Z is for Zumba

Bridgett Braunscheidel chops up strawberries for smoothies after the April 25th Zumbathon at Saint Martin in the Fields church in Grand Island

This morning, I went to my Zumba class. The class meets every Tuesday and Thursday. It is good exercise and loads of fun. Basically, you do a variety of dance moves to upbeat Latin music. Back in September, I decided to start doing Zumba because I needed exercise and I knew that I had too short of an attention span to go to a gym and work out on machines. The class, which is taught by Kayla Fyfe, is fun and entertaining all of the time.

We even had an extra special dancer this time. It was Buddy! He's a little dog! OK. He really didn't dance too much. He was mostly a distraction, as he seemed to appear out of nowhere in the class. It was fun to see a little dog in the class. After the dog suddenly ran into the room, a human followed and scooped up the dog. The dog's human daddy told us that we couldn't stop our workout just to pay attention to the dog.

It was more fun to see a little dog appear at a Zumba class than to see a little mouse sitting in a utensil drawer.

Yep, I opened the utensil drawer yesterday to get a spoon and a mouse was sitting on the forks. It looked at me, and I looked at it. It didn't make any noise but I was startled and I squeaked at the mouse. Apparently, my squeak was not music to the mouse's ears. It quickly departed the premises.

Maybe I'll make a picture book featuring a mouse in a utensil drawer.

But I digress (my best skill).

Speaking of Zumba, last Saturday, I went to Saint Martin in the Fields church for a special Zumba class. The class was a fundraiser for the Family Justice Center in Buffalo. The Family Justice Centers provides services for victims of domestic violence. Our instructor for this Zumba adventure was Bridgett Braunscheidel. She is a certified Zumba instructor, as well as being a special education teacher at West Seneca East High School. The special Zumba class was loads of fun. We kept moving and spinning and jumping for about an hour and ten minutes. After all of that fun activity, we could buy homemade smoothies for two dollars. The charge for the Zumba class was fifteen dollars. 

All in all, $250 was raised for the Family Justice Center. Patrick Braunscheidel, who is an intern deacon at Saint Martin in the Fields church, organized the Zumbathon as part of his internship. Father Earle King asked Patrick to build a relationship between the church and the Family Justice Center. Patrick talked to me about domestic violence. He mostly spoke about female victims, although he said that he is aware that a minority of domestic violence victims are men.

"Oftentimes, when we think of Jesus, we think that he is confined to the boundaries of the church when in reality he wants us to go where there is suffering, where there is discontent and he wants us to stand with those who need to be comforted. I personally believe that pleases him when we bring comfort to the afflicted. Under no circumstances should any woman or child feel that they can’t go home. Home should be a safe haven."

Mary Travers Murphy, the executive director of the Family Justice Center, talked about the insidious nature of domestic violence. "Most victims don't recognize themselves as victims. They are brainwashed into believing that they deserve the abuse. We want to get the message out and educate people on the warning signs of domestic abuse. That's why I am doing this every day of my life. We need to help victims to understand that they do not deserve the abuse."

Patrick said that he wants to organize Zumbathons to take place twice a year: in November and in April. All proceeds will go to the Family Justice Center to continue its work. 

Y is for you: writing in the second person

This picture was chosen random but, in journalism, the choice of photographs can affect how you perceive the story. As an example, an unflattering picture of a person may cause you not to like the person and to see the person in a negative light because people are very influenced by physical appearance.

Dear Reader,
I will readily admit that the only time that I write in the second person is when I am writing a letter. Generally, I don't ever mention you.  I am not the type of writer that the late Christa Wolf (1929-2011) was. For sure, I don't have her writing skills so I am not sure that I could carry off an entire novel written in the second person. The German writer, who was one of the few famous writers from the former East Germany,  wrote several books in the second person, including Patterns of Childhood. I felt drawn in by her writing because I felt as if she were talking to me and only to me. 

And speaking of me, when I am writing newspaper articles, I also don't mention me. Journalism is supposed to be "objective," and the me and the you have no place in journalism. They are too personal, and journalism is about the impersonal, not the personal. Hence, we delete me and you from existence in the world of journalism.

Although I have done a good deal of journalism and even have a master's (monster's?) degree in journalism, I have my doubts about the entire concept of objectivity. We are humans, after all. We see the world through our own experiences, our personalities, our education, our personal stories. How is it possible to shed all of that and take on the burden of total objectivity? 

Even the selection of events worthy to be reported on in the newspaper or on television indicates a level of bias. It is a decision made by editors and reporters and producers. Today, I look at The Buffalo News and The New York Times, as they cover events in Baltimore. Here are the headlines that I see:

• How social media spun a protest into a riot (this was reprinted in The Buffalo News, and was originally published in the Washington Post)
• Troops and Citizens Fill the Streets of Baltimore (The New York Times)
• Riots Another Scar on a City Battered by Neglect (The New York Times)
• Troops clamp lid on Baltimore violence (this is in The Buffalo News, a reprint of Troops and  Citizens Fill the Streets of Baltimore)

These are three different stories about the same event. I would have questions about all three of them. I'll start with Riots Another Scar on a City Battered by Neglect. West Baltimore has been a disaster area for years. I have actually been there and have seen the devastation. Why weren't stories written about this level of disaster years ago? Entire neighborhoods that looked as if they had been victims of aerial bombing campaigns were treated as if they did not exist until they erupted in flames and violence?  

The story about the troops and citizens filling the streets of Baltimore seems to be a factual news story. I wonder about the two very different headlines on the same story from two newspapers. The headlines do not say the same thing at all. I wonder how that happens. Same article, two completely different headlines. People filling streets as opposed to troops clamping a lid on violence. I see the headline writers in both cases as interpreting the articles and choosing verbs accordingly. 

Are the interpretations objective or even accurate?

I don't really know.

Of all of the stories, I see the social media story as being the least objective. It seems to imply that young people, using various forms of social media, turned a protest into a violent riot. It seems to blame social media for the riots. I see a lot of interpretation in this article that mentions a 2013 movie called "The Purge." 

I wonder if the loss of you and me in the stories actually leads to the lack of objectivity. The stories are not about us; they are about other people, and we can't feel the other people. We go about our lives, grateful that we are not the Other People. Writing about you and me and us may seem to be less objective than writing in the third person but, what it loses in objectivity, it gains in immediacy and connection to the people whose stories are being told. Or, how about if the people who are mentioned in the news stories wrote or told their own stories? 

How would the reporting change if the stories were not about the impersonal them  but, instead, were about you or me or us?

I have no answers. I only have questions. 

What do you think?

Sincerely,

alice

X is for Xanadu

the letter X was giving me the blues

I have to admit... I was stuck.
X is not a very common way to begin a word.
Or a name.
I went to the Oxford English Dictionary and felt sad that it wasn't the Xford English Dictionary because I could then write about my love for dictionaries.
But no such luck.
I was flummoXed by the letter X, which appears just about everywhere but at the beginning of the word.
I was even a bit eXasperated.
Or maybe that feeling is eXaggerated.
To be honest, the letter X isn't really my favorite letter. It looks as if its purpose is just to cross things out, to reject them. Kind of sad, but true.
While in the dictionary, seeking out X words, I came across Xanadu.
It seemed fascinating and promising. 
Should I write about Xavier vising Xanadu?
But no.
No one named Xavier visited Xanadu.
Marco Polo visited Xanadu.
It was the summer home of Kublai Khan after the main capital of the Yuan dynasty was moved to what is now Beijing. In 1275, Marco Polo arrived in Xanadu after a long journey that took him from Italy, across Asia, to what is now known as Inner Mongolia. Xanadu is now known as Shangdu. Not just now, but years and years ago. Its name was changed in 1262 to Shangdu. Marco Polo seemed to have liked the name Xanadu.
I like the name Xanadu. It seems mysterious and fascinating and almost unreal.
Xanadu or Shangdu was and continues to be a real place. It is 220 miles (350 kilometers) north of Beijing. It had an outer city and an inner city. The city was described in great detail by Marco Polo. He was quite fascinated by the city, even if he did seem a bit confused by the name. The architecture of the city was most definitely Chinese. It was designed by Chinese architect Liu Bingzhong from 1252 to 1256. At one point, more than 100,000 people lived in Xanadu/Shangdu. 
 Togun Temur was the last khan. He fled the city, which was burnt to the ground in 1369. He wrote a poem about the loss of Xanadu to China and seemed very devastated by his defeat at the hands of the Ming dynasty. He wrote the poem in 1368. A year later, he had to run.
You can find the poem at the tale of Xanadu, the lost city
Many years later, in 1820, Samuel Taylor Coleridge made Xanadu famous and romantic by writing a poem about that city. Xanadu was everything splendid and opulent.  
Xanadu became a dream because it had been destroyed many years before the poem was written.
I think that I will put it on my bucket list because it is in Inner Mongolia and because it seems amazingly eXotic. It is in the process of being restored. I would love to see that... so on the bucket list it goes... 
For now, it will just occupy a good spot in my imagination, which, alas, has no X in it. 

W is for a walk in the woods

Today, I went with Diane, Ron, and Roy for a walk along Spicer Creek. It is one of a series of creeks in Grand Island. The creek, like all of the rest of the island's creeks, is not in the best condition. The four of us wanted to view the creek and see what was causing the problems.

There are a variety of problems with the creeks. One of the problems is something called "fish barriers." Fish, such as northern pike and walleye, need to be able to travel to their spawning grounds. In the creeks, there are impediments to the free travels of fish. Some are natural, while others are man made. Another problem is the quality of the water. Are there foreign objects in the water? Is there a lot of soil erosion around the creeks? In some areas, soil erosion and lawn chemicals cause problems for the creeks.

We started our walk near a few fast food restaurants and other businesses. We saw a good deal of debris in and near the water. There were large styrofoam containers, tires, cans, bottles, large chunks of concrete, and paper. It was a mess. As we traveled away from the mess created by human beings, we saw other things, such as trees chewed by beavers, dams built in the water, dead trees fallen in the water, and other things. We could see where critters had traveled. Some of the tree bark had been rubbed off by deer antlers. There were various types of animal poop on the ground. Apparently, you can identify the animal by its poop. In fact, there is a field of study, called scatology, which is the study of feces.

I never had any interest in becoming a scatologist but, then again, I had never heard of the word until fairly recently.

We noticed that many of the trees near Spicer Creek were ash trees. Grand Island is loaded with ash trees. In Beaver Island State Park, approximately half of the trees are ash trees. Unfortunately, the emerald ash borer was spotted on Grand Island more than a year ago. This insect, which was accidentally imported to the United States from China via wooden packaging pallets, has proven itself to be extremely devastating to the ash trees. The first city to be negatively affected by the emerald ash borer was Detroit. Thousands of its ash trees were killed by the emerald ash infestation.

So anyway, we walked past the large group of ash trees and, then, we camp upon large numbers of pin oak and swamp oak. These are trees that grow well in saturated soil. Grand Island's soil tends to be saturated quickly because it is clay, and clay absorbs water slowly. Here is an interesting fact about pin oaks. They produce extremely small acorns.  Also, every now and then, we saw crab apple trees and shagbark hickory trees.

We also saw evidence of animal life, especially mink, beavers, coyotes, and deer. We did not see any fish in the creek, although, by this time of year, the creek should have been filled with small fish, such as minnows. The lack of fish could have been caused by the fish barriers. We also saw evidence of human activities: a snowmobile trail, a deer stand, a duck blind, and a tree house.

In the area that Roy, Ron, Diane, and I walked, we saw little evidence of soil erosion and of lawn chemicals. The houses were a good distance from the creek, and the area around the creek was relatively wild.

The walk was fun and adventurous. We walked around vines and fallen trees. Several times, it started to rain but it didn't rain hard enough to cancel the walk, which lasted for about two hours. We will walk another section of the creek, including a section near a golf course, later this week.

Vacuum cleaners and other vexing human tricks

This is the boss of my human's suster.

note: I asked Zoe to be the guest blogger for today. She has a lot to say about humans. I'm afraid that it's not all complimentary. Zoe has decided to dictate her story to me, her human.

My name is Zoe. I am the superior species, namely Cat. Don't forget to capitalize Cat every time you write it. Humans tend to forget easily.

OK, now that I've gotten instructions out of the way, I will talk about life as a Cat among the humans. Humans are strange creatures. I'm not sure how they keep themselves clean because I never see them washing themselves. In fact, I never see them do much of anything. They talk a lot in strange voices that sometimes sound angry and, other times, sound soothing. They don't know how to say "meow," and when they say "meow," they are usually saying bad words without realizing it.
I don't usually listen to them, except when I hear, "Hear kitty kitty kitty, cat cat!" That's when my soft food from the can is served. Even though that is a sound that I welcome, I don't have to respond right away. It is much more fun if I can get the human to do everything in her power to entice me to eat my cat food. She puts the food up to my nose so that I can sniff it. She crawls in the floor. Finally, I deign to eat the food and she says, "Good girl." Silly human.

Speaking about silly humans, they aren't always silly. They have evil inventions. One of them is called the Vacuum Cleaner. What sort of evil human would invent the Vacuum Cleaner? It is my nemesis. It makes this awful noise and it sucks everything up. All of those crumbs that the humans drop on the floor get sucked up by the Vacuum Cleaner. What the heck? Some of those crumbs taste good. The ants like them, too. But I don't really like the ants. As far as I am concerned, they can go into the Vacuum Cleaner. 

I used to have a boyfriend, named Smokey. We never married because the humans made sure that we couldn't have kittens.Silly humans. Our kittens would have been gorgeous.When I first met Smokey, we were big kittens. He didn't know about the "I'm spayed, leave me alone" part. He wanted to make me a mommy in the worst way. I hissed at him. He was a bit slow. He didn't always get the message.

We grew to be good friends. A few years ago, Smokey got sick and he died. Then my human's daddy (Grandpop) died, too. My family was disappearing. I started howling then. I continue to howl. 

The reason that I mention my lost love is that Smokey wasn't a big genius. He was a gentle giant of a cat but he wasn't a genius. He shed his long gray and white fur everywhere. Then he tried to eat it up. The only problem was that the Vacuum Cleaner came and that was the end of Smokey's prize.

There are other critters around, besides humans and the Cat (formerly Cats). There are mice. Those annoying little critters. I generally ignore them. I have no interest in chasing them or in catching them. Sometimes, I meow at a mouse but it makes these odd little squeak noises. They run around the kitchen and the dining room and their little whiskers quiver as they taste test my cat food...

Hey! That's my cat food! Come on, human! Get that mouse out of my food!!!

What else do humans do, besides make noise and operate Vacuum Cleaners? Sometimes, they try to take me to see the Veterinarian. The humans all love the Veterinarian. He is their friend. Smokey did not like the Veterinarian. That gentle giant turned into a biting, hissing ball of long hair standing straight on end. I have never been that direct. I just found a good hiding place and I stayed there. The humans couldn't get me out. They tried poking me with sticks. I hissed and refused to move. That was very vexing. 

When the humans did trick me into going to the Veterinarian's office, the world didn't come to a screeching halt. I have to admit that the Veterinarian did help me feel better. Nevertheless, I prefer not to go because I don't like riding in that car. It is bumpy and doesn't make me feel too happy. I prefer to stay home and sit happily on the windowsill, watching the world.

Yep, the world is pretty well complete when you have a windowsill to sit on and a view of birds and deer and trees and the blue sky.

One of these days, the training of the humans will be complete, and they will understand that their main purpose in existing is to serve the best interest of Cat. 

U is for uxorious and other uniquely unusual words

A number of years ago, I decided to improve my vocabulary. I started looking at lists of unfamiliar words. The only problem was that I couldn't pronounce the words because I don't read phonetically. People read the words to me so that I could repeat. But the definitions... that was a different story...

I decided to have fun with these words. Instead of just going straight to the dictionary to look them up and find the real definition, I chose to make up definitions for the words, almost randomly. Then I wrote sentences, using the made-up definitions. It was a good deal of fun.

Here is the exercise. Go to a website that has listings of unusual or rarely used words. This is the website that I used: It is called Phrontistery.  Choose your words at random, making sure that you choose words that are unfamiliar to you. In my demonstration exercise, I will choose ten words. 

They are:
uxorious
ulcuscle
ufology
ubiquarian
ulotrichous
ultrageous
umbriferous
umstroke
unguiferous
unstercorated

For sure, I have never seen any of these words in my life! Ha ha, the computer doesn't recognize them, either. It has nearly all of them listed as misspelled and unfamiliar. OK, I told a lie. I did see the first word, uxorious, in a book. It was Levels of Life, by Julian Barnes. I had to look it up in a dictionary. There were several more unfamiliar words in that book that I had to look up. Julian Barnes is the vocabulary king!

But I digress. Back to the exercise. The next step is to invent definitions for each of the words. The key to this part of the project is to remember that making sense is unnecessary. In this case, making sense may actually be undesirable because it will interfere with your creativity.

uxorious: The buxom young lady becomes this after she chases a bee away from her blouse
ulcuscle: When you use your muscles to excess, you tend to shout "ULL, my ulcuscles really are ouchy!"
ufology: This is the study of drones, operated by peeping Toms.
ubiquarian: A librarian, after using hand lotion is lubricated, usefully. Delete the "l" and you have an ubiquarian.
ulotrichous: You have a lot of riches but you won't share (how rude!) 
ultrageous: When something is really outrageous, such as a dozen eggs costing $25, it is ultrageous. Somehow "outrageous" just seems like an understatement.
umbriferous:  It was a sad day when the umbrella broke, due to high winds, a really umbriferous day.
umstroke: People who have long beards stroke their beards lovingly as they say "um" repeatedly.
unguiferous: No, thank you. No mustard for me, Guldens or otherwise. I'll just go unguiferous.
unstercorated: You were hoping to be coronated as king or queen of your community, but no one else expected that big event. Your understanding of the lack of coronation did not occur and you felt that the lack of anything meant that you were unstercorated.

The last step is to check the actual definitions of the words against your imagination. You will probably find this step the funniest.

uxorious: excessively fond of one's wife. It beats uxorcide, which is the murder of one's wife (eek).
ulcuscle: a small ulcer (ouch)
ufology: study of alien spacecraft (you know that flying saucer that just landed in my back yard??? Um, I'll be right back... or not, as the case may be, lol).
ubiquarian: one who seems to be everywhere at once. (I see the town supervisor at every event. She seems to be everywhere at once, a real ubiquarian.)
ulotrichous: having wooly hair (I was scared when I saw an ulotrichous cat because it just looked strange).
ultrageous: violently extreme. The terrorist was ultrageous and scared off all potential girlfriends.
umbriferous: giving or bearing shade. The umbriferous ash trees are in terrible peril, due to the presence of the emerald ash borer.
umstroke: circumference, edge.
unguiferous: bearing nails or claws
unstercorated: not manured

As you can see, there is very little connection between the imaginary meanings of the words and the actual meanings of the words.

The goal of this exercise is for you to stretch your imagination and to enjoy the process.

Your turn!!!

Have fun! (that is the only rule for this activity)

T is for teatime!

Having a cup of tea is a pleasant way to slow down, relax, and enjoy life. Tea is a very versatile beverage, and there are many ways to enjoy it. There are five major groups of tea. They are black, white, oolong, green and puer. I like herbal tea but, technically, it is not tea because it does not come from the Camellia Sinensis. All tea comes from that plant. According to the Tea Source website, the Camellia Sinensis is native to Asia but it now grows throughout the world, in tropical and subtropical climates.

I have had black tea, green tea, oolong tea, and herbal tea. Oolong tea is the kind of tea that you get in Chinese restaurants. Of all of the teas, black tea is the highest in caffeine, but it still doesn't have as much caffeine as coffee.

I haven't tried white tea yet. Until today, I'd never heard of puer. At that same website that I mentioned and provided a link for above (the Tea Source website), puer tea is native to China and it was illegal to import it to the United States until 1995. Well, didn't that get me curious! I now want a cup of puer. Here is a description: "it is an aged black tea from China known for its medicinal properties and earthy flavor."

The tea is described as being very strong, with a deep and rich flavor and no bitterness. Hmmm, sounds good, and I am highly curious. It is produced in China and no where else because the recipe is a secret.

How to drink tea... There are many ways to enjoy tea. You could drink your tea with milk and sugar. You could drink your tea plain. Another method is with honey and lemon. You can drink your tea out of a mug or out of a bone china teacup. Depending on my mood, I choose my teacup. 

During the summer, I enjoy drinking sun tea. To make it, you get a big clear jug and fill it with water. Add a few teabags and let it sit on the porch all day. The water will slowly get darker. Once your tea is ready, you can pour it into a tall glass and add sugar and fresh lemon juice. It is very tasty and a nice treat for summertime. 

S is for sensory processing disorder

Sometimes, the world of a person with sensory processing disorder can feel like complete chaos.

It was supposed to be a relaxing experience. Sing with the church choir at a high school graduation mass in Saint Joseph's Cathedral in downtown Buffalo. Then walk to Saint Paul's Episcopal Cathedral, also in downtown Buffalo, and practice for an upcoming choir concert. Music is magic, so this would be a magical evening, right?

Well, no. Not exactly. When I went to the pre-mass rehearsal at the cathedral's choir balcony, I could hear people downstairs holding conversations. 

OK, they are talking and enjoying themselves before mass. 

Already, even though the church was mostly empty, I could barely hear the choir director. He said something, and other people followed his directions. I attempted to imitate what the other people were doing, but rather unsuccessfully.

The cathedral began to fill with people, all talking simultaneously, like geese. My ears felt as if they were being forced open by some sort of diabolical machine. Then the noise was poured into my ears. The choir director was moving his mouth. What was he saying? The pain in my ears was becoming more and more intense. The voices echoed madly in the open space of the cathedral and the open space of my head. The sounds repeated, over and over and over again, and the noise found a place to reverberate in the center of my head.

I attempted to sing, to cover up the chaos of the downstairs babble by my own voice.

I did not succeed.

When the mass began, the downstairs voices ceased.  Suddenly, a very sharp voice drilled its way into my ears. It was one voice, amplified by a microphone. The voice felt like shards of broken glass. I understood not one word of it. I just wanted it to stop.

After mass, it was time to take off our choir robes and get ready to go to rehearsal at Saint Paul's Cathedral. I forced myself to walk to the room where we were to hang up our choir robes. There were too many other people walking in front of me, behind me, and around me. Their movements seemed random and chaotic. It looked like the visual equivalent of the painful noise that I had just experienced. I felt motion sickness and dizziness, almost as if I had spent too much time on a rapidly spinning amusement park ride. I quietly prayed for help because I could no longer tell where my body was in space.

I kept my back to the wall to feel something solid, so that I would have an idea of where my body was. It didn't work very well. Somehow, I managed to remove my choir robe and hang it up, which seemed like a monumentally difficult task. The noise continued to echo in my head. My ears felt enormous and every small sound was magnified until it became a roar. I could no longer send signals to my body, signals that are normally automatic and unconscious. I stood, confused, until nearly everyone went downstairs. I did not think that I could walk down the stairs. Two people helped me down the stairs.

Outside felt a little better. The air was fresh and slightly cool. People's voices sounded like voices, not like echoey and broken-apart words. 

At the second cathedral, the choir director began playing the piano. It sounded as if it could use a tuning. The choir started to sing. I heard each individual voice but I could not perceive the entire choral sound. At that moment, I would have been able to point at each individual who was singing off key, even slightly. I wanted to ask them to please sing the right notes. Fortunately, I restrained myself. I could control only my own voice. I sang carefully so that I would not hear myself singing off key. 

Rehearsal lasted for a long time, or so it seemed. 

After rehearsal, I went home. The noise was still bouncing around in my head. I was still having difficulty telling where my body was in space. 

After three days, my head became quiet again. I stopped feeling like a cornered animal. I felt human again.

The above story is what happens when the sensory world becomes too much for my sensitive system. Our world is not designed for people like me, who experience a condition called "sensory processing disorder." 

I am telling my story of sensory processing disorder because it is a fairly unknown and misunderstood disability. I want you to know that, if you suspect that you or your child have sensory processing disorder, you are not alone. You can get help. There is a name for the things that have been bothering you.

Things that sensory processing disorder are not: 

• attention-seeking behavior. The pain is real. It's not a bid to get attention.
• attempts to control other people's behavior. When I ask you not to crack gum or not whistle loudly, I am not trying to control you; I am trying to protect myself from pain.
• bad behavior. I am not being annoying on purpose.
• mental illness. Sensory processing disorder is not a psychological disorder, although many people with sensory processing disorder have been misdiagnosed with mental health issues. 

Many, but not all, people who have sensory processing disorder also have been diagnosed with "autism." Generally, people who have sensory processing disorder also have a collection of other related conditions. I also have auditory processing disorder and hyperacusis. 

People with sensory processing either seek out sensory stimulation or they avoid it. People who seek out sensory stimulation tend to rock in their chairs, bump into people, or jiggle their legs a lot. They seem to need more sensory stimulation than they are getting from their environment. People who avoid  sensory stimulation are regularly overstimulated by their environment. Their reactions to light touch, sound, or things that they see may seem to others to be unreasonable over reactions.

I tend to be overstimulated by my environment. I have a condition called "tactile defensiveness," which means that, for me, light touch is extremely uncomfortable. When people brush past me, it feels as if bugs were crawling on my skin. In the past, before I learned about my sensory processing disorder, I would get strong aggressive feelings when someone touched me lightly, even if the touching were accidental. I wanted to fight that person for invading my personal space. I did not understand that the invasion was an accident.

On the other hand, I appreciate a deep massage or a bear hug. My aversion to touch is only to light touch. I seem to crave pressure touches. The harder you hug, the happier I am.

 Also, as a person with tactile defensiveness, there are certain textures that I cannot tolerate. They cause so much discomfort for my tactile system that I will throw them on the ground within seconds. I cannot wear certain fabrics and I cannot wear clothing that feels tight or binding, such as turtlenecks. 

My hyperacusis means that noise is pain. There are certain frequencies that will cause me excruciating pain, even if the sounds are not loud. Some of the worst sounds for me are: gum popping (too explosive), whistling (too shrill), nails on chalkboard, electrical instruments (especially guitars). I am also sensitive to off-key sounds and will stop singing abruptly if I perceive myself to be off the pitch.

Other sensory issues include: smells and tastes. I tend to be a fussy eater, mainly because of the smells and/or texture of food. No condiments, such as mayonnaise, mustard, or ketchup, for me. I'm OK with avocado, though, and will spread soft avocado on my sandwich. No spicy foods, either. 

Nevertheless, I love food and enjoy cooking and eating.

I was diagnosed with sensory processing disorder at the age of 40. When I was a child, no one had ever heard of sensory processing disorder. The "experts" gave me various unhelpful labels, such as "emotionally disturbed." They were probably right. I'd think that anyone who was constantly feeling pain from things that others consider just normal in the environment would feel a level of emotional disturbance.

The earlier sensory processing disorder is diagnosed, the better. Small children's brains are still developing and they are the most responsive to therapies that will help regulate the sensory system. If you have a child that you suspect may have sensory processing disorder, please do not hesitate. Get the child diagnosed and into therapy as soon as possible. Generally, the person who is best qualified to diagnose sensory processing disorder is an occupational therapist. 

For more information about sensory processing disorder, take a look at sensory processing disorder website. 

R is for the Niagara River

View from Beaver Island State Park. Acrylic panting by... me!

I am fortunate enough to live near one of the greatest wonders of the world, Niagara Falls. Niagara Falls is actually the name of three separate waterfalls that are all at one location. These falls are called the Horseshoe Falls, the Bridal Veil Falls, and the American Falls. They are amazing to look at because they are so incredibly large and powerful. This past winter, they were full of ice and snow, and they were spectacular.

Niagara Falls in winter, as seen from Goat Island State Park, in Niagara Falls, New York

The island that I live on (Grand Island) is actually surrounded by the Niagara River. We have two state parks. One is called Buckhorn Island State Park, and it is located in the northernmost portion of Grand Island. Buckhorn Island State Park is the wilder of the two parks. It is a wildlife sanctuary and an "important bird area." In fact, it is a globally significant important bird area. Many migratory species of birds come to to the northern tip of Grand Island to mate and reproduce and to raise their baby birds in the waters of the Niagara River. I've seen all varieties of gulls there. There are numerous gull species that come to the Niagara River, including Bonaparte gulls. Also, I've seen geese and ducks. Ospreys have been known to nest in Buckhorn Island State Park. I've also seen a great blue heron (or two).

One interesting thing about Buckhorn Island State Park is that when you are on the walking trail in the park, on a clear day, you can see the foam rising from Niagara Falls.

If you walk on the west side of Grand Island, you can wave to Canada, although, most likely, no one will see you well enough to wave back. The shoreline over on the west side has experienced some erosion, but the Buffalo-Niagara Riverkeeper is going to do a demonstration shoreline restoration project along the rivershore.

The other state park in Grand Island is called Beaver Island State Park. It is located at the southern tip of the island. In the nineteenth century, much of the land that is now Beaver Island was owned by Lewis F. Allen. He is the Allen for whom Allentown in the City of Buffalo is named. His nephew, originally called "Big Steve," became president of the United States. When he became president of the United States (or, most likely, before that event), he became known as "Grover Cleveland." I guess that "Big Steve" didn't sound presidential enough. He was the only president to serve two nonconsecutive terms. He was elected in 1884 for his first term. When he ran for re-election, in 1888, he was defeated by Benjamin Harrison (grandson of William Henry Harrison, who was known as the president who served the shortest term in office... one month before he succumbed to pneumonia). Because of that, Grover Cleveland is considered to be two presidents. Cleveland came into the White House as a bachelor. He married a youthful Frances Folsom while he was president, and his daughter Ruth was born in the White House. The Babe Ruth candy bar was named for her (Baby Ruth). It was not named for the baseball player, Babe Ruth.

When Lewis F. Allen owned a chunk of the southern end of Grand Island, he established orchards and an experimental cattle farm. He had a cattle farm in Buffalo and Allen Street apparently was a cow trail years ago. It is said that Lewis F. Allen introduced the northern spy apple to Grand Island. Grand Island is loaded with apple trees. On an autumnal walk, I don't go hungry! I eat apples and wild grapes and wild garlic. Sometimes, I find pears. Sometimes, I bring the garlic home and cook them with my eggs. Wild garlic tends to be fairly mild, however.

Back to Beaver Island State Park. The only thing that remains of Lewis F. Allen and his family (including "Big Steve") is a house called River Lea. The house is right near the river. At night, you can see the lights of the interstate from the house. You see them better when the trees don't have leaves. Some people say that Lewis F. Allen built the house as a wedding gift for his son, W. Cleveland Allen, who was Grand Island's first postmaster. Other people say that Lewis F. Allen did not build the house. The son built the house, based on his father's design. Lewis F. Allen wrote a book about rural architecture, and the design for River Lea is in the book. The house is now the headquarters for the Grand Island Historical Society.

Bald eagles have been spotted in the area around Beaver Island State Park. If you are lucky, you might see them. I have not seen them yet. Mostly, I just spot raspberries. What can I say? I am food oriented. 

Oh well. Birds, presidents, berries, and apples... you get them all when you're walking along the river...

Q is for Quiet Rain

It is raining. Quietly.
Here are a few haikus about rain, quiet or otherwise.

The sky turns deep gray,
smell of moisture fills the air,
rain will soon approach.

Spring flowers close up,
clouds cover the yellow sun, 
darkness in daytime.

The birds stopped singing
as they anticipate rain
all becomes quiet.

Still-naked trees dance
to the rhythm of the breeze
early spring's music.

'Neath a covered moon
pitter patter goes the rain
sleep-inducing sounds.

Winter has ended
and spring's colors are coming
after quiet rains.

P is for photographs from the Walk for a Nuclear Free Future

Below are some of the pictures that I took during the Western New York portion of the Walk for a Nuclear Free Future. The people who are doing the complete walk, which is still continuing, began in San Francisco in March 20th. They will arrive in New York City on April 26th. Their goal is to pray and fast near the United Nations'  Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty review conference.

Alex Meade, holding his young daughter, shares poetry in downtown Buffalo, just before the group started to walk.

in Niagara Square, Buffalo

We are heading to the First Niagara Center, which is the home of the Buffalo Sabres. In the past, the Sabres were famous for three awesome players, known as the French Connection: Gil Perreault, Rene Robert, and Rick Martin. This year, the Sabres were known for being the worst team in the National Hockey League. Let's hope that changes soon.

A cobblestone street in downtown Buffalo.

replica of a lighthouse.

April 11th was a cold, windy day in Buffalo, but the walk does not stop for weather.

Heading past Our Lady of Victory Basilica in Lackawanna, New York.

A statue of Father Nelson Baker, who is on his way to sainthood. For more information about Father Nelson Baker, take a look at this biography

At a dentist's office in Hamburg, New York.

LOL

At a presentation in Springville, New York, a group of high school students talked about going to the United Nations to give a presentation to the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues.

One of the students going to the United Nations. The students are Sierra, Loren, Caleb, and Austin.

A wall hanging made by a young person in Iraq. Exposure to depleted uranium has caused an increase in cancers, such as leukemia, in youth.

Mori came to the walk from Japan. He is from the southern part of Japan, which he describes as very hilly. He says that the most common tree is the cedar tree, and the biggest crop is rice. He found out about the walk because his father is friends with Jun-san, a Buddhist nun who lives in a peace pagoda in Grafton, New York, and who walks many miles for peace.

This is the Cattaraugus Creek. Maria Maybee, a Seneca from the Heron Clan, said that the Cattaraugus Creek was where she grew up. She said that she loves the creek. The nuclear waste that leached into the creek from the West Valley waste disposal site has caused Maria serious health problems, she explained.

Walking to the start of the creek, at Lake Erie.

The group has arrived at the lake and looks out toward the water, still filled with ice after a long, cold winter.

Lake Erie, one of the five great lakes, source of much fresh water.

Maria Maybee is ready for the water ceremony to honor the water. Water is life. We cannot live without it.

Blessing the water with herbs.

On the shores of the Cattaraugus Creek.

Komesta-shoni blesses the water. He told me that he was born in Tokyo and that he now lives in Okinawa. He has been a Buddhist monk for eight years. He said that he likes the simple life of a monk and that he is happy to be able to focus on his faith with fewer distractions.

Sunset Bay, New York, near the intersection of Cattaraugus Creek and Lake Erie.

Cattaraugus Creek.

Here I am, with the banner that I carried on the afternoon of the last day that I walked with the group (April 15th).

The Walk for a Nuclear Free Future!

Karen Banzar, Maria Maybee, Agnes Williams, and a friend, holding staffs. One of the staffs is the water staff. On April 14th and April 15th, the Walk for a Nuclear Free Future and the Water is Life walk (held annually, mainly in the Seneca Nation's Cattaraugus territory), became one walk.

Sunset... on the walk for me. The group continued on to the Grafton Peace Pagoda and, today, began walking to New York City.