Palindromes

[A summer repeat from April 16, 2012]

Can you say “Anna backwards“?  The usual response is “Anna.”  But the correct answer is “Anna backwards.” 

Anna is a “palindrome” (it is a word that reads the same forwards as backwards) just like Otto, Eve, Hannah and Elle.  “Anna sees Anna” is a palindrome.  “Did Hannah see bees Hannah did.”  Sure she did – backwards and forwards.  One of the first palindromes I learned was “Madam I’m Adam.”  Then there was “A man, a plan, a canal – Panama” referencing Teddy Roosevelt.  I began using palindromes for tutoring at Chicago Lights Tutoring (see prior posts).  “Read this backwards” I would say to the student.  And get blank stares.  And then suddenly – the lights (and smiles) went on.  🙂

Cigar?  Toss it in a can.  It is so tragic.

Enid and Edna dine.

Hey Roy!  Am I mayor?  Yeh!

My gym. 

Never odd or even. 

Now I won. 

Too bad I hid a boot. 

Was it a car or a cat I saw? 

Too hot to hoot!

Live not on evil.  

Mr. Owl ate my metal worm.

So Ida – Adios. 

Tuna roll or nut?

Stella won no wallets. 

The earliest recorded palindrome dates to 79 A.D.  In Latin, it is “Sator Arepo tenet opera rotas” (“the sower Arepo holds works wheels“).   The longest palindrome?  It’s 17,826 pretty random words.   No I won’t repeat it here . . . . .

Why Wildfires Have Gotten Worse

[A timely and unfortunate repeat from January 27, 2019] I have posted occasionally on TED Talks I watch while having lunch or working out. I just finished my chicken avocado sandwich while watching a TED Talk bearing the title above – “Why Wildfires have gotten Worse” by Dr. Paul Hessburg http://www.ted.com/talks/paul_hessburg_why_wildfires_have_gotten_worse_and_what_we_can_do_about_it#t-839042 . .             

Dr. Hessburg is a forest ecologist with the U.S. Department of Agriculture – Forest Service. He has a doctorate in Forest Pathology from Oregon State University and he is an Affiliate Professor at the University of Washington. Dr. Hessburg’s message is that “unless we change . . . our forest and fire management habits . . . we will lose many more beloved forests. . . . ”  

On November 9th, the New York Times had an article titled “Why Does California Have So Many Wildfires.”  The answer – according to the Times is fourfold:  climate change; people (who start fires); fire suppression policies; and the Santa Ana winds.  Dr. Hessburg’s 14 minute video is an excellent primer which tracks in part the NYT article.  So why is the situation worse today?   Misguided forest management is a major reason. If you want the details, invest 14 minutes and watch his presentation.       

“Sully” – Redux

In response to my post “Sully” and the influential swing thought that I derived from it (“HEAD DOWN – STAY DOWN“), a friend suggested a scenario where that imperative might be ignored.

A very angry and discouraged golfer, having played 18 horrible holes, at the end of the round looked over at his caddie and pointed to the water hazard and said “I think I’m going to drown myself in that pond.” To which his caddie replied, “Sir, that would be great – but do you think that you can keep your head down long enough?” 

The angry golfer looked at the caddie and snarled “you must be the worst caddie in the world” to which the caddie replied “no sir – that would be too much of a coincidence. . . . ”

A Ten. . . .

[A summer repeat from July 3, 2016] I scored a point or two by asking Donna if she wanted to go out for dinner on Friday (ka-ching).  “No she said . . . how about if we stay home and have something simple.” Now I have come to realize that “simple” in Donna’s parlance means plain chicken, rice and asparagus.  Three of my favorite things.  Not.   So I offered to make dinner.

I went to Fresh Market (my usual haunt for dinner inspiration) and bought 3/4 of a pound of wild Atlantic sockeye salmon for Donna.  Simple.  And I got three crab cakes for myself (a regular crab cake; the “ultimate” crab cake; and a salmon cake). I wanted to try them all.  The salmon was drenched in olive oil.  Seasoned with turmeric and pepper and baked for 20 minutes at 400.  The “cakes” I sautéed in olive oil until brown. 

Then (be still my heart) I got organic white potatoes; organic carrots; and some Shiitaki mushrooms.  The potatoes I diced thinly and sautéed in butter.  Topped with ground pepper, turmeric, Kosher salt and garlic powder.    The carrots and Shiitakis were washed (the carrots were filthy), the carrots skinned and everything diced and sautéed  in olive oil.   Both took about 40 minutes on low(er) heat.  Candles.  A little Gato Barbieri crooning in the background.   “Well?” I asked.   Donna looked up.  “This is probably a nine and a half.”  She paused.  Savored a bite.  “Actually a ten” (ka-ching).  And then – the píece de résistance – I whipped out a Talenti Sicilian Pistachio gelato to close the meal.  And did the dishes.  Ka-ching ka-ching . . . . .        

“Sully”

I like to golf. I’m okay at it. Not great.  I play a few times a week in the summer and shoulder seasons. I have a 18 index that (I think) is moving down.   My attitude on any given day can affect my game.  The reason is — golf is 65% mental. And 35% mental. . . . .

In days past, I used to have a dozen swing thoughts that would spiral and pulse through my small brain as I addressed the ball, raised the club and brought it down for an imperfect “whack” on my Pro V-1. Yet on any given stroke, I might forget half of the most important swing thoughts (slow back, hands tight, right elbow in . . . .). These days, however, I have pared down my swing thoughts to a single mandate. I have Captain Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger to thank for it.

Have you ever seen the movie “Sully”? If not, watch the trailer – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjKEXxO2KNE It will explain – in an “ahaaa” moment – the origin of my swing thought.

When Captain Sullenberger realizes that he cannot make it to LaGuardia or Teterboro Airports – he knows he will have to “land” in the Hudson River. He takes his microphone and announces over the loudspeaker the iconic words – “Brace for Impact.” At that point, the flight attendants begin yelling – what is etched into my mind as I address the ball. . . .

HEAD DOWN – STAY DOWN!” In short, I try to keep my head stationary – and down – as I swing and follow through. That directive usually works. Though sometimes the swing thought disappears and my mind becomes a tabula rasa (blank slate) as I’m swinging down. And I will immediately look up (often before I hit the ball) and want to see where the ball is going. And you can guess what happens then . . . . .

Do You Play Golf?

[A repeat from March 19, 2017]  Years ago, when I was a States Attorney, I played golf with 7 other guys. Every Saturday morning for several years.  From April to October – we played at Cog Hill. Number 4. Dubsdread. Reserved tee times.  6:30 a.m. or so depending on sunrise.   Second and third foursomes off the tee — usually after Larry Lujack and a group from his radio staff.   

Since I lived in Wilmette, this meant traversing 45 miles to Lemont. Every Saturday morn.  To arrive by 5:45 a.m.  Thus, each Saturday, I was up at 4:00.  Showered, dressed and on the road by 4:30 a.m.

When I left my house, I would not waste time.  If you get my drift.  I gunned the car when I left the driveway and by the time I hit Lake Street, I was doing maybe 50.  In a 30 zone.   Never a soul on the highway.  Except one morning when in the black of night, way back, I saw the flicker of Mars lights moving swiftly in my direction.  #%&X!.  I slowed.  Stopped.  Got out of the car and stood there.  Holding up my license.  A police squadrol ground to a stop and an officer got out.  I was wearing khaki shorts, flip flops and a golf shirt so I didn’t look like much of a threat.  “Do you know how fast you were going?” he asked as he approached.   I handed him my license.  “Yes sir – I do.  I was going too fast.”  And then I offered “Are you a golfer?”  He looked at me.  “Yeah.  Why?”  I responded “I live back there.”  I turned and pointed.  “Every Saturday morning, I play golf at Cog Hill in Lemont.  We tee off in about an hour.  And I confess that I sometimes go faster than I should when I leave my house.”  

The officer looked at me.  Chewing on my comment.   “Well most Saturdays, I’m sitting right back [he turned and pointed] there. Keeping an eye on things.  Do me a favor.  Go the speed limit from now on.”  And he handed me back my license.  “Hit ’em straight” he said.  And walked back to his cruiser.  

No Mow May

“No Mow May.” I heard this term for the first time last week. Judging by my Socratic inquiries, most of the people I know have never heard the term either. But “No Mow May” is an increasingly national movement to . . . . are you ready? Do NOt MOW your lawn during the month of MAY. . . .

No Mow May is an environmental movement intended to allow grasses/lawns to grow undisturbed for an entire month. The purpose is to help provide a safe haven for pollinators (mainly bees) and other wildlife. The effort will thereby have a positive impact on local ecosystems and reduce emissions from lawn mowers and leaf blowers.

After learning about the term while playing golf at a perfectly manicured golf course, I drove home — keeping watch for No Mow May lawns. And interestingly there were a few. Most were covered with high grass and dandelions. Notwithstanding good intentions, there has been criticism of No Mow May given that pollinators will settle in (“Martha, isn’t this a beautiful lawn? Let’s pollinate!“) and on June 1st – be shredded to pieces with the first mowing. It has also been criticized given a propensity for fungal disease. One of the suggested options would be that each homeowner simply allot a small square/area of property where the grass can grow, the pollinators thrive and the condition of the rest of the lawn remain attractive.

One suggestion I have is — is to simply go back to the old push lawn mowers and lawn rakes. We’ll call it “Push Mower May.”

The Orphan Master’s Son

[A repeat from September 21, 2014] On July 10, 2014, I offered a post on Kim Jong Un – the animal who rules North Korea (pardon me – the “Democratic People’s Republic of Korea“).  Little did I know that I’d be following up my post so soon with another post about North Korea — “The Hermit Kingdom.”  

On February 17, 2014, the United Nations released a report on North Korea which details some of the unspeakable cruelties and horrors that occur daily in North Korea:  starvation; corruption; prison camps; wholesale extermination, slaughter and murder; torture; rape; kidnapping of young women; forced abortions; brainwashing; and acts worse than your worst nightmare. 

I just finished reading The Orphan Master’s Son by Adam Johnson.  This 2013 Pulitzer Prize winner (for fiction) and New York Times bestseller depicts life (if you can call it that) in North Korea.  It paints a 443 page picture of one young man – an orphan named Jun Do  – who rises through the ranks to rival Kim Jong Il  (1941-2011) the psychotic “Dear Leader” who preceded Kim Jong Un.  I could go into great and glorious detail on the images of the book.  Suffice to say, the book is powerful and compelling.  And painful.  It makes you want to task Jack Reacher and Mitch Rapp (see 8/25/11 and 12/30/12) to do a Control Alt Delete of North Korean leadership.

Haiku

(A reprint from February 7, 2012)

A haiku is a short form of Japanese poetry characterized by three qualities:

1. There are three stanzas of 5, 7 and 5 syllables;

2. There are two well-defined images (with a kireji or “cutting word” between them); and

3. The subject is usually drawn from the natural world (often seasonal).

The most famous composer of haiku poetry was Matsuo Basho (1644-1694). He was the grand poet of the Edo period and his poetry has achieved international renown. His works frequently appear on Japanese monuments and at traditional Japanese sites. Basho’s most famous (and probably the best known example of) haiku was “The Old Pond.”

Fu-ru-i-ke ya

Ka-wa zu to-bi-ko-mu

Mi-zu no 0-to

The translation?

Old pond

A frog leaps in

Splash

haiku can be a poignant teaching tool for students since it requires structure, thought, concentration and result. 

The Winter Squirrel” by Renaissance Hombre

A squirrel sits still

His tail begins to move

And away he goes

Move over Mister Basho. . . . .

So this painter. . .

So this guy walks up to a house and rings the doorbell.  A woman answers the door.

Ma’am, I’m a painter.  I will paint anything.”

The woman thinks. . . “Why don’t you paint my porch.   Paint it dark brown.” 

So the guy goes to work an a few hours later, he rings the doorbell. 

Ma’am, I’m all done.  By the way, it wasn’t a Porsche – it was a Mercedes Benz. . . .”