Living in - and with nature - well worth pondering

VALOIS, New York, USA - First it was Barbara Kingsolver's book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, then it was a flurry of stories about the food shortages worldwide, then the revelation that one of the major demands on the oil supply is to ship food from one place in the world to another - even though it makes more sense to buy locally.

My thinking on all this is definitely in process, but in the meantime, I have a small garden planted in the yard (quite popular with the rabbits), our vegetables and fruits are purchased from local growers and as much as is feasible, we are buying things made locally, even if we pay a slight premium.


Results of 1-minute's worth of berry picking

This all was brought to mind when I read a review of a book called The Future of Nature, a collection of essays on human ecology selected and introduced by Barry Lopez. The book looks at how it it that so many people live so sequestered from the outdoors. In one essay, one writer laments that our public schools have cut out natural history for the most part. And instead of first-hand experiences with nature, most things are second-hand - computer models, simulations or videos of other people have the experience.

I'm not suggesting that anyone should be required to have the experience of having a nest of angry yellow jackets right on your ass as you run across the yard to get away. But seeing a video of that fury - and living in it - are very different experiences.

(I think that's why those videos those they show in driver's education classes are generally ineffective with young drivers.)

I remember that several years ago, when a comet was passing by at about 4 a.m. one morning (and Admiral Fox rousted the family to watch it), both of our then-teenage sons said you could see it much better on their computer screens, through a livecam from NASA.

Good grief.

Another writer, (cited in an excellent review of the book written by Tom Murphy of Mansfield University and published in Mountain Home Magazine), says that what we call the environmental crisis is largely a result of us giving up control. With corporations and governments almost always being the ones taking care of our needs, they go for the cheapest way or product, where they will either save money for taxpayers (government) or be able to reap the biggest profit for shareholders (corporations).

Not to rag too much on the nation of China or the corporation of Wal-Mart, but I have been very disappointed - over and over - in the quality of most of the things I have been purchasing this summer, sold by Wal-Mart and made in China.

Tools fall apart after a couple of uses, electrical devices short out, and clothes only make it through the washing machine a couple of times.

Yes, the tools, electrical devices and clothes were very cheap to buy. Like Captain Ron says in the movie of the same name, "It shows."

A friend who owns a local auto dealership told us a few days ago he had found a garden rake for sale at Wal-Mart that was Made in the USA. He snatched it up quickly and has been showing it to all his friends, along with the three he had already purchased this summer that broke the first time he tried to put some muscle behind the handle. The USA model is still keeping his yard clean, he says.

The book is on my reading list for the summer, the perfect time to read it because the whole idea of eating, growing and buying locally is a lot easier to digest (sorry about the pun) in the summer. But even at that, the quarts of berries picked this morning will make their way into jars of jam to be enjoyed long after the winter snow has started flying here.

Perhaps I'll take The Future of Nature up in the woods and read it by the creek behind our house.

That will also force me to get off this computer and get out there in nature.


A great read place to sit and read

Gonzo journalism might be newspapers' last hope

WOODY CREEK, Colorado, USA - It was here just three years ago that Hunter S. Thompson blew his brains out, unable to face, well, we'll never really know, except that he was afraid of advancing age, worried that his best years were so far behind him in the rear view mirror that he could barely glance at them.

And then there was the drugs and the booze, of course. There was always the drugs and the booze.

Thompson haunts many journalists because he broke every rule ever taught and in doing so produced some incredibly brilliant writing, brilliant enough that his work flew off the shelves in the late 1960s and through the mid-1970s when the world suddenly became as strange as anything Hunter could imagine.

It was almost as if what many novelists said in the 80s and 90s - real life was so bizarre, who needed fiction?

But a San Francisco Chronicle review of a documentary "Gonzo" - plus the forced 'retirement' of an amigo at the Sacramento Bee - made me wish Thompson were alive to comment on the sad state of journalism in the U.S., and how those in charge of 'saving' it are so unlikely to do so.

Gonzo review

Hunter S. Thompson

Thompson had something nearly every journalist/writer today lacks - a voice. You could read a piece of his and know it was him without glancing at the bylines or any of the illustrations Ralph Steadman frequently published with Hunter's scribblings. He had many imitators, but they were just that, imitators.

Today's journalist/writer - with few exceptions - are mostly worried about mortgage payments, alimony, how their mug shot looks with their column - and simply ensuring that their corporate masters don't get angry and outsource their job to some conglomerate in Bhopal.

Not that it will make any difference, because in the world of corporate journalism, the emphasis is on corporate, not journalism - profitable corporate, profitable at an overall rate that oil companies envy.

And so readers are left with such predictable journalistic Pablum that it seems almost like an insult to that bland breakfast cereal.

Which brings me to my amigo, Bill Moore, who a few days ago left the Sacramento Bee newspaper, a bit of collateral damage to the colossal blunder of that corporation to go into deeply into debt by buying a newspaper chain, then suddenly realizing it was grossly overextended and starting selling assets like at a desperation garage sale.

It's stock went down so fast after that purchase it made Rite Aid look like a winner.

So, as it is with corporations, the people making the biggest salaries find a way to cut the jobs of the people way down the food chain, hoping the stockholders will think that these tiny economies - coupled with redesigns, re-packagings and more public relations - God yes, more and more public relations - will somehow fool readers and the public into thinking that less news, written by more timid (and usually largely uninformed) writers into smaller news pages will be worth looking at.

Yeah, right.

Hunter S. Thompson would probably admire the balls of these people to sell less for more, even though he would hate what they are doing.

So what about this fellow named Bill Moore? Who the hell is he?

Bill Moore had a long career with the newspaper, spending some time out on the news desk before making a gaffe one Sunday many years ago in story choice and placement, a gaffe that eventually pushed him out of news and into the editorial department where he eventually took over as editor of a Sunday section that looked at the world - Forum it was called.

And, as the expression goes, when it was good, it was very, very good. And when it was bad, it was awful.

But Bill had a quirky creative mind and it scared a lot of corporate journalistic types. He fell from grace again a few years ago in change of editors and ending up shuffling letters to the editor in the editorial section of the newspaper, keeping his head down, doing his job, working hard.

And now he is retired, but really just shoved out the door - just when the newspaper needs him the most.

Needs him the most?

This morning, as I was reading the latest batch of 'save-the-newspaper's-ass' columns from various editors:

The new Forum

From The Editor

I was struck by how at the exact moment they were turning Bill Moore loose, he is exactly the kind of creative lunatic the Sacramento Bee needs to get them off their collective, smug asses and start publishing stories and photos and information that people would really want to read.

Could he produce, edit, suggest true Gonzo journalism to make the Sacramento Bee readable? I don't know for sure. But I think so.

But now that that the newspaper has sent him to the unemployment office, it won't either.

Too many deaths of too many good people

PUERTO VALLARTA, Jalisco, Mexico - The last few weeks I noted the passing of two people who influenced me greatly in my life: Norman Mailer and Robert Mondavi.

Mailer influenced me by his writing and his overpowering intellect. I believe that he was one of the smartest people in the nation. Certainly among the top one-tenth of one percent. I will be using some of his books this fall when I teach a class called Literary Journalism. (No, it is not an oxymoron.)

I read almost all of his books and magazine articles, with his 1965 novel, An American Dream, being my favorite. I read it while at Villanova and parts of it still haunt me.

I met Mailer once in the early 1970s after he had given a great speech at the College of Marin in California about the dangers to democracy posed by the Republican party and the lunatic right wing. I took my well dog-eared copy of An American Dream to him for an autograph and in one of those moments, he and I locked eyes in full battle mode. If you read much Mailer, you will understand that we disliked each other instantly. We had a psychic punchout.

And this was after my years of admiring his writing. Later, I still read every word he published and came to see his true genius was as a social commentator, not as a novelist. Had we shared a few cocktails together, we might have become friends - or duked it out in the parking lot.


Norman Mailer

The death of Robert Mondavi, the grand old man of vinters was sad, too, because I admired his empire and his dedication to the craft of winemaking.

I met Robert at a his Christmas party at his winery in 1972. I walked up to the open bar and ordered my favorite drink at the time, a Tom Collins - an act that almost caused the bartender to faint.

The bartender told me they had probably 25 different varieties of wines, and that I could have all I wanted of any of them. But never, he said, never, mention hard liquor again inside the winery walls.

An hour later, I told this same story to friendly white-haired fellow sitting next to me at the dinner table who laughed very loud. He later stood and offered a Christmas toast for the health of everyone - a toast that included a funny story about the young newspaper reporter sitting next to him who had asked for a Tom Collins at the Robert Mondavi Winery Christmas party.

Yes, it was Robert Mondavi.

And yes, he really did think it was funny.

To this day, I drink Mondavi wines from time to time and think about that even and how gracious he was then, and until the day he died.


Robert Mondavi

Rest in peace, Robert. Have a sip of some celestial wine - or break down and have a snort of hard liquor. Tequila is worth the change.

And rest in peace, Norman. Perhaps now you understand how important that copy of An American Dream was to me so many years ago, and why I still keep it locked in safe place.

As Time Goes By: Actress from 'Casablanca' dies

CASABLANCA, Hollywood, USA - The woman who played a young refugee in trouble in the 1943 film Casablanca has died, prompting me to watch Casablanca again last night.

It is still my favorite movie, by a loooooong shot.


Joy Page

Her part in the film wasn't huge, but pivotal, because it prompted Humphrey Bogart to get out of his slump and do the right thing, kind of the theme of the entire movie. More on that in a moment.

From reading most of the obituaries of Page (I read five), you would think she peaked at 17 when she was cast in Casablanca and didn't do much else as an actress. Not true. She had a pretty good career through the 1940s and 1950s. A quick Google search shows she was very successful.

Here's the story about her from the Los Angeles Times:

LA Times story about Joy Page

I wouldn't hazard a guess of how many times I have viewed Casablanca, but at least annually for, maybe, 30 years. I saw it the first time on the recommendation of my amigo John Norton, now a newspaper editor in Pueblo, Colorado. For years we have exchanged letters and emails using various bits of dialogue from the film. We own books that contain the complete dialogue with photos from most of the scenes.

Yes, it's a little nuts. But so is collecting Hummel figurines. And golf! Don't get me started on golf!


Bogart at the piano with Sam

Unless you have been living in Tibet for most of your life, you probably have seen the movie and/or know the plot details. In the photo above, Bogart has just hid the 'letters of transit' he obtained from Peter Lorre early in the film. When John Norton and I would get new jobs, or have signficant changes in our lives, our letters (and later emails) would refer to 'getting our letters of transit.'

I felt like I got mine when I left the university in December to move to Mexico.

Ultimately, Casablanca is a romance and a lesson about how important it is to do the right thing. Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman separate at the end of the movie, Bergman going with her husband, Bogart to fight the Nazis.

Although it is the right thing, I practically shout at the screen every time I watch the film: Get on the plane with her! Run, Run!


You're getting on that plane with Victor, if you don't you'll regret it...

Most of the actors and actresses, major and minor, who started in Casablanca have passed away, but thanks to modern technology, the film will be with us for a long time. I'm thinking of watching it again tonight.

Rest in peace, Joy Page, you have your 'letter of transit.'