whitewater paddling. It was a chilly and drizzly day, which doesn’t make people feel comfortable about wiping out. And, you will wipe out.

If you worry about that, you’ll tense up. And, if you tense up, you’re more likely to take a swim.

We arrived at the appointed place early in the cold, damp morning and did the land instruction. The class was an interesting mix of five cocky young guys, a couple middle aged women and a Japanese man who didn’t appear to have fully mastered English. The young guys seemed more intent upon teasing me and the women about our ages, in relation to this undertaking, than learning. I didn’t care. The river would do the answering for us. My experience in teaching was that young males would try to muscle through it when technique was almost everything.

I kept one eye on the river. I knew we wanted high water, but a few days of rain had raised the level to the point where the features of this training spot were all but washed out.

We concluded the land training and the instructors huddled. Apparently, they shared my concerns. So, we packed up the equipment and moved to a rocky creek. The water was roaring, captivating the attention of the student body and eliciting blank stares. The teasing was suddenly conspicuous by its absence.

I knew the drill. The layout was a sharply descending rapid. At its termination, there was an eddy (a relatively still pool) on either side. You were to run the rapid and veer into one of the eddys, which requires some of the skills taught in the course if you are to remain upright. Then, you would cross back and forth across the flow between the eddys (S-turns). Then, it was repeat, repeat, repeat.

Two of the young guys bailed out before the first run. Another watched the women get chewed up by the rapid and headed for his car. The other two bucks each took a brutal run and left. And then there were four.

The women learned quickly, as I expected. My teaching experience taught me that they are more likely to listen and learn the technique. And, they have lower centers of gravity, but only someone with a death wish would vocalize that.

The girls didn’t have much trouble with the rapid but got tripped up entering the eddy. They only needed to go to school on that two or three times before they relaxed and handled it well. The Japanese fellow didn’t fare as well.

I don’t think he ever made it down the rapid in his boat. Every time I looked, the boat was on edge and he was flailing wildly with his arms before taking a swim. He didn’t do much better with the eddys. Each time, an instructor would take him aside and explain what he was doing wrong. He’d nod rapidly and go back and do the same thing. I believe it was a language barrier.

But, he didn’t give up. Time after time, he emptied his boat out and went right back at it. I give him points for that.

Me? I did pretty well, leaving only a modicum of skin on the rocks. I went in knowing what to expect and was loose enough to apply the principles. It’s better to know.

There are exceptions to the rule, as always. Recently, I organized an advanced sea kayaking class for some of my friends and passed out the curriculum. They were energized and anxious for the first day of class. Then I told them that, to better prepare for an upcoming trip, we were adding a 12-mile open water crossing on Lake Erie and practice rescues in the rocky breakers. The mood took a turn.

At least there’s time for them to get used to the idea. Or, come up with a scheduling conflict. (Addendum: the instructor subsequently notified us he was changing the launch location for the open water crossing and it would be a six-mile round trip. It is better to know.)

Anthropometry

This morning, after our pool laps, Liz invited us out for a late breakfast. It was obvious she had something to get off her chest. I’ll ride trail bikes in the mountains, kayak to the middle of the ocean and recommend restaurants to friends, but I don’t buck Liz, ten years her junior or not.

We ordered and then out it came. Liz slapped a catalog onto the middle of the table. “What do you think of that?”

At first, I thought they were wetsuits. But, they were more specialized, targeting open water swimmers. “They look a little expensive.”

“Not that. That!” She stabbed her finger at a size chart.

Still not getting it. “Okay, Liz, help me out here before you take my head off.”

“Look at the paragraph to the right of the chart.”

There was an “A” superimposed over a silhouette of a woman and an “H” on one of a slightly different shape. The explanation was that A suits were for women whose waists were proportionately smaller than their hips and that the H suits fit those without significant variation, top to bottom.

“I think that’s better than saying these are for wide butts and those are for masculine builds.”

“Better? It says the same thing.”

“But, in a nice way. I was talking to someone over the weekend who had overcome her childhood weight problem. She said that her heavy brothers got ‘husky’ sizes, which could almost be a positive, but the girl’s equivalent was ‘chubbette,’ which leaves little wiggle room in the interpretation. At least it sounds like the catalog writer made an effort.”

“So, if you’re a female swimmer, you can’t have a feminine build?”

“Probably couldn’t find a letter that shape in the English alphabet.”

“Not funny. And where are the equivalent variations for men? Are you all so perfectly formed?”

“From someone who’s disproportionate and has struggled with paddling wetsuits for years, I’d welcome it.”

“And you wouldn’t care if you were typecast by some stupid letter?”

“If I could find something that didn’t crush my rib cage and still ended within a foot of my toes, they could use hieroglyphics for all I care.”

“You’re paying for breakfast.”

I should’ve stuck with my initial instinct.

If you believe

It was a beautiful day, but I had already indulged myself the past few and needed to address my to-do list. It glared at me from the computer screen and seemed to grow even as I tried to select one of the less onerous tasks.

The phone rang, or whatever it is they do these days. “We’re hanging out around my pool. Why don’t you come over?”

I really should chip away at the list. “Who is we?”

“Some of the girls.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass.”

“We’re going to Aponte’s for pizza after a while.”

“I’m on my way.” Aponte’s trumps anything lower in priority than life & death,” and she knows it.

They were all lined up on lounge chairs, water bottles, towels and PDAs at their sides. The fresh makeup and carefully coifed hair told me they wouldn’t be getting wet. Why they were gathered around the pool is a mystery to me.

I said my hellos and jumped in to swim a few laps and cool off. Then, I took my place on a lounge and drifted off in the warm sunshine to the gabble about who knows what.

A chiming woke me up. Kathy clutched her PDA to her chest and announced excitedly that it was Steve. I was to learn that they had just recently started to date and she was anxious that it amount to something.

She was all smiles and giggles on the phone. Yuck. “The girls” exchanged knowing looks. “Invite him over,” suggested Jane. Kathy clamped her palm over the PDA and shushed her.

The call finally concluded without the invitation and Jane asked what the problem was. “I don’t have my lucky bra with me.” Ah. They all nodded, just as though that made any sense.

“What does that mean?”

Kathy flushed. I had become invisible to them about two minutes after my arrival. “It’s what I wear for important occasions.” The group nodded in agreement.

“It seems to me that if underwear has come into play, luck is no longer a factor.” There are only two times when women get upset with me; when I talk to them and when I don’t.

I didn’t know women had lucky clothing or other things. Thought it was a guy thing.

Growing up in organized sports, I had seen men with stringent pre-game rituals and fanatic attachment to certain articles of clothing. I had never bought into the superstitions. Well, I did have one t-shirt that I always wore under a game jersey. Maybe I bought into it a little. But, that was then.

Or maybe not, come to think of it. I own a pair of ratty hiking shoes that have been on every challenging expedition I’ve undertaken in the last decade. They’re past their prime, but I’m reluctant to replace them because nothing’s gone awry, even in some difficult situations. I have a number of kayak paddles, but only one is “The Magic Stick.” That is, no matter what kind of waters I found myself in upside down, it’s rolled me up without fail on my first attempt. Right side, left side, whatever; it doesn’t matter.

Intellectually, I know there’s nothing magic about it. It’s because I know I’m coming up, I come up. I’ve always found that applies across the board. So I do believe that if you expect to succeed, for whatever reason, you will. But, if you don’t anticipate success…

Kathy told the girls that she hoped to forge some kind of relationship with Steve by the onset of summer. I’ve already got him chalked up.