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Habit Breaking Habit

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Today’s post is a letter from perennial sophomore Bubby Spamden.

Pledge

Hey Mr. C.,

Happy New Year!

Hope that’s an appropriate thing to say. I guess people your age don’t get too excited about another year coming along when you just barely got used to the last one. Writing in that “..14” on the date can take older folks a while, I know. My grandpa says he’s still not used to the “20..” at the beginning. He says by the time he gets the hang of it, we’ll be ready to change it to “21..” But I don’t think that’s even possible. He likes to pull my leg.

Anyway, we’re going back to school today (after TWO EXTRA DAYS off!) and I’m pretty sure Mr. Boozenporn will do his New Years’ Resolution unit about how habits form and how hard it is to break them. He does it every single year without fail as soon as we come back from Holiday (Christmas!) break. At least he has as long as I’ve been around, and I’ve been around a while!

I really love the habits unit. It’s so familiar! And Mr. Boozenporn says the older people get, the more they appreciate their traditions and routines. But when we did the habits unit last year he didn’t teach it right, and when I brought it up to him that he made us read the textbook chapter on Obsessive Compulsive Disorder BEFORE we did the whole-class repetitive behavior assessment rather than the other way around which is how it SHOULD have been done, he told me I was too young to be so inflexible.

What kind of answer is that?

I know plenty of inflexible young people – a lot of them are my best friends, and they’re as crotchety as old folks. Griping about stuff is one way for them to seem grown up, I guess. Even though I think they’re overdoing it. Jennifer Gadberry made a huge fuss at lunch the other day because the cooks served her the wrong color jello. Why would that even matter? I’m sure it’s something she learned from her grandfather, but I have to admit she brought a really fresh level of energy to what would have otherwise been a pretty boring meltdown.

As part of the habits unit, Mr. B. will put everyone on the spot to reveal a major behavior they’re going to break during our post-holiday, full-of-hope-for-a-new-me period. This is a really tough moment for us high school sophomores because everybody wants to look like they have some major private disfunction going on, but nobody wants it to be particularly bad or embarrassing. Once it has been named you can get typecast for the rest of High School if you’re not careful.

And yes, word travels fast.

The ones who aren’t ready for the question sometimes come up with something their parents already criticize them for, like not washing their hands or not keeping their room clean or nose picking. Saying out loud that you want to work on something like that is a really serious mistake.

The right thing to say is “I want to find a way to stop being so awesome so my friends can relax around me and not be intimidated all the time.”

Which is, of course, an awesome answer.

Awesomely, your pal,
Bubby

I told Bubby I wouldn’t be like Mr. Boozenporn and put people on the spot for a New Year’s Resolution. Not for themselves, anyway.

Write a New Year’s Resolution – for someone else.

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Ice Pirates

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Today’s post comes from the skipper of the pirate ship Muskellunge, Capt’ Billy.

Artist's Approximation of Captain Billy
Artist’s Approximation of Captain Billy

Me an’ th’ boys was quite excited last week when all th’ news channels was besotted with details regarding’ that Russian ship what got caught in th’ ice ’round Antarctica. As professionals in th’ field of immobilizin’ vessels an’ liberatin’ passengers of their valuables, we is always on the outlook few new techniques that could streamline our work! The sight of a ship full of journalists, researchers an’ tourists completely unable to move was, for me boys, like dumpin’ a basket of hot breadsticks in front of a group of pensioners at a buffet.

Now, when it comes to yer types of individuals ya might hope t’ find stranded on a boat, ya can keep yer researchers an’ journalists on account of the fact that they is well known cheapskates. But a boatload of earnest, moneyed, climate-change tourists what can’t move is th’ sort of prize that gets our juices flown’. An’ by the time I joined the conversation, th’ boys had begun to draw up plans to retrofit th’ Muskellunge as an icebreaker, an t’ go chargin’ off in search of some of that frozen polar booty.

‘Twas up to me as Captain t’inject a note of reality into th’ discussion.

“Not t’ pour cold water on yer fine ideas,” I said, “but does any of ya realize that operatin’ comfortably at either one of th’ Earth’s poles requires loads of equipment an’ a level of hardiness that goes far beyond the jolly ‘Har, had, har …’ of yer typical tropical buccaneer?”

I told ’em about all th’ gear they’d need, including thermal skivvies, fleece scarves an’ ear muffs. A pirate is a rather vain creature, an’ none of ’em could picture hisself in such a get-up. When I said they’d have t’ wear all their clothing at th’ same time in order t’ stay comfortable fer this one adventure, an argument broke out about whether a pirate ever should reveal where his secret hiding place is located.

It was a half hour before I could convince ’em I said “layers” an not “lairs”.

I proceeded t’ inform them that human skin freezes in as little as ten minutes when exposed to temperatures in th’ thirty to forty below range. They was unimpressed. But then I told them they could get chilblains. Chilblains occurs when bare skin is exposed to cold water, or when wet flesh cools. As pirates, of course we is never far from water, so one would always have t’ consider it a risk. When a feller gets the chilblains, his skin itches and swells something’ terrible, an’ it can lead to gangrene!

That did the trick. Frostbite don’t sound so bad I guess, but chilblains …? Th’ word itself is too gruesome. They wants no part of it! Their plans t’ set sail fer th’ Antarctic was dropped that very same night an’ we re-committed ourselves t’ bein’ th’ best warm-weather pirates possible.

Let that be a lesson – ya can argue til yer blue in th’ face, but even turnin’ blue in th’ face won’t change minds. But if ya gives somethin’ a properly fearsome an’ somewhat appalling name, people will respect it, an’ learn t’ keep their distance!

Accordingly, t’ keep international law enforcement types away, we’s thinkin’ of re-namin’ the Muskellunge the Cancer Inferno!

Yer salty pal,
Captain Billy

When have you ventured into the cold, unprepared?

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Ask Dr. Babooner

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We are ALL Dr. Babooner
We are ALL Dr. Babooner

Dear Dr. Babooner,

I work in a tiny collection booth in a parking lot near the university. I started as a student there about thirty years ago, but I never made it through the philosophy courses I needed and dropped out a few credits shy of graduation. So six days a week, fifty two weeks a year I climb into my little glass-and-plywood box to scan tickets and make change. It’s a pretty crummy job – kind of like sitting out in a open field all day except I get extra helpings of car exhaust. Now the weather forecast says a historic cold wave is coming on Sunday night and Monday morning, and everybody around me is in a panic over it. The Governor has closed all the schools in the state, but he doesn’t have the power to cancel my job so I’ll basically put every last piece of clothing I own, just like I do most every day in the month of January, and head in.

I’ve made a name for myself by being chatty and pleasant when drivers stop at the window to pay their fees. I joke with them and smile and wish them a pleasant day and I never complain about anything even though some people try to get me to do it, especially when the weather is extreme. Of course I’d like an air conditioner or a space heater, do you think I’m not human? But the customers will never hear me say it because I’m trying to project a more positive image. They’ve given me a cute nickname because I’m so upbeat, even though every now and then someone wonders how I handle the tedium of such a dead end job. I usually say “You’re the one who’s driving into a dead end and paying me for the privilege. So I’ll take my job over yours any day.” We both have a good laugh over that but what I’m really thinking is “My job wouldn’t be so tedious if you weren’t so boring.”

It’s important to know the difference in the way it feels to say something out loud as opposed to just saying it in your head. So far so good.

Anyway, on Monday I know a bunch of my customers will encourage me to gripe about the cold. I’m determined not to do it but I’m afraid hypothermia might make me slightly delusional and I could slip and start to get crabby about how they don’t insulate the booth and how bringing a space heater would short out the cheapskate power strip they put in and that would crash the computer and cause a back up in the exit lane which would lead to a lot of fist-shaking rage and refund demands not to mention the huge plume of exhaust that would collect around my work area, which would probably give me lung cancer and make me die, though not soon enough.

Obviously those are some pretty dark thoughts. I pretend to be upbeat but I might be a nihilist though I’m not sure. If I asked one of the professors to explain existential philosophy to me while I ran her Visa card, the cars would back up in the exit lane which would lead to a lot of fist-shaking rage and refund demands and so forth and so on and we would wind up in the same unhappy place. And now comes this weather, which really has me down.

Dr. Babooner, I don’t really have a question for you, I just wanted to say things to someone in a string of words that lasts for more than eight seconds. Thanks for hearing me out and have an awesome day!

Sincerely,
Cheerful Chuck

I told Cheerful Chuck to keep up the good work. Having a job that gives you lots of time to think and very little time to speak is much better than having a job with lots of time to speak and very little time to think, which is what you get when you’re a politician, a pundit or a disc jockey. But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?

History

Frozen in Time

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Somebody snooping around in an old hut in Antarctica discovered some century-old negatives that were snapped during the Shackleton Expedition in 1915-17.

(photo: Antarctic Heritage Trust)
(photo: Antarctic Heritage Trust)

First of all, I’m surprised there is a little-used hut in Antarctica. It was built by Robert Falcon Scott and served as the jumping-off place for his unsuccessful 1910 expedition. It also was a life-saver for the Shackleton party when they were stranded. And much of the rest of the time it has just been sitting there.

The photos are interesting, I suppose, if you like looking at black-and-white images of grey water and bright white. Faded landscapes leave me cold, especially when the landscape in question is a glacier. Only a couple of the images feature people, and faces (for me) are the thing that can make an old photograph compelling.

Charming nameless tykes
Charming nameless tykes
Unidentified couple takes no pleasure in being forgotten.
Unidentified couple takes no pleasure in being forgotten.

I just spent the day going through boxes of crinkly old papers that had been pushed to the back of a closet, including several ancient photo albums featuring relatives I’ve never met and, I fear, will never be able to identify. Most of the images have no accompanying notes, not even a name scribbled on the back. For all I know they are members of the Shackleton expedition, stranded on some distant featureless iceberg. I guess it was expected that no one would look at these pictures without the guidance of a knowledgeable companion. I suppose that’s what we imagine when we catalog such shots in family albums – that they will be inter-generational conversation starters. But photographs can easily outlast everyone who has direct knowledge of those pictured, so when the older generation is gone and no one has taken the time to jot down a few notes, only mystery remains.

How legible is your family story?

History, Uncategorized

The Prescient Prognosticator Prize – 2013

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Last year on this very day, baboons on the trail were asked to offer their predictions for the year 2013. Of those who took up the challenge, only one impressed me with his accuracy.

Screen Shot 2013-12-30 at 8.18.34 PM

I cannot go down the list point-by-point to verify each of the things Chris predicted, but he gets credit from me for picking some easy targets and combining those automatic points with a few bold guesses. Chris knows the seer must choose words carefully. He beautifully hedges his bets with guaranteed-to-succeed-on-some-level predictions like:

“The Gophers will win the NCAA Hockey Tournament.
(Uh-oh, I may have just jinxed them.)”

No, the Gophers did not win the NCAA Tournament.
But Yes, it may be because you jinxed them.

And he is frustratingly non-specific on seemingly simple pronouncements such as:

2013 will be cooler than normal. (Just a hunch)

Cooler locally, nationally or globally?
Cooler temperature-wise, or in overall (or individual) hip-ness?

This is the kind of vague prediction that is certain to be both true and not true.

I don’t know if Chris managed to find a publisher or an agent this year, or if he won that hoped-for writing award. But I do have the power to make this part of his scenario at least partially true by awarding him a laurel he didn’t seek and doesn’t expect – the Trail Baboon Prescient Prognosticator Prize for 2013.

Care to enter for 2014?

Make your predictions!

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Built To Not Last

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Lots of attention has been given to yesterday’s final game at the Metrodome, with the consensus that the highlights of its three decade life span were the Twins’ World Series victories in ’87 and ’91, and the Vikings loss in the NFL’s National League championship game in ’99.

Metrodome_Aerial_2006

All the recent references I’ve seen to the Metrodome’s cost (55 million dollars) have had to do with what a bargain that was, considering the history that happened there and the new stadium’s price tag of around one billion dollars.

I’m old enough to tell you that the many, many public discussions leading up to the building of the Metrodome did not often include the word “bargain”. Many people found it amazing that any community resources at all would be used to help pay for a sports palace. And “palace” is the right word – though the building is portrayed as being rather utilitarian in the modern press, at the time it was considered to be a remarkable advance. But there was strong opposition. And if anyone leading the effort to build the Metrodome had said that the thing would be used for only thirty years and then abandoned, it would have scotched the deal, I’m certain.

What I haven’t seen mentioned lately is how much of the Metrodome struggle was about strengthening downtown Minneapolis – returning excitement and activity to the city’s center at a time when everything seemed to be moving to the suburbs. Though literally none of the promised surrounding development materialized, to the extent the building kept downtown as a regional destination point, it was a success. But the sports arena longevity prize will have to go to some other structure. Williams Arena, perhaps?

What torn down building would you like to have back?

The Baboon Congress

A Quiet Family Christmas

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Today’s guest post comes from Steve Grooms, and was first offered on Trail Baboon as a comment at the end of the December 25th entry. I thought it was worth re-posting for everyone to enjoy. Steve writes:

The topic of “family” brings up the fact that I’ve been anxious for my daughter. Molly and Liam visited me a year and a half ago, and the trip was stressful. Liam was terrified by the plane and then unable to relax in his new surroundings. Molly got tense about that, and the two of them fed off each other’s fears.That trip was saved by all the toys I borrowed from kind Baboon ladies, and it did end up being a good trip.

Molly and her husband John recently made a difficult decision to fly from Portland to upper Michigan for Christmas with John’s parents. Jack, John’s father, is in perilous health. He has advanced diabetes, and he has recently fallen seven times hard enough to break bones. His most recent fall was last week. Liam and his grandfather have never met. The feeling was it would have to happen this year, or it might never be possible. After the most recent fall, Jack has been confined to a nursing home. Jack would be allowed a brief trip home to meet Liam and open presents.

John’s parents live in an interesting place, in a 100 year old home that overlooks the St. Clair River. Canada is across the river. Huge freighters are always moving through.

Molly wrote to say that Liam was an angel on the flight. And then she described Christmas: What follows is Molly’s letter:

We had a truly magical day. Ice floating down the river, one flow carrying a great big snowy owl, my first ever to see in the wild and absolutely breathtaking. The Kelleys have never seen one either so I feel so lucky.

Freighters ran up and down the river and Liam slept til 11, waking just as Jack arrived home with Nancy and the boys. Jack confided to Jamie yesterday that he feared Liam would be afraid of him. He doesn’t look good these days. I coached Liam to give him a warm welcome and tell him about the freighters he’d seen. Liam immediately did so and it was so wonderful to see him eagerly and sweetly engage Jack all day. He also went out of his way to tell Nancy how nice his air mattress bed is and thank her for all sorts of cookies and kindnesses throughout the day.

Overall, Liam was an absolute delight – opening presents and relishing them, playing on his own quietly for an hour at a time, chasing or being chased by his favorite and much adored uncle around the house, delighting in the two inches of snow that fell throughout the day and shoveling with feverish industry. John, Liam and I walked up to the Port Huron lightship and back in time to watch the Coast Guard cutter, the Hollyhock, undock just feet North of the house and head up into the lake to bring in more buoys.

I went upstairs to rest for an hour, at which point the tree fell over, narrowly missing Liam and John who were putting together a train set. After that excitement things settled down again. Dinner was delicious – Swiss steak followed by cookies and a session of Lego building and listening to KSJN carols.

The whole day was unplanned, unstructured, nothing monumental and no single “Oooohhh Ahhhh” gift. And none needed. It was perfect and so special to experience it with my wonderful child. I am so impressed with his good nature, his delight in others and his flexibility. Taking a page from his book today, I went with the flow, like the ice down the river.

Describe your most memorable Christmas.

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Bart’s Christmas Letter

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Today’s post comes from Bart the Bear – the bear who found a cell phone in the woods.

H’lo Friends,

One of those tiny little mail trucks turned over in a stiff northwesterly wind the other day, and all the Christmas cards poured out. A few of them blew into the trees and I opened about twenty, all with chatty holiday letters inside. I didn’t know people did this!

Of course I like the idea so I decided to write one of my own.

Greetings Friends!

I hope this Christmas finds you fat and happy. I am both! I gained a bunch of pounds this fall storing up calories for the winter – just like last year and every year before it. It’s what we bears do, and I’m good at it.

Bart_Santahat

In the early part of 2013 I had a swell den in a low spot where a tree fell and a dry creek made a hollow that was out of the wind and very cozy for most of January and February. But when things started to melt, it got a bit damp and I had to get up early to scout around for more food. I was lucky because somebody up here put a whole bunch of money into buying up the last of the Twinkies and the Hostess cupcakes when it looked like they wouldn’t be manufactured anymore. And later when somebody else bought the equipment and flooded the stores with “new” Twinkies and Hostess Cupcakes they took their investment and dumped it in the woods. I guess they were disgusted with their unsuccessful attempt to corner a market that was coming back around again. Thirty five cases of factory-made pastry! I ate for a month.

As far as travels go, this year I went up north to where that big highway crosses in front of the lake. Then I went as far east as the river, over west to the place where the trees thin out, and down south to the place with the campgrounds where I’m not supposed to be. Tranquilizer dart territory.

I wanted to make it to London and Rome and Shanghai this year just like some of the people in those Christmas letters I found, but I’m only able to get as far as the place in online reservations where they ask you for a credit card number. Of course I find credit cards in the woods all the time. It’s surprising how careless people can be! But when the name on the card doesn’t match the address I make up, airlines kick me off their website. My dream is that someday I’ll be able to book a flight at least. Actually getting through security and getting on a plane would be a tougher problem. I’m big, I smell bad, I don’t have a legal ID and I don’t wear clothes – all things that would make those Homeland Security people suspicious. But at least I wouldn’t have to worry about taking off my shoes or my belt.

Throughout most of the spring and the summer my time was completely filled up scavenging for food, hanging out around a couple of trails I know, and posing for pictures taken by hikers who can’t seem hold the camera still. Half the time they take the shot, then drop the camera (or phone) and run. I’m guessing there wasn’t a single photo of me that didn’t come out blurry. Some days I think I know how Bigfoot feels.

Speaking of other animals, there was a female in the area last Spring and I got a pretty clear idea that she was ready to connect with somebody and produce some cubs, but we could never seem to get on the same page about that. Our paths crossed a couple of times but I didn’t get the sense that she was interested in me at all. Personally, I mean, as a bear.  Not a lot to talk about between us, and the woods are full of bears who are only interested in casual encounters.

Don’t get me wrong – I don’t have a problem with being alone. But if you’ve got a family to be with at Christmas time, you should be grateful even if you don’t like them all that much. Families aren’t there to make you happy, they’re there to make you aware of the world and your place in it, and to remind you of where you come from.

I have no idea about that – if I have any relatives in these woods it’s a mystery to me. I argue with almost every bear I see – that’s my nature. But if I knew for sure that some of them shared my DNA, I’d really give them a piece of my mind.

That’s what family is for!

Your pal,
Bart

What are relatives for?

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Fire or Ice?

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Today’s post comes from Bathtub Safety Officer Rafferty.


At ease, civilians!

But when I say ‘at ease’ of course I mean you should remain extremely watchful. A healthy amount of trepidation is better for you than multivitamins, as we just discovered, though that’s mostly because everything is better for you than multivitamins.

And do not worry that you will ever run out of things to fear because there is always another catastrophe looming on the horizon.

Case in point: I have spent many hours worrying that a major asteroid will crash into our planet, causing an enormous explosion that will eject massive amounts of dirt and gas into the atmosphere, obliterating the sun and making life as we know it unsustainable.

But last week I discovered that maybe I should be looking down instead.

Yellowstone_caldera

New research suggests the supervolcano under Yellowstone National Park is much bigger than previously thought.. Now they’re saying it could be 55 miles across, which makes it big enough to cause an enormous explosion that will eject massive amounts of dirt and gas into the atmosphere, obliterating the sun and making life as we know it unsustainable.

Of course scientists say they are monitoring Yellowstone closely and there is no indication that it is in any way about to blow. Should changes occur that suggest an eruption is at hand, we would have time to prepare.

Somehow I’m not comforted.

And what if an asteroid crashed into the Yellowstone caldera? Wouldn’t that set it off immediately? This is the sort of thing that keeps me awake on long winter nights, which is, by the way, the season we’re in. It is a time of despair, which suits me just fine. I may be the only person who has seasonal affective disorder all year round. Stepping outside, I pause to wonder if the prevailing northwest wind will freeze us in our tracks before we can be incinerated by speeding rocks from above or molten rock from below.

It reminds me of my favorite poem about armaggeddon, Fire and Ice by Robert Frost.

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Yours in Safety, B.S.O.R.

Bathtub Safety Officer Rafferty is at his usual life-of-the-party best here. He suggested this post should run on Christmas Day because it might give families a chance to talk about their Volcano Evasion Plan over dinner, but I hinted to him it was a bit of a downer and we might go with it a day or so early. He said the prospect of things happening before he expects them to is another scenario that keeps him up at night.

Fire or Ice – what’s your preference?

The Baboon Congress

Darkness, Darkness

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Today’s guest post comes from Barbara in Robbinsdale.

A couple of times a year, the sun comes in my south facing bedroom window at just the right angle to warm my face while waking me up.

Sunlight!

This morning being a “day off” in the midst of the merry-go-round that is December, I let myself stay in bed – watch the designs on the insides of my eyelids, and let my mind drift. This kind of quiet time happens so rarely, and I encountered this perception: Here I am, one of billions of humans who, at some point today, will get up while my side of earth is facing the sun, basking in its light and warmth. We will run around and do stuff for roughly two-thirds of this rotation. Then, while our side of the earth slips into darkness, we’ll lie down for roughly the remaining one-third of it, to “re-charge the batteries” while asleep. We will all get up tomorrow and do it again, for probably thousands of more times.

But ironically, right now we get sunlight for only one-thirdof the spin, which means we spend about eight of our waking hours in (relative) darkness, too. (This would have been much more noticeable before all the electric lights.)

Fireplace, sort of

This year I decided to do something about all this dark in my environment – I asked for, and have received, one of those cute little heaters disguised as a fireplace. I usually don’t like fake things, but this is close enough to a real-looking fireplace, that it’s helping me with winter’s cold and the dark. I’ll find myself edging closer to as I’m reading. (Now I just need a fireplace sound-track.)

Luckily, this being the end of December, we’re at the turn-around point. But it will be a while till we’re out of the long, dark nights.

How do you cope with the shortest days of the year?