Life is Art

While cooking a meal

2011-05-09T18:34:00.007-04:00

It's amazing how much time we spend just living.

---- JUDY SHEMA

'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Message to a Son

2011-05-09T18:12:00.003-04:00

Do be or don't be something not because you are told that heaven or hell awaits you, but because to live as a good person occurs to you, through the application of logic and common sense, as the best way living can be done.

On Children and Guns

2011-01-16T19:18:00.004-05:00

"K" posted a query/comment filled to the brim with one of the most haunting issues of our age. I first read it late in the evening before I attended a birthday party for my own much loved, now four year old, grandson. I considered it too important to answer under pressure from the alarm clock, and decided to save it till now. I didn't sleep well that night. This issue was with me all night and when I showed at the party I must have looked like a man lost in the woods for a month.

Let me start with this: I'm 55 and have sons, daughters and grand-kids. I'm a good shot, experienced, and capable with either pistol or rifle over almost any range.

I've shot exactly one living thing in my life. I was 11 and shot a bird on a power line with my new BB gun. The bird struggled to fly away, finally dropping within my view. It struggled to breath for a while, fluttering its wings. The bird was the first and last living thing I ever aimed at.

I can't wait to tell this story to my grandson, as I have to my sons. The memory has stayed with me in order to be told.

To shoot a living being for sport is not good -- for me. This is not to say it isn't good, just that it isn't good for me. Those I love should understand every side of this.

I've never hunted but have fished many, many times for food -- starting as a boy. In Florida I'd bring home dinner for 3 or 4 two or three times a week. The fish had exactly the same trauma and will to live as the bird but I was looking for food and was willing to kill. Today there are countless fishermen who fish for sport. They'll unhook the fish, gently, and ease it back into the water. I can't do that. Why should the fish have this nightmare?

Hunting "game" animals for sport has its place in today's over-populated world. Humans procreate damn near as fast as bugs or rabbits. Wild animals lose their homesteads by the day and are shot as a means to preempt the slower death ... starvation. In this sense sports hunting has its dark place.

Though I never have, I would hunt - and kill - for food, if required. I'd personally skin and cut the animal whose life I had taken. I would eat or use every molecule of the precious life I was destined/enabled to absorb. He or she would be my friend. We will have lived and served, with honor, the great unrelenting stream.

Before the invasion American Indians lived as a part of the dying process -- and paid homage to their fellow creatures as they were absorbed.

Having said all that I am not prepared to cast a final stone in regard to what about our sons right now. I would take the words above to make sure the kid gets the full picture. But I would submit the following as well.

There is a social aspect.

When my oldest son, now near 16, was 10 I bought him a BB gun, BBS, and a target. I taught him hour after hour the safe way to handle a rifle (and later - a pistol, also BB.) I mean it was drilled. I also taught him how to aim, and reach the "bulls-eye". We shot only the targets, and no other use was permitted, or even considered seriously. I told him the bird story and more.

I did all this because I knew that sooner or later he'd run into a situation where he'd be introduced to a gun and be expected to handle it. I did not want him to have a short hand in a fast game, or to be forced outside. He was a willing, but not easy, student. For some reason getting his eyes to focus correctly was problematic and was never resolved completely. But he did learn, absolutely learn, the tenets of safety and principal.

A few years later he was a guest at his older sister's home and was invited by her husband to go hunting. They lived at a place where hunting and eating game animals was a part of a day's work. From a tree my son - having been unceremoniously handed the rifle as only an in-law can do - shot dead a duck from 150 feet with one shot from a .22. To this day my daughter's husband, dumbstruck then, says that's the finest shot he's ever seen.

Jerry, my son-in-law, retrieved and saved the duck thinking I'd want to stuff it for my son's trophy shelf. No. Though I didn't respond in such a way as to criticize Jerry's thinking, I never really responded. Months later he threw the body away, wasted entirely.

But I would not have denied my son the supreme feeling he gained by rising to that occasion, rather unexpectedly too.

I've taken cruises on ships in the past and one of the funnest things to do on an otherwise uneventful, perhaps boring day is to shoot "skeet" off the stern. At the very rear end of the boat there's a sling that propels clay disks into the retreating wind and folks aim shotguns and try to blow them apart. Yes, perhaps there's a leftover here from war days or from the days of Theodore Roosevelt (whose happiest ambition was to shoot game animals) but it is now a social thing. I'd want my son, and my grandson, to be able to participate without embarrassment.

Mostly, I want my sons and grandsons to confidently participate in all the events thrown at them, knowing full well that they can, while knowing also that some of them are very poorly grounded, and why.

The larger issue is about the gun. The gun exists.

From cowboy days boys have been fascinated by guns. At 9 I found a blank gun hidden deeply within my mother's private space. Nine year old boys can find anything. Later, she explained that a yo-yo had given it to her at a party where he had pulled it out and shot it, deafening everyone, and especially her. She was highly pissed and the man, the yo-yo, gave it to her in retribution. At 9 I showed it to all my friends and a few parents. No, I wasn't arrested but calls to my mother were made.

That same year I decided I was part Indian, if not entirely, and said so to whoever would listen. I also found (again -- looking deep) some of my long lost father's Air Force things and wore them around the neighborhood. Boys for sure explore, and some girls do too. My point is that I want a kid to explore with as full a deck as can be provided.

The kid will be provided the challenge. The idea is to prepare the kid.

Yes, Batman. Not only my favorite hero long ago, but still today. I liked (like) Superman, too. Clean as a pin. Nice guy. No guns. Plastic Man, Spider-man, Mighty Mouse, Wonder Woman, and countless others - no guns.

Not one of them uses a gun.

K's theory on guns ("when they are mature enough to know what guns do ...") and "-- to each his own --" is almost sound. But it is not sound. "They" are going to be exposed. Someone is going to hand them a gun someday, or try to. At that moment in time your kid needs to know the truth and exactly how to handle it.

The idea is to prepare the kid. Your way.

Yes, it is a "necessary item for them to get acquainted with" -- so that the idea of using it in a negative way is not an option.

As a boy I was privileged to have been taught by the NRA - National Rifle Association - how to shoot, and how to respect the rifle/gun in my hands. This was a long time ago when they were into teaching, not lobbying. I was aggressive and looked them up, then joined. I bicycled to the range twice a week.

At 12-13 I became an expert shot and an avowed safety aficionado. I was on their junior rifle team. They provided the single shot .22 rifles and all equipment. I was enabled to, later, be a member of the Georgia Military Academy Rifle Team (11th grade) and, later, in the Army ... well, the experience served me well.

Now I have a grandson, newly four, who needs to know as much as he can know. He has a good mind and soul, and needs to be able to walk in today's world with a full deck, confidently, and in as full possession of truth as is possible.

My youngest son has a close friend whose mother will not allow him to ride a bicycle. She is afraid for what might happen to him. He is 10 years old now and has never ridden a bicycle. He doesn't know what it is good for, or bad for. When I take my son there occasionally, to spend a half day or so, I caution him not to mention the bicycle thing (my kid is an avid and capable rider who knows how to be safe) but am I doing the right thing? Perhaps I should insist on teaching her kid how to ride safely. Perhaps I should seriously insist, and even supply the bike. Maybe it would open a new dimension for the boy, or save him from untold embarrassment or worse, later.

My theory, I suppose, is that those under my tutelage should know the "availables" as soon as they are capable of absorbing them, along with my view of what makes them relevant, manageable, and meaningful. I'd prefer that a kid didn't have to walk into a wall face-up, or a pit.

In any case, I can tell my bird story well enough to break a kid's heart and, without another word or action, inform the kid about ... guns ... and life and death.

My theory on guns is not "to each his own". It is to teach the full story. This applies to every other "weapon" as well -- bow and arrow, blow gun, sling shot, fist, words .. you name it.

As I run off at the mouth here, I must say that some of the Oriental disciplines -- Karate, for example -- teach cleanly that an ability to hurt is no justification for doing so.

Reading over K's own words, though: "Or is it, with this day and age, a necessary item for them to get acquainted with for when they mature?"

Yes. And not only for this day and age. For all days and ages before us. It has always been necessary.

And the time, gently, is now.

As an aside, I've been preparing a hiking stick for my grandson. Well into it, I realized the wood I was working on was imperfect, not safe or durable. It is a boy I am talking about. When he goes to hike, and needs a stick to cross a treacherous stream, I want him to have, first time out, something he can lean on against the slope. I'm making another for him and it is filled - stiff, flexible, durable - with all that I know.

Another day, another challenge.

© 2011 Roger Tompkins.
All rights reserved. No further republication without copyright owner's permission

On a Man and a Woman

2009-11-16T16:43:00.014-05:00

I had almost forgotten
that someone not myself
could be the center of perception.
In dancing, moving through your eyes
I've come to touch this truth
I had only hoped before.

I've walked every road and every byway
in my search for you.
I've come as close to giving up
as compromise would allow.
You were born to me as I am born in you.

Of your body I shall make a meadow where,
grazing in sweet grasses, I will feed my own.
Of your soul I shall make a repository
of all I've saved for you in a century
for so long I have waited
for the stepway to your eyes.

You, blessed girl, I now marry.

And here, as I hold you, I have at last touched
the perimeter of the universe and am whole.
My life has taken seed in the residue of your breath,
roots in the rich loam of your smile,
and as I touch you I shall grow.

© 2009 Roger Tompkins.
All rights reserved. No further republication without copyright owner's permission

'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Thief in the Night

2009-06-12T04:30:00.013-04:00

By: John David Bowen

In the still of the night with the absence of light
as I lie awake in my bed,
I studied a trance where images danced
of dreams of her in my head.

Though miles away like a cat and her prey
she stole my heart from within,
And filled it with love as sweet as the dove
that floats on a springtime wind.

Never before in legends or lore
has anyone been so smitten,
As I was from the start, that night in the dark
when robbed by my heart-stealing kitten.

While lying in wait and trusting in fate
I remembered the look in her eyes,
She'll return my heart that she stole from the start
for this kitten is clever and wise.

© 2009 John David Bowen.
All rights reserved. No further republication without copyright owner's permission
Picture provided by Leonardo Pereznieto pursuant to Creative Commons

'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson

On Love

2008-12-26T20:32:00.005-05:00

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

---- WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

On rainy days

2008-08-03T13:14:00.005-04:00

It is not about waiting for storms to pass ... it's about learning to dance in the rain.

---- UNKNOWN

On Immortality

2008-07-29T13:11:00.001-04:00

I don't want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve it through not dying.

---- WOODY ALLEN

Life is short

2008-07-26T20:20:00.007-04:00

Life's too short to live the same day twice.

---- From the movie MONSTER-IN-LAW

Existentialism: Death and Isolation

2008-07-13T16:45:00.012-04:00

Surfing around on a rainy Sunday afternoon with cocktail in hand and a scary movie playing in the background, I ran across this little jewel. It begs to be shared.

The author tells us:

This is the third of a five-part series examining fundamentalism from an existentialist perspective. In what follows we begin to review the existentialist motifs that Irvin Yalom discusses in his Existential Psychotherapy.
Death - Yalom writes:

“It is one of life’s most self-evident truths that everything fades, that we fear the fading, and that we must live, nonetheless, in the face of the fading, in the face of fear.”

From this blog post I've extracted a couple of paragraphs to get you started (very slightly edited):

But if the existentialists are right ... death is not a problem; it is the very key to truly living life. Awareness of our finitude, Yalom argues, is absolutely critical to our full appreciation of and immersion in life. An awareness of death actually saves us. How? Because knowing that we will one day die injects an intensity, and poignancy, a sweetness, and even an urgency into life that cannot be had any other way. It makes us realize that we must live now, that life cannot be indefinitely postponed. It makes us realize that life must be appreciated now, tasted in its fullness and drunk deeply of now, because it may not last. Awareness of death makes plain what is truly important in life, and what is not. It “trivializes the trivial.” And it can embolden us by teaching us that we can face our worst fears and emerge strengthened.

Thus, by letting go of the fantasy that death can somehow be beaten, cheated, or deferred, then those fantasies can no longer siphon off our energies, and we can appreciate the here-and-now that we do have. In relinquishing an idealized future, we can immerse ourselves in a real present. Awareness of the reality of death saves us because it teaches us to appreciate life.

This particular post was a great read but I notice now in 2011 that the site no longer exists. However, Mr. Yalom has a web site where there is information on himself and the books he has written. That site is right here.

On the other hand, should you want to read a penetrating study of how the religious see death, as forewarned in this sentence:

How different faiths — different modes of living — address the fear of death creates a unique vantage point from which to understand how profoundly Christianity, Judaism, and Islam differ from one another.

you would go here.

[Update: As of September, 2011 Archive.org has an archived copy of the site originally referred to right here.]

On Leadership

2008-06-07T14:21:00.003-04:00

One of the hallmarks of leadership is the ability to sense the formation of a trend and to position oneself at its head.

---- ROGER TOMPKINS

An observation.

Love, again

2008-03-28T23:06:00.002-04:00

Love is the expression of one's values, the greatest reward you can earn for the moral qualities you have achieved in your character and person, the emotional price paid by one man for the joy he receives from the virtues of another.

---- AYN RAND

It was all quite Interesting

2007-10-25T18:13:00.001-04:00

A few comments by a man's son on track day.
Comments by a man on track day.

I was the fastest person in our class. I will be bumping up next time. Gotta show the locals how its done you know...

It was quite interesting passing people as I've never been on a track before. The only person who passed me (other than instructors) went down in the next corner trying to slow down.

I will tell you it is quite interesting to have your knee slider on the ground at 105mph. Quite interesting. Top speed for me was about 120mph on this track, and that was leaned over to the left, as there isn't really a straightaway.

Fun stuff.

© 2007 Bradford Tompkins. All rights reserved.

Another word on kayaking

2006-08-31T18:36:00.000-04:00

An old kayaker. What more can I say.

Love

2006-08-18T22:10:00.000-04:00

When you look into her eyes you know what kind of man you want to be.

---- SPIDERMAN

On Racism

2006-08-13T19:34:00.001-04:00

A beautiful town but strangely without spirit, as if its heart had been torn from it in consequence of some long forgotten misadventure, or squeezed from it by some ruthless, still encroaching malignancy.

---- In Macon, Georgia, March 2004

All the way up the river

2006-08-13T18:54:00.000-04:00

I was sitting on the bunk next to his writing a letter to an old friend when he began to speak. His back was turned to me. He held an empty coffeee cup in his hand and gazed wistfully out a window. Abandoning my letter for the moment I scribbled his words as quickly as I could. Later, I read them back to him. How about that, he said.

You know, I might git me a flat bed trailer and a big ole tent and do me some evangelizing. There was an ole boy usta come into Macon four times a year and you could hear the Lord's spirit flow from him six blocks away. He didn't need no sound system. He was the real deal. No collections. No singin. I don't know that anybody ever knew his name. He prolly died draggin that old tent around behind that car. Those people who got around that man got a blessing. If they were to drop dead right on the spot they'd be closer to God. I usta live on the river back then and you could hear his holy voice all the way up the river. He didn't have to touch nobody. That voice would carry up through those trees all the way up Riverside Drive and as far away as the food stamp office. That was God's voice travelin up there. That is a fact. You could just sense the absence of the Devil when he was finished. If I could be one thousanth of the man he was I'd be walkin in the path of Jesus. You'd have that feelin two three days after he left. I was truly blessed to have heard him.

---- A guest at the Salvation Army in Macon, Georgia, March, 2004

To see, to see

2006-08-13T04:13:00.000-04:00

Take away his chronic poverty and his illiteracy you have the finest specimen of what a cultured, cultivated free citizen should be.

---- MAHATMA GANDHI

Life is change

2006-08-13T03:54:00.000-04:00

You must be the change you wish to see in the world.

---- MAHATMA GANDHI

Biking grows on you

2006-04-13T21:18:00.001-04:00

At 63, biking has been 'growing' on me for fifty years. The hunger first started when a friend, a year older than me at 14, was given an Allstate Motor Scooter on his birthday and took me for a ride. I couldn't sleep for a month. My mother nixed the idea of my having one until, she said, I was old enough to buy one myself.

Later, when I could do just that, I instead got into cars in a manic way.

I wasn't to buy my first bike, a Bridgestone 175, until I was 21 and in the Army. By then I had owned or leased 6 cars including a brand new '65 Sting Ray. Within a couple days of arriving at Fort Bliss, however, I had my own first bike and didn't get off it for nearly 4 months except to sleep.

This was November, December, January and well into February in El Paso, Texas and it was cold, but who cared? I rode every day without fail.

Transferred to Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri, I had to sell the bike, and didn't buy another until I left the Army. Since then I've owned a fairly representative collection of dirt and street bikes, keeping up with as many as four at a time (I believe that if you own motorcycles you need to ride them so four kept me pretty busy).

With the exception of an 18 month period about three years ago, and the occasional weekend rental, I haven't driven a car in ten years. I ride every day, of course, since the motorcycle is my only motored transport and I live in a climate (middle Georgia) that permits it. I suspect I'd figure out a way to ride every day, though, no matter where I lived.

The 1983 Midnight Virago shown is my current street ride. Her name is Betsy.

And while Betsy may be small at 750cc and a 60" wheelbase, she's as game as they come.

The striking lack of mechanical complexity of the older, air cooled V-twin with shaft drive is a sweet bonus. I have no desire to own a four wheeled vehicle.

I've always said, "No matter what kind of crap day you've had, or what kind of crap day you're about to have, the split second you throw a leg over your bike everything's good, and by the time you've ridden 20 feet you're a brand new man on a beautiful day."

The luggage on the bike stays on the bike all the time. In it I carry rain gear, various cold weather riding gear, cleaning supplies, oil, tools, maps, battery water and a bike cover. There's plenty of empty space, too, for the periodic trip to the store. During warm weather months I store the cold weather gear, and on a trip I lose most of the cleaning stuff to make room for tent, sleeping bag, mattress, food and clothes. I'm in the process of retiring my old, beat up tank bag in favor of a new one.

Two indispensable items shown in the picture are: the big round 'trunk' which serves as a back rest and storage area, and the thermostat located on the tank just in front of the seat. The thermostat hooks up to my electric gloves and, for long rides in seriously cold weather, my electric pants. The electric gloves alone make a huge difference in cold weather.

I'm a strong believer in riding in perfect comfort irrespective of weather. I don't want the distraction of being uncomfortable. It's a safety matter as much as anything.

I sometimes substitute the backpack on the luggage rack for an ice chest since a cold beer at the end of a long ride is another of life's great pleasures.

When I Became a Man

2006-02-22T13:44:00.000-05:00

A man’s reflection on the summers
spent on his grandfather’s farm.

By: Nathan Landers

I awoke to the sound of a train passing by as I slept on a porch swing. My skin reddened from the scorching sun rays that punish my skin as I lay. The winds of relief cooled my skin every so often to keep me perched on my swing. I understood what and where heaven was. I was in heaven.

As a child I spent most of my summer with my grandfather. I had my own room in his dainty little house just on the outskirts of Newkirk, Okla. That small town had nothing to offer me but trouble when I had time on my hands. My grandpa's house was my sanctuary; I could not get into trouble. I was the king of the domain, back when I was becoming a man.

Our days were filled with the hustle and bustle of life on a small farm. Milking and feeding the cows, stacking hay and operating tractors and such were just a small part of my days. Most importantly, I would let the baby calves suck on my finger which would keep me giggling for hours upon end. I would perform "seek and destroy" missions on the snakes that made the hay bails their kingdom. My level of expertise would guarantee me a seat on my grandpa's lap when he was operating a tractor. I assisted him with the small buttons and steering from time to time. We were men.

Our duties were not only dirty work; we also did the cooking and cleaning around the house. He made pies, cakes and French toast. Oh my God, the French toast. I would wake up every morning and be asked, "What do you want for breakfast, son?" He would snicker. He knew my answer of course: "French toast, grandpa" I would reply, "and coffee." My mouth, a bit more sensitive than his, warranted cold coffee for me; I was under the impression that it would put hair on my chest, and eventually it did. I had the privilege of doing the most important part, adding the ingredients. We were men.

My grandfather was invincible. I have seen him be cut and broken. He never gave it another thought. He knew how to repair everything, including him and me. I was amazed that children actually went to see doctors when there were grandpa's like him around. It would be a waste of time for me because he could fix it. I was also invincible. With a little coaching and mentoring, I too could fix anything. We were both men.

My grandfather gave up on life just a few years ago. He refused to have an organ removed because it would just inconvenience him. I was so mad. I thought that I could never forgive him for quitting, it was like taking back every lesson that he taught me. Then one day it hit me, everything had built up to a climax which was his final lesson. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose; you make the best of the offer that stands on the table. I became a man.

© 2005 Nathan Landers. All rights reserved.

The aim

2005-12-04T00:07:00.000-05:00

The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance.

---- ARISTOTLE

The art of life

2005-12-02T11:28:00.000-05:00

Art is the product of a man's subconscious integrations, of his sense of life, to a larger extent than of his conscious philosophical convictions.

---- AYN RAND

The Moken, the tsunami

2005-11-29T19:14:00.003-05:00

Salama Glatalay is a Moken, one of a tribe of nomadic aborigines who have plied the waters of the Andaman seas for centuries. They are a culture of Austronesians who likely migrated from southern China some 4,000 years ago. Also called the sea gypsies, the Moken spend up to eight months a year living on their hand-carved, low-slung dugouts, called kabangs. Some say they possess a spiritual connection with the sea; others that their deep marine wisdom is simply unmatched by land-based peoples.

For years, Salama, the headman of the Surin Moken village, listened to a legend passed down among his people, that if the spirits of ancestors became angry, the Laboon, a "wave that eats people," would flood the earth with seven surges. First the navel of the seas would suck away the water. Then the waters would be spit back in rolling tides that would destroy the land and make it clean again.

On the morning of Dec. 26, 2004 Salama noticed first that the crickets were not chirping as usual. He went to the beach and saw the seawater had receded and fish were flopping about. He knew then what was about to happen, and began to alert his people. The 175 Moken on the island abandoned their temporary bamboo stilt huts. They gathered up some 400 tourists who had come to the island to snorkel and dive its reefs and together they tore for the highest point on the island, 113 feet above the beach.

The Moken are a stateless people, not recognized as citizens in any country. Their forewarnings of the tsunami came from an ancient bond with and understanding of the sea. They heeded their antediluvian wisdom and their myths, which most of the rest of the world discounts. And yet they did more than perhaps any other single group to save lives.

More on the tsunami here and on the Moken here.

To Do, to Become

2005-11-28T23:07:00.001-05:00

Men acquire a particular quality by constantly acting a particular way. You become just by performing just actions, temperate by performing temperate actions, brave by performing brave actions.

---- ARISTOTLE

It's a Bird, it's a Plane

2005-11-28T18:31:00.000-05:00

As a kid with one of the first T.V.s on the block, I'd invite the gang over to watch one of our favorite shows. George Reeves was Superman in those days and he brought a world of fun into my living room every Friday.

I remember as if yesterday the opening scene: a train rolling along with 'something' flying above it. Folks pointing, shouting, "Look, it's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's Superman!" Superman, able to leap over tall buildings with a single bound, constantly fighting for 'truth, justice, and the American Way."

I have seen all the Superman movies and there's no way I'll miss the new one, 'Superman Returns', due out soon. There's a Macromedia Flash preview now making the rounds and if you have a few minutes and want to watch something good, click here.

In this film, after a long visit to the planet Kypton, the Man Of Steel returns to earth to become the people's savior once again and reclaim the love of Lois Lane. Batman, another favorite hero, is in this one too.

A Finer Thing

2005-11-27T22:37:00.002-05:00

Needless to say, for those of us who enjoy it, wine is one of the finer things in life. We know that the right wine is the perfect complement to a meal; it tends to enhance the taste of our food and effects a degree of physical and mental relaxation we know to be a good thing.

What could be better than a platter of steaming spaghetti, marinara sauce and a couple glasses of Chianti, or a serving of hot saginaki, pepperocinis and a glass of Retsina?

How about a couple pounds of steaming Beaufort shrimp and a half liter of a well chilled Chablis, or a slab of warm sharp Cheddar cheese, black olives and a glass of Merlot or Port?

Sure, there are endless combinations of foods and wines and consuming our favorites among them is something we all enjoy and look forward to time and again. But there are also benefits beyond pure enjoyment that have now become widely recognized by the medical community and we are encouraged, for a change, to consider them. Let's take a look at the following chart.

RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN WINE CONSUMPTION AND THE CARDVIOVASCULAR DISEASE MORTALITY RATE IN MEN AGED 55 TO 64
Country Mortality Rate per 1000 Men Wine Consumed Logarithmic Scale of 10
France 2.0 2.00
Italy 3.0 1.90
Switzerland 3.0 1.50
Austria 4.5 1.40
Germany 4.5 1.20
Belgium 5.0 0.90
Sweden 5.0 0.80
Denmark 5.6 0.70
Netherlands 5.9 0.65
Norway 6.3 0.45
Ireland 6.6 0.55
EnglandWales 7.0 0.50
Canada 7.8 0.65
New Zealand 8.8 0.70
Australia 9.0 0.85
Scotland 9.0 0.50
United States 9.2 0.70
Finland 10.3 0.60

[Adapted from a graph depicted in Schwitters, B. with Masquelier, J. OPC in Practice: The Hidden Story of Proanthocyanidins, Nature's Most Powerful and Patented Antioxidant. (Rome, Italy: Alfa Omega Editrice, 1995), p. 74.]

Remarkable, yes?

Let me quote further from an article written by a Morton Walker, D.P.M. entitled The Nutritional Therapeutics of Masquelier's Oligomeric ProanthoCyanidins (OPCs):

A main pleasure of traveling in France is one's ready access to quite deliciously prepared foods, a large part of which derive from dark-meated poultry, breaded cutlets, sliced steaks, marbelized roasts, chewable chops, fleshy sausages, and other such domestically grown animal fat and protein. Most of these servings swim in the chefs' concoctions of taste-tempting rich sauces, oceans of butter, whisked creams, rendered fats, and thick gravies. Being exposed to this kind of artery-clogging dining, any American tourist returning from Paris, Lyon, Toulouse, Marseille, Nancy, or Bordeaux will likely discuss a particular French epicurean phenomenon. It deals with that country's cultivation of refined tastes and how the population eats and drinks. The French devote themselves to a fastidious gratification of appetite by consuming their exceedingly high fat and sugar diet. Cooking with fats and adding refined carbohydrates makes their edibles so very palatable and savory but definitely unhealthy.

And France is noted for an overly inflated population of avid cigarette smokers. For a touring foreigner like me, unused to the blanketing layers of smoke sitting like polluted soup in a Parisienne cafe', dining out is not too pleasant an experience. I remember well in October 1994 when during one of our writing assignments abroad, my wife and I drove over the border from Baden-Baden, Germany to the tiny town of Bischwiller, France. We had been recommended to do so in order to consume a certain kind of French pizza offering special cheese garnished with quantities of thin-sliced onions and the whole pie baked in a brick oven. The food was good but the massive amounts of cigarette smoke permeating the enclosed surroundings of that country cafe' became intolerable. Almost every patron was smoking. Merely from the need to breath, we left the restaurant without finishing even a third of our pizza pies.

For the majority of French men and women, their truly destructive lifestyles should give rise to vast amounts of arteriosclerosis, heart attacks, and associated cardiovascular diseases. But it does not! French citizens have fewer cardiovascular problems than most other people of the industrialized West. Even amidst their dining on too much high fat food and inhaling excessive cigarette smoke, medical communities worldwide have labeled France's heart-healthy phenomenon the "French Paradox."

Except in the northwestern corner of the country, vineyards are found everywhere in France. No people have developed cultivation of the vine with greater art or skill than have the French. There are a great many species of vines and grapes. The main product, of course, is wine, but grapes for consumption as fresh fruits are important also: about 250,000 tons of grapes are sold annually in the French food markets. As a whole, vineyards in France cover more than 4,000,000 acres and winegrowers number about 2,000,000; the vine is thus a crop for small holdings, every farmer cultivating at least a few acres. But it is a very intensively cultivated crop and one well protected by the French government which maintains high prices for even the poorest kinds of wine.

Practically everyone in France drinks wine made from grapes-toddlers to the elderly. Growing up with such grape abundance, this massive wine consumption is part of nearly every French person's culture. The influence of wine producers and distributors is such that in the French elections the grape vine has been called "political crop number one." And the most influential legislators are spokespersons for the three main areas of vineyards producing the highest quality of wines: Champagne, Burgundy, and Bordeaux. A fourth, much larger area is influential too; however, it produces French wine that's mostly inferior in quality but voluminous in quantity. This grape-growing area is the Mediterranean Languedoc, whose vineyards extend from the Spanish border on the Mediterranean to the mouth of the Rhone River.

A single reason for the "French paradox" was revealed by the British physiologist, A.S. St. Leger, M.D., and his two collaborators, A.L. Cochrane, M.D., and F. Moore, M.D. Dr. St. Leger's article published in the May 12, 1979 issue of The Lancet affirms that wine consumption is associated with low death rates from ischemic heart disease. Wine-drinking countries such as France and Italy score at the bottom of a list of eighteen industrialized countries for the incidence of cardiovascular mortality. In contrast to the French, the Finns who are also notorious for their lousy lifestyle, have the highest death rate from heart and artery disease. Not much wine is imbibed in Finland. Other clinicians have gone on to confirm the St. Leger findings.

Among the French wine drinkers, there is nearly a 40 percent lower risk of coronary heart disease than for other people around the world who normally do not drink wine but rather imbibe other alcoholic beverages such as liquor or beer. The beneficial effect of wine-drinking has such an enormous impact on health statistics, that in 1995 French women reached the highest life expectancy in the world and their husbands are doing almost as well.

Is it the alcohol created during wine-making that has such a beneficial effect on heart health and longevity? No! It's something else which provides this result. As has been examined by researchers, alcohol hardly enters into the equation for cardiovascular benefits since no such "French paradox" shows up from imbibing the many other types of alcoholic drinks. The above statement is confirmed when statisticians look at the mortality occurrences for alcoholics. They die earlier than most people, especially if they are smokers. Plus cardiac and arterial advantages seldom occur for those who drink whisky, vodka, rum, beer, gin, tequila, and the various additional forms of alcoholic beverages. The incidence of a "French paradox" happens only for wine drinkers.

I rest my case.

Needless to say, the consumption of any alcoholic beverage, or for that matter anything else, should be done in strict moderation. Else how can we truly enjoy? With that in mind, let's enjoy our wine.

As for me, I think I'll pour a glass of a fine Nouveau Bougalais left over from Thanksgiving dinner. And, oh yes, I think I'll have a smoke too.

Oops.

(Much more on the benefits of consuming red wine may be found here.)

How Sweet it is

2005-11-26T19:51:00.001-05:00

Kayaking is one of the great joys in life, and absolutely anyone who has the use of both arms can do it. Flat water kayaking is not difficult, requires very little strength and can provide sheer, unadulterated pleasure for hours on end. Any lake, bay or slow moving river is a potential playground. Those new to kayaking are nearly always amazed at how comfortable and secure they feel as they paddle almost effortlessly, experiencing the delight of cruising so close to, almost as if one with, the water. On a good weather day you come in only if you are starving and have forgotten to pack a lunch.

The picture shown is the Kiawah, a folding kayak manufactured by Folbot in Charleston, South Carolina. It comes ready to travel in a soft backpack-style bag with shoulder harness, sternum strap and waist belt. It weighs just 34 pounds and is a breeze to assemble when you've reached your destination. It'll take you anywhere you want to go on the water.

I've owned three Folbot kayaks (and several other kayaks and canoes) and can tell you without hesitation that they are one of the best boats you can buy, and are undoubtedly the best value. The Kiawah, for example, comes ready to swim for $1,270 and will last a lifetime. Compare that to, say, a motorcycle.

Personally, I'll take the Folbot over any other folding kayak for its stability, tracking ability, comfort and durability. And, amazingly, it costs less than its competition. Folbot makes a variety of models and sizes and has been doing so since 1933. And yes, I prefer the Folbot folding kayak to any stiff frame boat whether kayak, canoe or row boat. Its stability, portability and silence in the water are priceless characteristics.

To get started with kayaking one does not have to buy a boat. Kayak rentals can be found almost anywhere there's a large body of flat, or relatively flat, water. Since at the moment I don't own a kayak, I will probably wind up renting one for my next water cruising adventure somewhere in Florida, exploring one or two of the many serenely beautiful waterways in that state.

The Suwanee River is calling.

Note on Time

2005-11-26T14:03:00.000-05:00

I have held
for one fleeting
moment in time
the whole of eternity and
its most beautiful flower.

And I kissed her.

I have long held the only way to live this life is to feel it. To really feel it. To savor each moment as you would the touch of a much loved mate.

Even on your worst day you can savor the feel of wood on the arm of your chair, the smell of a fresh wind, the sound of rain on a green leaf. Even so slight a thing as the feel of lace through your fingers as you tie your shoe may be savored, if only you'll slow yourself to let it happen.

Try this. Stop everything. Isolate one full moment from everything else in your life. Notice how quickly it's gone.

Life is Art

2005-11-26T01:16:00.000-05:00

Do what thy manhood bids thee do,
From none but self expect applause;
He noblest lives and noblest dies who
Makes and keeps his self-made laws.

---- SIR RICHARD FRANCIS BURTON

RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN WINE CONSUMPTION AND THE CARDVIOVASCULAR DISEASE MORTALITY RATE IN MEN AGED 55 TO 64
Country	Mortality Rate per 1000 Men	Wine Consumed Logarithmic Scale of 10
France	2.0	2.00
Italy	3.0	1.90
Switzerland	3.0	1.50
Austria	4.5	1.40
Germany	4.5	1.20
Belgium	5.0	0.90
Sweden	5.0	0.80
Denmark	5.6	0.70
Netherlands	5.9	0.65
Norway	6.3	0.45
Ireland	6.6	0.55
EnglandWales	7.0	0.50
Canada	7.8	0.65
New Zealand	8.8	0.70
Australia	9.0	0.85
Scotland	9.0	0.50
United States	9.2	0.70
Finland	10.3	0.60