Footsteps of barefooted agility,
the sudden leap across a murky puddle,
the dew-glistened grass, reflecting an invitation to my dry, thirsty skin,
a graceful plummet to a kneel, skirt of pink fabric billowing in contrast upon the green of bristled weeds.
The angles of my feet and toes become wet with morning,
as dark willow ropes of sorrow sway in the breeze of sunlight
that shines in from the gray and soft of the sky
causing shadows of light to play with the dew;
they dance around and praise the morning air
below the nests of birds who hark the skies with songs of solitude.
Without man, would this grove be considered lovely?
My curls of blonde and gold, so like the rays that fall upon my crown,
my eyes of blue that search on quests for answers in this world of never-ending questions,
my small hands that extend to delicate fingers clutch a book,
full of thought, full of life,
a whole world of knowledge thrust into a tree's skin,
leaflets of poetry falling from the spine,
black scrawl adorning with abuse the paper,
each space filled with symbols,
arranged.
Not wanting to waste the woods,
the leaflets are pressed upon with ink until they bleed of insight.
The refreshing smell of earth, of dirt, of worms, of fossilizing bugs
trails for miles beneath my body
and I press down upon the center of our globe with toes, and feet.
Without man’s perception, would this be so lovely?
My space in atmosphere remains filled
regardless of my contribution,
good or ill,
and will until I become once again a part of earth,
and I am Nature.
We all do make an impact,
our feet and paws and roots pressing into the center,
keeping gravity, taking up a space,
a footprint on the ground of history.
But is my perception truly honest? History—mankind’s or earth’s?
Perception…
If I weren’t to see this morning
would it still be in the story of the world as glorious, refreshing?
Or is our perception fogged with our own destruction?
Would our refreshing be merely Earth’s routine
if we knew, respected our home?
This grove, beholding the morning haze of light and crisp air,
would be glorious, for life is flourishing, alive, singing, even without me here to observe and contribute.
---
I wrote this a few years ago and stumbled upon it within my documents recently.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Happy Holidays!
I just want to wish you all a Merry Solstice and hope the season brings you much Yuletide cheer! Happy Holidays!
Pinecrest, California in Winter 2008 (taken by me)
Pinecrest, California in Winter 2008 (taken by me)Friday, November 6, 2009
Nanowrimo
I'm participating in National Novel Writing Month for the third time. If you've never heard of Nanowrimo, or if you have and aren't sure if you should attempt it, my recommendation is that you definitely give it a try! It's a month of crazy, frantic, not very good writing, reaching for a goal of 50,000 words by November 30 at midnight. If you succeed, then congrats--you have yourself a novel (we're not making any promises about its quality, just its quantity!).
I've never made the 50,000 word mark, but I have since last year finished the novel I started in November and its at around 30,000. Even if parts of the novel end up being trashed come December, the mere fact that you've written that many words is an incredible feeling. And there's a good chance that something out of those 50,000 is put in the right order and turns out to be the gem you needed to convince you that you can write.
Just do it. Try it. Make the goal less if 50,000 scares you. I'm at 8065 this moment, but even if you're at zero, it's the weekend and that means the perfect time to start that novel you've always dreamed of writing! Don't have a clue of what to write? Begin by writing about your day and the day before that, and then see where it takes you.
Some quick tips and then I need to get back to my story:
- No editing. Whatsoever! That comes later, in December.
- Describe things in very lengthy detail. Describe a character's hair for three pages. It's the only way you'll get to 50,000 unless you don't do anything other than write.
- It will not be well-written. That goes for everyone. Even great writers will end up writing mostly trash. It's the fact that you get it down that matters. You can make it sound pretty later.
- Have somewhat of a plan if you really want to do it right. Know your ending, or the basic resolution. At least have some sense of what will happen, or else you'll burn out at 10,000 with no where to go. That happened to me my first year and it was pretty disappointing.
Well, I better go write some more.
At least check out the website: http://www.nanowrimo.org/
Thanks for reading! :-)
I've never made the 50,000 word mark, but I have since last year finished the novel I started in November and its at around 30,000. Even if parts of the novel end up being trashed come December, the mere fact that you've written that many words is an incredible feeling. And there's a good chance that something out of those 50,000 is put in the right order and turns out to be the gem you needed to convince you that you can write.
Just do it. Try it. Make the goal less if 50,000 scares you. I'm at 8065 this moment, but even if you're at zero, it's the weekend and that means the perfect time to start that novel you've always dreamed of writing! Don't have a clue of what to write? Begin by writing about your day and the day before that, and then see where it takes you.
Some quick tips and then I need to get back to my story:
- No editing. Whatsoever! That comes later, in December.
- Describe things in very lengthy detail. Describe a character's hair for three pages. It's the only way you'll get to 50,000 unless you don't do anything other than write.
- It will not be well-written. That goes for everyone. Even great writers will end up writing mostly trash. It's the fact that you get it down that matters. You can make it sound pretty later.
- Have somewhat of a plan if you really want to do it right. Know your ending, or the basic resolution. At least have some sense of what will happen, or else you'll burn out at 10,000 with no where to go. That happened to me my first year and it was pretty disappointing.
Well, I better go write some more.
At least check out the website: http://www.nanowrimo.org/
Thanks for reading! :-)
Monday, June 1, 2009
The Grueling Hike to Cooper Peak
This story was originally posted on JPGMag.com August 19, 2008.
---
On the morning of August 6, 2008, three hikers set out for the grueling hike to Cooper Peak in the Sierra Nevada mountain range of California. They parked their Bronco at the Coyote Meadow trailhead after driving over rocks and dust on an unpaved road. Water bottles, lunches, Clif bars, and cameras jostled for space in their backpacks as they set off at a brisk pace. The entrance to the trail is framed by a cut section of a felled tree and is bordered on both sides by a lush meadow teeming with yarrow, mules ear, and bumble bees.
The youngest hiker led the way, breathing harder as the trail began its ascent. The trail twisted through the shadows of pine trees and snaked its way through grassy fields. Finally, the male hiker stopped. "Anywhere along here will be good," he said. The two female hikers encouraged him to lead, so he turned from the path and began the climb, following nothing but the memory from his previous venture to the area.
I was the youngest hiker, one of the females. My mother was the other female hiker, and my uncle Tom was the male who took the lead up the hill. At that point, the real hiking began. Switch-backing the dirt mountainside and trying to breath despite the dying feeling in your lungs, that's when the fun begins. It's the kind of hiking that makes breathing through one of those thin bar straws used for stirring sound easy. My poor mom, she was sick a week ago and it didn't aid her in the lung and breathing department. She had to stop, so my uncle and I had to stop. We'd wait until air was reaching her blood cells again, and then we'd continue the trek up the mountain.
The first cliff we came to yielded a spectacular view. Quick camera and water break and then on we went, maneuvering our oxygen-deprived selves up, up, up. As we continued the climb, a faint trail became visible. This proves that my uncle isn't just leading us to our deaths at a dead-end hike! Hurray! We soon find ourselves in a batch of trees, our ankles near snapping point from traversing sideways across dirt. Then came the rock climbing. We began traveling vertically, using all fours. Poor mom. She's afraid of heights. The tumble down the steep hillside would probably not kill you, but the trees would not be the softest of blockades.
We finally made it to the level point along that near-invisible trail. Hiking along like that, your heart racing, your foot-eye coordination in charge, your breathing ragged and quick, you find yourself thinking of nothing but the climb. And the destination, one we were guaranteed would produce breath-taking views. Not even my latest obsession (and the obsession of thousands of other teenage girls) – Edward Cullen, vampires, the product of Stephenie Meyer's imagination – could interrupt my instinctual need to focus on the prize (and where my boot-encased feet trod).
I kept up fairly well with Tom. My mom, not so much. We had to wait for her when she was out of sight, behind the trees, beyond the lip of the hill. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the moments when I could pause, breathe, and realize that I was lightheaded and probably not in the best state to be hiking along a mountainside. But soon, even I found that Tom was just a speck in the distance, one that seemed so infinitely far away. How I ever managed to catch up and not just pass out on the cold, hard earth is beyond me.
My camera (a Canon SD750) soon found itself in my pocket, rather than in the confines of my orange Kelty backpack. There were just too many photo opportunities (when I wasn't struggling for breath and clear-headedness – did I mention that the climb ended at an altitude of 9,000 feet, quite enough to drain the blood circulation from your head even if you have been in the mountains for 24 hours). At one point, we were climbing a creek bed, one filled with loose rocks. I felt myself grimacing at the strain in my lungs as I followed the heels of my uncle up the mountain.
Finally we could see the last hill, a rock-strewn climb that pinched your breathing, perhaps because you knew the peak was just over that last rock. Tom, of course, reached the peak first. I took a final lunge over the top and grinned – holy mackerel, I made it. I photographed a panoramic view with multiple shots. Wow. The view was beyond worth the climb. We came upon the two geological survey markers that pointed to the official peak. They did the survey fifty-two years ago in 1956, the year my dad was born.
We couldn't escape the wind at the summit, so we settled on the rocky expanse and commenced lunch (after photographing the entire area and each other multiple times). I had a sandwich, some carrot sticks, and a whole lot of water. Tom had apple slices and nuts. Mom had crackers and salami and carrots. We were one happy bunch of altitude-crazed hikers. Soon, however, we could see clouds and rain approaching our relaxed little perch and the wind began howling at dangerous speeds. One does not want to be stuck on a mountain peak in a lightening storm, so we bolted. I stuffed a chocolate brownie Clif bar in my mouth as we scurried down the mountainside.
My uncle used to be a ski patrolman, and he taught me to ski when I was a kid. He and I shot down the mountain – he imitated skiing over moguls as he switch-backed along. I followed close behind, leaving distance and then charging, my coordination and control in full swing. My mom isn't much of a skier, and her retreat down the mountain mirrored this. "This is just like skiing – you hauling and me still crawling down the mountain," she shouted down to us. If she hadn't been sick the week before, I'm sure her hiking would have been quicker paced and the stopping-to-breathe thing would have been less frequent.
We finally made it back to Coyote Meadow trail head, Tom's backpack holding three new additions: beer cans we'd found littered along the way. These, and some scraggly barbed wire along the trail were our only reminders of the civilization that lay behind us (besides our cameras, backpacks, and cell phones, of course). So, we made it. We didn't die along the way (although my uncle had shown me the way to get back in case he died of a heart attack on the trail), and our lungs repaired seamlessly. We passed the Coyote Meadow trail head for a final time, grabbed some sodas from the ice chest, and drove back along the bumpy road, exhaustion overtaking us, and the images of our trail saved in the memory cards of both our cameras and our minds.
---
On the morning of August 6, 2008, three hikers set out for the grueling hike to Cooper Peak in the Sierra Nevada mountain range of California. They parked their Bronco at the Coyote Meadow trailhead after driving over rocks and dust on an unpaved road. Water bottles, lunches, Clif bars, and cameras jostled for space in their backpacks as they set off at a brisk pace. The entrance to the trail is framed by a cut section of a felled tree and is bordered on both sides by a lush meadow teeming with yarrow, mules ear, and bumble bees.
The youngest hiker led the way, breathing harder as the trail began its ascent. The trail twisted through the shadows of pine trees and snaked its way through grassy fields. Finally, the male hiker stopped. "Anywhere along here will be good," he said. The two female hikers encouraged him to lead, so he turned from the path and began the climb, following nothing but the memory from his previous venture to the area.I was the youngest hiker, one of the females. My mother was the other female hiker, and my uncle Tom was the male who took the lead up the hill. At that point, the real hiking began. Switch-backing the dirt mountainside and trying to breath despite the dying feeling in your lungs, that's when the fun begins. It's the kind of hiking that makes breathing through one of those thin bar straws used for stirring sound easy. My poor mom, she was sick a week ago and it didn't aid her in the lung and breathing department. She had to stop, so my uncle and I had to stop. We'd wait until air was reaching her blood cells again, and then we'd continue the trek up the mountain.The first cliff we came to yielded a spectacular view. Quick camera and water break and then on we went, maneuvering our oxygen-deprived selves up, up, up. As we continued the climb, a faint trail became visible. This proves that my uncle isn't just leading us to our deaths at a dead-end hike! Hurray! We soon find ourselves in a batch of trees, our ankles near snapping point from traversing sideways across dirt. Then came the rock climbing. We began traveling vertically, using all fours. Poor mom. She's afraid of heights. The tumble down the steep hillside would probably not kill you, but the trees would not be the softest of blockades.
We finally made it to the level point along that near-invisible trail. Hiking along like that, your heart racing, your foot-eye coordination in charge, your breathing ragged and quick, you find yourself thinking of nothing but the climb. And the destination, one we were guaranteed would produce breath-taking views. Not even my latest obsession (and the obsession of thousands of other teenage girls) – Edward Cullen, vampires, the product of Stephenie Meyer's imagination – could interrupt my instinctual need to focus on the prize (and where my boot-encased feet trod).
I kept up fairly well with Tom. My mom, not so much. We had to wait for her when she was out of sight, behind the trees, beyond the lip of the hill. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the moments when I could pause, breathe, and realize that I was lightheaded and probably not in the best state to be hiking along a mountainside. But soon, even I found that Tom was just a speck in the distance, one that seemed so infinitely far away. How I ever managed to catch up and not just pass out on the cold, hard earth is beyond me.
My camera (a Canon SD750) soon found itself in my pocket, rather than in the confines of my orange Kelty backpack. There were just too many photo opportunities (when I wasn't struggling for breath and clear-headedness – did I mention that the climb ended at an altitude of 9,000 feet, quite enough to drain the blood circulation from your head even if you have been in the mountains for 24 hours). At one point, we were climbing a creek bed, one filled with loose rocks. I felt myself grimacing at the strain in my lungs as I followed the heels of my uncle up the mountain.Finally we could see the last hill, a rock-strewn climb that pinched your breathing, perhaps because you knew the peak was just over that last rock. Tom, of course, reached the peak first. I took a final lunge over the top and grinned – holy mackerel, I made it. I photographed a panoramic view with multiple shots. Wow. The view was beyond worth the climb. We came upon the two geological survey markers that pointed to the official peak. They did the survey fifty-two years ago in 1956, the year my dad was born.We couldn't escape the wind at the summit, so we settled on the rocky expanse and commenced lunch (after photographing the entire area and each other multiple times). I had a sandwich, some carrot sticks, and a whole lot of water. Tom had apple slices and nuts. Mom had crackers and salami and carrots. We were one happy bunch of altitude-crazed hikers. Soon, however, we could see clouds and rain approaching our relaxed little perch and the wind began howling at dangerous speeds. One does not want to be stuck on a mountain peak in a lightening storm, so we bolted. I stuffed a chocolate brownie Clif bar in my mouth as we scurried down the mountainside.My uncle used to be a ski patrolman, and he taught me to ski when I was a kid. He and I shot down the mountain – he imitated skiing over moguls as he switch-backed along. I followed close behind, leaving distance and then charging, my coordination and control in full swing. My mom isn't much of a skier, and her retreat down the mountain mirrored this. "This is just like skiing – you hauling and me still crawling down the mountain," she shouted down to us. If she hadn't been sick the week before, I'm sure her hiking would have been quicker paced and the stopping-to-breathe thing would have been less frequent.
We finally made it back to Coyote Meadow trail head, Tom's backpack holding three new additions: beer cans we'd found littered along the way. These, and some scraggly barbed wire along the trail were our only reminders of the civilization that lay behind us (besides our cameras, backpacks, and cell phones, of course). So, we made it. We didn't die along the way (although my uncle had shown me the way to get back in case he died of a heart attack on the trail), and our lungs repaired seamlessly. We passed the Coyote Meadow trail head for a final time, grabbed some sodas from the ice chest, and drove back along the bumpy road, exhaustion overtaking us, and the images of our trail saved in the memory cards of both our cameras and our minds.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Excerpt from my recent novel
I participated in National Novel Writing Month (Nanowrimo) this past November. Here is an excerpt from the work that came from that month, as well as the months following (I didn't meet the 50,000 word quota during the month or even after my continued writing). The completed writing is a 43,570 word novel that needs a lot of editing. But at least the draft is finished.
Chapter 5
Hopes, California 1850
John Sinclair had an aching back, an unshaven face, and rough, dirty hands. All three aspects of his current life were new to him, having been raised in a clean cut, sanitary city on the east coast of the United States. But he couldn’t listen to the fatigue that was eating away at his thinning body from lack of nutritious foods. He had to find something more than those other men out there. Something that would make Kate happy. Because Kate was counting on him to deliver his end of the deal, or else she’d leave him for someone who actually knew what he was doing.
Panning for gold. John was still getting used to his own rashness. He had been raised to live for the concrete guarantee of business, the kind that you could watch grow as your customers arrived and your goods were sold. But this luck and chance game he was playing was exciting. He’d heard some of the guys in the camp calling this growing anticipation he could feel coursing through his American veins “gold fever.” And it truly was. He knew his chances were slim, and yet…the chances of every man who’d struck it rich had been the same! The possibilities of how much gold were endless. You just had to find the right place…
Every morning, John awoke in his cold, arid tent next to his newfound friend Walter and the two got up and cooked beans over the fire and ate with old silverware and got ready for the long day ahead of them. John had staked a claim along the river, right down the road from the town. Hopes was quite a bustling little place. Though it was far from Sonora, the closest supplier, there were a fair number of men (and not quite enough women) to keep the town running. The prices ran high and the fights were low, although those that broke out were loud and rowdy. Alcohol was prevalent among the miners, the heaviest drinker being Mr. Henry Boom, a boisterous man in his late thirties who never seemed to be entirely sober. The shacks and tents lining the main street were dilapidated, but John couldn’t imagine that the other gold towns were any better constructed. And to think, not two years before he had been living in Pennsylvania among real architecture, real homes, and real stores that sold the things a man needed to be prosperous. He had worked for his father, and their business had been books. Oh, how he missed his books. Though he’d managed to bring some along with him, he was usually quite exhausted by the time he was finished along the river, and the covers had gotten tattered from the numerous times the books had been pored over on the voyage over here.
John enjoyed his time in Hopes. Sure it was difficult work everyday and he was sure that rheumatism would catch up with him if he didn’t find a plot of land rather than a melted-snow river. But he had made friends, Walter and Kate. Walter Thompson was a married man. He’d left his wife back home and was chancing his luck at striking it rich to bring some fortune home. John didn’t think he would have been able to stand the separation. And Kate…well, John didn’t know if he’d still be in Hopes if it weren’t for Kate. She was the reason he continued to freeze his feet in the river, panning his days away looking for a mineral that had glittered for lucky men for centuries.
Walter Thompson awoke each morning with the glittering hope that today was the day he’d strike it rich in a vein of gold and be able to rush home to his wife. She was his only hope for happiness in the future. The gold was something he needed to find for her, he had to fulfill his “manifest destiny” before he settled down and raised a family. He saw other men with their wives here in Hopes, and he wondered if he’d made a mistake in leaving his wife at home. Surely it wasn’t smart to bring a woman into the dirty life of a miner. Those few women here were treated nicely enough in person, but didn’t they realize they were the only women these men had seen in months? Of course they were the talk of the taverns and in the dreams of all the miners. He was glad he hadn’t put dear Abigail in that situation. He’d hate for her to see men in this primitive state. He was glad for his friend John, although he wondered if Kate was really a trustworthy woman. Couldn’t she be setting him up for no good? Walter hoped he was wrong.
--
The novel is, as you can see, about the California gold rush of the 1850s. But it's also about a group of modern-day teenagers who go camping in the woods of the Sierra Nevadas. The teens encounter some strange people and realize that the legend of a lost gold rush town is true and that the ghosts that haunt it seek revenge for something that happened many years ago...
Chapter 5
Hopes, California 1850
John Sinclair had an aching back, an unshaven face, and rough, dirty hands. All three aspects of his current life were new to him, having been raised in a clean cut, sanitary city on the east coast of the United States. But he couldn’t listen to the fatigue that was eating away at his thinning body from lack of nutritious foods. He had to find something more than those other men out there. Something that would make Kate happy. Because Kate was counting on him to deliver his end of the deal, or else she’d leave him for someone who actually knew what he was doing.
Panning for gold. John was still getting used to his own rashness. He had been raised to live for the concrete guarantee of business, the kind that you could watch grow as your customers arrived and your goods were sold. But this luck and chance game he was playing was exciting. He’d heard some of the guys in the camp calling this growing anticipation he could feel coursing through his American veins “gold fever.” And it truly was. He knew his chances were slim, and yet…the chances of every man who’d struck it rich had been the same! The possibilities of how much gold were endless. You just had to find the right place…
Every morning, John awoke in his cold, arid tent next to his newfound friend Walter and the two got up and cooked beans over the fire and ate with old silverware and got ready for the long day ahead of them. John had staked a claim along the river, right down the road from the town. Hopes was quite a bustling little place. Though it was far from Sonora, the closest supplier, there were a fair number of men (and not quite enough women) to keep the town running. The prices ran high and the fights were low, although those that broke out were loud and rowdy. Alcohol was prevalent among the miners, the heaviest drinker being Mr. Henry Boom, a boisterous man in his late thirties who never seemed to be entirely sober. The shacks and tents lining the main street were dilapidated, but John couldn’t imagine that the other gold towns were any better constructed. And to think, not two years before he had been living in Pennsylvania among real architecture, real homes, and real stores that sold the things a man needed to be prosperous. He had worked for his father, and their business had been books. Oh, how he missed his books. Though he’d managed to bring some along with him, he was usually quite exhausted by the time he was finished along the river, and the covers had gotten tattered from the numerous times the books had been pored over on the voyage over here.
John enjoyed his time in Hopes. Sure it was difficult work everyday and he was sure that rheumatism would catch up with him if he didn’t find a plot of land rather than a melted-snow river. But he had made friends, Walter and Kate. Walter Thompson was a married man. He’d left his wife back home and was chancing his luck at striking it rich to bring some fortune home. John didn’t think he would have been able to stand the separation. And Kate…well, John didn’t know if he’d still be in Hopes if it weren’t for Kate. She was the reason he continued to freeze his feet in the river, panning his days away looking for a mineral that had glittered for lucky men for centuries.
Walter Thompson awoke each morning with the glittering hope that today was the day he’d strike it rich in a vein of gold and be able to rush home to his wife. She was his only hope for happiness in the future. The gold was something he needed to find for her, he had to fulfill his “manifest destiny” before he settled down and raised a family. He saw other men with their wives here in Hopes, and he wondered if he’d made a mistake in leaving his wife at home. Surely it wasn’t smart to bring a woman into the dirty life of a miner. Those few women here were treated nicely enough in person, but didn’t they realize they were the only women these men had seen in months? Of course they were the talk of the taverns and in the dreams of all the miners. He was glad he hadn’t put dear Abigail in that situation. He’d hate for her to see men in this primitive state. He was glad for his friend John, although he wondered if Kate was really a trustworthy woman. Couldn’t she be setting him up for no good? Walter hoped he was wrong.
--
The novel is, as you can see, about the California gold rush of the 1850s. But it's also about a group of modern-day teenagers who go camping in the woods of the Sierra Nevadas. The teens encounter some strange people and realize that the legend of a lost gold rush town is true and that the ghosts that haunt it seek revenge for something that happened many years ago...
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Cloning: A Gift from Nature or a Disastrous Solution?
The temptation to improve the race of man is a strong one. Genocides are attempts to eliminate a certain race to leave only the “pure” races left; you see it in World War II with Hitler and the Holocaust, in Rwanda in 1994, and today, in Darfur (where the Janjaweed are attempting to destroy all non-Arab populations in the region), in Burma, in the Congo. This temptation is likely to arise again if we are to clone humans. Though these genocides are racially-based, who’s to say this won’t happen when it’s a different kind of human versus the human we know today? If the possibility to chose the traits, and therefore genes, of a person is there, then why not make the person genetically perfect? Why not clone someone who is superbly fit, handsome, smart, and strong? This would inevitably lead to tensions between the cloned super-humans and the natural race of man. Genocide, war, and a monumental alteration of mankind would be on the horizon if cloning man became a reality.
Aside from the threat of creating the perfect human and, possibly creating a disastrous shift in the race of mankind, cloning is not in the best interest of the cloned individual. The person could be treated like a product, a recreation of the person it has been cloned from. If genes are changed and chosen to create a super-human with perfect genes, they become a craft of the person deciding these alterations. And if the clone is created solely for its organs to be used in the person it’s been cloned from, then that is a waste of a precious life; there are other ways for people to receive transplants without creating life and then killing it. The cloned animals that have been experimented with have often had health problems develop during the first few years of their life. According to the Human Genome Project Information website, the animals that have been cloned have often had “compromised immune function and higher rates of infection, [and] tumor growth.” They tend to be born normal, but then die within a few years, sometimes for no apparent reason. At this point, the side effects of cloning are not fully understood. Too many lives are already cut short by natural illnesses; why create a person who we know could die young?
An embryo is life. It is the first step in the process of man, just as aging from child to teen to man are also steps. The embryo is going to become life, unless something stops this natural process from occurring; therefore, killing it is murder. Life occurs at conception; the union is made of living cells. Life cannot come from non-life. Therefore, the living sperm and egg cells that unite to create an embryo are living. If they are living and they are from humans and going to become humans, they are human beings. Just because a day-old infant isn’t full-grown or doesn’t have its adult teeth or even baby teeth doesn’t mean it isn’t a human being. Just because someone’s brain isn’t fully developed or their arm never fully developed doesn’t mean they aren’t human beings. An embryo is a human being who hasn’t fully developed yet. To say it isn’t a human being is absurd. What would it be besides a human being?
With that said, therapeutic cloning poses a difficult question. Is killing the embryonic human to create a new kidney for someone who's dying wrong? Do we kill the human embryo to save the person with failing kidneys? Killing an embryo to use its cells is still killing a human being. And who's to say this cloned kidney won't fail within a few years along with the rest of the things that have been cloned?
There is something to be said for how things work in nature. The way processes occur and the way in which life is created happen in such a way because it is how nature intended it to be. Altering this can have enormous effects on the world. Even altering these processes in subtle ways can have disastrous results. If man begins cloning endangered species to make up for those who have died at the hand of man, we may start to think that we can continue to destroy ecosystems and habitats because we can always just clone the animals as they begin to die off. We can’t just treat the symptom and clone the endangered animals; we have to treat the problem and stop the reason that the animals are dying. It’s our fault that habitats are destroyed to fill the demand (that mankind seems to think is necessity) for larger homes, bigger buildings, and more, more, more. The destruction must stop; cloning is not the answer.
The dangers and problems with cloning are too great to be overlooked. Sure, cloning could save lives and having a dog that looks just like the one that just died would be great. But it’s a dangerous solution to problems that can be addressed in different ways, in ways that nature intended them to be solved. Some advocates for cloning say that “nature has given us this gift.” It’s just not true. Life gives us opportunities to do things and chances to create things, good and bad; it doesn’t always mean that we have been given a “gift.” Oftentimes, the crucial decisions that have moral and ethical implications are the ones that are better left to science fiction. The way life begins should not be toyed with. Cloning is wrong.
--
I was supposed to write one paragraph on whether I was pro or con cloning for my high school Biology class. I had to include whether or not I think an embryo is a human being. My teacher was a little surprised when she came by to stamp my essay-like "paragraph."
Aside from the threat of creating the perfect human and, possibly creating a disastrous shift in the race of mankind, cloning is not in the best interest of the cloned individual. The person could be treated like a product, a recreation of the person it has been cloned from. If genes are changed and chosen to create a super-human with perfect genes, they become a craft of the person deciding these alterations. And if the clone is created solely for its organs to be used in the person it’s been cloned from, then that is a waste of a precious life; there are other ways for people to receive transplants without creating life and then killing it. The cloned animals that have been experimented with have often had health problems develop during the first few years of their life. According to the Human Genome Project Information website, the animals that have been cloned have often had “compromised immune function and higher rates of infection, [and] tumor growth.” They tend to be born normal, but then die within a few years, sometimes for no apparent reason. At this point, the side effects of cloning are not fully understood. Too many lives are already cut short by natural illnesses; why create a person who we know could die young?
An embryo is life. It is the first step in the process of man, just as aging from child to teen to man are also steps. The embryo is going to become life, unless something stops this natural process from occurring; therefore, killing it is murder. Life occurs at conception; the union is made of living cells. Life cannot come from non-life. Therefore, the living sperm and egg cells that unite to create an embryo are living. If they are living and they are from humans and going to become humans, they are human beings. Just because a day-old infant isn’t full-grown or doesn’t have its adult teeth or even baby teeth doesn’t mean it isn’t a human being. Just because someone’s brain isn’t fully developed or their arm never fully developed doesn’t mean they aren’t human beings. An embryo is a human being who hasn’t fully developed yet. To say it isn’t a human being is absurd. What would it be besides a human being?
With that said, therapeutic cloning poses a difficult question. Is killing the embryonic human to create a new kidney for someone who's dying wrong? Do we kill the human embryo to save the person with failing kidneys? Killing an embryo to use its cells is still killing a human being. And who's to say this cloned kidney won't fail within a few years along with the rest of the things that have been cloned?
There is something to be said for how things work in nature. The way processes occur and the way in which life is created happen in such a way because it is how nature intended it to be. Altering this can have enormous effects on the world. Even altering these processes in subtle ways can have disastrous results. If man begins cloning endangered species to make up for those who have died at the hand of man, we may start to think that we can continue to destroy ecosystems and habitats because we can always just clone the animals as they begin to die off. We can’t just treat the symptom and clone the endangered animals; we have to treat the problem and stop the reason that the animals are dying. It’s our fault that habitats are destroyed to fill the demand (that mankind seems to think is necessity) for larger homes, bigger buildings, and more, more, more. The destruction must stop; cloning is not the answer.
The dangers and problems with cloning are too great to be overlooked. Sure, cloning could save lives and having a dog that looks just like the one that just died would be great. But it’s a dangerous solution to problems that can be addressed in different ways, in ways that nature intended them to be solved. Some advocates for cloning say that “nature has given us this gift.” It’s just not true. Life gives us opportunities to do things and chances to create things, good and bad; it doesn’t always mean that we have been given a “gift.” Oftentimes, the crucial decisions that have moral and ethical implications are the ones that are better left to science fiction. The way life begins should not be toyed with. Cloning is wrong.
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I was supposed to write one paragraph on whether I was pro or con cloning for my high school Biology class. I had to include whether or not I think an embryo is a human being. My teacher was a little surprised when she came by to stamp my essay-like "paragraph."
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Biotechnology and the Manipulation of DNA
This week in Biology, we've begun a unit on Biotechnology. This branch of biology uses technology to "enhance" life. They use fancy devices to better understand, read, and manipulate DNA. I most certainly do not like the concept of manipulating DNA and do not feel comfortable doing such. Next week, our class will be manipulating the DNA of bacteria and I'm a little concerned about what this may entail. I believe that nature should be left as it is. Humans play God a little too much already in Western society, and the fact that Biology students are going to be manipulating the structure of life, DNA, freaks me out. I'm tempted to raise the question in my class of whether or not manipulating DNA is morally just and ethically okay. I know we will be discussing and debating the ethics of cloning later on, but I feel that the manipulation of a living bacterium is controversial enough in itself.
At this point, I don't feel like I really grasp what manipulation includes. I read a section about it in my textbook last night, and it appears that there are these "restriction enzymes" in certain types of bacteria that break the DNA of viruses that infect it, to protect against disease. Scientists transfer these enzymes into other organisms to stop certain parts of DNA from working. I have yet to figure out what they are stopping from occurring. Messing with DNA is a huge deal, regardless of the size of the life we're dealing with. Bacteria is small, yes, but it is still life. Violating natural DNA processes of life in a high school Biology class seems enormously controversial to me, especially considering I'm taking the class and will be graded on my manipulation of DNA. I'm surprised my teacher hasn't yet brought up in detail the controversy that this sort of science entails.
I wonder if any of the other students in my class are questioning this topic, though I doubt it. It seems to me that many high school students, especially sophomores (which make up the majority of my Bio class, though I am a junior), have not yet begun evaluating their own set of beliefs, principles, and ideas. Sure, they know what their values are from the basics they have been taught growing up, but have they begun applying these concepts to their lives (aside from the decision not to steal or kill or do things they know are wrong)? Are they conscious of their own materialism, or that of others, and their own feelings about it? Do they truly question the ideas our society deems "normal" to compare and evaluate them to their own principles and morals? Though these topics are not the manipulation of DNA, they are things that should concern one's morals.
I hope that before I find myself in a situation where I have to transfer DNA of one organism to another, thus changing the way nature intended it to be, I will feel comfortable understanding what it means, how it affects the organism, and will know that the controversy of that action has been thoroughly discussed, questioned, and debated among the students performing the task.
At this point, I don't feel like I really grasp what manipulation includes. I read a section about it in my textbook last night, and it appears that there are these "restriction enzymes" in certain types of bacteria that break the DNA of viruses that infect it, to protect against disease. Scientists transfer these enzymes into other organisms to stop certain parts of DNA from working. I have yet to figure out what they are stopping from occurring. Messing with DNA is a huge deal, regardless of the size of the life we're dealing with. Bacteria is small, yes, but it is still life. Violating natural DNA processes of life in a high school Biology class seems enormously controversial to me, especially considering I'm taking the class and will be graded on my manipulation of DNA. I'm surprised my teacher hasn't yet brought up in detail the controversy that this sort of science entails.
I wonder if any of the other students in my class are questioning this topic, though I doubt it. It seems to me that many high school students, especially sophomores (which make up the majority of my Bio class, though I am a junior), have not yet begun evaluating their own set of beliefs, principles, and ideas. Sure, they know what their values are from the basics they have been taught growing up, but have they begun applying these concepts to their lives (aside from the decision not to steal or kill or do things they know are wrong)? Are they conscious of their own materialism, or that of others, and their own feelings about it? Do they truly question the ideas our society deems "normal" to compare and evaluate them to their own principles and morals? Though these topics are not the manipulation of DNA, they are things that should concern one's morals.
I hope that before I find myself in a situation where I have to transfer DNA of one organism to another, thus changing the way nature intended it to be, I will feel comfortable understanding what it means, how it affects the organism, and will know that the controversy of that action has been thoroughly discussed, questioned, and debated among the students performing the task.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Welcome Home, Mr. Sullenberger
The afternoon of January 15, my mom mentioned to me something about a plane landing in the Hudson. All 155 passengers had been saved, but the pilot's name hadn't been revealed. Though we knew that Katie and Kelly's dad was a pilot, we didn't call their house because we figured it couldn't be his plane.
My dad called me that evening, while my mom was on a walk, to ask if Lorrie Sullenberger's husband's name was Sully. It was. "That pilot who landed in the Hudson was Sully," my dad told me. He had been watching the news and thought he recognized the name. The pilot was Katie and Kelly's dad. We turned on the news and saw a face on the screen that we had seen in person and in pictures at the Sullenberger home in Danville, California. How strange to see someone you know on international news and on Yahoo.com when you open up your internet.
My mom became friends with Sully's wife Lorrie a few years ago through a hiking group in Danville. My sister and I got to know their daughters Katie and Kelly, and we've been swimming at their house a few times. Their family raises guide dog puppies, and their family pet, Twinkle, has been mother to some of the guide dogs they've raised. One such puppy is a yellow laborador named Misty (right), who looks just like her mother. Misty went through guide dog training, but there was always a spunkiness to her that just couldn't be tamed. When the time came for the final test to become a guide dog, Misty missed the mark. Her spunkiness cost her the chance to become a guide dog. Like other dogs who don't pass the test for whatever reason, she was then available as a regular pet dog. There is a waiting list for dogs who didn't pass the guide dog test, and who wouldn't want a dog that had been fully trained to obey every command? Since the Sullenbergers had raised Misty, they could choose a family to give her to.
I'd always wanted a dog, but my sister had never been quite as excited about them. When we got the call one evening from Kelly asking if we'd like to have Misty, I was beyond excited. We thought about the responsibility it takes to have a dog. We knew dog hair would become a part of our lives, but we never could have imagined how much there would be and how, no matter how hard we tried, we just would not be able to get it off of the couches and the floor. We said yes, and soon figured out just how wonderful, fun, and hectic taking care of a dog can be. But at least we didn't have to worry about training her, and we had the Sullenbergers to thank for that.
Once my mom found out that Sully was indeed the heroic pilot who saved the lives of those on his plane, my mom called Lorrie. Someone else answered the phone and said that Lorrie wasn't available to talk. We suddenly realized what it meant that Sully had saved those lives with such a margin for error and tragedy; their lives had instantly been changed. Media and news vans swarmed their Danville home and there would be no peace on their home phone lines for quite a while.
It was strange to see Lorrie's face on television, and to hear about Mr. Sullenberger on the news each night. I can't even imagine how it must feel for their family. In one moment, their lives became the focus of the evening news, and Sully's face, and the story of his heroic landing, were spread across the internet, the television, and the newspapers. And not only nationally, but internationally, as well.
We heard about the welcome home celebration planned for Mr. Sullenberger's return to Danville and planned on attending and saying hi to our friends. My mom got an e-mail that we were on the VIP list of family and friends and were invited to a private reception after the event. So, on Saturday, January 24, my mom, sister, and I got ready with our Peet's coffee and our bagels, and drove into Danville, a fifteen minute drive from our home. Parking wasn't as bad as we'd expected, but there were definitely crowds of people milling into the park where a stage had been set up and a banner strung across the top, reading "Danville welcomes our hometown hero, Chesley B. 'Sully' Sullenberger III." News vans lined the street and American flags flew from their posts in the ground. The park was not yet filled, but people had congregated near the fenced off section in front of the stage.
My mom noticed chairs right in front of the stage and wondered if they were reserved for VIPs, or for the dignitaries like Congressman McNerney and the mayors who were attending. We walked around, closer to the front, and noticed an entire section of chairs filled with people. We made our way through the ever-increasing crowd to where the media were seated, cameras filming and shooting the crowd and stage. We made our way to a fence, where a man was checking names to permit people access to the VIP seating.
"Last name?"
"Ott," my mom said. He scanned the list.
"You must be Guest Ott," the man said to my younger sister. "What's your name?"
"Kelsey," she replied.
"With a K or with a C?"
"With a K."
"Okay, you can go in. But your mom has to stay," he joked. We went into the seating area and got our programs. We sat about fourth row back, right beside the cameras and reporters waiting to capture on film and photographs the first public appearance of Mr. Sullenberger. I snapped photos like mad, my new camera loading up its memory card with hundreds of pictures.
The San Ramon Valley High School marching band performed, making their way around the
crowd. The United States Army Reserve Band played after them. They were conducted by 1st Sgt. Keith Barlow. Danville Mayor Newell Arnerich, Congressman Jerry McNerney (who was donning a brown fedora), and other dignitaries walked onstage and took their seats. A bagpiper, Nick Theriault, made his way to the front of the stage. Then, the media turned their cameras toward the library doors, which had opened to let Sully through. He and Lorrie, flanked by police officers, walked onstage, the crowd cheering and the cameras snapping wildly. From my place behind a standing crowd, I snapped shots of the couple waving and smiling to their hometown community who were applauding and welcoming Sully home.
The Danville mayor welcomed the crowd and spoke briefly about Sully and what happened January 15. He remarked that when Flight 1549's engines failed, Sully "came through when it counted." As the mayor put it, Sully had only 121 seconds to determine what his plan of action would be to safely land the plane. I noticed Congressman McNerney put a cough drop in his mouth while the mayor was talking. The Mayor then wished Katie Sullenberger a happy 16th birthday, and told the crowd that Sully had indeed been home to see his family on her birthday. They had sneaked him home for the evening without any of the media catching hold of the secret. My mom had told me that secret earlier that morning, but I'd promised not to tell because, up until the mayor said anything, no one knew but the family and friends. The mayor then wished Sully a happy birthday, for his had been the day before.
Following the mayor's welcoming remarks, the United States Air Force Color Guard from Travis Air Force Base presented the flags. Seventeen-year-old Grace Leer sang the National Anthem, sending chills with her remarkable talent. Then, as a surprise, a U.S. Air Force plane flew over the crowd and then circled the park a few times.
Congressman McNerney's cough drop must have been in preparation for his remarks about Sully following the Air Force flyover. He said that, thanks to Sully, 155 people were safely home with their families. McNerney presented Sully with an honorary framed, folded American flag (left) that had been flown over the White House.
Danville Police Chief Chris Wenzel then spoke. He presented Sully with an "honorary town of Danville police officer badge #1 for bravery, commitment, and leadership." He is the first and only person to receive this badge. Below is a picture of Sully with the Danville Police force at the reception following the public ceremony. Wenzel also gave Sully a photograph of the Danville Police force, engraved with Sully's name and "Service Before Self," along with the date that Sully safely landed the plane.
San Ramon Valley Fire Chief Richard Price then presented Sully with a "medal of honor and...valor," for performing "one of the most skilled personal feats" in history.
The Mayor gave Sully a key to the city, noting that he was only the second person in Danville's 150 years to receive the honor. He explained that Danville is not a city, but a town, with a "big heart and a small town atmosphere."
Lorrie Sullenberger then stood up and thanked the public for their love, support, and cards, apologizing for the tears that came to her eyes. She spoke about how much she and her family loves Danville and the safety they felt returning home that week from the inauguration. To her, she said, Sully is the man who makes tea for her every morning. She said she knew what the outcome of that day would be because she knew her husband. And finally, the moment the press and the nation had been waiting for: she introduced her husband Sully.
Chanting of his name, cheers, a standing crowd, and applause welcomed him to the podium as he hugged his wife and proceeded to speak publicly for the first time. As a man of few words, he spoke for only 27 seconds before thanking the crowd and returning to his seat. But what he said showed the public that what people had said about him was true; he humbly told the crowd of thousands, and the many viewers at home, that it was "circumstance" that led his crew to be on that plane on that particular day. "I know I speak for the entire crew when I tell you we were simply doing the jobs we were trained to do," he said. "Thank you."
The Mayor made his final comments, and then the couple stood downstage and waved to the supportive crowd.
They left the stage, arm in arm, and walked to the private reception building. The VIPs waited on the instructions of a volunteer and a police officer to wait until the reception was ready for them to arrive. Someone near me pointed out to a friend that the rose bushes had been cut down to the bare remains to avoid any snags or cuts of those walking through the area. A cameraman attempted to sneak past the designated media section, and a volunteer barked at him to get behind the post.
Eventually, the policeman gave the okay, and the VIPs were released. We formed a line outside the building where the reception was held. Our names were checked at the door. Inside the lobby, the awards and things that Mr. Sullenberger had received were displayed on a counter. The main room had tables with fruit, cheese, crackers, bread, and desserts. The table along one wall had two silver coffee dispensers with glass containers of milk and paper insulating cups, complete with both white and brown sugar cubes. Iced tea and fruit punch in large clear containers were surrounded by plastic cups, and water bottled lined the space behind the tea decanter. We stood in line beside this table, waiting to say hello to Mr. Sullenberger and take a picture with him. We saw Kelly and Katie and my mom gave Lorrie a hug. Our turn to came to say hello to the "Hero on the Hudson," and I handed my Canon Rebel XS camera to the designated cameraman. Mr. Sullenberger said hello to my mom and gave her a hug, and shook hands with my sister and me. We took a photo with him, and then walked over to the display of dessert.
The chocolate dessert I selected had a little flake of gold on top. It was a little difficult to eat the small cake, because it was an awkward shape and had frosting on top. It was delicious, though! We saw Katie Sullenberger and spoke with her for a while. She told us how neat it was to meet the President and the First Lady after the inauguration and talked a little bit about how she's been doing with all the media attention on her family and her dad. Their family had gotten to speak with President Obama and his wife for ten minutes before the first Inaugural Ball. Katie said that the Obamas were so normal, and that talking to them felt like talking to a regular person. I can't even imagine! We talked about how our dog Misty's been doing. She was glad to hear she's doing well.
People continued to stream in and take pictures with Mr. Sullenberger. I observed from a chair along a wall, snapping pictures. The coffee was good. My sister had a large strawberry and some punch. The Danville Police force came in and took a picture with Mr. Sullenberger, and I took a picture of my sister with Kelly.
We said goodbye to the Sullenbergers and made our way to the lobby. We looked at the things Mr. Sullenberger had received. The key to the city was in a box that had his name and the date engraved onto a small plaque. On the key is the town's symbol, a tree with
"Danville" underneath it. We left the lobby and the historic day around three o'clock, and walked back toward the main street, Hartz Drive. Upon passing the other side of the building where the reception was being held, a crowd was standing near the window through which Sully could be seen getting his picture taken. They were taking pictures through the window, and I realized then just how fortunate I was to know the Sullenberger family and be able to be a part of the history being written that day.
My dad called me that evening, while my mom was on a walk, to ask if Lorrie Sullenberger's husband's name was Sully. It was. "That pilot who landed in the Hudson was Sully," my dad told me. He had been watching the news and thought he recognized the name. The pilot was Katie and Kelly's dad. We turned on the news and saw a face on the screen that we had seen in person and in pictures at the Sullenberger home in Danville, California. How strange to see someone you know on international news and on Yahoo.com when you open up your internet.
My mom became friends with Sully's wife Lorrie a few years ago through a hiking group in Danville. My sister and I got to know their daughters Katie and Kelly, and we've been swimming at their house a few times. Their family raises guide dog puppies, and their family pet, Twinkle, has been mother to some of the guide dogs they've raised. One such puppy is a yellow laborador named Misty (right), who looks just like her mother. Misty went through guide dog training, but there was always a spunkiness to her that just couldn't be tamed. When the time came for the final test to become a guide dog, Misty missed the mark. Her spunkiness cost her the chance to become a guide dog. Like other dogs who don't pass the test for whatever reason, she was then available as a regular pet dog. There is a waiting list for dogs who didn't pass the guide dog test, and who wouldn't want a dog that had been fully trained to obey every command? Since the Sullenbergers had raised Misty, they could choose a family to give her to.
I'd always wanted a dog, but my sister had never been quite as excited about them. When we got the call one evening from Kelly asking if we'd like to have Misty, I was beyond excited. We thought about the responsibility it takes to have a dog. We knew dog hair would become a part of our lives, but we never could have imagined how much there would be and how, no matter how hard we tried, we just would not be able to get it off of the couches and the floor. We said yes, and soon figured out just how wonderful, fun, and hectic taking care of a dog can be. But at least we didn't have to worry about training her, and we had the Sullenbergers to thank for that.Once my mom found out that Sully was indeed the heroic pilot who saved the lives of those on his plane, my mom called Lorrie. Someone else answered the phone and said that Lorrie wasn't available to talk. We suddenly realized what it meant that Sully had saved those lives with such a margin for error and tragedy; their lives had instantly been changed. Media and news vans swarmed their Danville home and there would be no peace on their home phone lines for quite a while.
It was strange to see Lorrie's face on television, and to hear about Mr. Sullenberger on the news each night. I can't even imagine how it must feel for their family. In one moment, their lives became the focus of the evening news, and Sully's face, and the story of his heroic landing, were spread across the internet, the television, and the newspapers. And not only nationally, but internationally, as well.
We heard about the welcome home celebration planned for Mr. Sullenberger's return to Danville and planned on attending and saying hi to our friends. My mom got an e-mail that we were on the VIP list of family and friends and were invited to a private reception after the event. So, on Saturday, January 24, my mom, sister, and I got ready with our Peet's coffee and our bagels, and drove into Danville, a fifteen minute drive from our home. Parking wasn't as bad as we'd expected, but there were definitely crowds of people milling into the park where a stage had been set up and a banner strung across the top, reading "Danville welcomes our hometown hero, Chesley B. 'Sully' Sullenberger III." News vans lined the street and American flags flew from their posts in the ground. The park was not yet filled, but people had congregated near the fenced off section in front of the stage.
My mom noticed chairs right in front of the stage and wondered if they were reserved for VIPs, or for the dignitaries like Congressman McNerney and the mayors who were attending. We walked around, closer to the front, and noticed an entire section of chairs filled with people. We made our way through the ever-increasing crowd to where the media were seated, cameras filming and shooting the crowd and stage. We made our way to a fence, where a man was checking names to permit people access to the VIP seating.
"Last name?"
"Ott," my mom said. He scanned the list.
"You must be Guest Ott," the man said to my younger sister. "What's your name?"
"Kelsey," she replied.
"With a K or with a C?"
"With a K."
"Okay, you can go in. But your mom has to stay," he joked. We went into the seating area and got our programs. We sat about fourth row back, right beside the cameras and reporters waiting to capture on film and photographs the first public appearance of Mr. Sullenberger. I snapped photos like mad, my new camera loading up its memory card with hundreds of pictures.
The San Ramon Valley High School marching band performed, making their way around the crowd. The United States Army Reserve Band played after them. They were conducted by 1st Sgt. Keith Barlow. Danville Mayor Newell Arnerich, Congressman Jerry McNerney (who was donning a brown fedora), and other dignitaries walked onstage and took their seats. A bagpiper, Nick Theriault, made his way to the front of the stage. Then, the media turned their cameras toward the library doors, which had opened to let Sully through. He and Lorrie, flanked by police officers, walked onstage, the crowd cheering and the cameras snapping wildly. From my place behind a standing crowd, I snapped shots of the couple waving and smiling to their hometown community who were applauding and welcoming Sully home.The Danville mayor welcomed the crowd and spoke briefly about Sully and what happened January 15. He remarked that when Flight 1549's engines failed, Sully "came through when it counted." As the mayor put it, Sully had only 121 seconds to determine what his plan of action would be to safely land the plane. I noticed Congressman McNerney put a cough drop in his mouth while the mayor was talking. The Mayor then wished Katie Sullenberger a happy 16th birthday, and told the crowd that Sully had indeed been home to see his family on her birthday. They had sneaked him home for the evening without any of the media catching hold of the secret. My mom had told me that secret earlier that morning, but I'd promised not to tell because, up until the mayor said anything, no one knew but the family and friends. The mayor then wished Sully a happy birthday, for his had been the day before.
Following the mayor's welcoming remarks, the United States Air Force Color Guard from Travis Air Force Base presented the flags. Seventeen-year-old Grace Leer sang the National Anthem, sending chills with her remarkable talent. Then, as a surprise, a U.S. Air Force plane flew over the crowd and then circled the park a few times.Congressman McNerney's cough drop must have been in preparation for his remarks about Sully following the Air Force flyover. He said that, thanks to Sully, 155 people were safely home with their families. McNerney presented Sully with an honorary framed, folded American flag (left) that had been flown over the White House.Danville Police Chief Chris Wenzel then spoke. He presented Sully with an "honorary town of Danville police officer badge #1 for bravery, commitment, and leadership." He is the first and only person to receive this badge. Below is a picture of Sully with the Danville Police force at the reception following the public ceremony. Wenzel also gave Sully a photograph of the Danville Police force, engraved with Sully's name and "Service Before Self," along with the date that Sully safely landed the plane.
San Ramon Valley Fire Chief Richard Price then presented Sully with a "medal of honor and...valor," for performing "one of the most skilled personal feats" in history.
The Mayor gave Sully a key to the city, noting that he was only the second person in Danville's 150 years to receive the honor. He explained that Danville is not a city, but a town, with a "big heart and a small town atmosphere."Lorrie Sullenberger then stood up and thanked the public for their love, support, and cards, apologizing for the tears that came to her eyes. She spoke about how much she and her family loves Danville and the safety they felt returning home that week from the inauguration. To her, she said, Sully is the man who makes tea for her every morning. She said she knew what the outcome of that day would be because she knew her husband. And finally, the moment the press and the nation had been waiting for: she introduced her husband Sully.Chanting of his name, cheers, a standing crowd, and applause welcomed him to the podium as he hugged his wife and proceeded to speak publicly for the first time. As a man of few words, he spoke for only 27 seconds before thanking the crowd and returning to his seat. But what he said showed the public that what people had said about him was true; he humbly told the crowd of thousands, and the many viewers at home, that it was "circumstance" that led his crew to be on that plane on that particular day. "I know I speak for the entire crew when I tell you we were simply doing the jobs we were trained to do," he said. "Thank you."
The Mayor made his final comments, and then the couple stood downstage and waved to the supportive crowd.They left the stage, arm in arm, and walked to the private reception building. The VIPs waited on the instructions of a volunteer and a police officer to wait until the reception was ready for them to arrive. Someone near me pointed out to a friend that the rose bushes had been cut down to the bare remains to avoid any snags or cuts of those walking through the area. A cameraman attempted to sneak past the designated media section, and a volunteer barked at him to get behind the post.
Eventually, the policeman gave the okay, and the VIPs were released. We formed a line outside the building where the reception was held. Our names were checked at the door. Inside the lobby, the awards and things that Mr. Sullenberger had received were displayed on a counter. The main room had tables with fruit, cheese, crackers, bread, and desserts. The table along one wall had two silver coffee dispensers with glass containers of milk and paper insulating cups, complete with both white and brown sugar cubes. Iced tea and fruit punch in large clear containers were surrounded by plastic cups, and water bottled lined the space behind the tea decanter. We stood in line beside this table, waiting to say hello to Mr. Sullenberger and take a picture with him. We saw Kelly and Katie and my mom gave Lorrie a hug. Our turn to came to say hello to the "Hero on the Hudson," and I handed my Canon Rebel XS camera to the designated cameraman. Mr. Sullenberger said hello to my mom and gave her a hug, and shook hands with my sister and me. We took a photo with him, and then walked over to the display of dessert.
The chocolate dessert I selected had a little flake of gold on top. It was a little difficult to eat the small cake, because it was an awkward shape and had frosting on top. It was delicious, though! We saw Katie Sullenberger and spoke with her for a while. She told us how neat it was to meet the President and the First Lady after the inauguration and talked a little bit about how she's been doing with all the media attention on her family and her dad. Their family had gotten to speak with President Obama and his wife for ten minutes before the first Inaugural Ball. Katie said that the Obamas were so normal, and that talking to them felt like talking to a regular person. I can't even imagine! We talked about how our dog Misty's been doing. She was glad to hear she's doing well.
People continued to stream in and take pictures with Mr. Sullenberger. I observed from a chair along a wall, snapping pictures. The coffee was good. My sister had a large strawberry and some punch. The Danville Police force came in and took a picture with Mr. Sullenberger, and I took a picture of my sister with Kelly.We said goodbye to the Sullenbergers and made our way to the lobby. We looked at the things Mr. Sullenberger had received. The key to the city was in a box that had his name and the date engraved onto a small plaque. On the key is the town's symbol, a tree with "Danville" underneath it. We left the lobby and the historic day around three o'clock, and walked back toward the main street, Hartz Drive. Upon passing the other side of the building where the reception was being held, a crowd was standing near the window through which Sully could be seen getting his picture taken. They were taking pictures through the window, and I realized then just how fortunate I was to know the Sullenberger family and be able to be a part of the history being written that day.Thursday, January 22, 2009
S.O.S.
I cringe at the thought of sitting down to take that dreaded final for AP English Language tomorrow. I've heard horror stories about it: people not finishing, 20 short answers, I heard a rumor that someone's brain exploded, but it might just be a rumor! I'm scared. And I don't know what to study. I feel like I know the material, but you never know with that class. I'm the worst studier--I never study! I usually do good on tests, but with this one...I'm not so sure I'll do okay.
As I procrastinate from studying (for I really am not sure how one "studies"), I dream of a more straight-forward class where you know what you're being tested on. In real life, I'm pretty sure you get to use a reference guide when writing important things for work or when you're writing a novel. Oh well...I have a low A in the class as of now, and I believe the worst that could happen is that I end up with a B in the class. But I haven't figured out all the mathy stuff to see what grade I need to get so and so grade, etc.
Wish me luck. Tell me to break my leg. Send me good thoughts.
HELP!
As I procrastinate from studying (for I really am not sure how one "studies"), I dream of a more straight-forward class where you know what you're being tested on. In real life, I'm pretty sure you get to use a reference guide when writing important things for work or when you're writing a novel. Oh well...I have a low A in the class as of now, and I believe the worst that could happen is that I end up with a B in the class. But I haven't figured out all the mathy stuff to see what grade I need to get so and so grade, etc.
Wish me luck. Tell me to break my leg. Send me good thoughts.
HELP!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
One Negative and 6 Positives
Why do receptionists at doctor's office waiting rooms think it is okay to take personal calls while there are people in the room? I had to listen to this woman talk about how a relative of hers stayed with her and how she had a terrible cough (she gave a demonstration of this cough to the person on the phone, so I got to hear it, too) and how her son got sick and on and on and on...
She's obviously not being given enough work if she has so much free time to talk. I had to wait in that waiting room for about an hour, and most of it she was on the phone, complaining, while I attempted to read. These people who just complain all day need to do something with themselves: read a book, surf the internet, further your self, educate yourself, do something worthwhile and get off the dang phone!
Now that I'm done complaining, I'll talk about some positive things about today.
1. Finals week has begun! Biology and drama were my finals for today. Bio wasn't too bad, considering it was open binder/notes, so all I had to do was find the worksheet/lab/note paper that the information was on and copy it. Multiple choice section was pretty easy, and I didn't really have time to search through everything. I finished quick, too.
Drama was fun - open scenes that we wrote in pairs and then performed. Mine was about a theater costume thief mistaken for an actor backstage during a show. I was the thief. I wore a green mustache made of felt. People laughed!
2. I actually spent some time being social today. My two close friends Alexys and Christina walked to Starbucks with me. We chatted and gossiped (a rare thing for me to do!) and drank coffee. Saturday, we decided, we're going to have a movie night at Alexys's. Movies on the agenda include Into the Wild, Pretty Woman, and Stand By Me. They've never seen Into the Wild, and I've never seen the other two movies.
3. I finished The Call of the Wild and "To Build a Fire" by Mr. Jack London! "Fire" freaked me out and made me cold.
4. Tomorrow's finals include Pre-Calculus and U.S. History. Won't be too bad, I think. Pre-Calc I get a full sheet of paper, front and back, of notes! History is an easy class, despite my teacher being arrogant, unenthusiastic, and non-caring about current events. He literally did not even mention the inauguration of Barack Obama yesterday. I was infuriated. He also doesn't seem to know very much about history, and he doesn't make his own PowerPoints (which is the thing we only thing we ever do in that class - note-taking). I'm a little suspicious as to how much effort he even puts into teaching...
5. I subscribe to many environmental activism websites that send e-newsletters with ways to "take action," and send e-mails to Congress, the President, the Senators, etc. Tonight, I took action on SierraClub.org - I get their Sierra Club Currents e-letter. Today people were "urg[ing] Obama to continue his support for roadless areas by protecting our national forests, including the roadless areas of Alaska's Tongass National Forest." Sierra Club is a great organization, and their newsletters are informational and full of ways to take action through email. They also have a fabulous "Green Life" daily green tips, full of feasible ways to be "greener." Their "Daily Ray of Hope" quote email is inspiring and beautiful - each day you receive an email with a gorgeous photograph and a quote relating to nature, the environment, change, and many other themes relating to the earth. I definitely recommend subscribing to all three, espcially the "Daily Ray of Hope."
6. I recently created a new blog from the same BlogSpot account. It is a green tips blog designed especially for teens and children. Check it our at http://greenbeangal.blogspot.com/. Greengal.blogspot.com was taken, and I do like green beans...
--
Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends - hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism - these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths.
She's obviously not being given enough work if she has so much free time to talk. I had to wait in that waiting room for about an hour, and most of it she was on the phone, complaining, while I attempted to read. These people who just complain all day need to do something with themselves: read a book, surf the internet, further your self, educate yourself, do something worthwhile and get off the dang phone!
Now that I'm done complaining, I'll talk about some positive things about today.
1. Finals week has begun! Biology and drama were my finals for today. Bio wasn't too bad, considering it was open binder/notes, so all I had to do was find the worksheet/lab/note paper that the information was on and copy it. Multiple choice section was pretty easy, and I didn't really have time to search through everything. I finished quick, too.
Drama was fun - open scenes that we wrote in pairs and then performed. Mine was about a theater costume thief mistaken for an actor backstage during a show. I was the thief. I wore a green mustache made of felt. People laughed!
2. I actually spent some time being social today. My two close friends Alexys and Christina walked to Starbucks with me. We chatted and gossiped (a rare thing for me to do!) and drank coffee. Saturday, we decided, we're going to have a movie night at Alexys's. Movies on the agenda include Into the Wild, Pretty Woman, and Stand By Me. They've never seen Into the Wild, and I've never seen the other two movies.
3. I finished The Call of the Wild and "To Build a Fire" by Mr. Jack London! "Fire" freaked me out and made me cold.
4. Tomorrow's finals include Pre-Calculus and U.S. History. Won't be too bad, I think. Pre-Calc I get a full sheet of paper, front and back, of notes! History is an easy class, despite my teacher being arrogant, unenthusiastic, and non-caring about current events. He literally did not even mention the inauguration of Barack Obama yesterday. I was infuriated. He also doesn't seem to know very much about history, and he doesn't make his own PowerPoints (which is the thing we only thing we ever do in that class - note-taking). I'm a little suspicious as to how much effort he even puts into teaching...
5. I subscribe to many environmental activism websites that send e-newsletters with ways to "take action," and send e-mails to Congress, the President, the Senators, etc. Tonight, I took action on SierraClub.org - I get their Sierra Club Currents e-letter. Today people were "urg[ing] Obama to continue his support for roadless areas by protecting our national forests, including the roadless areas of Alaska's Tongass National Forest." Sierra Club is a great organization, and their newsletters are informational and full of ways to take action through email. They also have a fabulous "Green Life" daily green tips, full of feasible ways to be "greener." Their "Daily Ray of Hope" quote email is inspiring and beautiful - each day you receive an email with a gorgeous photograph and a quote relating to nature, the environment, change, and many other themes relating to the earth. I definitely recommend subscribing to all three, espcially the "Daily Ray of Hope."
6. I recently created a new blog from the same BlogSpot account. It is a green tips blog designed especially for teens and children. Check it our at http://greenbeangal.blogspot.com/. Greengal.blogspot.com was taken, and I do like green beans...
--
Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends - hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism - these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths.
-- President Obama
(I would change "tolerance" to "acceptance.")
Monday, January 19, 2009
California Academy of Sciences
This sunny Monday, my family spent some quality time at the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco. We woke up early and set off to Starbucks at 7:30, and then hit the highway. My step-mom's parents were with us, so the car was almost full. My sister and I sat in the back-back, attempting to play chess without losing any pieces (our board is magnetic, but still).
We arrived in SF and I pulled my camera out. I'm co-president of the Photography Club at my school, and our current biweekly theme is "Homeless." We're planning an art show for the public this spring and the general theme will be "Poverty in America." The "Homeless" theme is broad and can be literal or metaphoric. I realized that SF was probably the best place to capture some homeless shots, so I popped off the lens cap of my new EOS Canon Rebel XS and scanned the street. We were exiting the freeway at Octavia St. and heading toward the left-only curve that takes you to Haight Street. My sister pointed out a homeless person to photograph, but he was right by my window, and I didn't want to make him angry by snapping a picture right in his face. So I didn't. I forgot to look the rest of the drive, and never got a picture of any real homelessness for the theme.
On we drove down Fulton St. to the parking garage. I saw the sign for Arguello Blvd. and flashed on the last time I'd been in that intersection. My cousin Jack, who lives in the Presidio, had taken me on a bike ride one Sunday evening, promising that he'd show me some crazies in the park. He and I took off down Arguello, freaking out pedestrians and crossing at red lights. My cousin is a maniac with a fixed-gear bike. No brakes for him. He'd leave me at red lights, expecting me to risk my life as well by darting in front of oncoming traffic. Like I said, maniac. Anyway, some days, they block off parts of the Golden Gate Park parkways so cyclists and pedestrians can take advantage of the free trails. He and I caught the tail end of this block-off time and were surprised to encounter a car heading for us. We swerved out of the way and continued down the road. At the time, I was using my old, heavy bike with baskets for carrying school bags and books. It weighs a ton and, compared to my cousin's lightweight specialty bike, I was lagging (not to mention that he plays sports and is in far better shape than me). Regardless, we made it to the crazies: people (probably high) on roller skates riding around on a cement square on the outskirt of Golden Gate Park. A boom box blared hip-hop music and these people were just dance/skating all over the place, oblivious. Jack and I just laughed and laughed and rode through them. Jack almost hit this woman who rode out in front of him. It was quite a sight...
So today, we pulled into the parking garage, expecting to see my step-mom's brother and his family. They weren't there. We piled out of the car and ascended the steps to the front of the Academy. The line was steadily growing to get in, and it was only 9:00. Half-an-hour of waiting in the cold seemed unfortunate, until the line began growing and stretching down the ramp. At least we aren't those people, we all thought. My sister and I crossed the street to the Stern Grove and I snapped a few shots of her sitting on a ledge with a statue in the background (above). An engraving in memory of Phoebe Apperson Hearst was etched into a wall between two flights of stairs; I photographed my sister in front of it for no reason other than to take a picture.
The cousins arrived, so my sister and I returned to the line. We hardly ever see them, so it was nice to hang out with three-year-old Alyssa and seven-year-old Justin (below: my step-mom, Pam, Alyssa, and me). Finally, the line began moving as they let people in. A man offered to take our picture against a
green screen, but we declined. My dad quipped that they'd probably put a picture of a gorilla behind us. We entered the state-of-the-art building, complete with a living grass roof and neat glass-paneled walls. They didn't let us free just yet. We had to stand around in the entrance, looking at the California Academy of Sciences Pocket Guide that had just been handed to us by one of the lovely ticket-takers. Finally, at what I presume was 9:30, they released the barrier-lines and we rushed upon the exhibits like freed sheep. Justin wanted to see the "Bugs! 3D" show, which you had to get tickets for due to limited seating. We all rushed up the stairs to the Forum and got in line. My sister Kelsey and I aren't huge bug fans, so we opted not to attend. My step-mom's family got tickets for the bug show and my dad, step-mom, and sister made our way to the Planetarium to get tickets for the "Fragile Planet" show. The line was enormously long, but we stood there and looked at the coral reef they're growing. How cool - to reproduce a coral reef inside a building! If you looked down into the water, you could see a guy with his daughter down under the water in some room with a window. Fascinating!
After getting the tickets, we explored the African Hall and looked at dead, stuffed animals in their little glassed-in displays. I took pictures. At the end of the hall were African penguins! They were adorable. I didn't quite understand exactly where African penguins lived; I always thought penguins lived in cold places like the Arctic... According to Wikipedia, the African penguins are "found on the south-western coast of Africa, living in colonies on 24 islands between Namibia and Algoa Bay, near Port Elizabeth, South Africa, with the largest colony on Dyer Island, near Kleinbaai." How very interesting!
We looked at evolution exhibits about the Galapagos Islands with the remaining time before the show. I learned that the Galapagos Islands were formed through underwater volcanoes. All the diverse wildlife living there had to get to the islands either by swimming, floating, flying, hitching onto a log, by wind, or through some means of getting across the ocean. Because of this, the few surviving plants and animals who made it had to the islands had to adapt to the new conditions. I found that fascinating.
We decided to get into line early for the show. The planetarium is a large globe-shaped theater with rails and walkways encircling it. We stood in line along the outside of the building. We made our way into the entryway, where an enormous screen was showing us live-feed from NASA of outer-space, planets, galaxies, and astronomy-related images. It was pretty neat, especially knowing it was live.
We then shuffled into the theater, which in itself was fascinating. It was dome shaped, so the screen was all around you. After waiting for people to take their seats, a woman began speaking about the theater and the show we were about to watch. She started with questions about light-years and stars. She explained light-years to us and gave us examples to help us better understand. Then, the show began.
The experience was phenomenal and unlike anything I've ever experienced before. You went to outer-space, looked close up at Venus, Mars, Saturn, Jupiter, the moon, and galaxies many, many light-years away. I highly recommend going to the planetarium if you visit the Academy. After that, we found ourselves on the upper level, right near the Naturalist Exhibit. I've considered being a naturalist before, so I rushed in. My sister, of course, didn't want to go in there because the show had given her a headache. I scanned the shelves of books on biology, evolution, environmental science, botany, and anthropology, and then was forced to go by my 13-year-old sister.
We arrived in SF and I pulled my camera out. I'm co-president of the Photography Club at my school, and our current biweekly theme is "Homeless." We're planning an art show for the public this spring and the general theme will be "Poverty in America." The "Homeless" theme is broad and can be literal or metaphoric. I realized that SF was probably the best place to capture some homeless shots, so I popped off the lens cap of my new EOS Canon Rebel XS and scanned the street. We were exiting the freeway at Octavia St. and heading toward the left-only curve that takes you to Haight Street. My sister pointed out a homeless person to photograph, but he was right by my window, and I didn't want to make him angry by snapping a picture right in his face. So I didn't. I forgot to look the rest of the drive, and never got a picture of any real homelessness for the theme.
On we drove down Fulton St. to the parking garage. I saw the sign for Arguello Blvd. and flashed on the last time I'd been in that intersection. My cousin Jack, who lives in the Presidio, had taken me on a bike ride one Sunday evening, promising that he'd show me some crazies in the park. He and I took off down Arguello, freaking out pedestrians and crossing at red lights. My cousin is a maniac with a fixed-gear bike. No brakes for him. He'd leave me at red lights, expecting me to risk my life as well by darting in front of oncoming traffic. Like I said, maniac. Anyway, some days, they block off parts of the Golden Gate Park parkways so cyclists and pedestrians can take advantage of the free trails. He and I caught the tail end of this block-off time and were surprised to encounter a car heading for us. We swerved out of the way and continued down the road. At the time, I was using my old, heavy bike with baskets for carrying school bags and books. It weighs a ton and, compared to my cousin's lightweight specialty bike, I was lagging (not to mention that he plays sports and is in far better shape than me). Regardless, we made it to the crazies: people (probably high) on roller skates riding around on a cement square on the outskirt of Golden Gate Park. A boom box blared hip-hop music and these people were just dance/skating all over the place, oblivious. Jack and I just laughed and laughed and rode through them. Jack almost hit this woman who rode out in front of him. It was quite a sight...
So today, we pulled into the parking garage, expecting to see my step-mom's brother and his family. They weren't there. We piled out of the car and ascended the steps to the front of the Academy. The line was steadily growing to get in, and it was only 9:00. Half-an-hour of waiting in the cold seemed unfortunate, until the line began growing and stretching down the ramp. At least we aren't those people, we all thought. My sister and I crossed the street to the Stern Grove and I snapped a few shots of her sitting on a ledge with a statue in the background (above). An engraving in memory of Phoebe Apperson Hearst was etched into a wall between two flights of stairs; I photographed my sister in front of it for no reason other than to take a picture.The cousins arrived, so my sister and I returned to the line. We hardly ever see them, so it was nice to hang out with three-year-old Alyssa and seven-year-old Justin (below: my step-mom, Pam, Alyssa, and me). Finally, the line began moving as they let people in. A man offered to take our picture against a
green screen, but we declined. My dad quipped that they'd probably put a picture of a gorilla behind us. We entered the state-of-the-art building, complete with a living grass roof and neat glass-paneled walls. They didn't let us free just yet. We had to stand around in the entrance, looking at the California Academy of Sciences Pocket Guide that had just been handed to us by one of the lovely ticket-takers. Finally, at what I presume was 9:30, they released the barrier-lines and we rushed upon the exhibits like freed sheep. Justin wanted to see the "Bugs! 3D" show, which you had to get tickets for due to limited seating. We all rushed up the stairs to the Forum and got in line. My sister Kelsey and I aren't huge bug fans, so we opted not to attend. My step-mom's family got tickets for the bug show and my dad, step-mom, and sister made our way to the Planetarium to get tickets for the "Fragile Planet" show. The line was enormously long, but we stood there and looked at the coral reef they're growing. How cool - to reproduce a coral reef inside a building! If you looked down into the water, you could see a guy with his daughter down under the water in some room with a window. Fascinating!After getting the tickets, we explored the African Hall and looked at dead, stuffed animals in their little glassed-in displays. I took pictures. At the end of the hall were African penguins! They were adorable. I didn't quite understand exactly where African penguins lived; I always thought penguins lived in cold places like the Arctic... According to Wikipedia, the African penguins are "found on the south-western coast of Africa, living in colonies on 24 islands between Namibia and Algoa Bay, near Port Elizabeth, South Africa, with the largest colony on Dyer Island, near Kleinbaai." How very interesting!We looked at evolution exhibits about the Galapagos Islands with the remaining time before the show. I learned that the Galapagos Islands were formed through underwater volcanoes. All the diverse wildlife living there had to get to the islands either by swimming, floating, flying, hitching onto a log, by wind, or through some means of getting across the ocean. Because of this, the few surviving plants and animals who made it had to the islands had to adapt to the new conditions. I found that fascinating.
We decided to get into line early for the show. The planetarium is a large globe-shaped theater with rails and walkways encircling it. We stood in line along the outside of the building. We made our way into the entryway, where an enormous screen was showing us live-feed from NASA of outer-space, planets, galaxies, and astronomy-related images. It was pretty neat, especially knowing it was live.
We then shuffled into the theater, which in itself was fascinating. It was dome shaped, so the screen was all around you. After waiting for people to take their seats, a woman began speaking about the theater and the show we were about to watch. She started with questions about light-years and stars. She explained light-years to us and gave us examples to help us better understand. Then, the show began.
The experience was phenomenal and unlike anything I've ever experienced before. You went to outer-space, looked close up at Venus, Mars, Saturn, Jupiter, the moon, and galaxies many, many light-years away. I highly recommend going to the planetarium if you visit the Academy. After that, we found ourselves on the upper level, right near the Naturalist Exhibit. I've considered being a naturalist before, so I rushed in. My sister, of course, didn't want to go in there because the show had given her a headache. I scanned the shelves of books on biology, evolution, environmental science, botany, and anthropology, and then was forced to go by my 13-year-old sister.
We ventured onto the grass roof, which they call the Live Roof. It looked like the set of Teletubbies, only it was environmentally friendly and there were no full grown men in strange alien suits with televisions on their stomachs and symbol-like antennas.
(See what I mean? Live Roof photo credit: Paul Sakuma)
All of the plants growing on the roof are native to California, and the purpose of the green roof is to keep the building cool. It saves energy in that the Academy won't have to spend as much energy cooling their building. The flowers attract other life, like birds, butterflies, and bees. Though it looks strange from a distance, it is very innovative and beautiful to look at from the roof views.
We left the roof, and waited to meet up with the family for lunch. My dad and sister played chess at a bench (right), and I returned to the Naturalist Exhibit. I scanned the titles, observed the skulls and dead bugs and "green" magazines, and then returned to my dad and sister.
We met up with everyone and decided that the cafe had more options than the snack bar, so we grabbed trays and entered the confusing, overwhelming cafe. I was a little worried about what I would get; there were just too many options! I settled for lamb meatballs and jasmine rice. I picked an organic sparkling apple cider from the refrigerated case and met my dad in the check-out line. We snagged a table outside, but there wasn't enough room for everyone. My immediate family sat together, and the others sat together at another table. The lamb meatballs were okay, but there was a strange taste in it that I couldn't identify. My step-mom had gotten sushi-type rolls, so I tried one. Better than my lamb meatballs. My sis wanted a cookie, so I went back into the cafe to get one. We ended up getting a chocolate chip cookie, a brownie, and a half-caf. coffee for me.
The Climate Change exhibit was probably my favorite. It's my thing, environmental activism. There was this board with nails for hanging these papers, and on them you were supposed to write down your solutions to climate change. I didn't write one, but I read some. "Obama," "Go nuclear!", "educate yourself and others and then live what you learn." Not so sure about the nuclear one, but I definitely agree with education and living "green." I could go on for hours about that subject. There was this cool battery-powered Optibike that they were exhibiting. I ended up explaining the Bicycle Pedestrian Advisory Committee I'm on to my step-grandma. We're making a master plan for bike/ped. on-street trails in our city. We've hired a consulting firm, and they're working on the plan right now.
They've posted a working draft, and plan on showing the city council a completed draft in September of this year. The Academy also had a poll going on nuclear power. They had reasons for and against it, and slots for coins and dollars under "No" and "Yes." They encouraged you to vote with your money. I haven't researched it enough to have an opinion either way, but I'm leaning to no at this point (There are too many risks involved with nuclear power. Wind turbines & solar power plants take less time to build and therfore enact. Nuclear waste is an issue which the United States currently "box[es]...up and store[es]...beneath the state of Nevada"). The exhibit also had cartoons about climate change (above), as well as many images and access to computers with websites about climate change.
To the Osher Rain Forest! The line was long to get in because they only let fifteen or so people in at a time. My aunt Michele stood in line for us, so we walked right over and went into the humid bubble shortly. There were all kinds of animals behind glass, and numerous butterflies and birds swooping around near the canopy. Fish of many different shapes and kinds, including piranhas, were swimming in a large pool of water. There are many levels to the rainforest, and each level at the Academy is devoted to a different rainforest region, each housing many different kinds of animals. Borneo housed bats, Madagascar had chameleons, Costa Rica was at the canopy 
level with butterflies practically landing on people, and the flooded Amazon was underneath the water pool. It turned into the Aquarium, where you could observe all kinds of marine life. At the Tide Pool, children were sticking their hands in the water to pet the rough surfaces of the star fish. (My sister and I wanted to name one Patrick.) One humongous fish caught my attention. He was a giant bass, and the plaque said those things can live to be 100 years old! This guy looked mean, ugly, and downright bored. His eyes were huge, and a miniature version of him lay at the floor of the tank, watching the crowd. I felt sorry for him, stuck in a tank too small for him with tourists staring at him day after day. The sign also said that capturing large bass is banned, due to the length of time it takes for one to reach maturity and have offspring. When they are captured too young, the population dwindles.
On we went through the Aquarium, which seemed never-ending. Jellyfish, crabs, fish with sand-colored backs to blend in, sand dollars. One window showed items found in a tiger shark's stomach: a liscense plate, whole sea turtles, Barbie dolls, nails, a can of Spam, and a shoe.
(My sister, Kelsey, in the Aquarium. The people above were in the upper level of the rain forest.)
The Swamp was next. We missed the albino alligator, unfortunately, but we did see the regular alligator and his tank of fish. Then, up the stairs, and to the gift shop. The kid store had venus fly traps for sale. Get rid of those fly-swatters and buy yourself a fly-eating plant!
The Academy Store had some neat stuff! T-shirts, sweaters, books on how to be green, jewelry, Planet Earth on DVD, solar powered backpacks, expensive chocolate, stuffed animals, and baskets made from tree stumps and roots. There was a plethora of neat stuff. I didn't buy any of it, but my sister bought a squirrel monkey stuffed animals (and named it Ester!).
We said good-bye to Pam's brother's family and then headed out ourselves, back into the real world where not everyone recycles and the roofs aren't made of grass and there aren't rain forest domes in the middle of the street. How I wish the world was just like the Academy.
If more people visit it, perhaps they'll begin to care more about this world we live on. Take a look at their website at http://www.calacademy.org/. Check out the adorable penguin cam!
Melissa
---
The Earth does not belong to us; we belong to the Earth.
-- Chief Seattle
(See what I mean? Live Roof photo credit: Paul Sakuma)
All of the plants growing on the roof are native to California, and the purpose of the green roof is to keep the building cool. It saves energy in that the Academy won't have to spend as much energy cooling their building. The flowers attract other life, like birds, butterflies, and bees. Though it looks strange from a distance, it is very innovative and beautiful to look at from the roof views.
We left the roof, and waited to meet up with the family for lunch. My dad and sister played chess at a bench (right), and I returned to the Naturalist Exhibit. I scanned the titles, observed the skulls and dead bugs and "green" magazines, and then returned to my dad and sister.We met up with everyone and decided that the cafe had more options than the snack bar, so we grabbed trays and entered the confusing, overwhelming cafe. I was a little worried about what I would get; there were just too many options! I settled for lamb meatballs and jasmine rice. I picked an organic sparkling apple cider from the refrigerated case and met my dad in the check-out line. We snagged a table outside, but there wasn't enough room for everyone. My immediate family sat together, and the others sat together at another table. The lamb meatballs were okay, but there was a strange taste in it that I couldn't identify. My step-mom had gotten sushi-type rolls, so I tried one. Better than my lamb meatballs. My sis wanted a cookie, so I went back into the cafe to get one. We ended up getting a chocolate chip cookie, a brownie, and a half-caf. coffee for me.
The Climate Change exhibit was probably my favorite. It's my thing, environmental activism. There was this board with nails for hanging these papers, and on them you were supposed to write down your solutions to climate change. I didn't write one, but I read some. "Obama," "Go nuclear!", "educate yourself and others and then live what you learn." Not so sure about the nuclear one, but I definitely agree with education and living "green." I could go on for hours about that subject. There was this cool battery-powered Optibike that they were exhibiting. I ended up explaining the Bicycle Pedestrian Advisory Committee I'm on to my step-grandma. We're making a master plan for bike/ped. on-street trails in our city. We've hired a consulting firm, and they're working on the plan right now.
They've posted a working draft, and plan on showing the city council a completed draft in September of this year. The Academy also had a poll going on nuclear power. They had reasons for and against it, and slots for coins and dollars under "No" and "Yes." They encouraged you to vote with your money. I haven't researched it enough to have an opinion either way, but I'm leaning to no at this point (There are too many risks involved with nuclear power. Wind turbines & solar power plants take less time to build and therfore enact. Nuclear waste is an issue which the United States currently "box[es]...up and store[es]...beneath the state of Nevada"). The exhibit also had cartoons about climate change (above), as well as many images and access to computers with websites about climate change.To the Osher Rain Forest! The line was long to get in because they only let fifteen or so people in at a time. My aunt Michele stood in line for us, so we walked right over and went into the humid bubble shortly. There were all kinds of animals behind glass, and numerous butterflies and birds swooping around near the canopy. Fish of many different shapes and kinds, including piranhas, were swimming in a large pool of water. There are many levels to the rainforest, and each level at the Academy is devoted to a different rainforest region, each housing many different kinds of animals. Borneo housed bats, Madagascar had chameleons, Costa Rica was at the canopy level with butterflies practically landing on people, and the flooded Amazon was underneath the water pool. It turned into the Aquarium, where you could observe all kinds of marine life. At the Tide Pool, children were sticking their hands in the water to pet the rough surfaces of the star fish. (My sister and I wanted to name one Patrick.) One humongous fish caught my attention. He was a giant bass, and the plaque said those things can live to be 100 years old! This guy looked mean, ugly, and downright bored. His eyes were huge, and a miniature version of him lay at the floor of the tank, watching the crowd. I felt sorry for him, stuck in a tank too small for him with tourists staring at him day after day. The sign also said that capturing large bass is banned, due to the length of time it takes for one to reach maturity and have offspring. When they are captured too young, the population dwindles.On we went through the Aquarium, which seemed never-ending. Jellyfish, crabs, fish with sand-colored backs to blend in, sand dollars. One window showed items found in a tiger shark's stomach: a liscense plate, whole sea turtles, Barbie dolls, nails, a can of Spam, and a shoe.
(My sister, Kelsey, in the Aquarium. The people above were in the upper level of the rain forest.)The Academy Store had some neat stuff! T-shirts, sweaters, books on how to be green, jewelry, Planet Earth on DVD, solar powered backpacks, expensive chocolate, stuffed animals, and baskets made from tree stumps and roots. There was a plethora of neat stuff. I didn't buy any of it, but my sister bought a squirrel monkey stuffed animals (and named it Ester!).
We said good-bye to Pam's brother's family and then headed out ourselves, back into the real world where not everyone recycles and the roofs aren't made of grass and there aren't rain forest domes in the middle of the street. How I wish the world was just like the Academy.
If more people visit it, perhaps they'll begin to care more about this world we live on. Take a look at their website at http://www.calacademy.org/. Check out the adorable penguin cam!
Melissa
---
The Earth does not belong to us; we belong to the Earth.
-- Chief Seattle
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Introduction, my Day, and some Commentary
Introduction (intro-into, duct-lead, tion-act or state; why, yes, I do take AP English Lang.)
I've been debating whether or not to write a blog of my comments, thoughts, and rants. I try to spend little time on the computer, opting to read and write the "old-fashion" way. However, I've realized that my journal cannot comment on my opinions and that blogging has become an inevitable place for me to talk and, hopefully, hear some response. Even if no one reads this except for my future self reflecting on my naivety, it is a nice way to put my thoughts in order and, perhaps, figure some stuff out through the creative flow of writing.
Here goes nothing.
Starbucks (a mythical creature)
This morning, my step-mom (Pam), younger sister (Kelsey), and I (Melissa) walked through the park and across the road to our local Noah's New York Bagels. We snagged a seat in the next-door Starbucks, and I was left standing in line at Noah's. I'm in there every day, so the bored faces behind the counter were nothing ordinary. I ordered my bagels toasted with nothing on them and got out of there quick. Our family never eats in Noah's. It just doesn't happen. So I met my family in Starbucks. My dad had been on a massive bike ride with his friends and had just arrived to meet us.
I got into line and beckoned Pam to stand with me (and bring the money). Tod, Morgan, and other familiar faces stood behind the counter, penning symbols and Starbucksy words on paper and plastic cups of three to four various sizes. I had been wanting to try one of Starbucks's fancy new tea lattes, so I had in hand a card for a complimentary one, size tall. My purple travel mug is size grande, so I couldn't save this earth this morning and use it (no 10¢ discount for me!). Morgan with the curly hair and glasses who always greets his customers with a cheery welcome took my drink order, and that of my step-mom. "Double-tall decaf hazelnut soy latte," Pam ordered. "Tall iced green tea latte with soy," I said. I sat down at the table in "Norm's Corner" with my dad and Kelsey.
Norm had been a Starbucks regular, always sitting at the corner table with his buds talking politics. I'd spoken with him a few Wednesday mornings about books and he seemed like a kind fellow. One day I noticed a guest book sitting on a promotional table near the line. An obituary and a sign with Norm's name and picture accompanied it. He had died in a car accident on his way home from Tahoe. It was very shocking and sad. I wrote a little note in the guest book about how I'd talked to him a few times. The sign went up soon after that by his usual table.
So, today at Norm's old table, my sister and dad were playing an intensely-heated game of chess. My dad has been teaching my sister and me how to play chess. We aren't chess masters yet, but just you wait. So they played chess and I ate my everything bagel and Pam came back to the table and I read some more of War and Peace (which every person should attempt to read at some point in their life) and then finally, my drink arrived on the bar, iced and green. I was a little hestitant, because there were these floating green specks that didn't look quite so appetizing. I thrust a straw into the hole in the top of the plastic lid (I rarely use straws because of the HUGE waste of plastic, but today I figured my family might be tasting this new concoction and wanted to be courteous to their needs), and took a sip. It was okay, but what was that terrible after taste? I had stuck my straw into the bottom, where a layer of tea leaves sat. It tasted like seaweed. My face puckered up with disgust and told my family that it was gross. Starbucks, this is for you, so listen up: take the bitter-tasting tea leaves out of your would-be-great green tea lattes! I avoided the tea leaves, sipping from the center of my cup. But some of those pesky little green specks kept being suctioned into my mouth. I finally handed the cup to my dad and step-mom and told them to keep it. So, commentary #1 for the day: do not buy Starbucks's green tea lattes unless you are willing to sip upon seaweed-tasting flecks that ruin the entire experience.
(I suppose that my earlier remark about straws should be bolded too; straws are a waste of plastic - just opt for no lid and sip from the side. If you must use a straw, use sparingly. This is true at restaurants, too. Tell your waitress to leave those straws in her apron! We should teach children this tip at a young age, so that perhaps they can help to save the planet.)
My turn at chess came, and I played my sister and lost. I wanted another drink, so I asked the barist to fill my purple travel mug with an iced caramel macchiato with soy. (Notice a trend? I'm allergic to dairy!) She told me she knew my drink would contain soy. I probably should know her name since I see her most days, but she doesn't know mine so we're even, I guess. In the end, she forgot the whole "iced" bit, and so my drink was hot and had whip on top. I'm not one to waste resources, especially coffee (wasted coffee is a tragedy), so I dealt with it and decided I'd ice it at home. My family waltzed on home. I had to carry the foldable chess board and my fatty War and Peace. Not comfortable, my friend, not comfortable.
Soccer (I played it for 3 years)
Before heading to Starbucks, my sister and I had decided we'd kick the soccer ball around at the park after our Starbucks run. Our soccer ball is deflated, full of holes, and one can stand upon it without worrying that they will fall. But we love it. So we rushed over to the park and kicked the ball around, laughing and falling over. It was hot out. Eventually we needed a break, so we rushed home and changed and had sips of water and then went back out to kick the ball and play games. We had great fun and got all gross and full of giggles. What a nice way to spend a Sunday!
The End - for now!
That's pretty much my day. I mean, after soccer, I showered and did some math homework out in the front yard. My whole fam' sat out there. I made some grilled cheese sandwiches (with Veggie Cheese, of course), and we all hung out, Kelsey in the car with our Boston Terrier Simon, and the rest of us in beach chairs on the driveway. (It probably didn't look as weird as you're imagining it to be.) Felt like summer, aside from the whole homework thing.
My sister is writing her own blog. I'll add a link under "Friends," but here it is in case you're dying to read it: http://quinquo.blogspot.com/.
---
When I go I leave no trace.
The beauty of the country is becoming a part of me.
Now the aspen trunks are tall and white in the moonlight.
A wind croons in the pines,
The mountain sleeps.
--Everett Ruess
I've been debating whether or not to write a blog of my comments, thoughts, and rants. I try to spend little time on the computer, opting to read and write the "old-fashion" way. However, I've realized that my journal cannot comment on my opinions and that blogging has become an inevitable place for me to talk and, hopefully, hear some response. Even if no one reads this except for my future self reflecting on my naivety, it is a nice way to put my thoughts in order and, perhaps, figure some stuff out through the creative flow of writing.
Here goes nothing.
Starbucks (a mythical creature)
This morning, my step-mom (Pam), younger sister (Kelsey), and I (Melissa) walked through the park and across the road to our local Noah's New York Bagels. We snagged a seat in the next-door Starbucks, and I was left standing in line at Noah's. I'm in there every day, so the bored faces behind the counter were nothing ordinary. I ordered my bagels toasted with nothing on them and got out of there quick. Our family never eats in Noah's. It just doesn't happen. So I met my family in Starbucks. My dad had been on a massive bike ride with his friends and had just arrived to meet us.
I got into line and beckoned Pam to stand with me (and bring the money). Tod, Morgan, and other familiar faces stood behind the counter, penning symbols and Starbucksy words on paper and plastic cups of three to four various sizes. I had been wanting to try one of Starbucks's fancy new tea lattes, so I had in hand a card for a complimentary one, size tall. My purple travel mug is size grande, so I couldn't save this earth this morning and use it (no 10¢ discount for me!). Morgan with the curly hair and glasses who always greets his customers with a cheery welcome took my drink order, and that of my step-mom. "Double-tall decaf hazelnut soy latte," Pam ordered. "Tall iced green tea latte with soy," I said. I sat down at the table in "Norm's Corner" with my dad and Kelsey.
Norm had been a Starbucks regular, always sitting at the corner table with his buds talking politics. I'd spoken with him a few Wednesday mornings about books and he seemed like a kind fellow. One day I noticed a guest book sitting on a promotional table near the line. An obituary and a sign with Norm's name and picture accompanied it. He had died in a car accident on his way home from Tahoe. It was very shocking and sad. I wrote a little note in the guest book about how I'd talked to him a few times. The sign went up soon after that by his usual table.
So, today at Norm's old table, my sister and dad were playing an intensely-heated game of chess. My dad has been teaching my sister and me how to play chess. We aren't chess masters yet, but just you wait. So they played chess and I ate my everything bagel and Pam came back to the table and I read some more of War and Peace (which every person should attempt to read at some point in their life) and then finally, my drink arrived on the bar, iced and green. I was a little hestitant, because there were these floating green specks that didn't look quite so appetizing. I thrust a straw into the hole in the top of the plastic lid (I rarely use straws because of the HUGE waste of plastic, but today I figured my family might be tasting this new concoction and wanted to be courteous to their needs), and took a sip. It was okay, but what was that terrible after taste? I had stuck my straw into the bottom, where a layer of tea leaves sat. It tasted like seaweed. My face puckered up with disgust and told my family that it was gross. Starbucks, this is for you, so listen up: take the bitter-tasting tea leaves out of your would-be-great green tea lattes! I avoided the tea leaves, sipping from the center of my cup. But some of those pesky little green specks kept being suctioned into my mouth. I finally handed the cup to my dad and step-mom and told them to keep it. So, commentary #1 for the day: do not buy Starbucks's green tea lattes unless you are willing to sip upon seaweed-tasting flecks that ruin the entire experience.
(I suppose that my earlier remark about straws should be bolded too; straws are a waste of plastic - just opt for no lid and sip from the side. If you must use a straw, use sparingly. This is true at restaurants, too. Tell your waitress to leave those straws in her apron! We should teach children this tip at a young age, so that perhaps they can help to save the planet.)
My turn at chess came, and I played my sister and lost. I wanted another drink, so I asked the barist to fill my purple travel mug with an iced caramel macchiato with soy. (Notice a trend? I'm allergic to dairy!) She told me she knew my drink would contain soy. I probably should know her name since I see her most days, but she doesn't know mine so we're even, I guess. In the end, she forgot the whole "iced" bit, and so my drink was hot and had whip on top. I'm not one to waste resources, especially coffee (wasted coffee is a tragedy), so I dealt with it and decided I'd ice it at home. My family waltzed on home. I had to carry the foldable chess board and my fatty War and Peace. Not comfortable, my friend, not comfortable.
Soccer (I played it for 3 years)
Before heading to Starbucks, my sister and I had decided we'd kick the soccer ball around at the park after our Starbucks run. Our soccer ball is deflated, full of holes, and one can stand upon it without worrying that they will fall. But we love it. So we rushed over to the park and kicked the ball around, laughing and falling over. It was hot out. Eventually we needed a break, so we rushed home and changed and had sips of water and then went back out to kick the ball and play games. We had great fun and got all gross and full of giggles. What a nice way to spend a Sunday!
The End - for now!
That's pretty much my day. I mean, after soccer, I showered and did some math homework out in the front yard. My whole fam' sat out there. I made some grilled cheese sandwiches (with Veggie Cheese, of course), and we all hung out, Kelsey in the car with our Boston Terrier Simon, and the rest of us in beach chairs on the driveway. (It probably didn't look as weird as you're imagining it to be.) Felt like summer, aside from the whole homework thing.
My sister is writing her own blog. I'll add a link under "Friends," but here it is in case you're dying to read it: http://quinquo.blogspot.com/.
---
When I go I leave no trace.
The beauty of the country is becoming a part of me.
Now the aspen trunks are tall and white in the moonlight.
A wind croons in the pines,
The mountain sleeps.
--Everett Ruess
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