Calcium Supplement Busters

Just when you think you're doing something good for your health, along comes a new study that demands some thought and some changes.

A recently published study in the British Medical Journal found that taking calcium supplements increases the risk of heart attack by about 30%. The researchers also found that the supplements weren't all that great at preventing bone loss either. (Articles about the study are at BBC, CTV, and ABC.)

I was floored by this study - I've been taking calcium supplements for several years, since I developed quite a sensitivity to dairy products and was diagnosed with osteopenia (a couple of years ago). Dammit, I need my calcium!

Turns out, though, that perhaps the study is more positive than I first thought. I'm fairly savvy, or like to think I am!, about nutrition; it's been an interest for years. But I fell into the trap of thinking that no dairy automatically means calcium supplements.

Wrong!!!!

I've been digging out the books on nutrition and looking up calcium retention and absorption and tables on how much calcium is present in various foods. With some adjustments, meeting my calcium requirements will be relatively easy. It will take more planning, though.

In retrospect, I wonder if I just didn't let register all the information I've read before. It really is much simpler to pop a pill two or three times a day than it is to plan for amounts and combinations of food necessary to achieve the optimum amount - true of all nutrition, really.

Most likely, getting enough calcium - and everything else - through the diet is the healthiest, if possible.

My immediately available resources are two good books: Becoming Vegetarian, by Melina, Davis, and Harrison (has a wealth of information about vitamins and minerals, and other dietary requirements; and Strong Women, Strong Bones (a veritable bible on bone health), by Miriam Nelson.

It will be an adjustment, no question, but well worth the trouble.

There Are Busy Bees in Them Thar Woods

Unfortunately, not all of them are what nature intended!

Sunshine, Artists, and Gardens

Cloudless sky, sunshine, pleasant temperature (25 C; 77F) - the weather could not have been more perfect for our local art gallery's (Two Rivers Art Gallery) "Artists in the Garden" fundraiser.

the riverside

The weather, the gardens, the refreshments were perfect, each yard offering something quite different - an organic farm, a riverside lot cascading down the steep bank, a fairyland backyard retreat, a small city lot with wonderful perennial (the hostas were abundant and beautiful) and vegetable gardens, and a hilltop paradise several miles out of town with its own artisanal bakery.

the farm

Each host provided some light refreshments - lots of cool lemonade, lavender cookies, rosemary cookies, sandwiches with that artisanal bread. One of the venues had a harpist. There really is something otherworldly about the sound of the harp, and set outdoors in the cool of the trees, it is magical.

the city

the country paradise

Everyone was mellow and friendly. I hope the gallery made pots of money. I'm already looking forward to next year.

the fairyland

Temporarily Disabled - A Good Lesson

It is difficult to fully understand the effect of physical obstacles on anyone with a disability. Unless we expereince the pain of a certain movement or the inability to access something necessary, we don't truly get it.

Physical obstacles are one thing, though; they have physical solutions. Social obstacles are quite another. Voiced social obstacles, yet another.

I never really understood (and probably still don't, entirely) what people with disabilities experience daily, until I had arthritis and hip replacement surgery. I walked with a cane for several months.

Like anyone else, I became frustrated when a seemingly abled person used the bathroom facilities for people with disabilities - that bar on the wall is there for a reason! The attached bar is the solution to the physical obstacle. Lack of understanding, or caring, is the social obstacle.

Many, many people would practically fall over themselves to help me, hold the door for me, stop and wait while I crossed the street. I felt grateful to them all and said so.

The very worst experiences, however, were when people felt that they just had to express their impatience and often downright hatred to me. Most of the time, it seemed that the dislike arose from the fact that I was in the way and for too long.

During the months of using a cane, I was sworn at, frowned at, told to just die and stop annoying the able-bodied. I was told to get out of the way, to hurry up, to stay home. I had doors let go in my face, and on one occasion ,I was almost knocked down by a car when the driver thought I was too slow crossing.

I have to say that the anger I aroused in some people completely floored me - maybe I shouldn't have been surprised but I was. I was also amazed at how easily people give themselves permission to say the most awful things to a complete stranger (well, to anyone really).

I think that I have been mostly helpful and supportive of people with disabilities over the years, but have had my eyes opened by the experience of having a disability.

I don't know what the answer is, but education in empathy and compassion has to be a big part, and we have to try to undo that terrible sense of entitlement that some people have that others, especially those with disabilities, should simply cease to exist rather than be an inconveninece.

Raise a Reader

Tiddlywinks requires skill and teaches hand/eye coordination. Stamp collecting teaches history, geography, and classification skills, among other things. Both can be replaced by other hobbies with equal claims for offering the same knowledge and a similar skill set.

Reading is in its own category and can't so easily be replaced. Reading (writing, too) is intricately involved with critical thinking, communication, language skills, concentration, and knowledge acquisition. There isn't anything else that functions cognitively the same way that reading does.

Reading isn't replacable!

But reading - the long, slow, digesting, thinking, analyzing kind - is becoming increasingly unpopular, with more and more people admitting that a quick skim of almost anything printed is all they are able to manage. 

Many of the books that adults do read are written at a grade level for younger teens. Many newspapers in recent years have lowered the level of difficulty of the writing to try and cater to readers' diminishing skills.

Patrick Kingsley, in his article "The Art of Slow Reading" in The Guardian (Jul 15/10), writes about the problem, citing many experts who argue that the internet is responsible (and some who argue otherwise).The problem with the internet:

because...we have become very good at collecting a wide range of factual titbits, we are also gradually forgetting how to sit back, contemplate, and relate all these facts to each other.

Mark Bauerlein in The Dumbest Generation makes much the same point. He argues that while students (especially) are intelligent and can multi-task, while they have the whole world of information at their fingertips, they don't have either the background knowledge or the cognitive skills to make the connections that lead to real knowledge and real ability to negotiate with the world in many ways. What's missing? Reading ability.

A student once complained to me that the literature we were studying was too difficult and that he didn't like it! While I won't tell you exactly what I thought at the time,  I did wonder what purpose it would serve to have those as two criteria for a university literature course. Unfortunately, ease and fun are becoming two of the most important criteria. The result is exactly what Bauerlein predicts - the dumbest generation.

Bauerlein paraphrases Ronald Reagan - who said that freedom can be lost in a generation - saying that knowledge can be lost in a generation. Sometimes I wonder if it will take that long.

Tiddlywinks may be more fun and easier than reading, but what will kids do if they have to read the instructions?

Look for the Sweat Shop Label

What do Mexico, Bangladesh, Honduras, Guatemala, China, Haiti, and Columbia have in common? They all have factories that produce our clothing - and the list of countries doesn't end with these.

Name a country where the labour and environmental laws are much more lax (or non-existant) than in North America ), and probably there are huge global interests, having garments produced for the North American and other markets

Why should we care?

Naomi Wolf, in her article "The High Price of Cheap Fashion," in Project Syndicate (Jun/10), discusses the conditions of the workers in garment factories around the world. (And, although they are mostly women, the abuse of men and children who work in the industry exists as well.)

We all know that cheap clothing is usually made in sweatshop conditions – and usually by women. And we know – or should know – that women in sweatshops around the world report being locked in and forbidden to use bathrooms for long periods, as well as sexual harassment, violent union-busting, and other forms of coercion.

Although Wolf's article is about cheap fashion, the problem is not limited to the inexpensive. Higher end clothing is sometimes made in terrible conditions too. It's actually unusual these days to find any clothing made in Europe or North America.

What can we do?

We first have to care more about other people's lives than we do about a cheap deal; then we can have an effect with how and where we spend our clothing dollars - "our money is the one tool powerful enough to force manufacturers to change their ways." And consumers have had an effect in recent years with college t-shirts, coffee, and produce, as Wolf points out.

To say something was a real steal is often true with clothing and in ways worth thinking about.

I "stole" the title of this post from the International Ladies Garment Workers' Union commercial from 1978 - "Look for the Union Label" - so will end with them and their spokesperson opening the ad with his prophetic remarks.

Do We Really Miss the Hungry Years?

The ideas are good; the sentiments ring true. The fishermen lounging in the sun that I wrote about in the last post lives in the present and is content with what he has. The tourist who thinks the fisherman should fish constantly and amass a fortune is set up in the Heinrich Boll story to look a little foolish, wanting the fisherman to strive after what he already has.

For some reason, the story reminded me of the song "The Hungry Years," written by Neil Sedaka, about a couple who had everything they needed in their early, poor years and who lost their connection with each other as they became more successful.

My first thought was that I love this song, especially sung by Rita Coolidge. My second thought was that I really wouldn't want the hungry years back at all. Sure, there were positive things about those years, but there were negative things that caused stress and worry. Sometimes hungry isn't a metaphor, and sometimes in the (often) student years, only a few dollars separate one from social assistance. One small bump in the road can become a pretty big catastrophe.

Maybe we all want a peaceful idyll, a pastoral innocence, and certainly living in the present moment, content with what one has, is always the best prescription.

But consider: the fisherman cannot retire; when he's ninety-two, he will still have to fish for his daily needs. What if he gets sick? What if there are one or two really bad fishing seasons?

The tourist, following his model of working really hard and amassing a fortune, will be able to retire - and in comfort. He will be able to lounge in a boat in the sun, but will also be able to jet off to see an opera at La Scala if he chooses. He won't have to fish almost daily and will have some resources built up in case of a catastrophe.

Ultimately, there is a lifestyle clash between the tourist and the fisherman. Neither would like the other's life very much.  Like anything else, both have advantages and disadvantages and could take something from each other. The fisherman likely has a tight-knit community around him which would support him in tough times. The tourist likely has more mobility, more choices in life. 

Being in a situation more like the tourist's, I like the sound of the fisherman's life, but realize that it involves much more constant and necessary physical labour and more restrictions than I really want

"The Hungry Years" is a great song, sadly nostalgic for things lost, but conveniently forgetful of anything negative. I don't miss the hungry years, and I don't want them back.  

(The whole double take on the Boll story reminds me of my own views on readers trying to fix THE theme of a work of literature. Themes there may be, but to light on any one as IT, is usually somewhat foolish.)

Life in the Present

Our short idyll last week at the lake reminded me of the short story "Der Hafen" (the translation is very bad, but just readable) by German writer Heinrich Boll:

A fisherman relaxes in the sun in his boat after catching enough fish to provide for two days and does not go out again that day, even though the fish are really abundant.

A tourist cannot believe that the fisherman would do this. The tourist tells the fisherman that with the fish so abundant, he could go out several times a day for several days. If things continued in that way, the fisherman could become a wealthy man with fishing fleets, and maybe a seafood restaurant in Paris.

When he was that wealthy, the tourist tells him, he could retire and lounge in his boat in the sun.

The fisherman reminds the tourist that he is doing exactly that right now. The tourist's vague pity for the poor fisherman turns to envy.

There are many nuances of meaning one could take from this little tale. For me, it's to live fully in the present and to recognize exactly what one has. Idyllic moments are good reminders.


(photo credit)

Women, Reproduction, and Climate Change

UNFPA - World Population Day 2010

Gender equity, women's sexual health, and reproductive rights have a direct effect on rising population which significantly affects climate change.

Incredibly, these very issues were missing from the agenda of the conference on emissions reduction in Copenhagen in December (2009). They were missing from the UN summit on climate change held in NYC in September 2009.

In her article "Factoring People Into Climate Change" in The Nation, Barbara Crossette discusses the connection between reproductive/women's rights and the environment and the reasons for silence about them at summits and conferences.

NGO activists see the connection and

UN officials are largely on the same page. Helen Clark, the new administrator of the UN Development Program, said at the Berlin forum that "educating women and families in the developing world on the number of children they actually wish to have, improving the health of women and promoting gender equality, reducing poverty and hunger, and mitigating climate change" form a virtuous circle.

Governments, however, disagree and wish to leave population off the agenda, especially India, which sees any discussion of population control as the West attempting to block its growth. India's influence among other developing nations ensures the continued absence of population and related women's and reproductive issues from conference agendas.

The refusal to discuss women's sexual health, gender equity, and reproductive rights does not surprise me; both traditional societies and more advanced ones stumble when it comes to granting full agency, personhood, and autonomy to women. Maybe we will literally go up in flames rather than grant women full, functioning equality!

Barbara Crossette's article is very worth reading.

She is also the author of So Close to Heaven: The Vanishing Buddhist Kingdoms of the Himalayas (1995) and The Great Hill Stations of Asia (1998).

(This is a re-post for World Population Day, which is tomorrow, July11.)

Let's Sing!

There are so many good old songs from the late nineteenth and first half of the twentieth centuries, and I'm sure my mother knew most of them. She would always sing as she did the housework. No surprise, then, that I know the lyrics for dozens of these songs - we are little sponges at two, three, and four.

The lyrics are very handy in the event of a sing-along breaking out around a campfire  - the parents who sang or the kids who listened to the old songs providing loads of laughs for the younger ones. I can remember a friend's kids being in turn amazed and appalled at us singing " Mairzy Dotes (Mares Eat Oats)." The play of words intrigued them, but they were essentially too cool to admit liking the song.



For years in the seventies (maybe still?), Shakey's Pizza Parlor had a sing-along every Friday night. Our favourites were Lloyd and Tommy, with guitar and banjo, singing all the old favourites. If memory serves me well, we became excellent sing-along singers after a couple of beers!

Whether the pizza-parlor singing was practice for church choir, or vice versa is a moot point. Also in the seventies, I sang with a folk choir at church. It was at that time when hip pastors played guitars, and the women in the folk choir all had matching, if somewhat subdued, hippie outfits.

We sang many of the songs of the Medical Mission Sisters who were justly famous for their religious folk music and had quite a following, with five or six albums to their credit.



In the choir, at the pizza parlour, around the campfire or around the house, singing is a good; singing the good old songs, even better. I haven't encountered a good sing-along for many years; perhaps people no longer do this. Pity.



My thanks to Cher at AskCherlock, who mentioned  fond memories of her parents singing and harmonizing together, which unleashed this trip down the memory lane of song.

A New Photo Project

I'm resurrecting an old blog as a place for a 365-day photo project. I've been thinking about it for awhile and have finally decided to jump in.

Have a look, if you wish:


Dixi - comments on pretty much anything

An Idyllic Summer Morning

West Lake

I should have known when the blueberry muffins turned out so well that our trip to the lake would be perfect. I am no baker, usually forgetting an ingredient or trying to substitute something unworkable; so perfect baking is a good omen.

Every summer, we make a few trips to West Lake, a provincial park only 15 minutes from home. We brew coffee, usually buy muffins on the way (a surplus of blueberries and milk called for the home-baked kind), take our books and our portable lawn chairs, and off we go for a couple of hours of early morning quiet and soul-renewing scenery.

The beach is quiet, usually until around ten, when the mothers with kids start to arrive; by eleven on a warm summer day, it's really filling up.

This morning, we were not the first to arrive, as we often are. A lone canoeist, possibly in his late sixties, had already paddled the 3.5 miles to the end of the lake and back and was taking his canoe to his car. We chatted briefly with him and moved on to find a spot beside the lake, amongst the trees.

After settling  down with book, coffee, and muffin, I looked up to see a loon directly in front of me, quite close as he dove for fish. I tracked his path across the water - he would dive and re-surface maybe fifty feet further on. He made no call, but his beauty more than made up for it.

The fish were jumping, and at the water's edge, we could see dozens of fish, from tiny minnows to larger fish, maybe 5 or 6 inches long.

That many fish means eagles hunting, and there are several nesting eagles at the lake. We have sat on occasion with one directly above us in the trees. They are so majestic, circling, looking for fish, then swooping down, pulling a fish from the water. We could see one later in the trees on the shore, eating his catch.

The other notables were big yellow butterflies and bright blue tiny dragonflies.

People sometimes ask whether I miss life in Vancouver, sitting on Robson at an outdoor cafe, relaxing after shopping, and watching the crowds walk by. And sometimes I do - urban life has much to offer.

But on days like today, I would rather be nowhere else than beside West Lake, drinking coffee, eating my perfect blueberry muffins, and watching the wildlife.

(The pictures of West Lake are mine from a couple of years ago; the picture of the loon is not.)

Versatile Blogger Award

I have been given another award, this one by Christi at Journaling My Life Away. This is the second time that I have received two awards within roughly one week of each other - must be the alignment of the stars or something.

Always, I am very grateful that others appreciate my blog. Thanks Christi.

The conditions of this award are that

1. the recipient must thank the bestower of the award,
2. share seven things about self, and
3. bestow the award on 15 newly-discovered, or followed blogs.


So here goes:

1. I grew up in Atlantic Canada
2. I once ran out of gas in the fast lane of the Autobahn in Germany.
3. I hate sharing the kitchen.
4. I could visit Florence, Italy dozens of more times and never tire of it.
5. I love the poetry of Pablo Neruda.
6. I did my thesis on the poetry of John Keats.
7. As a kid, I always got a small bottle of olives in my Christmas stocking.

I have chosen to give the award, mostly, to blogs I have only just discovered. They are all worth visiting - and more than once. (I know there aren't 15 here, but that's it for now.)

Hannah Stoneham's Book Blog

Rogue Artists

Jewel's Arty Blog

AnfinsenArt

Diane's 365 photo project

The English Country Kitchen

The Sole Sisters Collective

Great Blog Award

I want to thank Rich and Cher at Askcherlock for awarding At My Soiree the Great Blog Award. Askcherlock is full of wonderful stories, penetrating political and economic analysis, and wisdom for everyone. Rich and Cher work so well together to create the depth and variety of their blog.

Life intervenes sometimes, and I am a week late with my thanks, but it is no less sincere.

I am honoured and grateful.

Two Thrift Store Allegories

It has become commonplace, the idea that only men were hunters and only women were gatherers millions of years ago. Most importantly, the "fact" of unambiguous gender roles for those millions of years explains, by way of evolutionary psychology, all gendered behaviour today. (I have written about this before, from a different perspective.)

And I say "Horsepuckie." I also say that I love a good metaphor; it can achieve greatness in explaining even seeming opposites, especially when it is developed to full allegorical glory.

So first, we have the allegory of the thrift store gatherer. She (she has to be female according to the evolutionary psychology people)  is driven by evolutionary imperatives to shop, to browse and select the best goods for the best price. She wanders through the store, looking for the best deals, much as she has been window-shopping for the best shops. She gathers her soon-to-be purchases, just as a female in Paleolithic times gathered nuts and berries, with a discerning eye for value.

Doesn't that sound nice? The good female shopper gathering goods according to her gendered, evolutionary role.

So now let's try the allegory of the hunter in the thrift store. She (stepping outside her usual prescriptive role) is hunting for treasure, that genuine Prada bag for $5, the one hanging in the midst of the other less desirable bags. Before every sortie to the store, she plans her attack, her route, and her strategy. She knows that other hunters are looking for the same prey, so she uses special tactics to camouflage her approach. She cuts off access to several bags, including her intended prey, which gives her time to assess the situation. Assured that the prey is genuine, she isolates it from the rest and finalizes the purchase.

Sounds nice, as well. The hunter searching for prey, isolating it, and going in for the kill.

That's the trouble with so many of the assumptions of evolutionary psychology. We mostly don't really know the difference between an evolutionary imperative and a damn good story that simply illustrates the status quo, especially in matters of gender.