Alexis Rankin Popik's Blog, page 6

STILL MORE EVIL

Photo by Marek Piwniki via Unsplash

After posting my Evil Thoughts blog, I wondered if it would stir up any negative responses.  Far from it!  This week I’m sharing two responses from opposite sides of the U.S.—one understated, the other chatty—quite a bit like the way communication often goes in two very different parts of the country.

From JM in Massachusetts:  A “Thumbs Up” and a Red Heart.

From JCA in California, three examples of childhood evil:  

Ha! Did these secret evil fantasies start in…. a….. maybe….6th grade????  [This question is definitely meant for me.  JCA and I were in a class taught by a very mean nun, more sadistic than the one who taught the Blues Brothers.]

Whenever I’m really mad at someone I know but don’t love, I beat them to a pulp in my head and call them evil names.

My one act of evil-but-accidental violence involved Larry D. One day when we were at his grandma’s house, he was teasing his sister Shirley and me to the max. Being the older girl, I decided to protect the cardboard house we were playing with. Somehow my fist found Larry’s eye and I hit him so hard that the initials from my signet ring left a nice JEC on his face. Heh, heh, heh! I thought I was doomed because his uncle witnessed the whole thing, and would surely tell “Gram,” who adored Larry. Oddly enough, both Larry and I survived. He didn’t want anyone to know he got “beat up” by a girl; Uncle John could keep a secret; Gram kept her thoughts to herself; and Shirley and I weren’t telling anyone anything. 

The next day when both families piled into one big car to go to Santa Cruz, my dad said to Larry, “Don’t worry, Larry. If anyone asks, just tell them, “ You should see the other guy,”  whereupon my Catholic guilt got the best of me. I tearfully confessed, “I’m the other guy!” The entire carload erupted in laughter except for Larry.  I breathed a sigh of relief and our families (but not Larry) laughed about it for years.

HAVE A GOOD WEEK!

EVIL THOUGHTS

We all have evil thoughts sometimes.

Do you ever have sudden evil thoughts—the kind that make you blink hard and shake your head to drive them away?  I have had evil thoughts all my adult life and whenever I have mentioned one to friends, they deny ever having entertained such fantasies.  Here’s an easy one:  I asked a group of close women friends if they had ever had the urge to shove a pedicurist backwards off her stool and watch  her lie there, astonished, with her legs kicking in the air.  Their responses ranged from one choking on her coffee to another shaking her head in emphatic disapproval. I have had many pedicures over the years and have never even wiggled my toes in a threatening way, but I was surprised that my friends were shocked at the fantasy.

I started thinking about this after reading an article about Gillian Flynn, author of Gone Girl and several other books and screenplays. The piece caught my eye because it concerned Flynn’s writing about “the dark side of femininity.”  You can read it here, though I warn you that there is a sentence that includes “uses…the evocation of post-recession malaise..to flow into incisive cultural critique, and even employs postmodernist flourishes like metafiction.”  When I reached that whopper of a sentence, my mind wandered to my own “dark side.”

I cannot think of a single violent act I have ever committed except punching my brother in the nose when I was 12 (he was nine, so at that time I had the size advantage).  I have fantasized about driving my car through a crowded intersection (hard blink, shake of the head) but I know I would never do such a thing. I used to hug the wall while carrying my infant son because I was afraid I would throw him over the bannister. Would I do that?  Of course not.  I believe it was a way to be particularly careful carrying a baby downstairs but when I mentioned to another new mother at the time, she was shocked. I hope, Dear Reader, that you aren’t shocked as well, but just in case, I’m keeping the rest of my “evil thoughts” to myself.  But I’d love to hear about yours–and I promise not to publish them, even if they are shocking.

Photo by Callum Wale via Unsplash.

HOW HUMPBACK WHALES FISH IN ALASKA

Photo by Bill Popik

Imagine you are in SE Alaska standing alone on the deck of the Northern Song, a beautiful small boat, when you see a circle of bubbles in the water followed by what looks like a plateful of enormous mussels coming to the surface. It is the Humpback Whales feeding.   The water is roiling, the sea birds are screaming and herring are jumping as if their little lives depend on it—and their little lives do.  I had never heard of Bubble Netting and when I saw it only a few yards in front of me, my mouth felt like it was as open as the whales’.  See for yourself: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q8iDcLTD9wQ&t=41s

This is what happens when Humpback Whales Bubble Net in Southeast Alaska:

Photo by Bill Popik.

A group of whales gathers together and dives deep.  Far below the surface, they swim in a circle, entrapping herring by blowing a net of bubbles around the little fish.  It’s not a real net, of course.  The herring could swim through it but they don’t.

As the whales circle, one of them (the same whale each time) directs the action by calling to the others (listen here).  When the notes of the call drop to a lower key, it is a signal for the whales to rise to the surface, continuing to circle the bubble net. They open their enormous mouths and take in gallons of water and as many herring as possible.  (Humpbacks’ lower jaws can expand to accommodate all the water and herring.)  

When they reach the surface, they force the water out of their mouths but trap the herring with baleen (stiff whale bone-like hair) inside their mouths that acts like a sieve, letting water out while trapping the herring in. You can see the baleen in the photo above. It is that hairy-looking substance between the pink inside and the black edge of the whales’ mouths.

This is a simplified, unscientific description of how Humpback Whales feed themselves before heading south for the winter.  I have included several links so you can read the explanation for yourself. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing (and experiencing) it.

HAVE A GOOD WEEK!

NORTH TO ALASKA: WHALES & SALMON & BEARS!

Near Petersburg, AK

I have been north in Alaska over the last few weeks, not in a COVID ward. Thank you to the readers who wrote to check on my health! I was in Southeast Alaska on a small boat, the Northern Song, with my husband, our siblings and their spouses: all nine of us, plus Captain Dennis Rogers and his crew of two. That was it; no giant cruise ship! We are all vaccinated and COVID-negative so we were able to enjoy a mask-free week watching whales bubble-netting, sea lions yelling, and bears fishing.

I don’t know which is funnier: the sight or the sound of these goofballs.One of many glaciers we were able to see from a float plane near Petersburg.

Have A Great Week!

Reader reaction from Joan R. to “I Garden in a Space Suit”–I see gardening like Groundhog Day–you keep having to do the same thing over and over and over…And now you add ticks?”

I GARDEN IN A SPACE SUIT

From the archive…

This is how tiny deer ticks in the garden are.  This is also not my fingernail.

My favorite summer pastime is working in my garden. After the long New England winter, those little buds that peep out of the garden greenery in June are like old friends I have missed more than I can say. As in all good stories, however, there is a snake in the garden—well, not really a snake—a tick in the garden (and on hiking trails, in the lawn, in your pet’s hair and on the thousands of resident deer).

In 2017, after a mild winter, ticks are even more abundant in the garden and now may be carrying far more dangerous illnesses than Lyme Disease. A few years ago, Babesiosis, a tick-borne disease caused by parasites that infect red blood cells, appeared on the south coast of Massachusetts. Babesia infection, even worse than Lyme, can range in severity from asymptomatic to life-threatening. This year an even more serious infection, called Powassan is spreading. According to the CDC, symptoms include fever, headache, vomiting, weakness, confusion, seizures and memory loss. Long-term neurological damage may also occur.

I am taking the Internet experts’ advice and spraying my clothes (long-sleeved shirt, long pants, neck scarf) with Permethrin, wearing socks pulled up over the bottoms of my pant legs, finishing it off with gloves and a hat. I feel ridiculous, not to mention overheated, in my tick-proof outfit. However, there’s always something more extreme. In this case it’s Tick Shield, a get-up designed by two upstate New York dentists whose entire family contracted tick-borne illnesses. It features long sleeves and a hood, with ribbed elastic around the wrists and ankles. Made from a tightly woven, lightweight poplin, it is pale gray with a fluorescent orange band on one leg as a caution mark for joggers. Yes, it does get hot, but we are told that it is tolerable “if other clothing is not worn underneath it.” I can imagine how that would go over in Marion, Massachusetts.

This apparel dilemma reminds me of my parents’ discussion in the 1950’s during the bomb shelter fad. My father tried to convince my mother that our front yard was the only reasonable place to build one. I remember her declaring that she’d rather die in a nuclear war than have a bomb shelter in our front yard. I was thrilled at her bravery and conviction! In a tribute to Mom, I’m sticking with the only slightly miserable anti-tick get-up I’ve assembled and am passing on the space suit in the hopes that the ticks will move on to easier targets.

GIVE ME A BREAK!

PHOTO BY MATT COLLAMER via UNSPLASH

I need a break from the news.  When I hear the words, “Breaking News,” I brace myself for what fresh hell humankind is inflicting upon itself.  Sometimes I find myself humming “The Merry Minuet,” that old song by the Kingston Trio that ends with, “What nature doesn’t do to us will be done by our fellow man.”  (This song was popular at a time when it was not as well known that we humans were also responsible for some of what nature was doing to us.)

I usually get away from it all by gardening or reading.  However, I neglected to suit up properly for gardening and am suffering from poison ivy on my right arm.  I can still take a break by reading but even that is difficult now because the cat is on a diet and he sits beside me, whining for hours until his next meal.  Did you know that domestic cats evolved to imitate the sound of a human baby crying?  It is impossible not to be upset by it.

I have taken a break from the news and the fat cat by sorting through boxes of memorabilia.  The family photos bring back lots of good memories and the stash of favorite poems I discovered contains this funny and true poem by Josephine Miles that I had taped above my desk for years:

I am not sure why this poem came out in such large type, but if ever a poem deserves it, it is this one, so bear with me.

And before I go, here are a couple of comments from last week’s blog about losing my sense of smell:

From Janet M.: Wow. I lost my sense of taste and smell in the 1980’s. This went on for years, and for someone that cooks by taste it was terrible. Felt like I had a sheet of plexiglass around me. The worst part was that everything smelled like burned rubber and tasted disgusting. Finally, after ten years, I was diagnosed with a hyperparathyroid tumor and thyroid cancer. After surgery my sense of smell and taste gradually came back. It is not all back, but enough so that I rarely think about it. Sometimes there is a fire on the stove that I can not smell, but most of the time I can smell a bit, and, as I said before, I rarely think about it and now cook by taste again.

From Dick S.: Your reference to Remembrance of Things Past hit a nerve with me.  I have 2 tremendous beefs with that set of novels.  First, I’ve finally stopped trying to read them, because his writing bores the heck out of me.  I find it impossible to get past the first 100 pages of Swann’s Way since it just puts me right to sleep.  And all of this is very troubling since so many people report that it’s among the highest calibre writing ever done.  Second, the publishers of the latest version of ‘Remembrance of Things Past’ have retranslated the title (À la recherche du temps perdu)  to ‘In Search of Lost Time,’ as you’re probably aware.  Now even though I cannot read these novels, I can certainly appreciate the romance of the title — Remembrance of Things Past is just one of those expressions that conjures up an expansive set of thoughts and memories in a tight, concise few words, while In Search of Lost Time sounds like an adventure movie with a few dinosaur chase scenes.

HAVE A GOOD WEEK!

INK PINK YOU STINK

Photo by Rickie-Tom Schünemann on Unsplash

But do you stink?  I wouldn’t know.  My sense of smell went on vacation about twenty years ago and returns for only a few seconds seconds now and then.  Though there are a few dire medical conditions that can cause loss of sense of smell (including COVID) mine isn’t one of them.  (It was a bad cold and bad luck.)

Think about how much we rely on our sense of smell:  to detect danger (smoke, gas escaping, a gathering storm); to enhance our environment (who wants to live with the stink of a cat box?); to increase our appreciation of life (the scent of our favorite flower, the smell of a loved one’s skin).   The most famous scent in Western literature is likely Proust’s description of madeleines.*  For me, if I could still smell it, the aroma of Old Spice would immediately bring my father to mind.

There are some pluses to not being able to smell:  Jill McCabe Johnson writes about one study that tested what stinks:

In the search for universally offensive, weapons-grade odors, researchers have observed that people react most to scent cocktails of biological odors like vomit, body odors, poop and burnt hair, plus rotting garbage and flesh, the combination of which induced nausea, faster heart rates, and a desperate desire to get the heck out of there. Interestingly, a mishmash of odors was worse than any single odor, producing a sense of panic and causing some testers to scream.

Shortly after I lost my sense of smell, I went to Southern India with a small group of people.  My nose doctor commented that it was probably a good time to take the trip there.  (He couldn’t fix my problem but at least he had a sense of humor.)  The smell of a crowded city in India is overwhelming:  diesel fuel, animal and human waste, standing water, smoke, spices, incense, and dense crowds of people.  For me, it was just one big bad odor, which I thought  of as the smell of India.  For my traveling companions, it was a different experience and an unexpected stressor. Unlike the participants in the study, they didn’t scream but nearly everyone broke down in tears at some point.  The smells were that powerful.

My point (and yes, I do have one) is this:  when you encounter something or someone that really stinks, just remember all the other smells —fragrances that make your life happier.  In other words, Stop and Remember the Smell of Roses.

HAVE A GOOD WEEK!

* I have not read Remembrance of Things Past, but I sure do know the reference (and you can read it here).

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY!

Photo by Monjur Hasan on Unsplash

COURAGE FOR THE FEARFUL

BY BEN POPIK, AGE 5

There are several kinds of courage, including physical, emotional and moral.  I wish to write about physical courage which, for me, also involves a lot of emotion.  I have many thoughts about moral courage, especially related to politicians, but I won’t get started on that!  

A few years ago, after watching me fuss and fiddle with my snorkeling equipment, my son Ben, a diver—among other things— suggested I might enjoy scuba diving because once you get the knack of it, it’s simpler.  He arranged for me to take training to become a PADI-certified scuba diver.  It was a very scary experience but I did it.

Thinking ahead to what it would be like—because I am afraid of water, or, more precisely, afraid of not being able to breathe—I thought about Ben’s drawing (above).  He was five years old when he drew it, after the compulsory swimming lessons for kindergarteners in our island town of Alameda, California.

Last month, in Belize, I signed up for a couple of scuba dives. Just putting the mask over my face so that I couldn’t breathe through my nose started my heart racing.  But Robbie, the patient and kind owner of Chuck and Robbie’s Dive Shop on Ambergris Caye, took me out to the reef, where if I panicked I could pretty much stand up and be out of the water.  That was doable. Next came a more serious test:  an “open water” (i.e., deeper water) dive and it was awful.   I couldn’t muster the courage to sink down and got back in the boat, embarrassed but relieved. But Robbie, a natural-born teacher, didn’t give up on me.  Two days later we sank about 10 feet and “stood” arm-to-arm and face-to-face for what seemed like an hour until I gave the signal that I was calm enough to continue. I loosened my death grip on the poor man’s arms and we headed down—what seemed way down—to the sea floor. There is something wonderful about facing up to your fears. You come to realize that it isn’t as hard as you imagined.  All it takes is courage. And you feel fantastic once it’s over.

THE PERSON ON THE RIGHT WITH THE CRAZY HAIR IS ME, WITH ROBBIE, CELEBRATING.

HAVE A COURAGEOUS WEEK!

ARE YOU AN INTROVERTED EXTROVERT?

PHOTO BY PAOLO NICOLELLO VIA UNSPLASH

I just learned the term “Introverted Extrovert.”  Like many people, I had assumed we’re either one type or the other.  The Extroverts among us are the “social butterflies” who love a good party—the bigger the better—and the Introverted folks are shy, retiring homebodies who would rather be alone with a good book.  Well, I was wrong, according to BuzzFeed, anyway.  

Here are a few of the qualities Buzzfeed lists as “Things Only an Introverted Extrovert Will Understand:”Even though you like socializing, there’s nothing you love more than just chilling at home.

Having too many social obligations stresses you out.

You enjoy talking but hate talking on the telephone.

And even though you’re great at small talk, you can’t stand that, either.

You love being around people but also dislike being around people at the same time.

Which means you really, really value your alone time.

You spend way more time in your head than people think.

You greatly appreciate silence.

You’re regarded as the loud, outgoing one of the group, so you often have to take time out to recharge.

Your extrovert tendencies make you a born leader but your introvert tendencies mean you rarely want to be.

Some time ago I wrote a blog about “being dreadful” here in which I explained that I often dread going to parties and other events and inevitably have a good time once I’m there.  Although I didn’t know it then, I was describing an Introverted Extrovert.  That blog got a big response.  Apparently there are many of us out there.  I hope to hear from some of you soon—but just briefly and please, not on the telephone.

HAVE A GOOD WEEK!