Toothpaste . . .

Toothpaste is not like skim milk or orange juice - items requiring frequent trips to the grocery store. A tube of tooth paste goes a long way. Hence, changes in your favorite brand are likely, since the last time you went toothpaste shopping.

This past week, I used up the last of our toothpaste. Off to the grocery store I went, (for milk and orange juice and other items that had gone missing from our pantry and refrigerator) to investigate my options. When I came to the toothpaste department, I was overwhelmed. I was astounded at the technological improvements that had been made since I bought my last tooth paste.

What product might best suit my needs - my old brand nowhere to be seen?

Rows and rows of toothpaste - all touting their particular value for your pearly whites. And all the boxes were big - nothing that would allow me to fly on an airplane. Did I have sensitive teeth? No, an occasional bowl of ice cream was never a problem - nor a tall glass of something cold and refreshing on a hot day in July. Or hot soup in January.

The various boxes raised other existential questions. Did I want to whiten my teeth, remove plaque and tartar (is there a difference?) or prevent cavities and gum disease? Or simply freshen my breath - which I assumed was fresh enough because people did not back away when I opened my mouth.

Feeling overwhelmed by all the choices, I moved on to the hand lotion department. At least there, I was clearer about what I expected the stuff in the bottle would do. And I did not have high expectations that a particular brand would make me thirty years younger and sexier.

However, there still was this matter of toothpaste. So I returned to the plethora of products. For starters, I asked myself if was there anything I didn't want my toothpaste to do for my teeth.  And I forgot to mention - what flavor did I want to invite my mouth to enjoy.

Lacking a computer with sophisticated statistical analytical tools, I was forced to collate the various factors in my head.  At least I could be methodical about scanning each row of large boxes.

Finally, I reached out and plucked a box from the shelf. I hoped it was a good choice - because the size of the tube meant I would be living with it for some time to come.

Unless that is, I booked a plane flight - and needed toothpaste that met TSA requirements. Wouldn't want someone flying with me who used a toothpaste tube to carry a bomb. Bad breath is enough of a problem, given the increasingly smaller size of seats.

Life is so complicated these days.

Urban Crane Watching

Note: After a sabbatical of rather considerable length, I have returned to contributing to this blog!

During springtime, we often go crane watching in central Nebraska. Across a sixty-mile stretch of the Platte River, most of the sand hill cranes in the world congregate. There they fatten up for their long journey to nesting grounds that stretch from eastern Siberia across northern Canada.

Since it now is mid-summer, we have turned to another kind of crane watching. This past week, we watched a huge crane "fold-up" after completing whatever it was doing at a construction site near us. The height of this crane seemed a bit of over-kill to us. But what ever - the crew seemed to think this behemoth was necessary. Slowly, the huge creature telescoped into smaller and smaller sections until it fit on the flat-bed of a vehicle designed to transport it from place to place.

The procedure was elaborate. Many pieces were stored in place, parts chained down so they could not move and cause damage, leg-extensions that prevented it from tipping sideways were slid into slots within the  interior of the vehicle- and finally chocks the size of railroad ties were removed from its fourteen huge wheels. Then off it went - toward the freeway and some other project.

We marveled at this elaborate invention and wondered how much money it took to make it. It did not originate from some factory assembly line mass producing such an ingenious creation. Rather, it likely was custom-made.

Our appetite whetted, we went to the third floor of a building in the center of the city and stood on a balcony overlooking the biggest construction project in our city. Here multiple cranes slowly danced across the sky. Choreographed to move materials from one place to another on the construction site without colliding with each other. Back and forth they went, giving a new perspective of our much smaller mobile crane of several days earlier.

Most of the time, the cranes lifted dark unidentifiable objects. Somewhere, there must have been someone directing the traffic, someone who responded to recess to move a needed part from one place to another.

However, it was our lucky day. As we watched, the biggest crane plucked two Porta Potties and moved them from one side of the work in progress to the other. fortunately the crane did not either one while it was in transit.

What can you say?

WHAT YOU SEE DEPENDS ON WHERE YOU STAND . . .

Minnesota has thousands of lakes. For many years, car license plates
carried the slogan "Land of 10,000 Lakes." The DNR states there are
actually 11,842 lakes 10 acres or larger. Each lake has been given a
name with some of the "names" being simply numbers . . . like Lake
22 or Lake 23.

The lakes sometimes share the same name. For me, amount all the 154
lakes named "Long", one Long Lake will always be special.

     It was where I saw a Cerulean Warbler for the first time.


                                     Cerulean

                           A small flutter of a bird
                               traverses tree tops.

                 Part of springtime passing through
                                   to elsewhere.

                            I lift my eyes skyward
                               hoping to glimpse
                        its ethereal, sky-blue back.

                                   But see only
                            a clear, white breast.

                            Next year, I will walk
                         along a high-ridge trail,
                               to look down on 
                                     tree tops.

                                 

BLUEBIRDS REMEMBERED

They turn in lilting flight,
descend to trees and fences and
begin a gentle conversation.

In loose clusters, never alone
as if they have
a fondness
for each other's company.

Always in my memories,
their graceful flight
and soft calls
always -

turning blue skies 
more blue.

May Day ! ! May Day ! !

I remember a May Day in London. Elizabeth and I had just visited
Westminster Cathedral and out in front was a significant gathering of
people watching a circle of young girls dancing, holding ribbons, and
twining the ribbons around a May Pole. I had heard about May Poles . . .
but had never seen one. And here I was watching it all happen!

But, that wasn't all.

The group invited me to join them. Now . . . I'm not a "dancing type"
person, only having danced once with Elizabeth at our high school prom.
But, there I was dancing. I will never forget that day in London with
Elizabeth.

I can hardly wait to see what special thing Elizabeth and I will do
on this May Day!

Feathers Go Before A Fall

This poem was written on the day before International Earth Day 2005 (35 years after the first Earth Day in 1970!) and dedicated to Gaylord Nelson and all far-sighted persons around the world.

DDT was banned in the U.S. on 6/14/1972. It was not allowed to be used anymore after the last day of that year. It took a while for the food chain of the Bald Eagle to rid itself of toxic levels of the pesticide. Coupled with major tracts of land being set aside for breeding pairs, the numbers of eagles slowly grew. Truly a modern success story!

Just yesterday, I saw two different pairs of eagles soaring over the Mississippi near our home.


Feathers Go Before A Fall

Crossing an isthmus onto an
island in Lake Wappogasset.
Northern Wisconsin is beautiful.
Today was especially so.
The day was early.
The bay was edged with stately pine -
protected and still.

And there it was!

A lone mature Bald Eagle
perched on an exposed limb.
White head and tail glistened in the sun.
Eagles didn't used to be rare in these parts.
Was always a joy to see one!

But not today . . .

High in the tree, a light wind blew.
The eagle seemed unsteady.
Rocking and wobbly.
Tail feathers disheveled -
some missing.
Two tail feathers joined the air as I watched -
landing lightly on the water.

What was wrong?

Someone at camp said that its mate had
died two days before.
Found it floating.

     It won't be long before this one
     dies as well . . . It's the DDT.

That was back in the early 70's.
So different now.
Change happens.
Some, not without effort.

Sometimes, too late.

Sometimes, not at all.

M A Y P E A C E P R E V A I L

Last evening and early  this morning . . . it snowed  no less
than 9 inches here in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The snow
made a beautiful background for our outside Peace Pole.

Some years ago, my spouse and I designed and built the
6-foot, cedar-post Peace Pole and set it firmly in concrete
in our  front yard. The words "May Peace Prevail on Earth"
are  carefully painted in black in sixteen different languages
on the Peace Pole's four sides. We had asked each of our
surrounding neighbors to print for us how the words "may
peace prevail on earth" would look in each of their countries
of origin. They were most enthusiastic to do so. One of our
Polish friends even insisted that five words were inadequate
and wrote out a whole paragraph! (When he saw the amount
of space there was . . . he agreed to just the five words.)

We wish you could see it now, out there in the freshly fallen
snow! I also hope and pray that peace will someday cover
the earth . . .