A little kindness - a long way…

“Civility costs nothing, and buys everything.”

– Mary Wortley Montagu: 17^th Century Poet

The car of the London Underground (transit system) between Heathrow and Leicester Square in London’s West End was completely full with a couple of dozen people standing in the aisles and groups congregating in the open spaces by the doors…think sardines. At each stop, people got off and more people seemed to get on.

An older woman squeezed her way onto the train at Turnham Green, standing with the crowd just inside the door. A young lad, head bobbing to the secret sounds coming from his iPhone and tunneling their way into the inner sanctum of his mind, stared vacantly off into space. For some reason, his eyes focused for a moment and he saw the woman packed tightly by the group in which she was standing.

The boy got her attention and waved her over to his seat. As she moved toward him, he got up and she sat gratefully down. These cars are loud as they clack their way under and over the ground. She smiled and mouthed thank you. He smiled back, grabbed the overhead railing, unfocusing his eyes, returning to the mental space he had momentarily left. Three stops later he made his way through the crowded aisle, slipped out the door and faded into the departing crowd.

I was impressed as I watch this. It seemed like an aberration of kindness in the hustle-bustle world that carries such a large volume of people in London's underground.

How nice, I thought and returned to people watching.

In the course of the forty-five minute trip into the city, I saw this act repeated several times. Men and women, young to middle age, giving up their seats for someone they perceived needed it more than they. There was no show about it, but sometimes it looked like it had been choreographed.  An older person would get on and in synchrony, as if timed and planned, the younger person would get up milliseconds before the elder sat...a glance being all it took to initiate the dance.

My hotel was at Heathrow, so I made this trip each day for the three days I was in London. Every day, people gave their seats not only on crowded portions of the trip, but also when the trains had fewer people, meaning all the seats taken, but not so many folks filling the aisles or congregating by the doors.  It was refreshing to see these small random acts of kindness. It was a reminder, in this growing ‘me first’ society, there is an innateness lying within that reflects our better angels.

Watching people is a pastime that keeps me engaged when traveling. For this reason, riding public transport is something I greatly enjoy. I used to see people reading the newspaper or a book as they created a small mental compartment to inhabit while in transit. Nowadays with the advent of smartphones, many appear to be doing things on their screens. Others just clutch them apparently for comfort like the blanket holding Linus Van Pelt in the Charlie Brown cartoons.  These folk assume the distant and existentially vacant stare.

It is hard to know what they are thinking. Maybe the rhythmic rocking of the cars puts them into a trance. Maybe they’re planning their day or dinner or contemplating the state of world politics. Maybe they are just taking the time to entertain the bliss of not having to talk anyone about anything.

That being said, there are people who listen to their inner radar alerting them there is someone in need. It was heartwarming to see, that in spite of an increasingly disappointing environment of social disconnect and isolation, there remain those folk who respond to the innate human need to be actively engaged with one another…even if it’s just sharing a seat.

- ted

Just a backyard...

“The desert brings no expectation. It’s barrenness

belies its vibrancy and life…”

– Anonymous

Sometimes you have to give up the things you enjoy to fill a higher calling.

There have been many days in the last couple of weeks where the temperatures exceeded 103 degrees (39C). For example, as I write this at eight o'clock in the evening it is still 92 degrees (33C). Although I have heard people often say, “Well, it’s hot, but it’s a dry heat,” as if there were a difference. That is mostly said by people who DO NOT live in the desert. Trust me on this. One hundred and three degrees IS HOT, dry or not!

The morning tomorrow will be a different story. The gods of the universe turn the thermostat down from some darkened place on Mount Olympus, and by daybreak, before the morning rays top the Eastern mountain peaks, it will be a lovely 66 degrees (19C).

The darkened sky passing through grayish dawn is the best part of the summer’s days here. Sipping Coffee and reading, clear my mind to face the first event of the morning – usually exercise at the gym or brisk walks the neighborhoods. That has been the routine until recently.

Living in the desert brings stark contrasts to living in…well, the not desert. The first thing one notices is that the vast majority of homes do not have grass. Front and back yards are filled with small earth-tone stones and an array of cacti, bushes, trees, and succulents – plants that have evolved to live in harsh, practically waterless desert environments.

This brings me to the changes in my early morning routine. A couple of weeks ago, we did a landscape facelift to our little back yard. We added two Desert Willow trees, several hummingbird-attracting Chuparosa plants, a Creosote bush, two Desert Lavender bushes and a smattering of Blackfoot Daisies. These were added to the already blooming tall-stalked Desert Spoon, Golden Barrel Cactus, Dwarf Grapefruit tree and a Texas Ranger. Unlike the stalwarts already in place, the babies need to be watered morning and evening for two weeks after planting (Click on photo to left). 

While I have taken this task on, in all fairness I do not do it alone. Leah, my faithful early morning outdoor companion, lounges in a comfortably padded patio chair, supervising the work.

Looking at the yard, thinking about the heat, and what appears to be nothing but hot, dry sand, makes it seem practically impossible for anything to grow in this hostile environment. Everything changes, however, when you look below the surface of the soil and understand that it is teeming with microscopic life, built for desert survival.

It is chock full of rich organic matter and nutrients. The desert carpet, while fragile, is alive and well. Just beneath the surface is an interconnected world full of arthropods (from insects and spiders to those so small they can only be seen with a microscope), nematodes (think translucent micro worms), mites and bacteria. The soil is a vibrant minuscule ecosystem teeming predators and prey, made hearty in an ‘only the strong survive’ environment.

While the plants and trees we put in the backyard are well suited for desert survival, priming the pump with dawn and dusk showers helps them overcome the trauma of being transplanted from the nursery to our backyard. It takes about an hour to make sure all sixteen of new inhabitants get their necessary liquid refreshment. My task is to ensure this little botanical garden receives the water it needs. 

It’s a question of the long run, isn't it? Plant seeds now, reap benefits later. It is the only way any of us can move forward with our backyards or our lives. Watering and eventually pruning. That’s the ticket.

I'm not sure a renewed and more environment-friendly back yard is actually a higher calling, but it will bring more life to our little world, and that may simply be enough.

- ted

iPhone you - phone?...

“Technology made large populations possible; large

populations…make technology indispensable.

- Joseph Krutch, writer, and critic

 of reductionist science

When I was a kid in West Virginia, the phone system was manned by operators. When making a call, you'd pick up the phone, and a live person would say, "Number please?" Our number was ‘7748.' I loved the sound of the operator’s voice.

When dial phones came, it was fantastic. You just picked the receiver up, dialed the number on a rotary pad, and you were off to the races. Next came touch pads, making calls even faster.

Somewhere in the early 1990s, portable bag phones appeared. You could carry the things in your car, plug them into the cigarette lighter and talk to people over the air. Molly and I wondered whether we should get one for her car. The accounting firm she worked for made a deal with a mobile carrier and got discount pricing. After deciding we might be able to afford it, we got one. The very day it was installed, there was a massive storm, and Molly had a flat tire on her thirty-mile drive home. She called me, and I came to get her. The world had flattened for us, and at that moment we understood the value a mobile phone system.

A lot of technology has changed since those days. Flip phones gave way to smart ones with alphanumeric keypads. With current technology, phones are used less for calling people than as cameras, text sender/receivers, data holders, movie and music players. They provide people who have them with access to an entire internet universe.

Tablets and computers have also become smaller and more powerful.

Over the years, I have become accustomed to and dependent upon rapidly growing and forward-looking technology. Until now.

In a couple of weeks, I’m going to England and Europe for a holiday. While there I will do a little work. Typically, before leaving, I make a complete backup of my base station computer to a portable hard drive and carry it with me. The unfettered use of technology has permitted me have a full-blown mobile office.  Lengthy flights provide quiet space. The laptop and backup drive hold every bit of electronic data I own, so if inspired, I can work on any project or find anything I have ever stored.

The other thing this portable technology has afforded is the ease with which I can write about the things I see. For nearly 25 years, I've sent these observations home in the form travelogues. I have loved doing them for two reasons. One is to share the ‘out of the ordinary’ things I experience and see. The other is to provide a record that reminds me of the life I have lived.

This trip, it will be a little different.  Things are not as easy as in the past – “…past…” meaning last fall. The world is changing, and of consequence, I will not take a computer or iPad on this adventure. I can bring them in the cabin to Europe, but there is a possibility I will not be able to carry them in my carryon on the way home. Bag checking computer and iPad is not an option, so I’ll leave them at home.

While inconvenient, I am looking forward to the adventure of getting along with less rather than more. I’ll take a Bluetooth keyboard and small stand for my smartphone, which will become my primary method of communication. I've loaded MSWord, PowerPoint, and Keynote (my Apple presentation program) so I can write and maybe do a little work on presentations. I haven’t sorted out how to send the travelogues or blogs yet. It may simply be that there will be neither during the days I’m gone.

In Europe, I'll get a sim card for my phone. These little chips provide ‘country local' telephone numbers and data plans. This means I'll be able to call friends who live in the countries as if they were local calls.  Using sim cards lowers phone charges to a fraction of US carriers.  The challenge is that I’ve never used one before so there will be a learning curve.

So much of the world is changing, and in many ways, we are propagating more and more fear as the few terrorize the many.  I understand the heightened security countries feel the need to put in place. I'm not complaining…just adjusting…

The future is calling us, as our technologies continue to enhance. There are also significant challenges to the ways we use them. We have a choice.  We can either embrace the changes and adapt what comes with them or turn our backs and be afraid. We can answer the phone or let it ring.

“Number please?…”

-ted