Still On Foot

I’m fascinated by the first entries in Paul Salopek’s Walk Out of Eden, his seven year project to travel by foot from Africa’s rift valley to Tierra del Fuego at the southern tip of South America. In one of his recent posts we discovered that African nomads, who live lives very different from our own, are increasingly reliant on their cell phones.  One catch is the absence of an electric grid for re-charging, so services are springing up to provide desert plug-ins.

Shida_monument

Let that be a lesson for the American luddite who has every new tool at his disposal but refuses to use them. You may see computers and smart phones as meaningless and inauthentic, but nomadic Ethiopian shepherds are using digital technology to stay current on the price of goats. They’re also walking great distances in light, inexpensive plastic sandals – to such an extent that the footwear has been memorialized by a public sculpture in Eritrea.

While the nomads are leaping forward technologically, Salopek is turning back time when it comes to modes of travel, abandoning modern conveyances for the most basic transport of all. It’s an attention-getting move to decide to take a long walk in the modern western world.  

It got my attention, anyway.

Taking a Big Walk is still an eye-opener here in the “developed” west – as surprising in our culture as it would be to the nomads if one of their own loaded his goats into the back of a Hummer and drove off into the sunset.  A remarkably long list of people have trekked across the USA to lose weight, change their attitude, honor a friend or relative, or raise money for a cause.

If you are thinking of doing the same thing, there is plenty of advice available. But it appears the stakes are rising.

When I was still a teenager, Dan Walker walked almost 1,200 miles across Illinois and wound up winning the state’s top political office. I think people were impressed that he managed to actually set a goal and accomplish  it – a rare feat in some political circles.   Walker later became one of Illinois’ imprisoned Governors – not a great distinction but I suppose he can take some pride in the knowledge that his jail-able offenses were committed AFTER he was in office.  Apparently on his long walk one thing he did NOT think about was whether or not there’s a significant difference between a federal law and a banking regulation.

Regardless, you have to respect the magnitude of the walk.

It would be hard to match the outsized significance of Salopek’s pilgrimage, but if you had the time, the stamina and the shoes for it, where would you take your 1,500 go 3,000 mile walk?

Destination Hospital!

Today’s post comes from idea generator Spin Williams.

Hello future patients!

Here at The Meeting That Never Ends, we’re all abuzz about the just-announced, urgently hoped-for expansion by the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. The grand vision is that with a 6 billion dollar investment, including over a half billion from the state, the famous medical complex will grow to employ another 25 to 30 thousand people and be even bigger in size and more influential, clout-wise.

Already in those two key categories, the Mayo is massive and irresistible.

But we love big, powerful things, and we’re most excited by the announced intention of all this money-funnelling – to create a “Global Destination Medical Center.”

Around the table at T.M.T.N.E., we were unanimous in our reactions – “Yes! Yes! Yes!” What the planet needs is a Global Destination Hospital – a medical Disneyland! This is a place you come to celebrate the joy of feeling better even when you’re not sick to begin with. Because nothing feels as good as feeling good, unless it’s feeling good in the company of people who are feeling a whole lot worse!

As freelance commercial opportunists, we at The Meeting That Never Ends would like to build a ring of hotels around the outskirts of the Global Destination Medical Center – lodging (and more) for patients and partygoers. The rides would be awesome – a Whirling Gurney Glider, the Bedpan Panic Plummet, The Co-Pay Coaster, the Tilt-a-Hurl, It’s a Small Intestine, and of course an M.R.Imax Theater.

And who knows? While on vacation at Mayo World, you might feel like you’re coming down with something! No worries – you’re already in the happiest place (for doctors) on Earth.

In fact, you could make a strong argument that we’re ALL headed for one Destination Hospital or another eventually. Why not make your ultimate destination the best one in the world? In fact, mixed in with the on-site hotels we can have hundreds of retirement community buildings so people over 65 can just go LIVE at the hospital. And another housing development would cater to families with young children – they’re always going to the emergency room anyway.

Why not?

Mayo World is a brilliant idea, and we’d like to get in on the ground floor. Or even a second floor walk-up would be acceptable. How about you?

As is his habit, Spin is already ahead of the crowd on this one. Of course the world is ready for a medical care theme park / resort / gated community. But why stop there? Cemeteries are also looking for new marketing angles – mostly to compensate for the increasing numbers of people who are choosing cremation and having their ashes spread, rather than buried. Why not establish a Global Destination Eternal Resting Place, where people can go to enjoy some recreation and relaxation before they eventually go back for disintegration?

What kind of fun attraction would you like to see at Mayo World?

Happy Thoughts

Today’s post comes from Trail Baboon’s Living and Loving correspondent B. Marty Barry.

I just want to take a moment here to congratulate everyone who hates hates hates hates winter. You know who you are – you’re the person who sees the months of November through March as a miserable ordeal that must be endured.

I’ve been having some extra sessions lately with my clients who suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder, so I’m more-than-usually attuned to the plight of the light-starved and warmth-hungry among us. The cold, the ice, the darkness, the Super Bowl – all of it is an affront to your senses.

Here’s the good news. You’ve almost cleared January!

January is the worst month of the year by far. All of January’s excitement happens at the beginning and then it’s dreary and painful and endless. January is ten times longer and fifty times nastier than any other month.

If the months of the year were all assigned a planet, January would be Jupiter. Big and cold, heavy with gravity and gas, marred by an unsightly blot that turns out to be a permanent storm. Blah! No wonder people find it oppressive.

Well all that awfulness is about to come to an end – tomorrow is the first of February! February is a giddy sprint by comparison – it’s groundhogs, hearts, presidents and kaput. Blink and it’s over. Then we’re into March, the leprechauns come out, and suddenly the end is in sight.

So smile because it’s January 31st! The end is nigh. It’s true we still have to endure the Super Bowl, but by Monday afternoon that will be forgotten and then it’s clear sailing! Before you know it we’ll have April flowers, May showers, June blooms, July fireworks, August fairs, September leaves …

But I’m getting too far ahead of myself. My message today is to enjoy this moment and smile, even if it happens to be horribly, perversely cold! And if you can’t smile, that’s OK too. Maybe your face is frozen. Maybe you’ve discovered that buying more assault weapons doesn’t perk you up the way you hoped it would. I’m not here to judge or to impose anything on you – I just want to cheer you to the furthest extent that you can be cheered, and not a single smile more.

But if you’re having trouble coping, think about Jim Nabors. He just got married to the love of his life and he’s 82! Doesn’t that warm your heart? His too-long wait for a change in status has finally come to an end. He also lives in Hawaii, but try not to think about that part of it. But if you do anyway and you’re still sad, remember that you’re not a failure. Your seasonal malaise may be justified but it doesn’t define you.

Not in my eyes, anyway. Because although I’ve never met you, I care about you very, very, very much.

Your friend and (I hope) confidant,
B. Marty Barry

What makes you happy when you know it’s finally over?

Wide Shot

NASA released this nice infra-red photo yesterday, showing us all of the Andromeda Galaxy with colors assigned to indicate relative temperature. For some reason, blue represents the warmer parts and red, the cooler ones.

andromeda

Trying to challenge our expectations, NASA? That’s quite a risk to take when you consider we are situated at a moment in time just before the dawn of commercial spaceflight for the well-heeled tourist. Revelers who save up an entire lifetime for one amazing interstellar trip will not take kindly to their disappointing arrival at the exotic destination. Remember when planning your Andromeda getaway that the most comfortable beaches will be found at the center.

Not that we have to go out of our way to get there, since Andromeda is scheduled to merge with our Milky Way Galaxy in about 4 billion years.

But never you mind, I like Andromeda just fine. It’s pretty to look at.

In fact, the jaunty angle at which the NASA stylists framed this makes me think of the Fascinators that were so predominant during the most recent British Royal Wedding.

Kate_Hat_Galaxy2

The right hat can put an exclamation point on a crisply stylish look. But does wearing an entire galaxy on your head qualify as overstatement? We’ve all known people with their heads in the clouds and others with stars in their eyes, but what does it mean when you have clouds of stars in your hair?

Describe your favorite headgear.

Restless Old Brains

Today’s post comes from perpetual sophomore Bubby Spamden.

Hey, Mr. C.,

I was just about to ask you an important question about girls, but as soon as I started to write it I realized that you don’t know the answer. Not that you’re not old enough to have wisdom and all, because I’m pretty sure you are! But all the old dudes I’ve talked to about this kind of thing are pretty sure they know less about girls than they used to, which I think is totally weird.

How can you live such a long time and get dumber as you go? That doesn’t make any sense.

Cerebral_lobes

But then I read a newspaper article about this study that says your brain changes when you get older, and old brains have a harder time getting good sleep than young brains do. And it’s when you’re sleeping really good and deep that the stuff you just learned makes its move to transfer over just-found-out-about-it mode to long term memory! So if you can’t get what they call long wave sleep, it’s harder to learn anything new!

So now it kinda makes sense that you’re so clueless about a lot of new things, and haven’t really picked up any fresh insights since, say, 1975.

But don’t get me wrong. I still respect you for your wisdom and experience and all. I just have a better understanding of why you don’t know anything. So I’m forwarding you a link to the article. Take a look at it! Read it a couple of times for all the good it will do you.

One thing in there that sounds kind of cool – the idea of using electrodes pasted to the scalp to simulate the right brain waves to get the best kind of sleep. How long will it be before you older guys are plugging yourselves in at night, just like a cell phone or a Chevy Volt?

And since I know you’re going to ask anyway, the question I had about girls is why does my girlfriend get mad if I start to fall asleep while she’s talking to me? It’s not like I can help it. But to smooth things over, I told her it’s because I’m trying to commit what she’s saying to long term memory as soon as I hear it. I don’t get it, though. That argument just makes her madder. It’s like she doesn’t believe in science!

Your pal,
Bubby

I think Bubby has been a High School sophomore for so long, he’s the closest thing we have to a teenager/old man hybrid. Still, the most surprising thing in this message is that he thinks he has a girlfriend! I can only assume she comes from the same place as the one that beguiled that Notre Dame football player – Fantasyland. Although she sees through his sad explanation just as clearly as a real person would, so who knows?

What’s your most effective memory-keeping technique?

H.B., A.A.

Today is the actor Alan Alda‘s birthday. He’s 77.

He was born with a name that was much more of a mouthful – Alphonso Joseph D’Abruzzo. You might be able to get away with a name like that in showbiz today, but in the middle of the last century they wanted things to be simple and catchy. Wikipedia tells me that the name Alda is a portmanteu, a word created from two or more other words, or in this case, two other names. Alphonso Joseph DAbruzzo.

Of course you should take a moment here to think about what your Portmanteu name would be if you followed the Alan Alda template. I’d be Dale Dalco, which sounds like a good name for a NASCAR driver, although I would be the worst race car driver ever and would certainly wind up disqualified or dead or both in the first lap.

R.I.P. Dale Dalco. We hardly knew ye.

Fortunately for the rest of us, Alan Alda turned out to be a very effective name for making it big in the entertainment industry, and many are the lives that have been enriched by Alda’s work as Hawkeye Pierce on the long-running TV series M.A.S.H. Apparently he is the only person who appeared in every single episode. My recollection is that in many of them, he is talking almost constantly.

Not all actors are comfortable facing an audience without a script, but Alda seems at ease and is quite the storyteller. He has written a couple of volumes of memoir – “Never Have Your Dog Stuffed“, and “Things I Overheard While Talking To Myself.”

A guy who likes the spotlight and is a natural raconteur should need no prompting at all to churn out a couple of books, but Alda claims the inspiration for these volumes came only after a near-death experience.

When has a single experience changed the course of your life?

That’s How We Roll

You gotta love dung beetles.

All day, every day, they’ve got their faces in the worst stuff we can imagine. To them, it’s no big deal, but to us, spending life as a dung beetle is literally what it would mean to lose the reincarnation lottery.

By Kay-africa (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
By Kay-africa (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

The good news is a dung beetle’s life is less than three years long.
The bad news is … for the entire time, you have to be a dung beetle.
But the latest bit of redemptive good news is … dung is not your entire world – there’s more. In fact, there’s the entire Milky Way.

Researchers have discovered that dung beetles use the stars to navigate their dung ball placement. But it’s not just a couple of little stars, it’s the center of the Milky way – a strip of light crossing the night sky that apparently gives them the reference point they need to know their dung ball is traveling in a straight line.

And by “dung ball”, I mean “your day’s work”, whatever that is. And pushing it in a straight line is quite an achievement. I’ve been putting my shoulder to various dung balls around for almost 40 years, and I can say with certainty that they haven’t traveled in anything like a straight line. I’m certain I’ve done some curlicues and loop-de-loops, and for quite a long time sat still in the very same place. But dung beetles reckon by the stars, and their efforts are rewarded with measurable progress. If a beetle veers off course, it climbs up on top of its dung ball and does a little “dance”, by which it gets its bearings and resumes its task.

I assume dung beetles will remain here after we’re gone because everything poops, and a key factor in survival is to have steady work. But in 4 billion years, when The Milky Way collides with the Andromeda Galaxy, the beetle’s sky-marker will be re-arranged. Will that signal the Dung Ball Apocalypse?

When you feel you are headed off-course, how do you find the right direction?

Victorious Secret

This is turning into “advances for women” week on Trail Baboon.  On Wednesday, we opened the door for female Neanderthals to take their rightful place in 1960’s love songs, and now we discover modern human women will have the opportunity to take (and give)  live fire on the battlefield.

I’ve never been in the military, so I can’t pretend to know anything about the possible effects of allowing women to have combat roles.  As a rule, I run from conflict. My only fistfight happened in fourth grade, and it was against a girl.

Naturally, she beat me up.

In my (too late to help now!) defense, I have to say that we were 9 years old, and you know how kids develop. She had me beat on height, weight and reach.  And I also suspect she had me on the killer instinct, which I still lack today.

That’s why I look forward to living in a society where women are permitted to freely express their kick-ass side. Maybe after a few decades of well-documented front line bravery by America’s women in uniform, my unfortunate childhood pummeling will seem less like a wimpy case of gender betrayal, and more like a typical rite of passage.

We’re in for years of discussion about who benefits and who loses in this new arrangement.  It’s hard to measure the value of dignity, service and respect against the steep costs sure to be exacted by the battlefield.  Who knows how this will play out?  But I’m pretty sure the only guaranteed winners in all this are Hollywood’s female stars, by virtue of the sudden increase in potential movie roles.

And you KNOW there will be movies.

Here’s the cast list from one of the all-time classics, when it comes to war movies: The Sands of Iwo Jima.

John Wayne … Sgt. John M. Stryker
John Agar … Pfc. Peter Conway
Adele Mara … Allison Bromley
Forrest Tucker … Pfc. Al Thomas
Wally Cassell … Pfc. Benny Regazzi
James Brown … Pfc. Charlie Bass
Richard Webb … Pfc. ‘Handsome’ Dan Shipley
Arthur Franz … Cpl. Robert Dunne / Narrator
Julie Bishop … Mary
James Holden … Pfc. Soames
Peter Coe … Pfc. George Hellenpolis
Richard Jaeckel … Pfc. Frank Flynn
William Murphy … Pfc. Eddie Flynn (as Bill Murphy)
George Tyne … fc. Harris
Hal Baylor … Pvt. ‘Sky’ Choynski (as Hal Fieberling)

Notice there are 13 men and 2 women.  But with females now in the real trenches, movie soldier possibilities for young, middle aged and even “mature” female actors just improved.   Do you doubt that Meryl Streep would have been amazing in the Jack Nicholson role in “A Few Good Men”?  If so, then “YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!”

Speaking of brutal truths, when the glamorous leading lady roles begin to disappear after age 35,  smearing some mud and fake blood on your face and crawling underneath some barbed wire will compensate for a lot of wrinkled skin.  So it’s a career-extender! An explosive future for America’s female actors begins today!

Nominate a Hollywood star to become the female John Wayne, or give us your  title and/or plot synopsis for the first classic women-friendly Army film.    

A Warm Bed

Today’s post comes from Bart, the bear who found a smart phone in the woods.

Bart Blackberry2

Hey,

Bart here. Just having an awake moment during my hibernation and thought I’d check to see if anybody texted me. Nobody did! Is it because you know I’ve already settled down for my long winters’ nap, or is it because we’re not really friends anymore?

Just wonderin’. That’s the sort of question that can keep you awake for hours when you know you’re supposed to be sleeping. Lucky I have lots of weeks left before it’s time to get up.

Ever just lie there awake in the middle of the night when it’s super cold out? That’s when it’s great to have a really solid den, which I’ve got this year. It’s in a gully with a fresh fallen tree on the one side and a kind of a hill on the other side, so we’re out of the wind and there’s lots of leaves and stuff. Really nice for hunkerin’ down.

Only thing missing is snow. I mean, LOTS of snow.

Snow is an insulator, but most people just think of it as super cold stuff. It’s not! There’s lots of stuff that’s colder than snow. Tonight, it’s the air and everything it touches.

Anyway, I’ve got that really happy feeling you get when you’ve got all your leaves and pine needles packed around you to make a nice cozy bed and your hair is dry and you’ve had something to eat but the place isn’t a mess it’s just warm and it smells like bears and you know you don’t have to go out!

I’ve got a few more months of torpor ahead of me so I think I’m going to nod off again. But if you’re about to send me a text, don’t stop just ’cause I’ll be sleeping. I have a bunch of these random half-awake times, and I need something to read.

Or ask me a question, even if it’s that one that everybody asks about hibernation and whether or not we have to go to the bathroom and if so how do we do it? But I’ll tell you right now, the answer is awesome, and it won’t make you feel any better about your situation.

Not only is hibernation the huge nap you want but will never have, it’s also more slimming than all the exercise you could possibly do in five months – and I sleep through it all!

I love being a bear!
Bart

How long could you stay in bed, if there was no reason to get out?

I’ve Just Seen A Face

There’s a fresh kerfuffle over an imagined proposal to use Neanderthal DNA to produce a clone of our prehistoric cousins.

The professor who supposedly made the suggestion claims his comments were poorly translated and misunderstood. Ethicists say it’s a bad idea in any case.

No one is enthusiastic about the concept of bringing back to life some distant relatives who might have been boyfriend/girlfriend material for early humans in the unregulated, romantic days of yore.

Far flung, anything-goes Yore.

Yes, everybody’s against cloning the Neanderthals, though I’m guessing the songwriters would see some intriguing possibilities in the adventurous sexual dynamic that could develop. Imagine, if human / neanderthal dating had been a possibility when The Beatles wrote this:

It might have come out more like this:

I’ve just seen a face,
that was extinct. With hairy grace
I think she winked. She’s a Neanderthal
but I don’t think my folks will care at all.
Na na na na na na

Had I loved some missing link
I might have worried what they’d think
Neanderthals are just like us
Except they’re stronger and they never cuss
Na na na na na na

CHORUS:
Cloning. Let’s do some cloning.
Start Twilight Zoning them back again.

I love every ridge
of her thick skull. Her name is Midge.
She’s never dull. A prehistoric Miss
My human heart, each time we kiss, is full.
Na na na na na na.

CHORUS

Yes I’d like a chance
To take a fossil to the dance
It’s not impossible to clone a date
No love affair has come as late as this.
Na na na na na na.

Who was your least (or most) compatible date?