Month: December 2021

I have a friend who appears sad. In our conversations, she often challenges me about why I am concerned and trying to change local issues as well as the broader world. I realize I care because I have hope that things can be better if I do something. She said she had little hope for anything to change. The conversations pushed me to think more deeply about hope and what it means to me, especially for this new year.

A professional colleague of mine introduced me to the idea of a “politics of hope” years ago. She explained that a belief (all politics are about beliefs) in hope was not only understanding something but working to critically examine, break down, and question the structures associated with the situation.

I wondered why hope was so important to me and seemed illusive for my friend. I learned, as people do, to hope when I was a child. When I was upset, usually mom and sometimes dad consoled, “It’s OK. It will get better.” I believed them.

I have also been thinking about how a person sustains hope when things sometimes feel hopeless. Big questions relative to climate change and social injustice prevail to mention only two issues. What happens when you lose hope? What happens when a person loses confidence in better days ahead? Sans hope I am in a state of sadness and fear.

The late Desmond Tutu suggested, “Hope is being able to see the light in spite of the darkness.” I have struggled with clinical depression during my life, and I know the feeling of darkness and dim light. For me, being hopeful as I enter the new year embodies positive feelings. More than that, I want my hope to result in inspired actions focused on self-improvement as well as making a difference in the world around me. I have learned that hope is having an expectation that change is possible because of intentional efforts.

Jane Goodall and Doug Abrams’ recent book, The Book of Hope, describes Goodall’s four reasons for hope in the chaotic world: amazing human intellect, the resilience of nature, power of young people, and the indominable human spirit. Thoughts from someone like Goodall gives me a foundation for a belief in human strength and informed actions for the new year.

I am not one to make new year’s resolutions, but I am committed to being hopeful for the future. I will support others who aspire with hopeful hearts and are willing to put actions behind their beliefs, resolutions, wishes, and hopes. Have a hopeful new year!

Unlike the apocalyptic lyrics of John Fogerty’s Bad Moon Rising (“I see a bad moon rising. I see trouble on the way…I see bad times today”), I choose to focus on the positives of a moon rising.

About 15 months ago, I was feeling discouraged about the resurgence of Covid-19 and the inability to return to any semblance of “normal.” I was tired of staying away from people and being continually cautious. Although I was active outside every day and enjoyed the timeless beauty of my area, I longed for social interaction outside my tiny bubble.

I wanted to do something healthy for my friends who had been generous over the months with their time and efforts in making masks, sharing their handiwork, sending notes, and dropping off little goodies.

Something I missed from volunteering at the park was structured park activities such as the monthly full moon walks led by interpretive rangers and supplemented with volunteers. A gift I thought I could give my friends was to organize monthly get-togethers outdoors, fully masked, and socially distanced to enjoy the full moon as it rose at twilight in the park.

Rocky Mountain National Park has plentiful landscapes where people can observe the moon as it crests the eastern horizon and heads across the night skies.

I invited potentially interested friends to meet me for the first time at Sprague Lake for a ¾-mile stroll around the lake at dusk. I had no idea if anyone would show up. Thirteen people came. I had experienced the enchantment of the first moonlight edging over the horizon, but some folks had not recently had that experience.

We eagerly awaited the illumination on the horizon on that first cold November night. When the Beaver Moon appeared eerily through the clouds and shown down, a new world opened for us. The reflection of the moon across the partially frozen lake provided radiance to the area. Eventually the moon shadows from our bodies emerged as we made our way around the lake. We stopped frequently to absorb the moonlight, dance with the moon shadows, and take photos. Words were not needed to describe our experience.

Throughout the rest of the winter and into April, I led the full moon rising strolls at various places in the park. Each one was different. The moon appeared from behind the clouds almost every time. We experienced the Cold (December), Wolf (January), Snow (February), Worm (March), and Pink (April) moons aptly named by indigenous peoples over the centuries.

I am continuing the monthly walks this year. Social distancing and masks are no longer necessary as long as everyone is vaccinated and boosted. I love sharing these monthly strolls to collectively experience the brilliance and heritage of the moon. To rewrite Fogerty’s song, “Full moon rising, I see beauty on the way, I see good times this day.”

Although some people complain about the supply chain issues in stores and increasing inflation, I remind myself that I am blessed with abundance. From Earth’s Population Statistics in Perspective, Dr. Scout Cloud Lee shared statistics about the world’s population that caused me to wonder and think.

The population of Earth is around 7.8 billion. If this figure is condensed into 100 persons, the statistics are easier to comprehend.

Out of 100:
11 are in Europe
5 in North America
9 in South America
15 in Africa
60 in Asia.

49 live in the countryside
51 live in cities.

12 speak Chinese
5 speak Spanish
5 speak English
3 speak Arabic
3 speak Hindi
3 speak Bengali
3 speak Portuguese
2 speak Russian
2 speak Japanese
62 speak their own language.

Out of 100:
77 have their own dwellings
23 have no place to live.

21 are over-nourished
63 can eat full
15 are under-nourished
1 ate the last meal but did not make it to the next meal.

The daily cost of living for 48 is less than 2 US Dollars.

87 have clean drinking water
13 either lack clean drinking water or have a polluted water source.

75 have mobile phones
25 do not.

Out of 100:
30 have internet access
70 do not have the availability to go online.

7 received university education
93 did not attend college.

83 can read
17 are illiterate.

33 are Christians
22 are Muslims
14 are Hindus
7 are Buddhists
12 are other religions
12 have no religious beliefs.

26 live less than 14 years
66 died between 15 – 64 years of age
8 are over 65 years old.

Lee concluded that if you have your own home, eat full meals and drink clean water, have a mobile phone, can surf the internet, and have gone to college, and I would add have lived to Medicare age, you are in a small, privileged group (in the less than 7% category).

A privilege is an entitlement granted to a group or person, either by birth or on a conditional basis, and can change. By contrast, a right is irrevocable and inherently held by all human beings. Many privileges I enjoy such as education, healthy food, and leisure ought to be fundamentally available to all as their rights. As these statistics indicate, this social justice does not currently exist.

My status allows me to live a comfortable life, despite daily inconveniences. During this time of the year, I am deeply aware of the gratitude I feel for my earned and unearned privilege.

I enjoy Christmas traditions and this season of light. Sometimes it feels over-commercialized and extremely busy. In my older adult years, however, I reflect on memories of Christmases past—memories that bring me both joy and reflection.

I looked forward as a kid to what Santa Claus might bring me, and I learned at an early age the joy of giving to others. When I was early elementary age, I got an allowance each week for doing chores around the farm/house. I saved each year so I could buy Christmas presents for my family. I remember taking the $2 I saved and mom dropping me off at the Variety Store in Coggon to do my shopping. I could spend 50 cents each on gifts for mom, dad, and my two sisters. I always managed to find things that I hoped they would like that were within my budget.

A traumatic experience of my life was learning that there was no Santa Claus. I knew my parents couldn’t afford all the things I thought I wanted, but I had hopes for Santa Claus.

A most savored memory of Christmas was later in my adult life when I would come home to Iowa to visit. It was fun to help mom prepare for the big family dinner. As she got older, it was a bigger stressor than joy for her, but I knew that she felt confident when I was there. We prepared and cooked.

One tasty Christmas tradition my mother had was to bake frosted coffee cakes and take them to neighbors and friends on Christmas Eve Day. I helped her make the deliveries. She taught me how to make those sweet delicacies, but I didn’t inherit or perfect her expertise.

As I got older I loved Christmas eve with my mom and dad when we would go to church and then drive through town and the countryside looking at Christmas lights. After my dad passed, it was just me and mom going to church and then going out to Christmas eve dinner together.

Mom’s favorite thing about Christmas was the music and she instilled that love in me. When I hear certain songs, particularly sung by choirs, I harken back to how much she adored the sounds of Christmas.

Christmas present is different. I love my town with the Christmas lights that stay up until mid-February bringing light and life to the long winter. I revel in my Norfolk Island Pine with all the special decorations and especially the handmade ones my sister, Suki, has given me every year for decades. I miss deeply those Christmases past but am grateful to have the memories associated with the lights, family, and music. Christmas today is nostalgic and different.

I do not know what Christmas future may hold. I am confident that Christmases will continue to evolve, and yet remain the same, as I grow older. My hope is for PEACE (and JUSTICE) on earth.

One of my volunteer associates at the Information Office at Rocky Mountain National Park asked me in jest after a busy morning, “How many lives did you save today?” We like to think that what we tell people helps them to think through their park plans and assure they are prepared for their visit and especially for hiking. You never know if you made a difference and saved a life.

I think about the importance of prevention since I had a career in a field that was about enjoying life in healthy and safe ways. A story I told my students illustrated the difference between prevention and treatment. A beautiful cliffside was on the outskirts of a city. People loved to hike to the top but there was a problem. People sometimes fell off the cliff and needed medical attention. One solution was to station an ambulance at the bottom of the hill so immediate treatment would be available. There are, however, interventions to prevent these accidents. One radical means was to close the trail and not allow anyone to the cliff. That solution would deny the beauty of the experience to people. Other interventions might be better such as constructing a low fence at the top with appropriate signage to warn against falls. Educating people about the safe enjoyment of the area was also an option. This example illustrated the difference between treatment (having an ambulance available), and prevention (helping people enjoy safely).

Most parks have Search and Rescue (SAR). The idea of Preventive Search and Rescue (PSAR), however, is more important. My volunteer jobs in the park are PSAR—to give people information so they know conditions and to recommend appropriate options and gear to thwart possible negative incidences. All accidents are not preventable, but steps can mitigate them.

An issue with deterrence is that it is difficult to measure prevention. Unfortunately, prevention does not lend itself easily to experimental and control group designs. We cannot give some people safety information like teaching them how to swim, and not give it to others, and then compare the difference in terms of who survived and who did not. Therefore, we do the best job to encourage people to gain skills and information to make good judgments and not drown or fall off a cliff. Positive recreation experiences can enhance mental and physical health.

I am thankful that volunteering and working as an educator has had the potential to heighten the quality of life for people by minimizing negative experiences. I hope every day that my PSAR efforts offer an “ounce of prevention” to save lives even if I cannot prove it. As ordinary people, we often do not know what positive influence words and actions may have on others.