Gertrude Stein – love her or hate her – there is no in between. She wrote the weird Tender Buttons and the popular Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas. One of my favorites of hers is Three Lives. Very Anglo-Saxon. The language, not the themes.

Well, you know how famous and talented folks tend to hang out with one another? The Bloomsbury Circle had Keynes and Woolf. Gertrude Stein had Hemingway, Anderson, Matisse, and Picasso.

And just as much as Stein influenced the painters, they influenced her right back. Stein was famous (or was it notorious?) for her experiments in language. One of my favorite experiments of hers is when she wrote portraits of the Cubists, in the Cubist fashion.

My first memory of Iran came in the fourth grade – it was video, pictures, and other coverage of the American hostages in Iran. Politics was often discussed over turkey at Thanksgiving, so events in Iran, Poland, and anywhere else evil was doing its thing, were often the topic of discussion.

I remember not being able to locate Iran on a map, but I knew that Iran was bad. Not as bad as the Soviet Union, but bad.

Over the years I’ve learned that those student kidnappers, although not the type you’d necessarily want to invite over for Thanksgiving, may have actually had a reason for the kidnapping. Weird. They weren’t just crazy Arabs, they were (somewhat understandably) paranoid of the United States intervening in their internal affairs.

Which you and I know is ludicrous. The United States would never meddle in the Middle East without good reason.

Still, Dr. Haleh Esfiandiari, an Iranian-born academic who also carries an American passport, writes about how the Intelligence Ministry in Iran was convinced she was working with the CIA to overthrow the Iranian government. Now, it’s not crazy to imagine the CIA overthrowing governments, but the good doctor, well, her duties at the Woodrow Wilson were misunderstood by her interrogators.

So they locked her up in the famous Evin Prison. Read her story.

The US Open starts this week, folks. Watch your favorites whap! with their rackets and watch for the fashion show the Williams sisters sometimes put on. Serena, fresh off a Grand Slam victory at Wimbledon this year, may just be feeling frisky enough to wear breathable pleather.  Ya never know.

The Williams sisters were not the first divas of the court. Check out this short history of Suzanne Lenglen (She’s so famous they named the female French Open trophy after her.) to find out the legacy behind outrageous fashion on the court.

Some people wake up at the crack of crack when camping. Not me. I prefer to rouse only when the cold hard ground ceases to comfort. Somewhere around 10AM. Middle-of-the-night disturbances are not a problem: I’ve slept through fire alarms, thunderstorms, hurricanes, and nearby breakins. In fact, I think I’ve found a new, deeper level of REM. Eat it, Sleeping Beauty.

Breakfast: eat camping green chili omelettes and ham, drink percolated camping coffee, and enjoy solitude of the North Rim of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. You’ve never really exhaled unless you’ve done so drinking weak coffee made with tinny campground water while sitting in a $10 canvas chair from Target and planning the day’s activities.

This day, we had decided over onion-and-garlic marinated buffalo burgers (paired with the excellent Black Bridge Red we picked up in Paonia) the night before, we would hike out to Inspiration Point and back, about three miles roundtrip. The trail meanders through desert flora, occasionally offered shade and amazing vistas, and is labeled as moderate. I concur. We walked from the campground to the trailhead, which is located near the Visitors’ Center. On the walk to the You pass the Inner Canyon trailhead of SOB, but according to the ranger, Yogi, that trail is fraught with poison ivy.

We passed, literally.

This tree greeted us near the trailhead.

Follow the brown dirt path, tra la la

Follow the brown dirt path, tra la la

You can see the canyon peeking out of the corner.

I’m no dendrowhatever, but I was surprised that lichen actually grows in the desert. Takes an uninformed New England to be surprised at such things.

Lichen

While this tree marked our first overlook.

High desert sky

High desert sky

We frolicked along in the hot desert sun and took a hard left out to Inspiration Point after 1.5 miles. We parked ourselves on a rock, made friends (or at least tried to) with the largest ants on the planet, and enjoyed the view of the canyon.

Water runs through the deep canyon

Water runs through the deep canyon

A closer look at Inspiration Point at Black Canyon of the Gunnison

A closer look at Inspiration Point at Black Canyon of the Gunnison

Inspiration Point truly inspired.

If you’re an educator, student, or parent, there’s only one thing on your mind right now: SCHOOL.

In addition to new clothes and necessary supplies, school brings back anxiety for all.

Educator: Will I be more organized this year?

Student: Will my new teachers like me?

Parents: Will my kiddos do their homework/pay attention/pass/excel this year?

All worries valid, but all worries unfortunately being given too much energy. As an educator myself, one of the things we always meet, regardless of where and what we teach, is lack of student motivation.

We are constantly asking ourselves, “How do we motivate the unmotivated?”

A good friend of mine is taking a graduate-level educational psychology course. Below is her response to the first assignment, which asked students to describe a student with motivational issues. In a hilarious and poignant self-confessional, she describes her own motivational issues.

Brilliant. Thanks B!

She says she hates school and has written notes to be excused from classes since she was in 7th grade. There is no record of her parent’s signatures on file because she has signed her own excuse blanks since she was in 4th grade. Her parents expect her to get good grades but can’t help her with her homework. She takes accelerated classes and is relatively popular but still feels like an outsider. Both her mom and first step-mom are English teachers. Her father and step-father never went to college. Her dad cheated on her mom and her step-mom and remarried again when she was 14. Her newest step-mom has no maternal instinct and can’t even help her with English.

She actually attends a few classes willingly – math (even when she dislikes the teacher), science (when it isn’t rote memorization like Biology – ugh – but dissection was great), English literature (novels and poetry are the best), art (especially ceramics, wood-working, and metal), and physical education (any sport is great, even basketball though she is only 5’2”) – but avoids all of the classes which rely on memorization or simply reading a book and regurgitating information whenever possible. When she skips school she does homework, or reads a book for fun, outside usually near a creek or in the woods. When she is in a particularly boring class, like health education or driver’s education, she stares out the window and daydreams but can still answer questions when called upon which infuriates her teachers. Sometimes she does other homework in these classes but that makes the teachers angry as well.

Many subjects come easily to her but she prefers classes that are a challenge. She feels guilty if she does well on a test when she doesn’t study. She gets good grades, B+s and above, even in classes she avoids/cuts but she hides her exams so that no one will see that she got a good grade. She knows that smart kids get picked on and plays dumb very well. In fact, she was known as an airhead all through junior high until that fateful day when her algebra teacher revealed that she had outscored all other students, including the high school students, on a standardized math test. A chauvinistic and arrogant male classmate jumped up and yelled, “But she’s an airhead!” making matters worse. She was angry but proud that her charade had worked. Still, she wished she were invisible and wanted to curl up and hide. She hates standing out and tries to blend in wherever she goes. She is not openly rebellious but sometimes wishes that she were.

She is a model student except for being truant and for making quiet, funny comments to her few close friends in her class. She graduated 18th in her class of 512 but doesn’t consider it an accomplishment at all. It wasn’t hard. She almost didn’t graduate because she missed 47 days her senior year. Plus, she was absent on the day everyone rehearsed, were assigned seats, and had their photo taken and was almost not allowed to walk or participate in the ceremony.

She loves to learn but lacks ambition. She is expected to go to college and knows that she will but has no idea what she will study. Her guidance counselor tells her she has the aptitude to be anything she wants.

Twenty plus years later with two master degrees and a PhD underway, she still doesn’t know what she wants to be and lacks the motivation to do what she despises – regurgitating information to prove that she can critically evaluate and synthesize what she has read – but why? She fears becoming one of them – the academics without soul or passion who research what they cannot experience for themselves. She fears success and failure simultaneously. She feels trapped with no way out but letting go of who she is.

After moseying around the backroads of 133 and 92, we arrived at the North Rim of the Black Canyon. We were concerned about our late arrival (4:30PM) and the warnings from the National Park Service that sometimes the 13 campsites filled up on busy weekends. The South Rim, with its RV hookups, had 88 sites and almost never filled up. But we were going for solitude, and the whirring hummm of a generator does not provide as such.

The road in is visually unstimulating except to the connoiseurs of the earth palette: sage green, pine green, stormy white, and National Park Blue:

P8150132

The Black Canyon’s website promised us shaded from pinons and junipers, a vault toilet, water, and grills. The North Rim, which does not in any way shape or form connect to the South Rim, lies about 11 miles southwest of Crawford. The last six miles in are on a graded dirt road that was fairly well maintained.

When we arrived at the North Rim campground, there was one other couple there, playing catch. We set up camp and headed over to the Chasm View Trail, a lolling third of a miles jaunt replete with an interpretive brochure. The brochure has twelve markers, each describing a particular piece of the canyon’s tabletop: pinyon pine, juniper (sound familiar?).

Marker number five is special. The brochure says “Wow!” and the marker leads you to a concrete and chain-link fence overlook into the canyon, over 1700 feet below. You can hear the Gunnison River rushing down, at a rate of about 43 feet per second. I clenched the fence and in my amazing voice said, “Wow.” Kinda serene like.

The light wasn’t right for pictures, but it was perfect for marveling. We took some photos anyway.

Marker #4 - Juniper Tree

Marker #4 - Juniper Tree

The NPS’s interpretive brochure tells you that juniper trees cut off nutrition to their dead bits so the rest of the tree can survive. The human equivalent would be frostbite. We dallied around the juniper section for a bit, trying to catch the trees in action.

Like a snake, the juniper tree sheds its skin

Like a snake, the juniper tree sheds its skin

This tree marks #5.

Pre-wow.

Pre-wow.

Then, 1700 feet down, WOW!

The Gunnison River rushes along the canyon floor.

The Gunnison River rushes along the canyon floor.

Wow.

Marbled rock of the grandest scale

Marbled rock of the grandest scale

Lightplay in the canyon

Lightplay in the canyon

The next post will feature the hike out to Inspiration Point.

Friday A and I made a mad dash to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. Well, it wasn’t exactly a mad dash. We found ourselves truly enjoying all that is south of Aspen, and I began taking pictures as we approached Mt. Sopris, just outside of Glenwood Springs.

Paonia is one of those small rural towns that has a New Age influence and overpriced real estate. A and I didn’t know we were driving through Colorado’s wine country, and we took advantage of our early Denver departure and sampled from the local fare at Black Bridge Winery, which is conveniently located just off Highway 133. Everything produced there – from the wine to the produce – is organic. After a little sampling, I decided upon a meritage, I believe it was called Black Bridge Red, a robust wine that complemented exquisitely the bison burgers we had over the campfire that night.

The photos of the drive to, through, and past Paonia tell a story of dark clouds and rain. Such weather is always welcome in Colorado. Especially when it dries and warms up just in time for outdoor activities. Which it did.

Day one of the four-day road trip was a blast of shopping, talking to folks, and getting excited about the canyon that lay ahead in wait for us. (In a good way.)

Mt. Sopris with a moat of cloud

Mt. Sopris with a moat of cloud

P8150105

Obligatory self-portrait shot

Obligatory self-portrait shot

The black bridge next to the Black Bridge Winery

The black bridge next to the Black Bridge Winery

Paonia graffiti on the black bridge

Paonia graffiti on the black bridge

Room for one only

Room for one only

Even the wind couldn't stop this picture

Even the wind couldn't stop this picture

Or this one...

Or this one...

More Paonia graffiti. I hope the trains run on time...

More Paonia graffiti. I hope the trains run on time...

Finally we made it here - the Black Canyon

Finally we made it here - the Black Canyon

More canyon photos to follow…

The passing of Ms. Eunice means the Kennedys are all over the media. Again.

Maybe you’re sick of the Kennedys. If so, maybe a look at the Kennedy women is in order.

I’ve got a pile of excuses as to why I didn’t get out camping sooner than this past weekend. Maybe they sound familiar: too busy, bad weather, no one to go with, too crowded, not physically up for it, yada, yada, yada.

Well, the spectre of not camping and not getting outdoors has been haunting me since the spring equinox. Memories of my very successful solo trip to Moab last Thanksgiving had me wistful for sleeping, eating, and breathing the great outdoors.

Last weekend was the last weekend of free admission to select National Parks in this great nation of ours. Black Canyon of the Gunnison, a mere four hours from my house, beckoned me with its thousand-foot high canyon walls and unspoiled views of some of the oldest exposed rock on Earth – 2 billion years old!

The Black Canyon is a climbers’ paradise, a sport I am not currently interested in taking up. My next sport will be scuba diving.

I digress. Colorado boasts two other major National Parks – Rocky Mountain National Park and the Great Sand Dunes. I have spent considerable time down at the Sand Dunes, both hiking and sandboarding, and have flitted in and out of RMNP a few times. But with the Black Canyon I was looking for an escape – a place without crowds and with beauty.

I found it. Check back this week for photos and commentary on a magical, overlooked place.

There were bestsellers before The Joy of Cooking and The DaVinci Code.  In fact, America’s first bestseller was published in 1682 and was written by a woman.

The bestseller in question was not a romance novel or a how-to get married after 40 kind of affair.  It was an honest-to-goodness account of being taken captive by the Narragansett Indians and being sold to the Wampanoag Indians in order to fund the Native side of King Philip’s War.

The captivity narrative tells of Mrs. Rowlandson eating tree bark broth (delicious!), traveling all over western Massachusetts, and naming her ransom price.  Pretty ballsy if you ask me.

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