Redux: In Case of Rapture, Head For Poughkeepsie

By: | December 22, 2016

Do these dark political times have you considering a move to Canada? I have another idea for you. Since this post was first published, in 2011, Poughkeepsie’s post-apocalyptic advantages have only increased.

A few years ago, I interviewed author and social critic James Kunstler about his novel World Made By Hand, his latest portrayal of a post-peak-oil future. Kunstler, as one might expect, had plenty of complaints — about suburbs, cheese doodles, Wal-Mart, the American road trip. But when I mentioned that I’d grown up in the Hudson River town of Poughkeepsie, New York, he perked up.

“Oh!” he said, sounding as if he’d almost cracked a smile.

People from Poughkeepsie are not, to say the least, used to this kind of reaction. Depending on your generation, you may know my hometown from Gene Hackman’s “Pickin’ your feet in Poughkeepsie” rant in The French Connection; from the Lemonheads song; or from the Friends episode “The One With The Girl From Poughkeepsie” (“How great can she be if she’s from Poughkeepsie?”)

If you know Poughkeepsie at all, chances are you don’t ache to return. The name is Wappinger for “the reed-covered lodge by the little-water place,” though a friend of mine translates it as “place of many strip malls.” We once made a decent living making hats, brewing beer, and shipping stuff up and down the Hudson, but those glory days are long over. (One of our most successful industries was whale rendering.) With a chronically lackluster downtown and boring burbs, we have neither urban sophistication nor rural charm. As Hudson Valley folkie Bill Ring puts it, “It’s bigger than a village, but it ain’t quite a city/ and it’s not a place a lot of folks are itching to go.” I love a lot of people in Poughkeepsie, but honestly, I prefer to meet them elsewhere.

Continue reading →

Creating With Nature: Making Holiday Wreaths with Boughs from Public Land

By: | December 21, 2016
a wreath made of fir, pine, cedar, manzanita, and oregon boxwood, with no bows or anything, hung on a door
My wreath, a little misshapen after eight hours in the car but looking wild and crazy, like I like them.

I am great believer in getting physical with nature. It is all well and good to take long walks, to photograph wildflowers, to gaze into the distance. But for many—and especially for kids—getting creative and interactive with the complex natural world is really what cements that bond between us and the outdoors. So for readers who don’t hunt or fish—the traditional North American mode of interacting physically with nature—I offer this as the first installment in an occasional series on how to create and play with nature. Subsequent installments might cover foraging for mushrooms, building forts, the art of the beach bonfire, or even landscaping with salvaged plants from sites slated for development.

For many of us schooled in the “leave no trace” philosophy of nature, approaching natural places with pruning shears or a shovel feels uncomfortable. But never fear! The men and women who manage our public lands generally make good decisions about where certain activities should be permitted, how much individuals should be able to harvest, and so on. If you stick closely to the rules, you can feel pretty confident you aren’t doing nature any real harm. And you may find yourself more interested and motivated to spend time outdoors, or to learn species names, when there is a project involved. I know my kids do.

So without further ado: here’s how to make gorgeous, practically free holiday wreaths for your friends and family.

Continue reading →

A Science Journalist After the Election

By: | December 20, 2016

Well, there it is. The people have spoken and now the Electoral College has spoken and we have our new president, Donald J Trump.

I strongly believe in the importance of an unbiased media – even if it’s just an ideal that we strive for and never really achieve. As journalists, I believe it’s crucial that we not be seen as taking sides. But it would be silly of me to pretend that I was unbiased about this election. I mean, I wrote a post speculating that our nation’s leader is secretly Latka from Taxi that became a weird sort of meme. And then I did it again because, I dunno, it was funny and the guy didn’t have a liberal’s chance in Texas of getting elected.

But he did and now I find myself in a difficult spot. Politics don’t revolve around science but they cross paths often enough, especially when it comes to conservation, climate, and energy. And as a journalist it’s my job to remain neutral and serve the truth as best I can.

But as a science journalist, it’s also my job to defend and uphold basic ideas in science like evidence, expert consensus, and impartial analysis of data. A sports writer may not root for a specific team but she does have to promote the sport and its best form of play.

So how do I go forward? Rail against Trump on Twitter? Keep silent? Break journalistic tradition and start donating to anyone who will oppose him? Every science journalist has to answer this for his or herself and I wouldn’t claim to have a monopoly on the correct way forward. But for myself, I’ve come up with a simple three-prong plan for the next four years. Continue reading →

Holiday Viewing

By: | December 19, 2016

The best way to usher out the terrible year of 2016 may just be to watch TV (not the news) until it’s all over. The People of LWON have some recommendations for what to watch this holiday season, and if you have some great shows or movies to add to the list, please write them in the comments.

JENNY: I love shows that are fearless, funny, and a bit filthy. (I didn’t go for alliteration there–it just happened.) And, apparently, I like shows with one-word titles. So, Catastrophe and Fleabag are on my list of goodies. The former is hilarious and full of truth; the latter is a sly heartbreaker even as it has you cracking up. I’m also a huge fan of Peaky Blinders (don’t let the peculiar name put you off) and Narcos. Finally, give The Night Manager a go. Well done.

MICHELLE: I was thoroughly diverted by The Night Manager, but the best show I saw this year was Happy Valley, a BBC show available on Netflix. It’s violent and scary, so make sure you’re prepared for the content, but the writing and acting are so good that I think they might be perfect. Complex, compelling, beautifully performed characters, several of whom happen to be badass older women. Looking forward to the third season. [JENNY: Yes, Happy Valley! Good! Good!]

Continuing with my theme, from the other day, of lousy leaders from the distant past, don’t miss The Hollow Crown: The Wars of the Roses, the fancy new film versions of Shakespeare’s history plays airing this month on PBS. The first Hollow Crown series, released in 2013, covered Richard II, Henry IV and Henry V; this time we get the hapless Henry VI and that baddest of all royal baddies, Richard III. Now is the winter we are most content. Continue reading →

The Last Word

By: | December 17, 2016

December 12-16, 2016

Craig brought us all to tears this week with his reflections on leaving a home and the marriage it embodied. “In the empty house, I point out where they were born. You came out of her like a fish, I said. You opened your eyes for the first time and we saw each other.”

Jenny went on a tour of elementary schools with her new book about dogs who make friends with other animals. The kids give her the full celebrity treatment. “Whatever subject I broach—often the state of animals in the wild—I do my best to tell them the truth without blackening their sweet little souls.”

A cicada on the inside of a window in Nepal takes Helen back to a series of cicada-related memories. “I first fell in love with cicadas in 1987, when the 17-year cicadas came out in my hometown. They’re enormous, bumbling, and harmless, and they sound like summer.”

Cameron feels herself succumbing to wishful thinking as she watches the approaching calamity of California’s water crisis. “One of our reservoirs is now at 7 percent capacity. At another, the dam worker now needs water trucked in to where he lives onsite.” 

The People of LWON capped off the week with a variety of book recommendations for your holiday reading (and gift shopping). “Next I read a David Baldacci novel. Which one? I don’t know, does it matter?”

Photo: Craig Childs

Holiday Reading

By: | December 16, 2016

Every year, the People of LWON bring you their book choices for the holidays. If you don’t find what you’re looking for below, try last year’s list or the one before.

JENNY: I have a neighbor, Keith Donohue, who, it turns out, is a lovely novelist. I’m now reading his latest, called The Motion of Puppets, and it has carried me to a dusty, mystical place where people are turned into dolls. A poetic and spooky read with a mythical twist. Good fun. Oh, and I finally got around to the beautiful Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd). Loved it. Finally, on a completely different note, get your learn on while enjoying fine prose and true drama from the latest Candice Millard joint: Hero of the Empire: The Making of Winston Churchill.

MICHELLE: I can’t think why, but lately I’ve been reading and watching stories about lousy leaders of the distant past. (Look, humanity somehow managed to survive Caligula and Richard III. We can do this.) I, Claudius and its sequel, Claudius the God, are classic fictionalized accounts of the early Roman Empire, told from the wise and often wiseacre perspective of Claudius, the sickly, overlooked noble son who unexpectedly became emperor himself. The Plantagenets by Dan Jones is a ripping popular history of the mostly terrible kings who ruled England during the mostly terrible fourteenth and fifteenth centuries; A Distant Mirror, by Barbara Tuchman, is the story of ordinary European life during the same appalling era. Finally, Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks is a wonderful novel based on the true story of Eyam, an English village that, during an outbreak of bubonic plague in the seventeenth century, voluntarily isolated itself from its neighbors to protect them from the disease. Horrible times, heroic people. Continue reading →

Redux: Water Year

By: | December 15, 2016

This post first appeared on October 8, 2015, when I was still hopeful that a good strong El Nino could hold off California’s water problems a while longer. Where I am, it didn’t work. One of our reservoirs is now at 7 percent capacity. At another, the dam worker now needs water trucked in to where he lives onsite. Still, there’s a big storm that’s supposed to arrive today, and it’s hard not to keep hoping that this time–this storm, this winter, this water year–will make a difference.

I think I’ve been stuck in this place for a while, hoping that some powerful outside force will sweep in and make things right, or that changing the way I measure things will give the results I want. I’d like to find somewhere where there is still hope, but where the storm that is coming is me. Anyway, here’s the post.

**

Image by Ted Zapasnik via Flickr/Creative Commons license

Cicada On My Window

By: | December 14, 2016

a pretty gray cicada on a wooden windowsill

I’ve written before about how much I like seeing a bug on a window. Usually I see those bugs on the outside. This is a story about a bug that I saw on the inside.

It was a chilly morning in November. I was in a hotel in Tatopani, a Nepali town along the Kali Gandaki River, around the west side of the Annapurna Massif. Tatopani is a common Nepali place name; “tato” means hot and “pani” means water. It was breakfast time and I was waiting for my pancakes and bacon when I noticed this cicada on the windowsill.

I first fell in love with cicadas in 1987, when the 17-year cicadas came out in my hometown. They’re enormous, bumbling, and harmless, and they sound like summer. I welcomed them back happily in 2004. I also associate them with Japan–I don’t remember hearing them when I lived there, but in Japanese movies, it’s the ebb and flow of the cicada buzz that alerts the viewer that the action is happening in summer.

So seeing one in Nepal–and near a window, my preferred place for observing bugs–it was a little like meeting an old friend, or an old friend’s distant cousin. Continue reading →