It's Not Easy

Let's be honest. Ethics is not for wimps.


It's not easy being a good person.

It's not easy to be honest when it might be costly, to play fair when others cheat, or to keep inconvenient promises.

It's not easy to stand up for our beliefs and still respect differing viewpoints.

It's not easy to control powerful impulses, to be accountable for our attitudes and actions, to tackle unpleasant tasks, or to sacrifice the now for later.

It's not easy to bear criticism and learn from it without getting angry, to take advice, or to admit error.

It's not easy to feel genuine remorse and apologize sincerely, or to accept apologies graciously and truly forgive.

It's not easy to stop feeling like a victim, to resist cynicism, or to make the best of every situation.

It's not easy to be consistently kind, to think of others first, to judge generously, or to give the benefit of the doubt.

It's not easy to be grateful or to give without concern for reward or gratitude.

It's not easy to fail and still keep trying, to learn from failure, to risk failing again, to start over, to lose with grace, or to be glad of another's success.

It's not easy to look at ourselves honestly and be accountable, to avoid excuses and rationalizations, or to resist temptations.

No, being a person of character isn't easy. That's why it's such a lofty goal and an admirable achievement.

 - Michael Josephson

Happiness is . . .

The Geography of Bliss: One Grump's Search for the Happiest Places in the World by Eric Weiner


My rating: 3 of 5 stars


Probably one of the least happiest books about happiness I've read. The descriptions of the places the author visits are terrific. However, the author is a self-described grump, and it shows. There is a layer of film over even the most happy places the author visits, even the most delighted people. I found the entire book to be a little depressing, as though the motive for writing wasn't really achieved. There is happiness to be found everywhere, and sure, it can be measured, but why? Basically I was confounded with the entire premise, that certain places would be happier than others. I mean, there are homeless people in Hawaii who are probably just as pissed off as some of the people in Qatar or Bhutan (whichever was "happy" in the book). Just not a terrific read, frankly.




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Loss of love and sight

The Blind Contessa's New Machine by Carey Wallace


My rating: 3 of 5 stars


A beautifully descriptive first novel from a young author. A love story about the loss of sight and how to make up for that in imagination. This book is elegant and lovely, although the ending broke my heart in its abrupt apathy. The "machine" doesn't make its appearance until three-quarters through the book, and really, doesn't have much to do with the story. The love between Carolina and her scientist is what draws the reader gently through the Italian countryside in this story. Great read, disappointing ending.




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Immortality

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot


My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Very interesting book about a black woman who, in 1951, unknowingly donated some of her cancer cell tissue which provided limitless groundbreaking for science and technology ever since. Henrietta Lacks was a poor woman from slavery ancestry who provided for her husband and children as best she could until she got sick and went to Johns Hopkins for treatment. While there, she received radiation therapy to cure the cancer which eventually took her life. Her cells were taken for research and found to multiply unlike any cells ever seen to that point in history. Her cells do not die. To date, there are enough cells from Henrietta to circle the Earth three times. This fascinating story tells about the ethics concerning tissue donation when the donor is not aware of the donation nor of the ramifications of donating, as well as the multi-billion dollar industry surrounding the use of donated tissue. It is a sad tale because the Lacks family was cheated out of their share of the profits made from the use of Henrietta's cells, in fact they can't even afford health insurance for their family. The argument for and against informed consent is dissected, does consent help or hinder scientific research? Really great read and lots of questions to answer about tissue research.




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Smashed

Smashed: Story of a Drunken Girlhood by Koren Zailckas


My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Both shockingly honest and also too familiar. The difference I could tell between the author and me is I couldn't feel her overwhelming shame or guilt or remorse in these pages. I have lived through many of the same alcohol induced experiences and, in fact quite a few more since she was in her twenties before she had sex and apparently was never caught drinking and driving. She also quit drinking by 23, whereas I have over 10 years on her by now. Even in my most innocent alcoholic encounters, I felt guilty. She talks about her stomach being pumped and who knows possibly being raped and waking up in strager's houses with the air of a documentary, but never seems afraid of her choices or worried about what other people thought of her. She's much more of a puker than I ever was but, again, she didn't seem embarrassed by it, just saw it as part of being young and drunk. I am impressed with her candor and writing, even if it felt like she was a little removed from it all.

She ends her book with a passionate rage against the alcohol industry in the media.  Most eye catching to me was this:

"Drinking, like all forms of self-destruction, isn't a valid art form - because it allows the world to rejoice in our weakness..."

She also says:  "I've had it with a world that has created a generation of women who are emotionally dependent on alcohol, and then demonized us for our lack of feminine control."

And finally:  "I see alcohol like a man who courted us all.  Alcohol has been the first love of so many of us; it had us believing we were desirable and challenging in its presence alone.  It let us think it would take us away from small towns, stressful studies, tedious jobs, or unproductive relationships.  We have been terrifyingly devoted to it, and it's left too many of us heart sore."

Amen.




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31 hours

My dad came to visit after spending a week golfing in the heat of the valley of the sun.  It's a straight shot from his home in western Montana down the highway to the desert where, in 115 degree heat, you can golf for a steal in the middle of summer.  Five days of 18-36 holes a day, grubbing on Phoenician delectables and improving his game little by little. 

His friend, Betty, accompanied him on the trip south.  Handsome and I met Betty and her then husband, Bob, when we traveled to MT to introduce my future husband to his future in-laws.  I liked Betty a lot.  Apparently she is a great road warrior and obviously decent golfer.

They rolled in, road weary, about 9:00 on Saturday night.  Showers for them both, blowing up the aero-bed, hugs all around and a 10:00 bed time cut the night short.  Sunday morning was coffee and breakfast on the deck in the shade of the monster umbrella.  A scorcher was on the way.  Packed up everyone and their hats and sunscreen and off to pick up the youngest of our family line for a day watching America's favorite pasttime.

What a warm one it was!  The 4th inning brought a cloud that seemed a worthy size and as it passed over the stadium, various sections cheered its arrival.  We chugged gatorades and ate dippin dots and barely survived the loss to the opposing team.  We moseyed over to our adoptive family's house for a pick-me-up dinner of bbq beef sammies and corn on the cob with a tossed salad.  It was delicious and the company was delightful.

Exhaustion set in after a day in the sun and with company so after we got home, showers all around, last minute alarm clock checks and hugs all around with promises to say goodbye in the wee hours of the morning.  4:05 came after a night of tossing and turning but that coffee maker was ready for action.  Hugs all around, tamales packed in the cooler, promises to visit again soon, for longer, and the van pulled away for a long drive back to the Bitterroots.

I glanced around thinking, "I mopped for that?"

Happy anniversary baby, now where's my wood?

Heh, heh, the double entendre doesn't escape me.

Happy fifth anniversary to my wonderful husband.  You give me so much to be thankful for, and making me laugh is at the top of your best trait list.

Thank you for making me a better person for the last five years.  I love ya!

Tonight we will celebrate with my mom and her husband and our long-time good friends from California.  Dinner on the deck is in the works, if Mother Nature agrees.  It poured and lightning'ed like mad last night.  Crossing my fingers!