If only....
If not for them....
Woe is me...

We've all said, or at least thought, these words. They come to mind when things are not going well and seem not to be within our control. They are the words of the victim. Here we see three sorry souls (call them JB, Bob and Sherri) who have clearly been dealt a bad hand. If only it would rain. If "they" hadn't closed the dam. Woe is me (us).

Being a victim is to play the blame game. If only my back didn't hurt. If only I hadn't bent over wrong. I haven't been able to paddle for a week. Why does this always happen to me (a false thought). Woe is me.

Feels kind of good to bitch and moan to myself. And, I suppose, it can be a healthy self indulgence if not over used.

When one plays the victim, they feel that there is a perpurtrator who has dumped on them. And, the victim feels the energy of this evil doer. Thing is that the victim almost always, without realizing it, tends to dump on others with the same evil energy. Misery, it seems, loves comopany.

But our three heroes,(2 heroes + 1 heroine) are hardy souls and not about to give in to playing the victim, no matter what "they" do. See, they're still smiling.



And, like most bad things that happen, things get better. It turns out that nature and the universe can be pretty impersonal. Some times, the universe is very personal and tries to teach them and me a lesson.

So, they and I perservere and learn the ultimate lesson of the ages: Like a hard stool, this too shall pass.


Paddle safe.
DS

Waiting

Growing older and healing more slowly. Nothing can change that, it is man's lot in this universe.


There is supposed to be more wisdom in these later years, wisdom to help one philosophically face and accept the realities of life...such as waiting to heal while healing slowly. Besides, what choice is there? Either accept what is or cause one's self to suffer even more.

So, I sit and wait and try to image what it was (and hopefully will be, again) like to get into one of my boats, launch and, with loose hips, let the hull and the water do what they naturally do. And I am there going along for the ride.

CASKA Photo

Until then, I have memories, the e mails of supportive friends and my pictures.

I shall return.

Paddle safe.

DS

Square One

or

How To Really succeed

Over coffee, JB and I were discussing our training and what we wanted to do in the kayak world. He, of course, is ACA, BCU and American Kennel Assoc. rated. I had toyed with the idea of going out to SeaKayak Georgia for BCU stuff, while he (as we speak) is in Madison working on teaching future teachers how to teach.

This is not a new topic for me, generically speaking. I do career workshops and often give speeches with titles like, When success doesn't bring happiness, or Now that I own the company, why aren't I happy? The common theme in all this is the need some of us have to achive while having no concept what being successful means to us. Hence, when a man reaches 50 and realizes he will never be the president of his company, he may suffer what I call an acute onset of reality.

What's going on here, anyway?

We live in a better is bigger society while secretly believing that your's is bigger than mine. This is especially true among men. Go to a party. Women chat freely and get to know something about one another. Men, on the other hand, walk away knowing the other guy's name and occupation and having a vague impression (based on the other guy's watch and clothes) whether he makes more or less money than the other guy does. And, if he is jugged to make more, or to be more important, he is considered more powerful and to be a success. Hmmmmm.

It takes one of my 1-2 day workshops to get into just how we end up in the careers we have in the first place. Never mind that for now. Just know that we usually end up doing something for all the wrong reasons...and they are usuallysomeone else's wrong reasons at that. The point to take here is that once hooked into whatever career we've stumbled into, we set out to succeed. And we do so with no idea of what that looks like.

I think it was Aristotle who said, "Most men live quite lives of desperation."

The same satisfy-someone-else thinking that got us into our work often is used to define what-someone-else-calls-success.

But take a case where someone actually goes into some area where they have a passion, something they really enjoy. Take being an engineer, for example. The person really likes the math and problem solving, does well in school and gets a great job that stimulates him or her. They do well because they love what they are doing. the company notices them, and there are promotions upon promotions until, ultimately, the person "succeeds" to management where they live "successfully" and unhappily ever after.

So it can be with kayaking (or any other sport). Just the other week, after teaching an introduction to recreational kayaking class, I found myself suggesting that some of the students might want to consider "going on" to sea kayaking. I realized that I was insinuating that sea kayaks were "real" kayaks in which a "real" paddler could learn to tame ten-foot waves. Implicit in the thought was that a rec. boat wasn't a "real" kayak and, in turn, that rec. kayakers hadn't really succeeded in the "real" world of kayaking.

I wonder how many people "graduate" to open water kayaking, don't like it and quit the sport forever feeling they have failed when, all the while, they would have had a lifetime of pleasure paddling quite ponds and rivers rather than trying to meet someone else's expectations.

So, maybe I don't need to become a 4-star general with oak leaf clustures on my PFD. Maybe, like paddlers such as Gary Simon, I am better off pursuing the part of the sport I like best (in his case, fitness padlling). Maybe JB will decide not to become a full professor with tenure (although, if he does, he will be a good one). [Weird thought: what if Alex only paddled one boat for the rest of his life or Derrick decided he didn't really need to know how to roll....nah].

Yeah, now I see it. I can be happy paddling just the way I do now. Sure, I want to continue to improve my strokes. I want Gary to help me develope an exercise technique in the boat. I want Alex and Derrick to help me with rolls...but for the fun of it. I don't need to keep climbing ladders.

Besides, the world needs me to make pictures better and better.

Paddle anywy you wish, just so you paddle safe(ly).

DS

Paging Dick...
The Universe is calling
or
The Devil is in the details
(read the fine print)

This sitting around and hurting got to me yesterday. I needed to feel good. I needed not to hurt. I needed to have all my agility back, and I needed it now. I needed to get back into my routine of putting my kayak atop my blazer and driving to the big lake and launching my boat. I needed what I didn't have.

I finally put on some sort of shoes and some sunscreen and headed out for a walk. At first, it just felt good to be walking, to be moving and, before I reached the end of the block, I was into it. I was striding along and...and, something else. I was becoming aware of stuff, the stuff I missed inside the house or zipping along in a car. I became aware of the sights and sounds of the land just as in a kayak I am aware of the sights and sounds and smells on the water.

I became aware of subtle shifts in the wind and saw small things along the way I'd not noticed before. I heard more varieties of bird calls than I could identify and saw even more varieties of birds.

Then, I must have slipped into a meditative state, I was suddenly at the waterfall a mile from my house...and I was feeling good. I was feeling good because I was out and about. And I realized something. I miss long distance running, I miss it a lot. And I needed to be able to run again. And, I knew all too well, I never would.

As I headed back, I could see that my lower body had been neglected. Paddle as hard as I might (and I usually don't), kayaking only worked my upper body and arms. One can only press so hard on the pegs and get, at best, a small isotonic work out. And, since I spent all my active time in a boat, my lower body was being neglected.

Continuing my walk, I realized that I had slowed down (an interesting observation considering the speed of a kayak) and, in doing so, was seeing and hearing and feeling things of which I used to be aware...when I was a runner. Then it came to me, the old lesson I've learned and relearned throughout my life.

I had gotten into a rut and had confused my wants with my needs. All I needed, or ever needed, was food, water, shelter and warmth...and I had all of those--in spades. The rest were all wants.

So, the Universe (call it Karma, fate, what ever) sent me a wake up call in the form of a back ache and slowed me down...once more. It slowed me down so I could take care of the needs of my lower body, sure. More to the gist of it: It slowed me down so I would take care of the needs of my soul.

Ever notice how a squirrel uses its paws to hold things?

Paddle safe (I know, it's an adverb...safely)

DS

The Gentle Way of Life

Gentle? Doesn't look like the guy on top, soon to be the guy on the floor, is getting gentle treatment. Truth be known, he is totally relaxed and will feel virtually nothing as he lands on the mat. Actually, both these men are totally relaxed as they perform Ippon Seonage (single shoulder throw). How can it be that at such a dynamic moment, at the peak of action, 2 Judokai can be so relaxed? More importantly, how can one of them, being so relaxed, have gotten a man up in the air with so little effort? That, my friends, is the secret of Judo...and most every other sport I've played (yes, we play Judo)

First let me tell you that this sport (derived from the acutal fighting technique of Ju Jitsu) is named with a 2 syllable word. Ju, Japaneese for gentle, and Do, the way. Judo, the gentle way. Now, this stuff, done on concrete to an unknowing attacker can be fatal. It is rare, however, for a Judoka to ever get into a fight (we walk away, nothing to prove). You also need to understand that the Ju or gentle translates a little differently than the way we use gentle in english. It actually translates more like yielding.

Example: A tree and a tall reed stand along side one another. A breeze comes along and bends the reed while the tree stands impassively. The breeze passes, and the reed stands upright once more. A bigger wind comes along, and the same thing happens. Bigger and bigger winds come up with the same results until, finally, a tornado passes through. In the ferocious winds, the reed simply lies down while the oak is snapped in two and killed. After the wind passes, it is the thin reed that survives. Hence we have one of the great maxims of Judo: There is great power in yielding.

Unspoken is the difference between strength and power, and this very principle is what escapes many athletes and competitors.

Suppose I have the strength that measures, say, 5, and yours measures 10. Now, if we push against one another, you will push me back with a force of 5 (10 minus 5 = 5). Using force, there is no way I can "win". You have superior strentgth.

But if you push with your 10 and I pull with my 5, I will amass a force of 15 and defeat you handily. Even though you still have superior force, I have created a situation in which I have the ultimate power.

So, I always tell my Judo students (and, now my sea kayak students), "If you are working hard, you are doing it wrong."

In Judo, we practice by having one player agree to relax and be thrown. By doing this, the other man learns to do the technique in the absence of resistance. Consequently, he applies very little force and developes good form and technique. At first, he does so slowly until every nuance of the technique is right. Then, he gradually increases speed until, given the right dynamics, the technique is so smoothly applied that resistance is futile. So it can be with sea kayaking.

Practice (or teach) in quite waters when the wind is calm. Break the technique down and practice the parts slowly until they feel natural. Add the components and slowly increase the pace and conditions. How many of us, when the waves start to grow, remember to relax and open the top hand? Or, do you clutch that sucker with all your might hoping to overcome the force of the water?

Be the reed. Relax your hands. The water and the wind will always have superior force, always. All we can hope to do is yield to what is and to use our power.

Paddle safely, and relaxedd

DS

Sometimes I feel like a nut...

You know the ad. It goes on to say, "Some times I don't." It's for a candy bar. But, like all things I beat to death, it is a statement of life, attachment and finding enlightenment.

(Stay with me, it may be the pain pills.)

Sometimes I feel enthused, sometimes I don't. Sometimes I feel good, sometimes I don't. etc., sic, bene ad naseum.

That's Sherri Mertz dragging her Explorer up from Lake Michigan on Milwaukee's lake front (I can see your minds spinnning ahead as the brilliance of this metaphor of life leaps into your consciousness). To continue: would you say she was happy at the the moment I shot this pic, or was she sad, down and even in pain? Answer: we have no way of knowing. Not enough info (see blog below on athlete's and pain and facial expressions). But, so today's blog will make at least a little sense, presume she feels pain.

Now, if I can spell his name correctly, I would tell you that the German philosopher Nitsche said, "Say yes to the pain." Zen masters talk about allowing the pain in and examining it. In The Power of Now (and modern psychiatry) we are told to be the watcher or the observer. What do all of these bits of wisdom have in common?

They allow us to step outside of our pain, to take the position that it is our body and/or our brain which feel pain, not the true us. We can, therefor, disassociate from the discomfort, rise above it, examine it and perhaps learn something from it.

So I think, dissociate, rise, examine, etc...and wallah!...I have learned something.

I've learned that my friggin' back hurts and that I can't go out to play with the other kids. Grant me this one wish and I will help Sherri drag that boat all the way home. Where are my pills?

DS

Pain, Pills and Persistance

or

Lessons in Life

After 5 Advil, 2 aspirins, a pain pill and 10 hours sleep on the floor, the back is 88.3% better. Many thanks to John and Derrick for getting my Kayak onto JB's car and to JB for getting it into my garage.

This thing about pain: When jogging became a popular activity, those repelled by the thought of exercising tried to rationalize their position by saying that they never saw a jogger who didn't look as if he were in pain. I always laughed at that since, as a jazz musician, I saw guys blowing rides that looked like they were in the throes of death. Yet, I know, they were grooving and feeling better than anyone in the world. They were into it and intense. It wasn't pain on their face. As a marathon runner, I can tell you that that expression on a runner's face is the same.

Endurance athletes get into what they are doing. They get into the flow and are completly swept up in the micro-world of what they are doing. It is not pain on our faces but, rather, the abscence of the artificial face so many carry with them throughout life. We are never so real with ourselves as when we are lost in our passions. Which, at last, brings us to the pain thing.

It has been shown that athletic individuals have a different perception of pain than do non-athletes. Pain that would be a couch potatoes ideal excuse not to exercise is just a nuisance to us. In addition, when we do exercise we raise our brain levels of endorphins and further reduce the perception of discomfort.

It has also been claimed that long distance runners get fewer colds. When this was studied, however, it was learned that just the opposite was true. Runners, in fact, get more colds... probably because they are always pushing their bodies and challenging their immune systems. What is happening is that the runners percieve themselves as having fewer colds in the same way their perception minimilizes pain.

So, even when ice coats the shore and the "normal" urge is to curl up with a hot toddy, paddlers head out onto the water and runners take to the streets.

Now, the big question remains: Do people do their thing (running, kayaking, etc.) because they feel less pain or do they feel less pain because they do their thing?

Then agian, who cares?

Addendum: Just read Derricks blog and learned that Nancy S. really likes to be mentioned in blogs. So, Hi, Nancy!

Addendum deaux: To JB, dear friend and paddling extrodinaire: You claim to be 37, but that clinking you hear when we raise our glasses is the sound of red blood cells hitting the calcium in our arteries.

DS

Doctor's Excuse

No blog today, I have given myself a doctor's excuse. Had a full day in Madison with JB, Derrick. Nydia and Nancy. The highlight (maybe low light) was when I bent over to pick up my paddle. Now, I've done that or something like it a million times, and I thought I had it down pat. This time, however, something snapped.

It's happened before and, assuming things will go as before, I will find a lot of change (because I will walk bent over for a few days, but will be unable to pick it up). It's okay.

It reminds me to be aware, present and focused when I do anything. It reteaches me to be mindful and take nothing for granted.

So, dear reader, I excuse myself again. I am about to enter that new Olympic event:

The climb to the second floor where the Advil waits.

DS

Great Moments in Sports

or

Once Every 30 Years

This past week I had one of those rare moments that comes about, perhaps, once in a life time. I will always remember it. What's more, it happens that is was my commitment to kayaking that made it all happen. As the sages say, There are no mistakes in life...everything happens for a reason. Kharma, Fate, call it what you will, had obviously called me to the kayak so I could experience this rare moment.

You need to know that I have been married almost 30 years to a woman I introduce as my first wife (she introduces me as her last husband). Early in our marriage we decided to have 2 children, and I requested they both be girls. (I didn't want to have to go to little league. Besides, in resturants and the like, Linda would be stuck taking them to the bathroom. More over, men with daughters are supposed to live longer. But I digress). Consequently, I have 2 wonderful daughters.

Flash ahead to last week: I am teaching an introductory kayak class with a co-instructor. Early into the class I became aware of a wonderful sensation that I could not immediately identify, but it suddenly came to me...the rare moment, the once-in-30-years moment.

It was then that I realized that the class consisted of all women. In fact, the other instructor was female.

I remember that I was explaining something or other and stopped in mid sentence. And it came to me like a voice from deep inside:

"I have lived in the company of women for thirty years, and this is the first time I have had women listen to me."

You cannot imagine the joy I felt. And, at the same time, I was humbled. I was humbled that the Universe and The Powers That Be had blessed me with the moment. I could suddenly see the greater plan of the cosmos and how it had conspired to bring me to that wonderful time.

I shall rmember it for ever and relive it in my mind frequently. And, I will always be grateful to the Inuits who invented the kayak so that thousands of years later I would have this vehicle of enlightenment.

The dog? Oh, that's Ansel. He lives with us too. Aha, you say? Isn't he a male. Well, let's just say he is a soul mate. He lives with the same women I do. I guess he was once broken, but now he's fixed.

DS

'Tis the Season

Here, in the midwest, it is summer. We can tell this by the alignment of the planets or by the calendar or by the newspaper headline that says, summer begins....etc.. For some aorund here it is synonomous with kayak season, since they've had their boats in moth balls since the first frost of fall and haven't taken them out until now.

Needless to say, these folks are rusty and often find they have lost some of the confidence they had acquired during the previous year. For them, for people who want to perfect a skill, for those who like to meet other paddlers and get new ideas, for those who want to test other equipment, for those who hate their job and need to get away, for those with AB negative blood type...okay, for everyone, it is time for the symposiums! Or is it symposia? Not to worry.

Living in the Milwaukee area, we have access to several of them, all within a day's drive and/or a car ferry ride away. Inand Sea, Grand Marais, Door County and more. Rather than duplicate the work of the man and my mentor, I highly recommend you regularly visit wisconsinkayak.net and read Derrick's reports on these activities and scan his great photos. Even if you don't give a rat's patoot about kayaking, visit his site and see if you can be the first to spot a spelling error.

What will be there?

Well, kayaks. Lots of them, and lots of people of all skill levels. Vendors anxious to tell you about their products and to (often) let you test them out. Like to paddle every boat you see (with apologies to Alex)? You can do that at a symposium. And not just the vendors' boats. Folks tryout each other's boats to see if the grass really is greener...or rolls better.

Trips

There are usually a selection of guided trips, and you can find one designed for paddlers with your level of experience. Here's a way to stretch a bit and, in safe company, perhaps go out on the open water for the first time.

Door County Symposium 2005.

A group of beginner paddlers head for the Mink River Estuary to paddle in quite waters.

Instruction

Here's a shot from the QAJAQ USA symposium held 2005. This event, generally held in August, meets in northern Michigan on an inland lake just off Lake Michigan (got that?). It is a collection of us Innuit wannabees who gather to learn and practice traditional skills, like rolling and bracing and rolling and rope skills and rolling and strokes and rollings and lectures and rollling...you get the idea. And, oh yes, we roll a lot. I mean a lot. And, the food is superb.

The pic is of some incrdeibly handsome paddler trying to find the sweet spot for a static brace.


OK. So, today I rambled. But my point is valid. Akayak symposium cannot be beat for dollar value in learning and just having fun. Others must agree since the Door County Symposium has already filled and has a waiting list.

Paddle safe.

DS

Meet the Paddler

(yet another in a series)

Leslie Jahnke

This paddler happens to be a young lady of the female gland. She lives in glendale, Wisconsin and is active with the Milwaukee SeaKayak group. If you show up for one of our Sunday morning paddles and don't take time to talk with her, it will be your loss. For Leslie is one interesting dudette. Besides, she is amazingly generous, and you have a fair chance of walking away with a free boat.

In addition to being able to handle anyone of her kayaks (I forget how many she has on the wall of her little garage), she is up on weather and science in general. In fact, she works as an ultrasound tech at a local hospital, and her knowledge of medical info is amazingly deep. Heck, she will talk with you on almost any subject and let you know what you should think about it. But, please...at least if I am around at the time, do not get her started on any subject that would fall under the guise of politics...unless you have a lot of time and like to listen.

Leslie frequently hosts post paddle get togethers at her house, and the New Year's Day Post Paddle Party (NDPPP) is a Milwaukee group tradition. There, while enjoying the bounty of her kitchen, her bird will tag team with Leslie so someone or something is always giving you an ear full.




Now, lest you get the wrong impression from my teasing, I want you to know that this is a delightful and intelligent person. And, she is full of surprises. I direct you to the picture on your immediate right. Yes indeed, that is our Leslie bringing us ashore with Cajun music. She has traveled to some of those places where folks don't wear shoes and sit on the front porch with violins, picking instruments and accordians and make great sounds and, during the 3 years I have known her, Lesie has only gotten better and better.

So meet her and donate a few bucks to the HGLWPA Fund. For those of you not in the know, that's the Help Get Leslie A WaterProof Accordian Fund.

Then we can have Cajun music afloat.

DS

WEATHER or NOT

(just a bad spell of whether)

I have spent a lot of time over the last 40 years on Lake Michigan. I've been out in sail boats, power boats, trawlers and kayaks; and I always check the weather "prediction" before leaving land. All of this has resulted in one strong judgement, which is as follows:

There is no such thing as weather prediction.

This, in turn, has led to the therome that

If it is a good forecast, it will be so.

If it is a bad forecast, it will almost always be wrong.

Now why, do I say so? Am I trying to get people killed out there? After all, that lake can go from calm to ugly in a very short period of time. Well, I say this from all the data I have gathered in my faulty memory.

In the beginning...

I cancelled way too many outings because of a bad weather forecast which did not prove true. Since the summer and traditional water opportunities are few around here, this substantially cut into my time on the water. Time after time I sat ashore while the foul weather never happened.

Now...

I look at the forecast, and I look at the radar to see what is west, NW and SW of here and how fast it is moving. I look to see if there is a pressure front approaching. Then I go out and keep my eye on the western sky. As a result, my time on the water has increased enormously.

So, why are things the way they are? Well, I have a theory about that as well (surprised?).

If there is any chance in hell of bad weather and they don't predict it, people could get hurt or, at the very least, angry after being caught in unexpected weather.

If, on the other hand, the prediction is for bad weather and it does not occur, most people are delighted that the bad stuff didn't happen all over them.

See, it's like spinning in politics. Heck, I remember when a forecast was just that, a statement about how the weather would be. They (ever notice, it's always they?) finally realized that there was no way they could predict the weather and introduced the % sign. Now, they say there is a such and such % chance of rain, and they can never be wrong.

What to do:

Get a basic book on weather, or read some of the excellent chapters in kayak books that cover the subject. Then, since you are already responsible for your own safety, figure out what you need to do to be prudent and safe.

Trust me. Autopsy always shows I'm right.

DS

Returning

Take a trip, any trip. Make it long, make it short. Go to the same old place, see something new. Go alone, or go with a partner or a group. It doesn't matter. At the end, if all goes well, you will experience the simple joy of coming home. You will return.

Returning has always had historical and even mythological implications in our culture and lore. The heroe returns from his journey or quest. Macarthur said, "I shall return." Loved ones send us off with "Come back safe" or "Hurry home." We wait for the hunter to return to the village with evidence that we will survive a little longer.

No matter what wonders we see or how mundane an outing, it is not complete (to state the obvious) until it is over (or, the Fat Lady sings). No matter how strong the wander lust, there is something in our bones that eventually yearns to return to the start, to go home.

Even our Sunday morning paddles of only a few hours generally end with a gathering for coffee or breakfast where there is closure and a sense of having come through it all together. And when I paddle alone, there is something comforting about coming back and going ashore. Why might this be?

Kayaking, along with Judo, bicycling, rock climbing and a host of other "individual" sports are risk-taking activities. Unlike ping pong, tennis or bowling, one does not need (or even aspire) to win or beat an opponent to feel sucessful. In risk-taking sports it is the danger, itself, that is to be challenged and "beaten". Yet, we know that we can only win temporatily, because we may not be so lucky tomorrow or the next time we venture out. For the very next time we slide onto the water we will immediately place ourselves at risk...again...and the environment will get another crack at us.

Coming home or returning, then, is a small token of a small success. It is the signal for that good feeling to arise and tell us that, at least once more, we were ready, careful, smart or lucky enough to test ourselves against the risk and to have survived.

It doesn't matter how pretty it is, it only matters that we get back to the shore and come off the water at least one more time. As it was said in the Air Force, any landing from which you walk away is a good landing.

DS

A Pretty Darn Good Day

Today has been Memorial Day, a holiday set aside to remember those who perished in war. It was a good day, and I managed to put off the remembering until sunset.

John and I (photo) served, he in the navy and me in the air force.

We paddled on Lake Michigan this morning along with 9 others in the Milwaukee SeaKayak group. The water was 50 degrees F with the air about 70 to 85 F depending on the direction of the wind. At the end, we found some nice clapotis coming off the breakwater and drove through it.

Then there was the relaxed coffee at a local java shop, then home. In the evening, my family gathered, and it was good to be together. There was no talk of war or dead or remembering; and that is how I wanted it.

The house is quiet now, and the remembering is seeping in. I am remembering, once again, the young air men I scraped off the tarmac in Thailand and all the ones who flew off to never return. Some died, some were captured and some met fates unknown.

No one was there when we came home from that ill-run war. Many young people are unaware that such a war even ever occurred. But I remember.

I remember the stories that still tear my heart apart and still wonder what happened to those famalies suddenly deprived of their sons, brothers, fathers and husbands.

I will go to sleep soon, and I will not, hopefully, dream. Tomorrow, I intend not to remember again. I have let all the anger go. I cannot bring those brothers back. And, I know inside, I will remember many times between now and the next Memorial Day (should I survive to see it).

You see, there is a curious and special bond amongst those who have gone to a war, and it is the remembering that honors the dead and (in the case of that war) makes their sacrifice real. In the end, it is my sacred duty to remember.

DS

Not Today

Sunday morning. Perfectly clear skies. Light wind. Warm air. My compatriots are about to launch at South Shore for the weekly kayak paddle. So, why am I not there?

I ache today and have a sore throat. There is a program on cabel about the creation of the atomic bomb. It is Memorial Day weekend, and I am a combat vet (flight surgeon). There has to be about 50 wars going on around the world. I don't know what kind of world my daughters will live to see. I have lots of things on my mind.

So, I am giving myself a doctor's excuse along with permission to lay around and put out a very short blog. Sometimes kayaking isn't the most important thing in the world.

DS

I have seen the future,

and they can paddle

Quick note for today. Just back from Madison's Brat Day where Rutabaga had a bunch of boats for kids, 7-14, to paddle. Each child was fitted with a PFD, put in a boat, given 10-15 seconds of tips and pushed out into the water. Unfortunately, there was a breeze making things hard for the little tykes.

But you should have seen them! Cautious at first, most were soon stirring the soup with their paddles. Some quickly learned to turn their boat, many paddled backwards.

And the intensity. The concentration on their little faces was intense.

As I recall the poet saying, "I wish I could know once more the seriousness I knew as a child at play.

DS

From the Upper Left Hand Corner

During my many years as a jazz musician I often experienced the joy of playing with big bands. The driving sounds these ensembles created were dynamic and exciting. When we rehearsed, there was the need to go over parts of the arrangments, sometimes many times, over and over until 3 trumpets, 3 trombones and 5 saxes all hit their note within a milisecond of one another.

When the parts were working, the leader would take us through the entire arrangement from the beginning. He would simply say, "From the upper left hand corner." To me, this expression from my musical life has come to mean new beginnings, like a sun rise.

Throughout my life, I have always sought new beginnings, something new to learn. That's how I got my fingers caught in so many cookie jars. Kayaking is one of those jars, and I have found new beginings within the sport itself.

This all came to me yesterday as I struggled with the skin on frame boat I built over the winter. I can paddle it, lean it, brace it, scull it and roll it at will. But it doesn't feel right...yet.

Another beginning, for me, was Instructor Development Clinic (ICE) and the evaluation at the end of that summer. I was still learning, still doing new things, and I was enjoying the company of younger folks. (I used this image of Adam, who was in our class, because his name comes at the beginning).

It occurs to me, as I muse on my life-long habit of learning new things, that this is all part of what keeps me going and stimulates my mind and body. Moreover, I grow from the secondary lessons I get from each new area. When I meet and get to know the people that that discipline attracts , I come closer to understanding how others view the world and how often their views are so very different from mine.


Life has been good to me, I am blessed. I hope to keep learning, next with my Greenland style SOF. But, just between you and me, I most love that feeling that I get when I get it. That rush of nailing a new skill. And, at other times, it is the simply joy of new-found serenity.

DS

Discovery of new species on the Milwaukee Area

(A Scientific Paper)

(This paper, with a p vallue under .001, was turned down for publication by Nature and Scientific American. It is presented here to inform our readers and to stimulate in-depth discussion of life forms on our planet...ds)

The Glendale Sector of The Milwaukee River.

Many known life forms exist in this section of the great river. Its sustanance of life, both plant and animal, is well known and obvious to anyone who has taken the time to observe her. A good example are these turtles sunning 200 yards from Interstate 43.

Because of its value as a scientific,as well as a recreational site, stewards of these pristine waters have created scientific and carefully worded signage to help the public enjoy all the benefits of this body of water.

In the interest of sustaining this wonderful Eden for generations to come, our scientific team (under a grant from major chemical companies and SPRTD...the Society to Prevent River Transmitted Deseases) has begun a careful survey of the Glendal Section. What has been discovered is the subject of this scientific paper.

What has been learned thus far (and these are just preliminary findings) has been nothing short of amazing. We have (and this is the official announcement...watch the main stream press for more follow up) discovered an entirely new subspecious of life which we have tentaviely named

Plasticus Eternium

This serendipidous find was heralded by what, at first, was thought to be an isolated specimen pictured here.

One can see, from its clever green coloration, how this intelligent life form has evolved to remain undetected...an obvious and successful survival mechanism.

This particular form of Plasticus Erternium (PE) has been designated the filum Brevis Cervicus (literally, short necked).

Interestly, this filum has only been observed moving with the flow of the river and has never been seen going upstream. Other scientific collaborators of ours are already searching the headwaters to try and find young forms of this filum. To date, nothing is known of its feeding habits, however (see next picture) there may be some clues alluding to its mating behavior.

As one can see in the following rare image, several forms of pe have been observed in colonies. This particular photo is valuable for its recording of various colorations adapted by these creatures. It is not known if these are permanent colorations or just seasonal changes that serve to attract a potential mate. In addition, the photo contains other forms not yet classified or studied.

There will be further papers on these fascinating creatures and others still being studied. One example is the Hullus Inversus, a recently observed life form that is believed to be aqautic but has only been observed on shores near the river. It is unknown how it arrives there, its means of locomotion (pe seems to passively use currents) or what it uses for food sources.

Finally, to wet and titalate your scientific sense of awe, a picture of a species, as yet unstudied and clearly different from pe on a cellular basis. Among its differences is the ability of this new species to with stand high temperatures, thus allowing it to survive in hot water. This exciting find is so new that a latin designation is pending, however, our lab has asked the Federation of Aquatic Biologists (FAB) to assign it the name Styro-Magnus Orus. Until this becomes an official name, we will affectionately refer to it as (by translation of its proposed latin name) the Styro large mouth.

Continue to monitor this site for further discoveries.

DS et al

CME

For years and years I lived with part of my mind keeping track of my CME credits. These Continuing Medical Education credits had to be accumulated in order to renew my license to practice medicine. It was supposed to be a mechanism to at least attempt to keep doctors abreast of medical developements. The problem was that providing educational opportunities became a huge industry with classes offered in all the garden spots of the world. It was not unusual to see, for instance, a psychiatrist at an OB-GYN meeting because he wanted to go to where the meetings were being held and he needed the credits. But it wasn't always like that in medicine.

It used to be that the Doctors' lounge at any hospital was a magical, pain-free site of education. There, colleagues would gather to chat and share war stories; and, in the process, a lot of teaching went on. There were interesting cases shared and "curb side" consultations exchanged. It made us all better doctors. It drew us closer together as professional colleagues.

This all came back to me this morning when I met JB and Nydia (below) at our favorite java joint for some morning coffee.

As we sat and talked, things felt oddly familar. It was, I realized, like being back in the Doctors' Lounge again. I was with respected colleagues (Nydia took instructor training together, and John was one of our teachers), we were keeping up with things, and we were heavy into CKE...Continuing Kayak Education, talking about clinics and symposiums and what we needed to work on. And, as I thought about it, it was usually like that when kayakers got together, at least the serious ones.

I realized that we were always there to help one another, whether it be with a curb side consult or a helping hand onto an icy shore. I recalled times paddling or talking with Sherri, Bob, Gary and Joel and how often the social talk turned to technique or seminars or practice opportunities.

Although there is no formal CKE Credits obligation, we all still try to get to Carnigie Hall (practice, practice, practice), even seeking out pools in winter in which to work on skills (your's truly sculling my Romany).

Most of you know the old saying that says Good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgment.

The idea is, then, to have those experiences in an intelligent, safe way and to continue to strive to be better and safer at what we do.

Some folks will always be happy to paddle inland lakes and slow rivers and, when the conditions are just right, the bigger waters. That's fine. That's good judgment. Some of us, on the other hand, want to stretch, go out in the bigger stuff and even teach. To do so safely, we practice, get curb side consults and critque one another. We are the ones who show up anytime there is a learning oppportunity, and we are the ones who show up to give back when there is a need for volenteers.

It feels good to be a professional again.

DS

What would Life Be Without Images?

The senses, all of them, help make up the holographs we percieve as our world which the Zen tells us it is all an illusion. Yet our brain "know" otherwise. Our brain takes all those smells, sounds, touches, tastes and sights and synthesises a reality to which we can relate. Take any one of those elements away and the reality changes. I cannot imagine how "reality"" appears to one who is deaf or blind. This morning I had an uncomfortable hint.
When I sit down to dump a blog on this site I usually begin by rummaging through the hundreds of images I have captured and stored on the computer. Sometimes I am looking for one to help express an idea I already know I want to rant about. Often, however, I am looking for an image that will stimulate the thought for the day. Today was like that, I needed an image to jump start me. So what happens, the blog server refuses to upload the image. Suddenly, I am blind, and my reality is distorted. Suddenly, I am like an Italian trying to talk with my hands tied behind my back.
How do I get my pithy point across if I have no picture to enter into evidence? How much more will I have to write now that I don't have a picture that's worth a 1,000 words? I cannot transmit smells to you. Same with touch and taste, other than suggesting some analagies.
Hold on, I may have blindly stumbled onto something, I am selling memory short.

I all have a gazillion images stored in our brains. In fact, many of them are holographs complete with the memory of the feel, sound, etc. of the image. All that is necessary is that Itake the time to rummage through those files up in my cranial vault, and I can recapture that moment I completed my first roll, the day I graduated med school or any of an endless number of past events.

Hell, who needs pictures?