Lift Up Your Hearts!

I’m thankful for the progress we have made in welcoming people with handicaps into the mainstream of society.

If you’re a baby as yet unborn this is not a good time to be handicapped, as you have a good chance of not surviving till birth.  But if you get that far, it’s better to be here and now than in an earlier time.  Here are just a few of the improvements I’ve witnessed:

• Major advances in neonatal medicine
• Amazing prosthetics
• Braille signs in elevators and other public places
• Acceptance and promotion of American Sign Language for the Deaf
• Wheelchair cuts in curbs—which are also a great help with bicycles and strollers
• Ramp access to buildings
• Handicapped parking spaces
• Specially equipped restrooms
• Integration of handicapped students in regular school classrooms
• Special Olympics and similar events that encourage sports participation for the handicapped
• Greater understanding of and openness about mental illness
• Computers, with their ability to open the world to people with many different forms of disability
• Laws against unfair discrimination

If progress remains to be made, and it does, it's good to remember how far we've come, and to be aware that gains achieved can subsequently be lost.  I've seen hints of a disturbing backlash against handicapped children, on the grounds that "they should never have been born."

I am thankful for the baby formula that is available today.

I know.  Me, the Notorious Despiser of Artificial Baby Feeding, thankful for infant formula.  But it’s true.

If I believe that formula is vastly overused and overrated as a baby-feeding alternative, and I do, nonetheless I still recognize that there are times and conditions under which babies simply cannot be fed in the normal way by their mothers.  In the very old days, the available choices were (1) find a wet nurse, or (2) die.

As time went on, various substitutes for mother’s milk were tried, but by the mid-20^th century we had only gotten as far as evaporated cow’s milk + water + corn syrup.  It must have worked, at least sort of—that’s what I was fed as an infant.  Perhaps there’s a good reason they started month-old babies on solid food back then.  Can I blame many of my problems on inadequate nutrition during a critical time of brain growth?  That and growing up in a haze of tobacco smoke must cover a multitude of sins—or at least personality quirks. 

If today’s infant formula still can’t meet the high standards of breast milk, it sure comes a whale of a lot closer than what was available 50 years ago.  And if baby formula is overused, that’s all the more reason to be thankful that it has become so much better for babies.

Moms are happier.  Babies are happier and healthier.  That's a lot to be thankful for.

On the day after Election Day^* I felt some commentary to be necessary, so I struggled to find something about our political system that is better now than in the past.

I considered the 19^th Amendment:  that’s a significant improvement.  But I’m not so old that I was ever disenfranchised because of my sex, so it doesn’t really count.

The 26^th Amendment did make a difference in my life, but I have mixed feelings about that one, seeing as extending the voting age downward corresponded with an upward movement of the age of responsible maturity.

Much about our political system has taken a turn for the worse during my lifetime.  (I’m not saying it was always better—we’re not longer literally tar-and-feathering our opponents.)  But one positive change I am thankful for on this third day of November is openness.

I hate the in-your-face media and constant coverage that have produced campaigning-by-sound bite and taken away any vestige of private life for those seeking to enter political service.  But recent years have also brought—through media coverage and through legislation—more light and transparency to government and to the people who run it, and that is a very good thing.

Laws, like sausages, cease to inspire respect in proportion as we know how they are made — John Godfrey Saxe

True.  But both sausages and laws are good things, and the call of people like Michael Pollan and Temple Grandin for slaughterhouses to have glass walls finds its parallel in political Sunshine Laws, the Freedom of Information Act, and other efforts to bring government out of the shadows of the smoke-filled room.^**  Transparency and openness bring some difficulties and inefficiencies, but do much to prevent, detect, and excise rottenness, be it in our food supply or in our government.

That’s something that’s better now than in the not-so-distant past, and I’m thankful.

I’m also thankful this morning that Daniel Webster is going to the House of Representatives from Florida—and with an overwhelming victory.  I was not able to vote for him, as we are not in his district.  But I’ve respected him for many, many years even though there we certainly have our areas of disagreement.  Quoting from the Orlando Sentinel, which despite their liberal inclinations endorsed conservative Webster,

Mr. Webster was a Republican state legislator for nearly three decades whose civility and statesmanship earned him the admiration of Democrats. He wasn't just a nice guy; he was effective. He played a leading role in raising education standards, reforming welfare and opening lawmaking to more public scrutiny.

Webster credited the results to his grass-roots support and his decision to run a positive campaign.

"Most of the time, negative campaigning works, and a lot of people cringed when I said I would run a positive campaign. We just felt like it was the right thing to do," Webster said. "I'm not going there to change places with the Democrats. We've got to do things differently. We've got to change the process."

It’s refreshing to see good character and a positive outlook win over bombast, negativity, and lots of money.

On a more personal note, Daniel Webster was also largely responsible for the legal protection home education enjoys in Florida, and for that I will always be very, very thankful!

Continuing with the Thanksgiving/Good New Days series, today (and every day) I am thankful for smoke-free restaurants, homes, airplanes, offices, grocery stores, and even bowling alleys!  This is a societal sea-change that is most definitely for the better.

You youngsters simply cannot imagine what it was like.

Smoking was everywhere.  Not that you would have noticed, because you probably would have grown up with one or both parents smoking in your home.  Even the rare families with no smokers owned ashtrays and allowed visiting friends to smoke; the social pressure to do so must have been tremendous.

At work, at play, in the theater, at a restaurant, on a bus, on a plane, in the hospital.  There was no escape.

Outdoors was the best place for breathing, if there weren't too many other people around.  School was relatively safe, if you stayed away from the teachers’ lounge and could get through the day without needing to use the bathroom.

Even our doctor smoked.

Go to college?  Your roommate was likely to be a smoker, and that was not considered grounds for requesting a switch.

Get a job?  Smoke polluted your air space, unless you were one of the lucky few who shared a room with one of them new-fangled computin’ machines.  They were too valuable to be subjected to damaging smoke particles.

Who knows?  Maybe it was the increasing use of computers which began to tip the balance in favor of non-smokers.  The events did parallel one another.  But smoke-free living didn’t just happen:  much work, money, and lobbying were poured into this personal environmental cleanup action.

When it comes to tobacco smoke, now is a much better time to be living than 50 or even 25 years ago.

Liz at Smithical has issued a challenge to honor Thanksgiving by blogging about something we're thankful for each day of November.  It will be a bit of a trick to accomplish, as I already have more posts in the pipeline than time to work on them, and I hope to liberate myself from my computer for several days this month.  But it's a grand idea, so I'm going to plunge in.  She didn't say the posts must be long, or profound.

The concept fits nicely with an idea for a post I was in the middle of constructing:  The Good New Days.

After more than half a century of observation, it's very easy to be aware of (and complain about) how much society has changed for the worse over the years.  I mention examples from time to time (some would say frequently), and it's not just the mutterings of an old curmudgeon:  it's true that in many ways we are in bad shape and getting worse.

However, it is equally true that we have made significant gains, and some things are much, much better than they were.  I'll attempt to mention one of these for each day of November, both to encourage myself and to warn the next generations not to take the improvements for granted.  Without vigilance, what has been won can often be lost.

To begin:  I'm thankful to be living now.  I've often expressed the opinion that I was born too late, that I belong in an earlier era.  But truthfully, if I belong then, I would have been living then.  This is the day that the Lord hath made for me.

Besides, I've seen the toilet facilities in those medieval castles.

Temple Grandin (HBO, NR)

Why are you reading this post when you could be rushing to your nearest video store (is that phrase as passé as "dialing a phone number"?) and grabbing a copy of Temple Grandin?  It would be trite to say that this is one of the most amazing and inspiring movies I have ever seen, though it is.  It would be understatement to say that Temple Grandin is an incredibly amazing and inspiring person.

"Highly functioning autistic" doesn't begin to describe this brilliant visual thinker—and university professor—whose humane designs have revolutionized livestock handling.  My introduction to Temple Grandin was through her TED lecture, The World Needs All Kinds of Minds.  That's a good place to start, but don't miss the movie.  (As far as I can recall it is completely grandchild safe.)

Normally I don't care for the DVD special features that make you watch the entire movie again to hear the commentary; I love learning about how the movie was made, but prefer it in condensed form.  Here it's well worthwhile taking the extra time, because unlike many DVD commentaries, there's very little inanity—and most of all because one of the commentators is Temple Grandin herself.

It was a little disconcerting to note how well I understood some of her problems; enough so that I took this autism spectrum self-test I found in Wired.  The results were as I suspected:  I'm not close to the diagnostic level, but well above average.

I'm looking forward to reading some of Grandin's books, having ordered The Way I See It: A Personal Look at Autism and Asperger's, and Animals Make Us Human: Creating the Best Life for Animals from our library.

I don’t remember exactly when I started feeling uncomfortable about Hallowe’en; I think it was when adults wrenched the holiday away from the children.

As a child I loved Hallowe'en.  Costumes were by and large homemade:  by parents for the youngest, then by parents and children working together, then by the children themselves.  Our elementary school had a costume parade for parents and neighbors, with judging and prizes.  Creativity was high.  I was by no means the most inventive, but some of the costumes I remember making were a cuckoo clock, a salt shaker (my friend from across the street was the pepper), a parking meter, and a knight—complete with a wooden sword my father and I made together, and which was a favorite plaything for many years thereafter.  The hours of creative activity and of parent and child working together were priceless.

Enter Corporate America, ready and willing to “help” busy parents by reducing the Hallowe’en costume adventure to a credit card purchase, robbing children in one stroke of parental bonding, learning opportunities, and the creative impulse.  Add a risk-averse and lawsuit-prone culture, producing Hallowe’en safety tip gems like this one from our local paper:  Be certain that all parts of costumes are flame-retardant, including wigs, beards and capes. Since homemade costumes tend to be made of highly flammable materials—cardboard, paper, paint, cloth—parents now face a new Hallowe’en fear:  that they are risking their children’s lives by allowing them to create their own costumes.

Trick-or-treating was a big deal, because candy and other sweets were much rarer in those days than now.  It was a family affair, with young children travelling with older siblings or being escorted by parents who enjoyed the opportunity to talk with the neighbors.  There was plenty of commercial candy, sure, but also cookies, candy apples, and other homemade treats. 

Enter a cruel hoax that would forever change the face of Hallowe’en:  the thought that our apparently kindly neighbors were secretly hiding razor blades in apples and poisoning the candy.  Fear ran rampant; hospitals volunteered to x-ray the children’s goodie bags; all candy was subject to parental inspection before a bite could be eaten.  (Note:  this is not the same as candy being subject to parental sampling, which has always been the case.)  Years after this paranoia was proven to be based on an urban legend, newspapers continue to print dire warnings:  Don't eat candy until it has been inspected at home, and Don't accept – or eat – any treat that isn't commercially wrapped.

In fact, the whole trick-or-treating adventure, with flashlights in the dark, scary shadows, and the occasional squeal turned into a tame business overrun by rules, such as Set a definite route and timetable for trick-or-treating; Try to complete the route before dark; Make certain that costumes fit well to prevent children from tripping; Wear makeup and hats rather than masks, and check to be sure the makeup uses FDA-approved colorings; Costumes should be appropriate for the weather so that trick-or-treaters stay dry and comfortable; and Trick-or-treat bags should hang from children's shoulders so that hands are free.  Are the kids visiting the neighbors or climbing Mt. Everest?

Thus the stage was set for a complete takeover of the holiday.  How could such a potential money-maker be left in the hands of children?  First adults began organizing and scripting parties for children, and then for themselves.  As Hallowe’en became more adult-oriented, a G-rated holiday became R, or worse, with costumes becoming violent and raunchy.

It’s no wonder that some well-meaning churches gave up on the traditional Hallowe’en, and started organizing their own events.  However, I think many of them unintentionally contributed to the problem, some going so far as to ban as Satanic what was once a legitimate church festival, the eve of All Saints Day.  Here’s an excellent article on why this is a mistake, by James B. Jordan, whose name I recognized from our days in a very conservative Presbyterian denomination.  [H/T Peter V.]

I’ll admit that for years I expressed the desire to forget about Hallowe’en altogether.  All the commercial hoopla of Hallowe’en and Christmas squeezes out Thanksgiving, which I consider an important and sadly neglected holiday.  Then I realized that the fact that Thanksgiving still retains the elements of giving thanks, innocence, and family togetherness is due largely to the fact that the commercial interests have not yet figured out how to exploit it.

So instead I say, let’s give Hallowe’en back to the children.  Refuse to buy commercial costumes.  Help your children if they need guidance, but don’t take over the project.  Help them carve a pumpkin and put a real candle inside, then roast the seeds for a delicious snack.   Let them help you bake pumpkin cookies and pumpkin bread.  Drink apple cider and splurge on some doughnut holes to go with it.  Spend less money; have more fun.

Trick-or-treat in your own neighborhood.  If it makes you nervous to let your older children go out on their own, make a resolution to get to know your neighbors better in the next year.

Don’t have kids of your own?  Take a courageous stand:  skip the adult parties with too much drinking and too little sense.  Stay home and answer the door with a smile, a friendly word, and some commercial, FDA approved, wrapped candy.  (We can only liberate ourselves, not the entire world.)

Stella Sung: The Phoenix Rising
Chausson: Poème
Tchaikovsky: Romeo & Juliet
Vaughan Williams: The Lark Ascending
Stravinsky: The Firebird

This concert was pure pleasure.  Five gorgeous works, two new and three old favorites.  Plus I found a new and much easier way home. 

This passage from David Allen's Ready for Anything blew me away, and deserves its own post.

We recently raised some prices—because I didn’t want business to go away.  Let me explain.  One day, I recognized a subtle internal danger signal:  There was the tiniest bit of an “uh-oh” feeling inside me each time we were asked to do more and more of a certain kind of work for a favorite client.  It was almost imperceptible, but it was there:  I didn’t want the phone to ring.  After many years of watching this dynamic, I knew that if I allowed those feelings to persist, indeed, the phone would stop ringing.  This client would go away.

I confronted the feeling and discovered the root of the problem:  We were underpriced for the amount of time and attention we had to commit to do our standard quality work.  I had to challenge myself with this question:  “What do I need to do to make me positively excited about the phone’s ringing again?”  The answer was simple:  Raise the price.  Then I could feel good about dedicating the time and energy we do to this client—and the more time, the merrier.

When your front line feels overwhelmed, watch out for resistance to new … opportunities!  When a ringing phone creates stress at the spinal level, though the words may be “Can I help you?” the underlying communication is, “Go away!  I can’t handle you!”

I'm certain there is application here far beyond the business model, and that many families, friendships, projects, and resolutions are suffering because we fail to heed that internal danger signal and then do the often difficult work of figuring out how to arrange that we embrace, rather than avoid or resent, a situation.

When Porter goes out of town on business, his company pays a small amount to cover the cost of getting to and from the airport.  If we drive, I get most of that allowance to spend however I please, completely off-budget.  Why should that matter?  Our budget already contains a “hobby” category for each of us that serves the same purpose, and I could always make a strong case for fitting most of my expenditures into the regular budget anyway.  So why is my “taxi fund” so important to me?

Because Porter flies on a lot of airplanes, and the airport is 45 minutes away from home.  Usually he leaves really early in the morning and returns late at night.  What the taxi fund does is completely quell my inner reluctance to arise at a ridiculous hour—or worse, stay up late—and make the long drive.  Granted, I should be happy to do this just because it makes life easier for him and he really appreciates it, but I’m a sinful human being, and this really, really helps.  I enjoy the extra effort because I have so much fun with my taxi fund.

I once read, for an education course, a book by Robert Mager and Peter Pipe called Analyzing Performance Problems:  Or, You Really Oughta Wanna.  I don’t remember anything else that the book covered, but the idea that “you really oughta wanna” is a poor motivator has stayed with me for more than 35 years.  That is so true.  Actually, I find it more of a de-motivator.

There are many areas of life in which a seemingly small change could make a huge difference in attitude.  The Daleys’ new bedtime cleanup ritual is another example.  It was a minor change with very low cost that made a disproportionate, and delightful, difference in their lives.

We have a jelly jar to fill up with colorful glass gems….  Each evening at clean up time, we set a timer for fifteen minutes.  For every minute left on the timer … [the children] get to put a bead in the jar.  A bonus of five beads is awarded if the whole house is clean before we even start the timer (motivating clean up before the evening even arrives!).  A penalty of three beads is subtracted if the parental inspection reveals that the house is not clean despite the boys' statement that it is.

The reward for a full jar of beads is a special treat selected by the boys.  The most recent one was to watch a VeggieTales movie.

This works so well for our family.  Now, even if it takes the whole fifteen minutes and they get no beads, the job is done in that short time—in the past sometimes it would take until they were falling into bed and still not be done, really.  The past several days they have gotten most of their beads and even the bonus twice!  The jar is now half full again though it was reset only a few days ago!  The house is noticeably cleaner (ask my Mom who just visited!).  I know I'm using a lot of exclamation points, but I am so happy that this is working out.  Everyone benefits and it is turning out to be really fun.

Both of these examples involve money, or a form of money.  There’s a reason money was invented:  it’s quantifiable and convenient.  In many situations, however, overcoming our gut-level reluctance is not so simple.  We will need to think creatively and differently to find the key.  The most vital step, however, is recognizing our inner qualms and the importance—and efficacy—of adjusting the parameters.

Any ideas?

From a BBC News story of the latest Nissan recall (H/T Porter):

Nissan said there had been no accidents reported due to the fault, which can cause the engine to stall while running.

Just what I needed, something more to worry about.  The nighmare scenario had never occurred to me:  We're peacefully asleep in our beds, our car resting in the garage, apparently quite comfortable—but unbeknownst to us suffering an episode of stalling while the engine was not running.

Ready for Anything:  52 Productivity Principles for Work and Life, by David Allen (Viking Penguin, 2003)

Having been so impressed by the ideas, if not the writing, of Allen's Getting Things Done, I was eager to read more.  His latest book, Making It All Work, isn't yet available at our library, so I grabbed Ready for Anything.

As I began reading, I thought this would be a short review because there wasn't much new, that the book would be valuable as inspiration (very important!) but wouldn't add much to what I'm already working on.  Now that I've finished, however, I know that this will be a short review because there is too much here, that there is much benefit I could reap by buying the book and taking time to work through the ideas and exercises.  I'm not ready, as I'm still in the early stages of implementing the Getting Things Done ideas, but it will be a worthwhile later step.

Allen's New Age spiritual inclinations show more in Ready for Anything than in the previous book, but they're easy enough to ignore if you're alert to them, and don't detract significantly from his useful ideas.  As with anything, take what's good and true and helpful, and leave the rest.

These quotes don't begin to cover Allen's ideas, but they're a taste.  I have one more, but it merits its own post.

I just spent all morning pruning my large pine tree.  It felt great…  But it wasn’t on a list.  This morning it just seemed like the thing to do.

If I didn’t have the lists I have, and if I hadn’t done a thorough review of them within the last few days, I wouldn’t have been able to trust that my inventory of “defined work” was complete and current this morning.  And that it could wait.  Without that conscious self-renegotiation process, there would be at least a slight gnawing sense of anxiety that there were shoulds lurking in the shadows that could attack me at any moment! And what’s the best (temporary) relief and (false) protection from the unseen and ugly shoulds?  Get busy.

Without my lists, I would probably still have pruned my pine tree this morning—but for all the wrong reasons.

[I]t’s easy to create fancy systems in concept, software, and seminars, [but] how will they work when you have the flu and feel awful?  Real systems must be solid enough to hold up in the toughest reality—when we least feel like maintaining them.

Rules tend to show up because principles are not clear or trusted.  When you know that people have bought into standards, you can give them freedom for decisions and behaviors.  If this alignment doesn’t exist, you must micromanage with regulations, expending much more energy in the long run.

I contend that a competitive edge, personal and organizational, is maintained by one’s ability to deal with surprise.  It’s when the pressures of unexpected change challenge the systems and behaviors that excellence is really demonstrated.

Uh oh.  I’m in deep trouble.

Your power is proportional to your ability to relax….  Find out what’s stressing you, and deal with it—now—if you want to be truly effective on all levels at once.  Being relaxed and capable of focusing on what’s at hand, when it’s at hand, without over- or underreacting, is a master skill.

Ahem.  New Year’s Resolution #3.

What do you not have time to do—something that might feel like a waste of time—but you know that it’s time to do?  Walk in the garden?  Have dinner with a friend?  Take your team off site just to hang out together?  Play laser guns with your kids?  Walk away from the canvas, until you can’t help taking up the brush again?

Relax.  You have to put in the clutch to shift gears.  You have to let go to reengage at another, more high-leveraged ration.  When you least feel like slowing down my be the most critical time to do it.

The Sabbath was made for man…. (Mark 2:27)

Small things, done consistently, create major impact.  Real change occurs not with a flash in the pan but with steady engagement at some new level of interaction….  What’s tricky is that it takes an equally small amount of consistent negative behaviors to create significant unwanted consequences.  Habitual self-degrading self-talk, though seemingly minor in the moment, reinforces lowered self-esteem and performance overall.  Little stuff, unchecked, can create some of the worst problems.

Aim for success, not perfection.  Never give up your right to be wrong, because then you will lose the ability to learn new things and move forward with your life.  Remember that fear always lurks behind perfectionism.  Confronting your fears and allowing yourself the right to be human can, paradoxically, make you a far happier and more productive person. – Dr. David M. Burns.

I'm a day late, but this is for our children, who loved Branagh's Henry V from an early age; for our grandchildren, who I trust will do the same in their time; for my nephew, who can speak the speech from memory; and for all who have ever felt the strength of we few, we happy few, we band of brothers. (H/T Andy B.)

Non nobis domine!

Introverts in the Church: Finding Our Place in an Extroverted Culture, by Adam S. McHugh (IVP Books, 2009)

This isn't actually a review—yet.  But this is clearly a book I need to read, so I've ordered it from the library despite my already intimidating "to read" list.

Adam McHugh was interviewed in the most recent Mars Hill Audio Journal, and I was hooked immediately.  (Something like this happens every time I think about letting my Mars Hill subscription lapse.)

McHugh tells the story of one little girl who was astonished when mother commented that she was being awfully quiet—because it was anything but quiet in her own mind.

Introverts have constant activity going on in their heads; neurological studies have shown that the brains of introverts actually show more blood flow, more activity, than the brains of extroverts; this, it is speculated, is why they need less external stimulation.  IN fact, they need solitude in order to be able to deal with all that neurological action, and if they don't get it, their brain chemistry becomes imbalanced.

So.  Li'l Writer Guy is not my own invention, but the normal manifestation of an introverted brain.

Another reason I was intrigued by this particular book was the author's view that the Church marginalizes introverts, making them feel unwanted, ungifted, and inferior—and in the process missing out on the particular gifts introverts have to bring to the Body of Christ.  The reason, McHugh explains, is that most American churches, like our society in general, are run by extroverts and promote a culture of extroversion.  I suspect I'll agree with him when I read the book, but I'm almost certain my son-in-law, the extrovert, will strongly disagree.  Perhaps it is the endpoints that are marginalized, and feel that society is bent towards the other extreme—the way my liberal friends see a strong conservative bias to the news media, when it is so obviously the other way around.  :)

McHugh has a website, Introverted Church, which I've only begun to investigate.  I think it's going to be fun, and maybe helpful.  I've already found a number of Yes! moments, such as this comment in a discussion about introverts in communal cultures.

[L]iving in West and Central Africa as an introvert was very hard. My housemate (also an introvert) and I basically took turns dealing with the streams of people. Having a housemate also took care of some other introvert pitfalls, like the fact that it was considered horrible that someone should be alone while they were sick. The cultural norm was that your friends should come sit by your bedside. Our African friends assumed that my housemate was doing that for me, when what she was *really* doing was letting me have alone time.

While it's nice to have someone around to help out when one is sick, having someone constantly by my bedside would definitely impede my recovery.

Have any of you read McHugh's book?  What are your thoughts?

This fits well with New Year's Resolution #10.

Nice music, too.  (H/T Jon.)

New Year’s Resolution #8 was “Enjoy Spontaneity.”  This is far from my natural inclination; I like plenty of warning, and generally agree with the old Holiday Inn commercial that “the best surprise is no surprise.”

Actually, that’s not completely true.  Surprises can be nice.  But my idea of a great “surprise getaway,” for example, runs along these lines:  “Hey, honey!  I have a great idea for a weekend adventure and I want it to be a surprise for you.  Is your schedule clear for three weeks from now?  You would need to pack clothing both for hiking and for eating in moderately nice restaurants, and also a warm jacket.”  That gets me a mystery adventure where someone else has done all the planning, and yet I can plan for it.

Fun, but hardly a model of spontaneity.  So you will see that our trip to Miami last week was really quite spontaneous, for me.

I did have a little warning:  We had known for a few weeks that Porter would have business at the Thai Consulate in Coral Gables, and—noting that the consulate is not far from the Miami Library—I had spent a little time planning some genealogical research.  But the paperwork moved so slowly we had long since given up the idea of combining business with pleasure this month.

Then, suddenly, Porter got the green light Wednesday evening, and we had to go the next day because of the consulate’s working hours.  There were hotel and rental car reservations to be made, sight-seeing to be planned, maps to be printed, paperwork to gather, research to be organized, and packing to do.  GTD really helped, as I was able to know what of Thursday and Friday’s work needed to be done before we left, and what could wait till our return.

We left early Thursday afternoon, arriving at our hotel in time to enjoy a walk on the beach before sunset.  The only thing I knew about the famous South Beach was that it had a diet named after it, so I'll admit I was shocked to find that our "beachfront" hotel was in the middle of the city and had no parking whatsoever.  I’m not used to valet parking and was rather nervous about turning the keys to our brand-new rental car (we started the trip with 46 miles on the odometer!) over to some stranger.  But it worked out all right.

The Doubletree Surfcomber turned out to be a fine hotel, and we had only to leave the grounds and cross a lovely pedestrian/bike path to get to the beach.  Once there, I received my second surprise:  I was expecting wall-to-wall sunbathers, hawkers, and a littered beach.  Perhaps that is true in the middle of the day, but in the early evening there were but a handful of swimmers, a couple of families on the beach, and some soccer players.  What’s more, it looked as if the whole beach had recently been swept of its trash—only the litter caught amongst the kelp revealed that the cleanliness was not natural.  The water, too, held some surprises:  unlike the ocean further north, the color of the water was that lovely, clear turquoise we've seen in the Keys—and despite the name of the hotel there was no surf at all!

As the sun set, we headed inland, crossing Lummus Park and walking down Ocean Drive in search of a place to eat.  There were certainly enough restaurants to choose from, but it was impossible to make a reasoned, intelligent decision.  Anyone who has experienced end of the Mexican ride at EPCOT can imagine what the walk was like:  impossible to walk 10 feet without having someone hawking at you, offering you coupons, regaling you with descriptions of their food, leading you to a seat.  Most restaurants had outdoor menu displays, which would have been convenient if we could have been left alone to peruse them, but no, there was always a smiling server who would not let the menu speak for itself.

More out of desperation than free choice, we settled on a seafood restaurant associated with one of the hotels, and it turned out to be pretty good.  Not exceptional, but good enough.  One of our friends likes the outdoor tables on Ocean Drive, saying it’s a great spot for people-watching.  Me, I don’t see the thrill in that, but it was nicer to be outside than in.

We returned to the hotel via the above-mentioned pedestrian/bike path, and Porter tried out the huge outdoor pool while I reclined in a deck chair and read.

The next day was full from beginning to end.  The consulate didn’t open till after noon, so after a leisurely breakfast we spent the morning at the Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden.  This is our own little Leu Gardens writ large, and we barely had time for a tram tour of the grounds.  But our Leu membership gets us into Fairchild on a reciprocal basis, so we didn’t mind the short shrift, and will gladly return for more another time.

At this point we split up, Porter dropping me at the library while he went on to the consulate.  It took him several hours to complete his business, so I was able to get quite a bit of research done.  An observation:  At the New York Public Library I found the clientele to be primarily researchers, with an occasional (apparently) homeless person thrown in for variety. In Miami, the proportions were reversed.

Aside from a huge stop-and-stop traffic jam leaving Miami, and high-speed, bumper-to-bumper traffic on the Turnpike from Miami all the way to the Disney World exit, the trip home was fine.  It was good to be home, but I’m amazed at how much I was able to enjoy this almost-spontaneous adventure.