I’m still clinging to the print media

With the recent announcement by the Christian Science Monitor that they are ending the print version of the newspaper, the handwriting on the wall about the old fashioned daily newspaper suddenly turned into bold face. Most newspapers groked the concept of an online presence years ago, but they–like those of us who grew up with them–have been clinging to newsprint and ink as long as they can.

Perhaps it was through the many iterations of StarTrek that many of us discovered that the day would come when books, newspapers and–in fact–a database of all the information in the known universe would one day be available on a viewer that looks sort of like Amazon’s Kindle does now. This change has seemed rather inevitable and I see a dark side in it. Not a conspiratorial dark side, but a collateral damage dark side.

Back in the days when the only national news came from a broadcast network, newspaper people pointed out that while ABC, CBS and NBC did have the luxury of showing live action, the contents of the standard 30-minute nightly news would all fit in a small corner of the front page of a daily newspaper. The point was clear: television for immediacy and a quick response, newspapers and magazines for the follow-up depth.

The collateral damage dark side I see as newspapers disappear in print form, is that that depth is going to be a lot harder to find. People already have a short enough attention span already, believing as they do that Twitter and Facebook are providing them with all the knowledge fit to print. Clinging to print as I do, I feel I can learn a lot more information a lot quicker by flipping through the pages of a good newspaper.

I become angry when I go onto a media outlet’s website–tempted by one headling or another–and find that the story cannot be quickly read off the screen. Instead, I mush click on a sideways-pointing triangle and watch a video load up where a reporter begins a story with, “Hi, this is Joe Smith here reporting for CNN’s mid-day news, and I’m standing in the cold snow in fron of the city hall in Junction City with mayor Mark Trail.”

That doesn’t cut it. Why? Because I could have read a printed story off my screen faster than it took the reporter to do his or her lead-in. My eyes could have scanned it for the information I wanted rather than waiting for the linear video to go through the whole thing.

Since I’m hosting a blog here, I’m obviously not trapped in the dark ages. I’m on the Internet daily from LinkedIn to Plaxo to MySpace to Facebook to GoodReads…etc etc etc. But I’ve been there up to now with a figurative safety net: the newspaper some guy throws in my driveway every morning.

Copyright (c) 2008 by Malcolm R. Campbell

Sierra Club’s Shelf at Powell’s

I have always liked Powell’s Book Store, the city block of books in Portland, Oregon, that dares to compete on line with the big boys (AKA barnesandnoble.com and amazon.com).

When today’s online newsletter “Publisher’s Lunch” mentioned that both B&N and Powell’s had revamped their websites, I didn’t need to see B&N for I’ve already had words with them about the fact their changeover to a glitzy “My B&N” look (complete with comic book character avatars for everyone), erased the names off our reader reviews. Now, all the copyrighted reviews placed there by careful readers, known authors, and long-time reviewers simply say ANONYMOUS.

But, I digress.

Powell’s, while NOT erasing the names of its reader-reviewers, has an easier-to-use site than it did before. It’s cleaner and more intuitive. As a former member of the Sierra Club–back in my mountain climbing days–I still have a fondness for anything with the word “Sierra” on it. And this includes the club’s “hosted sheld” at Powell’s.

I wasn’t surprised to see books like Michael Brune’s Coming Clean: Breaking America’s Addiction to Oil and Coal or Bob Schildgen’s Hey Mr. Green: Sierra Magazine’s Answer Guy Tackles Your Toughest Green Living Questions because they both sound like books for RIGHT NOW.

No, my pleasant surprise came when I saw the club is also suggesting a couple of classics: John Mcphee’s beautiful Encounters with the Archdruid published in 1977 and Barry Lopez’ stunning 1986 National Book Award winner Arctic Dreams: Imagination and Desire in a Northern Landscape.

You can learn more about the focus and influence of Mcphee’s book on here on Wikipedia and on the author’s website here.

You can learn more about Barry Lopez on his authors site here.

And to think, I “went to Powell’s” today just to see its new look. It’s a nice look. But while there, I was reminded of a couple of wonders that have been on my bookshelves for years. If you love the land and enjoy fine writing about it, you won’t go wrong with either one of them.
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Table Scraps

After months of laziness, I’ve finally added another biting post to The Morning Satirical News just in time for the election.

I also like Powell’s because they make the e-book version of my novel The Sun Singer available on their site for only $5.33. This is a good time to buy all your friends a stocking stuffer.

“We abuse land because we regard it as a commodity belonging to us. When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect.” -Aldo Leopold

Glacier National Park – New Employee Dorm for Lake McDonald

Andrews and Anderson Architects, PC

Drawing of new employee dorm to be constructed at Glacier National Park’s Lake McDonald Lodge for seasonal employees.

WEST GLACIER, MONT. – Glacier Park, Inc. (GPI), a concessioner in Glacier National Park, has awarded a construction contract to Swank Enterprises of Kalispell, Mont., for the construction of a new employee dormitory near Lake McDonald Lodge in Glacier National Park’s Lake McDonald Valley.

The concessioner- funded construction of the new dormitory will begin late October 2008 and continue over the winter with completion anticipated by summer 2009.

The new dormitory was first conceptualized and approved in the park’s 2005 Commercial Service Plan/Environmental Impact Statement which was completed by the National Park Service at Glacier after an extensive public involvement process. The new dormitory will house approximately 43 employees and will replace housing provided in three other buildings currently located at the lodge complex in the vicinity of Snyder Creek.

According to Park Superintendent Chas Cartwright, “The buildings to be replaced lie in the flood zone of Snyder Creek and have significant life health issues. The utility systems that service the buildings also need replacing.” Cartwright noted, “Rather than put additional funds toward rehabilitating these structures and the utility systems within the flood zone, the decision was made to relocate the housing into a new structure away from the flood area.” The new dormitory will be located adjacent to the Lake McDonald Post Office near the Going- to- the- Sun Road and is compatible with the architectural design of the historic Lake McDonald Lodge, a National Historic Landmark.

EXPERIENCE YOUR AMERICA™

The National Park Service cares for special places saved by the American people so that all may experience our heritage.

The new dormitory will provide double occupancy rooms with individual bathrooms for each dorm room that will allow GPI a more flexible type of housing.

“As employment demographics at western national parks have changed in recent decades, it has been increasingly difficult for park concessioners to retain summer employees for the entire work season. This new facility will greatly enhance GPI’s ability to attract and hire employees who are not constrained by college schedules,” said Cartwright.

After the dormitory construction is completed and when funding is available, the old dormitories will be removed from the flood zone as planned for in the Commercial Service Plan.

According to Cartwright, “Removal of the old, dilapidated dormitories will provide additional space for expanded parking that is needed for the entire lodge complex and adjacent hiking trails.”

Mr. Henry’s Farm

Forver Friends

When I was growing up, a guy named Jonathan was my best friend, and he and his brothers went out to Mr. Henry’s farm north of Tallahassee, Florida every Saturday morning. Their friends were all welcome. There was a creek winding through a large wood, many acres of fields, a old lime house stacked high with hay (good for jumping off rafters into the dusty hay or making tunnels underneath it), a couple of bolt-action .22 rifles for target practice. Mostly we goofed off, but when there was work to be done, we were happy to pitch in and help.

I learned how to put out a grass fire, how to put up tight, barbed-wire fences, avoid stepping on cotton mouths and copperheads, hay cattle, and knock a Coke can off a fence post with a .22 short. I learned a lot more–the value of Mr. Henry’s unlimited and gentle hospitality and that the fields of our youth tend to grow smaller in time.

Mr. Henry stopped at Jonathan’s house every Saturday morning in his old black car and picked everyone up. He always had a box of sticky buns from a local bakery. He was there rain or shine. I went more often than not. On those days when I slept late, had chores, or was out of town, the weekend just never felt quite right. Jonathan’s father was a doctor and had, in fact, saved Mr. Henry’s life. Our Saturday morning trips to the farm were the only way he knew to give something back. He was, I thought, a special person just for thinking of the idea–and that he never missed a Saturday during those years was a lesson for me in dedication and follow-through.

I hadn’t thought of these Saturday morning trips for a while until an online group of writers I hang out with decided to print Forever Friends, an anthology of our work, our poems and short stories. I’m not much of a poet, but one of my rare attempts called “Debt, Paid in Full” was included. The poem didn’t come out too badly. I only wish Mr. Henry was still around to read it. Looking back, I hope I remembered to thank him and say goodbye when I went off to college and join the Navy.

The Illusion of Separation

Zero Degrees of Separation

Within the sweet labyrinth of my reality, no one ever dies. “Death” is a moment of unlimited remembrance and birth is a moment of limited forgetting.

Knowing my point of view about such moments, the universe placed a copy of Sandra Hatfield’s delightful novel Zero Degrees of Separation on my desk when it came time for me to review a book for the November issue of Georgia’s Living Jackson Magazine.

Sandra Hatfield, whom I haven’t knowingly met in this lifetime, lives a few miles up the road. Yet, we may well have walked some of the same pathways as we each found ourselves drawn to remember how the universe works; especially “death,” “dying,” and the “afterlife.” As I read Zero Degrees of Separation, I discovered a fictionalized account of my own belief system in which “death” as call it and fear it and avoid it is a very natural transition between realms.

Most readers of Zero Degrees of Separation will clearly see before Hatfield’s main character Christina sees it, that she has died. Even so, she finds herself thinking that she’s never felt better in her life, for gone is the hospital bed where she lay dying where her family experiences the grief of our universal experience when we appear to be separated from family and loved ones for all eternity.

The novel provides us with a window into an afterlife that contrasts sharply with the traditional versions most of us grew up with. Whether Hatfield’s version seems plausible or not as you read, Christina’s experiences make for an interesting story. So, too, Christina’s compassionate feeling for those left behind who are experiencing grief at her absence.

No doubt, Hatfield’s many years of experience with Hospice and The Twilight Brigade, helped her write the novel’s scenes about grief in a way that is not only real to readers, but potentially empathetic and helpful in their own lives.

Hatfield’s novel, which I think you’ll enjoy, is available from her own website for $18.30 (including S&H) via check or Paypal.

Copyright (c) 2008 by Malcolm R. Campbell

Perception is Reality

“What are dreams, Grandfather?” They were walking to the store for a newspaper when Robert asked him.

Grandfather smiled. “Scientists have been searching for the answer to that question for years.”

“But what do you think?” Gotcha, thought Robert, elated that he said But what do you think? first.

Grandfather stopped in the shade of a large oak. “Like this old tree,” he said, “some dreams are infinitely wise. Others are like the children playing on those swings, young and carefree.”

“When I wake up, my dreams seem weird,” said Robert. “I always wonder why I believed the situations were normal while they were happening. How do I make sense of it?”

“First you remember them, then you control them,” he said as he watched the children pretending the swings were airplanes.

“Control them?”

“It’s your dream. Change it. If you see an old rock, change it into a sock. If you don’t need a hose, turn it into a rose. When monsters appear, never fear, just ask for a spear. So you don’t like sour milk, transform it into cream, and then you’ll know you’re having a dream.”

“Sounds like fun,” said Robert.

“Once the fun begins, you’re ready for the next step.” He picked up a penny from the sidewalk and closed his hand around it. “Next, you learn dreamspinning—how to control your waking life in the same way.” He opened his hand—what sleight of hand was this?—and there was a crisp twenty-dollar bill.

“Grandfather, how?”

“Oh my goodness,” he exclaimed, “I guess I’m a counterfeiter!” He crumpled up the bill and tossed it high into the air where it flew, or seemed to fly, past the oak tree, past the two girls on the swings, and crossed the street toward the red flowers in the hanging baskets in front of Binah’s Bakery.

“Hmm, that appeared to be a female ruby-throated hummingbird that was very interested in those fuchsias,” Grandfather said, scratching his head as though he was puzzling out the thing himself.

“Grandfather, I’m not sure I want to know whether that really happened or you tricked me with some slick razzle dazzle.”

“But, Robert, what would be the difference?”

–Copyright (c) 2004 by Malcolm R. Campbell in The Sun Singer

According to police, eye witness testimony is the worst possible kind. Bring in ten witesses to an auto accident, and they will give you ten different stories. Reasons for this vary. One is that each witness may view the incident from a different vantage point. Others may have heard it, then looked at the positions of the cars after it was over and assumed they had actually seen it. And yet others, because their line of site was blocked or something made them look away, will fill in the gaps in the sequence of events with a assumptions about what happened. Put them on lie detectors and each one will pass with flying colors without a clue that any of his memory is incorrect.

How different is life itself? We see our lives differently from day to day and while our perception of what we’re doing and how it meshes with the world around us–while iron-clad reality to us–isn’t going to synchronize 100% with how our family and friends see it.

We come from different frames of reference with varying amounts of childhood “programming” from authority figures and this creates a positive or negative spin to some of what we encounter. We’ve had a variety of experiences over the years that impact out attitudes even to the point where mistaken perceptions can’t be alterered in our minds by clearly presented facts

It’s no wonder we have trouble finding our hearts’ desires, achieving our highest goals, or agreeing with anyone when it comes to national issues. Our perceptions don’t match. Worse yet, what we see is what we wanted to see even though we may complain that we don’t like it.

Illusions are often stronger than what our eyes and ears and brains are trying to show us.

Copyright (c) 2008 by Malcolm R. Campbell