A Mental Exercise in Perspective

The following story was written about eight months ago. It was intended as a mental exercise for myself to try to view a potentially anger provoking situation with a different perspective. It was tough! It wasn't my turn to stay up with the kids, I was tired, it was the middle of the night and I had a full day the next day.
I entered the transcript to a competition at a local literary magazine that publishes amateur essays and short stories to see what would fly. Never heard back. I should have known not to satarize the sacred cow of a liberal art forum. Judging from the entries that won, I should have spent 20 to 24 pages writing about the cracks on a sidewalk in an abandoned, Argentinian, Jewish cemetery. Oh well, the exercise served it's purpose:


Cause, Effects, and Solutions of Global Warming


Many of the most brilliant minds of our century have devoted themselves to the noble charge of identifying the cause, effects, and solutions of global warming. Before undertaking a study of this phenomenon, I admit to not being well rehearsed in the theories and hypotheses of this threat to our very existence. The apprehensions of my novice investigations were acutely relieved and reassured when I stumbled across California Assembly Bill AB1493. The author claimed that his bill would “save us from tailpipe-emissions”. This legislation simply announces to all other States in the Union that they should follow suit and adopt the more stringent rules exemplified by themselves.

Such grass roots power was evidenced early in my education when I stood at the corner of Telegraph and Durant just outside of the University of California in Berkeley. I sported a new earring and longer hair than I now currently display (standard dress code for this university at that time). Choked by the fumes of exhaust and smoke of outdoor cooking of meat at the local restaurants I stood admiring the creativity of street peddlers as they showed homemade jewelry and a myriad of interestingly shaped pipes (for the smoking of tobacco, of course). The sidewalks were filled with racks of hanging tie-dye garments that offered color to otherwise bland streets. I must admit, that though tempted, I could not summon the courage to actually purchase or wear any of the tie-dye briefs waving to me in the wind. I meandered through throngs of people who came from all walks of life; the business suits (stoic, uncomfortable, and latently envious), the outwardly delusional (shouting obscenities to ‘the man’ for keeping him down), the inwardly delusional (believing God will punish him if he doesn’t give money to the homeless), and the students (all with cups of designer coffee in hand).

As I wandered, I stopped to admire a fellow city resident who had plastered a large brick wall with flyers to announce an ‘Earth Day Celebration’. This tie-dyed gentleman, with wiry and unwashed hair, was covered in glue. He got down from his ladder after having placed the top row of these bright yellow papers – all in all, I’d guess half a ream worth. He stepped to my side to admire his impressive work.

“Not bad! Huh?” He said to me.

“Impressive work.” I nodded. “But I have a question. How many trees did you kill for this remarkable display?”

After an extended moment of awkward silence and just as the neurons of his brain had shaken off whatever enhancing herbs had lingered from the night before, he was struck by the meaning of my question. I stifled the impulse to reveal a mischievous grin and simply left. I remember history. As I walked down the street I recounted to myself the lessons learned in the 1960’s from the residents of the City of Berkeley, California. “Do not irritate an activist within sight of People’s Park.”

Hypotheses for the current warming trends have ranged from natural cyclical atmospheric variants to anthropogenic causes[1]. Even gaseous (methane) emissions from bovine sources have been implicated[2]. (Though I suspect this journal article was written by zealous undergraduate students and co-authored by a securely tenured professor.) The American Academy of Science incorporates a prestigious group of scientists who meet annually to discuss environmental issues while trying to maintain the precision and skepticism of analytical thought that is required of their profession. Despite three conferences thus far, consensus remains ambiguously debated at best. Conferences have noted trends, but no conclusive causative evidence with most arguments being retrospective or anecdotal in nature.

Arrogantly, I have used the principle of the scientific method to evaluate this elusive concept. Though my research population is small (n = 4), data has confirmed the true source of global warming overwhelmingly and conclusively. No further study need be assumed. Universities are now free to divert their focus to other life-saving research topics that will improve our quality of life.

Consider: I am a middle-aged man who is married to a wonderful woman. We have a 13 year-old daughter and twin three year-old girls. I am obviously outnumbered by gender – even the cat is female. In fact, if you go about five miles outside the city limits of our town and turn to look from whence you came, you will notice a hazy, subtle, non-descript, green cloud resting in the atmosphere. This looming haze has been identified as estrogen that is leaking from my house. If left unchecked, this green cloud of estrogen will grow to massive proportions and assume a density previously unreported in naturally maintained homeostatic gaseous states. This, of course, blocks the penetrating rays of the life-giving sun and is, therefore, the predominate contributor to global warming – in a sense, it is a chromosomally produced nuclear winter.

Now, women are oblivious to this cloud of estrogen. Otherwise they would be more cautious when demanding to try on 15 pairs of shoes while men achingly wait. Also, under the effects of estrogen, awareness of the passage of time ceases. Rational cognitive thought processes are stymied when selecting the correct shade of orange in the proper selection of the perfect ponytail. After all, this fundamental decision will ensure a harmonic trip to the grocery store and therefore, logically, result in a smooth and productive day. When I walk by the bathroom I see a contribution to this estrogen cloud. Appliances occupy all electrical outlets. One outlet contains an appliance to curl hair while an appliance to straighten hair occupies the other outlet. The rest of the cabinet top and even the sink itself are full of other apparatuses and instruments that appear better adapted to Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory. Furthermore, a little known article of trivia is that automotive curb feelers were, in reality, invented to counter the cognitive intoxicating effects of the estrogen cloud.

Only a select few males who have endured the crucible of refinement are in tune with such insights toward an environmental disturbance. To them, such pageantry is readily recognizable. Occasionally, such a man will drive by my house. It is easy to distinguish these gentlemen. They drive by as if looking at a horrific traffic accident. Their car slows to a crawl; the driver tightens both hands on the wheel, and stares sideways. If you are lucky enough to catch his glance, there is nothing but hollow empathy and silent solidarity in those eyes, for he, too, understands the plight of global warming.

There are many good-intentioned people trying to raise awareness regarding global warning. Most of these endeavors, however, are ineffective or profit motivated. This is where I could be of assistance. I have found a reliable way in which I, an amateur in the traditions of environmental sciences, can right the wrong of this atmospheric crisis of imbalance. My solution: I mow the lawn.

During the busy summer months, my wife will occasionally offer to brave the elements to mow the lawn. What she doesn’t realize is that she is denying me the very sustenance of manhood…testosterone. Consider: It has been statistically shown that testosterone levels are raised when a subject is involved in activities analogous to mowing the lawn[3] thereby maintaining control over the green cloud of estrogen that universally threatens atmospheric conditions. Certainly there can be no other reason for mowing the lawn – except, perhaps, status anxiety.



Though some will tell you that the ozone layer is paramount for protection, the truth remains clear. The most precious resource for the maintenance of our environment is, in fact, testosterone. Why else did your father spend hours in the cold, dark, greasy garage? This hardly seems like the place to spend the evenings of your recreational hours. Perusing tools that were manufactured for turning or pounding metal and wood doesn’t sound like an activity of choice to me. After all, how many hours can be spent and how many ways can one categorize screws? My father knows. And in a stroke of genius and balance, he uses the very symbol of estrogen to prove it – Mason jars.

I’ve noticed that as I approach my father’s age, I’m beginning to understand why one would sacrifice luxury and comfort, for we are saving the world. So the next time you see a man mowing his lawn in the heat of an ‘Ozone Awareness Day’, be sure to thank him for his kindness.


Last night as the first storm of the season arrived, I noticed that my toddler twins were restless and disquieted. I went to their room and soothed one child back to sleep. The other awoke, got out of bed and stumbled toward me with an unsteady gait. With sleepy hope in her eyes, she asked Daddy to cuddle with her. Of course I welcomed her with open arms despite the red “3:58” displayed on the clock at the bedside. Her tiny body nestled into mine and my chest swelled as I flexed my muscles in order to provide a more suitable pillow for her head. She curled into my lap and began to breathe deeply and rhythmically – transcending toward a higher emotional plane and purpose; one fragile, little soul being held by my own fragile, little soul.

Then thunder struck. She lifted her head and asked, “What was that?”

“It’s thunder, honey.”

“Oh, it’s runder…”

My daughter would then resume her rhythmic deep breathing until the next thunder strike. “What was that?”

“It’s thunder, honey.”

“Oh, it’s runder…”

After continuing this exchange a few times more, she finally fell into a deeper state. The perfect features of her face showed no signs of anxiety or concern. My shoulders dropped and I caressed the side of her forehead and brow. I believe this moment was just as good for me as for my daughter.

Just as the benefits of a massage don’t seem to be recognized until after the task is completed, such was my realization that I had made a small contribution to that haze of green, gaseous material looming outside my house. But you know what? If this is estrogen, maybe it wouldn’t hurt the world to warm up a couple of degrees.


[1] Diaz JH: Global climate changes, natural disasters, and travel health risks. J Travel Med. 2006 Nov-Dec;13(6):361-72.

[2]Griffith DW, Bryant GR, Hsu D, Reisinger AR.: Methane emissions from free-ranging cattle: comparison of tracer and integrated horizontal flux techniques. J Environ Qual. 2008 Feb 20;37(3):582-91.

[3] Goto K, Takahashi K, Yamamoto M, Takamatsu K.: Hormone and recovery responses to resistance exercise with slow movement. J Physiol Sci. 2008 Feb;58(1):7-14. Epub 2008 Jan 12.

First blog --- What's to come...

K, guys, this is new to me, so bear with me.



When I get stressed, I write. I write about my memories, my friends, my family, my philosopy, my core...



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I'd like to post pics of my beautiful family, my hobbies, etc, without being boring. I will try to update periodically. Random neurons will fire and I will challenge you. At times I will be wrong (rarely) but at least one of you will shake your head and say, "huh?", and someone, somewhere will be offended.



Here is a collection of such: