A bientot

It's been over 30 years since I first began my French studies with two years of college-level instruction in the north wing of Old Main at USU. It was a small class, less than 10 students who made it through those two years, and we got great instruction from our professor in pronunciation and literature, though I don't remember a lot of conversation -- something likely unusual today.

In those 30 years, I've kept trying to learn, considering my language study a bit of unfinished business.

I've listened to tapes, I've filled out workbooks. I've taken community ed classes, I've hired tutors. I've bought grammar books, verb conjugation books, learn-French-in-10-minutes-a-day books. I've read from novels translated into French, I've listened to CDs while driving, I've invited college students over to converse, I've listened to movies in French.
Of all the hobbies and projects and interests that have come and gone in my life, this one can't seem to go. I loved my geology classes at USU, and my history classes, even my physics class was fun for one semester until trigonometry got involved. Each of these interests I have successfully put to the side over the years.

But not French.

I don't know where my interest came in the first place -- was it the Christmas music of Gisele we grew up with? Was it loving the art of Monet and music of Debussy? Was it a French name? Was it a love of the castles and cathedrals of France? Was it the beautiful sound of the mellow language?

I can't say I really understand why I haven't given it up on it yet either -- is it because I want another excuse to travel there? Is it because learning a language makes me more sympathetic to the struggles of those new to America or those who converse with tourists in multiple languages? Is it because I want to show that Americans really are more broadminded than some people think? Is it because I want to delay Alzheimer's and would rather not do crossword puzzles?
Whatever the reasons that led up to it and have kept it going, this passion is about to take a new plunge -- studying French in France.

Call it reaching out towards a goal. Call it fulfilling something on the bucket list. Call it an adventure. Call it craziness.

I'll see you later...

Around the corner

Guide books seem to be rather a necessary evil. I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with them.

Yes, it's good to know if a museum is closed on Mondays or the road to the beach is only accessible by jeep, but I'd rather not know about the hike that goes across private land and might be trespassing but you should do it anyway. Or the hike that requires you to climb a 20-foot rock wall with a rope before getting to the stream you have to swim through to get to the waterfall -- or at least I'd rather my husband not know about it.

Everybody on the Big Island recommends a particular guide book, and it has helped us tremendously in finding good beaches and even knowing where on each beach to find the best snorkeling. Imagine our surprise when it recommended Costco pizza in the restaurant section.

Sometimes it's almost scary the detail and accuracy involved, and leaves too little to be discovered. In looking for a lunch spot on the north end of the Big Island, we read of a bakery that got a low ranking because the selection was limited and the people were unfriendly and it closed for an hour at noon. We spotted the bakery and, since the book was a few years old, decided we'd try it out anyway. Sure enough, the selection was limited, the people were unfriendly, and the sign said it was closing for the lunch hour.

Sometimes we see everyone with the guidebook tucked under their arms eating at the same restaurant, and sometimes we have to eat at that same restaurant. Because it says to. And you just get in a habit of following the recommendations. But sometimes we go for something different.

And that's the secret to using a guide book. Use it but don't let it use you.

Talk to fellow travelers or better yet-- locals -- and see what they like to do. Try a restaurant not listed. Catch a sunrise in the very spot it recommends a sunset. Wander around the corner to see what you can find on your own.

It's the secret to more than just travel.

Here are a few discoveries from our last trip. Things not mentioned in our guide:

And no, I'm not telling where they are. You'll have to discover your own surprises.

Somebody's gotta say it

It's not such a bad thing to pay taxes.
Really.
I know, we're all walking around saying how awful it is we have to pay all these taxes and how the government is taking such a huge chunk of our money and how it's going to get worse.
But look at what we're getting for our money:
Thirteen years of school per child.
Police protection.
Roads around town and across the states.
Fire stations with all the latest equipment just down the block.
A military.
A space program.
Libraries.
The Smithsonian museums.
Head Start.
National Parks.
And yes, federal leaders looking out for our best interests.
Yes.
Do you know how many people in the world don't have those things? Those protections?

We Americans have been known to be a very generous people. Trouble in Haiti -- we're there, or our money is. Trouble in Europe in 1940? In Afghanistan in 2010? We're there -- or our money is. Not to conquer, not to control. To help and to free.

My guess is if our neighborhood didn't have fire protection, for example, and someone came to us and said: would you contribute to buying a fire truck so we can protect ourselves -- my guess is we'd give willingly. And if it turned out our neighbor couldn't contribute as much because he made less and had medical expenses besides, we'd be willing to pay more than an equal share.

So, taxes are just that. Contributing to a general need in relation to your ability to contribute.

And if our government comes to us and says: we had to help some businesses to keep the world economy from collapsing, wouldn't we be willing to pitch in and help?

It's easy to see it as an outsider. Take Greece. The government is trying to control its financial problems by lowering expenses and raising income, and the people are in revolt. Can't the people see that the government has to do that for the country to stay solvent?

Can't we see it?
Come on, America. Let's get past the petty, pouty, "give me this and give me that but don't make me pay for it" mentality.
Let's be willing to contribute to the whole. And let's do it with grace.

Shared experiences

I will never know what it's like to fly a commercial airliner from Los Angeles to Honolulu. Or to captain a 43-foot fishing boat in the waters off the Big Island. I'll never be an Israeli living in San Francisco or a loud but friendly Kentuckian wintering in Hawaii. I'll never work in Hilo for four years and then move to Kona or drive for two hours in the middle of the night and then hike for another before dawn to catch a perfect shot of lava at sunrise.

That's why I love to talk to people who have done those things.

I learn about automatic landing capabilities and layover schedules, about using mackerel for bait and about squeezing lemon on a papaya. I learn about vog and skin problems and photo techniques and favorite haunts.

I'll never be a lot of things. But I hope I meet a lot of people who are.

All the news that's fit to print

First, you must all know my bias:

-- I have a degree in journalism.

-- I worked for a newspaper up until the day my first child was born.

-- I am working for a newspaper now that my youngest child is twenty-something.

-- I start every day reading a newspaper.

Second, you should know why I believe newspapers are the best place to get the news:

-- They select the news based on its substance, not its video.

-- House fires and car accidents are on B3 rather than being the lead stories.

-- You can choose which articles and/or sections to read in detail and which to skim.

-- You get more than 3 minutes per story.

-- Two words: Local news.

--More words: City council meetings, school board boundary decisions, high school football games that you think might not be interesting but that should be. As well as the stuff we all know everyone reads: murders, violence, arrests. Plus the features on latest studies, successful students, awards, and on and on and on -- every day.

-- The ads are less intrusive and can be easily avoided.

-- Reporters don't have to be cute.

-- Less pervasive teasers.

-- More in depth information -- and you choose how much you want to know of each topic.

Finally, you should know that I consider one of the biggest tragedies of this economic turndown and electronic upswing the loss of so many newspapers.

We need the news. We need to know about what the city council is doing and what new businesses are in town and what's happening at the high school.

We need reporters. They'll tell you the things the government won't volutneer in case we might object. Permit me a common feeling held by members of the press: they're the fourth estate. They keep watch over the other three.

We need newspapers. We need to get more than the ranting of pundits on cable and the joking of comedians on the network and the rudeness of anonymous posters on the Internet.

If you agree with me on any point, please consider:

-- Subscribing to a newspaper.

-- Buying something from someone advertising in the paper and letting them know you saw the ad in the paper (yes, it comes down to money).

-- Paying for the news you read on-line when asked.

You'll be glad you did. We all will be.


(Pictures above are from some World Ward II editions of a newspaper in Kaysville that went out of business years ago.)

Feeding the soul

I hate to call them weeds. They're too pretty. But they do live at the side of the road and I kind of doubt anybody planted them and I'm right sure nobody tends them in any way.

You don't have to go far, whether in winter or summer, to find beauty. It's there after a snowstorm, it's there in a frost, it's there in a sunrise or after dark.

And it feeds the soul. If you stop long enough and let it.

I like to let it.

Exploring

It hasn't changed with the new generation.
The preference remains the real over the artificial.
Just feet from the plastic toys and child-proof books, the tree and its colors and smells and prickliness and dangling ornaments is the most fascinating.
And that's good.
Unless you get to the dirt in the flowerpot before grandma does. And get the dirt into your little mouth for a taste before grandma washes your little fingers.
Still, it's gotta be how we know textures so well. When we see dirt, when we see the branches of a tree, we know how they feel, how they smell and how they taste because once we were almost one and touched and tasted them.
And hopefully our mother said something like "so we're one with the earth, are we?" to forgive our grandma.

I'm all for the real.
For the national parks. For the family gatherings.
For limiting screen life.
For talking rather than watching.
For the exploring and hiking. For the touching and tasting and living and experiencing.
There may be prickliness, there may be dirt, but that's the real stuff of life.
Reach for it.