culture | Bertram's Blog

The Bees Of The Invisible

June 27, 2014 — Pat Bertram

Life and death are strange things. Or maybe it’s death that’s strange, at least to those of us who are still alive. A wise friend keeps saying we have to just accept the way things are, that we could go nuts trying to figure out the whys of it all, but since I seem to live on the edge of death (other people’s deaths, not mine), death and the process of getting there are often on my mind.

We start out as miniscule bits and pieces of two people, are born, grow from helpless infants to independent-minded children to independent and autonomous adults, finally ending up helpless again as our bodies deteriorate.

A few friends were talking the other day about all the nonagenarians in our lives, and someone asked what use they were. This is a question many of these aged folks themselves ask, so it’s not an insensitive question by any means. When there is nothing left to accomplish, when you can’t move about freely either mentally or physically, when you can no longer enjoy anything, not even your food because your taste buds have decamped, what use is there in living?

My 97-year-old father is “declining” as the doctors say, which is a cute euphemism for “slowly dying”. He could live a year or more, but still, everything is breaking down, even his normally sharp mind. He hates that he can’t think, hates that he can’t make instantaneous decisions, hates even more to have others make decisions for him. Even worse, he finds the situation embarrassing. I tell him, of course, that there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, that it’s part of the process, but my words don’t make him feel any better about himself.

I don’t want to live to such a great age, and especially I don’t want to wind up helpless and dependent on strangers (I won’t have the benefit my father has of a caregiving daughter). My wise friend reminds me we have no choice in the matter, which is true. The only real choice we have is to live as well as we can as long as we can.

For a long time I’ve thought that if God is Everything, then we are the sensory cells of the Everything, feeling, seeing, touching, hearing, smelling, tasting life. And the poet Rilke seems to agree. He wrote, “It is our task to imprint this temporary perishable earth into ourselves, so painfully and passionately, that its essence can rise again ‘invisibly’ inside us. We are the bees of the invisible. We wildly collect the honey of the visible, to store it in the great golden hive of the invisible.”

Maybe these nonagenarians are still gathering their invisible honey as best as they can, but even so, it doesn’t make it any easier watching the old get even older and feebler, gradually losing their touch on life.

Bee

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Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Posted in culture, life, relationships. Tags: bees of the invisible, declining, God is Everything, life and death, meaning of life and death, Rilke, slowly dying, what use are old folks. 2 Comments »

Turning My Ancient VW Bug Into a Drivable Piece of Art

June 26, 2014 — Pat Bertram

I’m thinking of turning my ancient VW bug into a drivable piece of art. I suppose if I got the thing repainted the original color, it could be considered “art” since such an old beetle is fairly rare, but it might be fun to drive something totally unique, something that screams, “Pat Bertram is here!”

I could, of course, literally paint “Pat Bertram is here” on the side of the car, or do something more productive like “Pat Bertram, author” and give my web address since more than anything I would like some unique way of selling my books. But if I step outside my “author” persona, the ideas are limitless. For example, I’ve seen photos of a bug completely covered with beadwork. I’ve seen one where the body was remade with white wrought iron, making it look like a lace car. The wrought iron body would be drafty, the beadwork would be so heavy the mileage would suffer, so neither would be practical. And besides, both of those ideas have been done.

I recently saw a photo of a bug that someone had rounded into a perfect sphere, but of course, such a stationary work of art would defeat the purpose of making sure the vehicle is drivable.

Perhaps I could decoupage the car with colored tissue paper, then spray it with clear enamel to make it look like stained glass. Or turn it into something resembling a patchwork quilt. Or even cut out tiny squares of various colors of fabric and arrange them into a mosaic-like design so that up close it doesn’t look like anything but from a distance you could see a floral arrangement, perhaps. Or get the car painted the original marine blue and paint a green ivy border around the bottom. Or paint the car to look like a little fairytale house, complete with window flower boxes and thatched roof. Or . . .

I really hadn’t planned to restore the car since I thought the poor thing was destined for the junk yard, but I found someone who can rebuild the engine and rework the suspension, so maybe I should keep it going one way or another. The trouble is, restored or not, such an old car is a responsibility for a non-car-buff because things are always breaking down, few mechanics know how to fix them, and parts are hard to come by, so I’m not sure I want to do it. Either way, I could do something arty to the body, to have fun with it as long as it lasts.

Feel free to offer suggestions!

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Posted in culture. Tags: drivable art, restoring a VW bug, turning a VW bug into art, Volkswagen bug, VW art. 4 Comments »

Sheep Peach by Any Other Name . . .

June 22, 2014 — Pat Bertram

Have you ever wondered about the origins or kiwifruit or where it got its name? I didn’t think so. Neither did I. But when I read that the plant was renamed with an eye on the American market, I had to look into the matter.

Kiwis — the fruits, not the slang word for New Zealanders or the name for the fuzzy bird — is a native of China where it was known as yang tao, roughly translated as “sheep peach.” It was also known as monkey peach, macaque pear, vine pear, sun peach and wood berry. (Wood berry makes most sense since the fruit is a berry of a woody vine genus that is widespread in Asia.) Recently, the Chinese name for “strange fruit,” a translation of kiwifruit, has become common in Taiwan and Hong Kong. (I’ve heard it said that what goes around comes around, and apparently this is true of cultivated fruit and fruit names as well as the rest of human activities.)

When yang tao seeds were brought to New Zealand in the early part of the twentieth century, the new cultivators renamed the fruit “Chinese Gooseberries” or “melonettes.” At the beginning, it was mostly a novelty plant for gardens and small markets. Through cultivation, the fruit became bigger and sweeter, and its appeal grew. In the nineteen fifties, the growers wanted to expand their sales to the United States, but neither of these names were acceptable for the American market. They couldn’t call the fruit “Chinese Gooseberry” because the United States was in the midst of a cold war, and anything smacking of Communism was immediate death. Nor could they call it “melonette” because the United States had high tariffs for melons. Someone (several people claim the honor so there’s no point in naming names) came up with the label “kiwifruit” after the small brown fuzzy New Zealand bird, which distanced the fruit even further from its Chinese past. As I’m sure you’ve figured out, the ploy worked, and now kiwis are a staple of most people’s diet, but not mine. I don’t particularly like the fruit, no matter what its name. It seems to me the fruits are again becoming small and not very sweet, but most people still buy it.

Now that I think about it, the original appellation of “sheep peach” is a good name for the fruit. Like sheep, we were herded where the marketers wanted us to go.

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Posted in culture, life. Tags: Chinese gooseberry, kiwi, kiwifruit, melonette, New Zealand bird, sheep fruit. 3 Comments »

A Three-Letter Word for Freedom

June 20, 2014 — Pat Bertram

I don’t drive a lot — less than 150,000 miles in 42 years — but still, a car is important to me. Our society is set up where a vehicle is essential to go the long distances our daily lives seem to require. It’s a way of carrying all the food and equipment we need, a way to keep in touch with far-flung families and friends, a way of extending our reach and renewing the views forming the backdrop of our lives. But even more than that, a car spells freedom.

My car conked out the other night (actually, it was the fuel pump that conked out), and so I’ve been without transportation, having to rely on friends to get me and my father to his various appointments and to round up the medications he needs. I’ve been without a car before when it’s been in the shop, sometimes for several days, and I used to revel in the freedom of not having to care for such a large and needy object. Often I would go weeks without driving since I prefer traveling on foot when possible. But today, I’ve been antsy, waiting for the mechanics to call and tell me the car is fixed.

Even though I might not have driven today since my father needs me here, I feel trapped not having the car around in case I felt the urge to escape my life for just a few minutes. A car is a promise that we can go farther and faster than ever our feet could carry us. It’s a promise that life awaits beyond the confines of our responsibilities. It’s a promise of adventure, fun, freedom.

The irony of this situation is that I’ve been thinking about walking up the coast to Seattle, a trip that might take me a year, and the thought of not having to deal with a car and whatever mechanical and maintenance issues that might arise on a long trip has been refreshing. And here I am fretting over the absence of my car. (I know I’m overusing the word “car,” but it’s too old and bedraggled to merit the appellation of “vehicle.”)

So here I wait.

Is that the phone I hear? No, just my imagination calling me.

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Posted in culture, life. Tags: a car is a promis of freedom, car and freedom, car and vehicle, fuel pump. 9 Comments »

My Polarized Life — The Profound and the Profane

June 18, 2014 — Pat Bertram

I’m sitting here trying to think of something uplifting to say. It’s not that today is a bad day, it’s just that like all my days, it’s too polarized — from the profound experience of learning to dance to the profane experience of life in my father’s house.

My father is 97 years old and is doing well — he gets up and can walk around by himself, can even take off the oxygen for a few minutes if he needs to go beyond the tether of the tubing. He mostly looks after himself, but the every day aspects of life are beginning to defeat him. He has a hard time concentrating and remembering, though these lacks are due to congestive heart failure and age, not Alzheimer’s. (He recently took and passed an Alzheimer’s test.) Still, there are always personal things that he needs me to take care of, such as shopping and cooking what few cooked foods he eats. There are frequent house matters for me to take care of such as bad television, phone, and computer reception. And there is my dysfunctional homeless brother who is currently camping out in the garage.

For some reason — perhaps because I am here — my brother delights in tormenting me, calling me childish names such as “Porky” and “Lard Ass” as well as more adult-rated names. He is obviously suffering, and I am trying to be kind to him, even when he graffities car and bangs on my windows for hours at a time, but I have no idea what he really wants. Even if I did know, I’m not sure I could do anything for him. His problems are way out of my ability to comprehend. His relationship with his problems is even harder to fathom. He likes his “evil” side. He thinks it’s the best part of him, and perhaps it is. His core personality seems to be humble and self-effacing, helpless, even, like a bewildered little boy stuck inside a grown man’s decaying body. For sure, he has no interest in getting help to balance himself out.

dance I sometimes think of moving on and leaving my father and brother to fend for themselves, but I’m not sure I want to be the sort of person who can walk out on her aged, increasingly confused father and leave him to care for himself. (My brother sure couldn’t do anything to help. He doesn’t seem to be able to recognize that anyone but himself needs help.)

Besides, if I moved on, I’d have to give up dancing. The irony is that by being here in this bizarre household, I have the freedom to indulge my newfound love of dancing. If I left, I’d have to get a job, which would leave me no time or energy for dance classes, and for now, dancing is important to me. It feels like a pilgrimage, a spiritual journey. It has lessons to teach me beyond the discipline of the basic steps and the joy of the choreographed dances I am learning, though I’m not sure what those lessons are. I might never know since much of dance is subliminal, needing the focus of both the body’s mind as well as the mind’s mind and perhaps even the soul.

As Shirley MacLaine said, “Dance is an art that impends on the soul. It is with you every moment, it expresses itself in everything you do.”

Whatever lessons I learn from dance will be with me long after the memories of this household have faded. Dance is that important. And so I continue this polarized existence, paying for the profound privilege of dancing with the profanity in the rest of my life.

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Posted in culture, life, relationships. Tags: dancing, dancing as a pilgrimage, importance of dance, Shirley MacLaine and dancing. 4 Comments »

A Tale of Two Insects

June 16, 2014 — Pat Bertram

I watched an old CSI show the other day where Grissom told a story about a guy who found a spider swimming in his toilet. For a couple of mornings the guy watched the spider struggling to survive the maelstrom of flushing. One morning, the guy decided to rescue the spider. He took it out of the water and set it on the floor. The next day, he found th spider e spider dead. “Why,” Grissom asked, “did the spider die? Because one life impinged on another.”

In my case, it’s ants I find, and my tale is about ants in the microwave. At this time of year, ants are an epidemic, so it’s difficult to keep on top of the infestation. (I’m telling you this so you don’t think the microwave is filthy. It isn’t.) I don’t like killing anything, not even insects, but if you don’t keep on top of the little critters, they go home and tell all their friends about a great party house they found, and the next thing you know, you have ants boogieing all over the place, even on your body when you sleep. Not a pleasant way to be awakened, that creepy-crawly sensation. (Cinnamon sprinkled in corners, by doors, and under windows usually keeps ants away, but a few manage to find other ways into the house.)

The same day I watched CSI, I opened the microwave door after heating some food and found a couple of Pharoah ants scurrying around inside. (Pharoah ants are more commonly known as sugar ants because they are attracted to sweets and greasy foods. Sounds like most of us, doesn’t it?)

Obviously, the ants were inside when I started the oven, so they should have been nuked, but they weren’t.

A bit of research explained why they survived. Microwave ovens don’t heat evenly, so ants can hide in the cool corners. Ants have a relatively small amount of water inside their bodies compared to their outside surface, and apparently it’s the water that heats up in a microwave. This large body surface compared to their volume helps cool them down, so if they make a mistake and end up in a hot spot, their heat dissipates quickly.

So here we have a tale of two insects, one whose life was impinged on by another, and one whose life remained unimpinged.

The moral is . . . I don’t know. Perhaps that we have to live our lives the best way we know how, and if we impinge on other lives, so be it. It could even be that impinging is what life is all about.

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Posted in culture, life. Tags: CSI, Grissom spider story, spider swimming in a toilet, why ants don't get die in a microwave oven. 2 Comments »

Walking and Volkswalking

June 14, 2014 — Pat Bertram

No wonder I do so much alone. I don’t understand the point of many group activities that people seem to enjoy.

Someone suggested I look into volkswalking since I walk a lot, but it doesn’t really appeal to me. It seems to be organized walking in groups, and I get that with the three-nights-a-week conditioning walk with the Sierra Club and an occasional hike with one of the hiking groups in the area. Volkswalking also supposed to be non-competitive walking, but anyone who completes a walk or a certain amount of mileage gets a badge or a stamp in a book (which they pay for themselves) to show what they accomplished. To me, anytime you give people “achievement awards” for completing something, it’s competitive, even if there isn’t one so-called “winner.” Why else do you need a badge? You know you did it — a badge can’t give you that. Only you can.

The premiere purported purpose of the various volkswalking clubs is to promote regular physical fitness for overall good health. So if you’re already walking, half of what they have to offer is negated. I suppose if I were in a new area and wanted to meet people, I’d go on one of the walks, but otherwise, if I were interested in the area, I’d just . . . walk.

That’s always been the benefit of walking — if you have two working feet and legs or reasonable facsimiles, that’s all you need. You just put one foot in front of the other, and you’re walking. What can be simpler?

Still, over 400,000 people take part in American volkswalking activities every year, so the bewilderment over the phenomenon is obviously mine alone.

So, if you’re interested in walking and need more incentive than simply going outside and putting one foot in front of the other for as long as you want (or can), then perhaps volkswalking is for you.

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Posted in culture, life. Tags: group walk, non-competetive walking, volkswalk, volkswalking, walking. 9 Comments »

When Water isn’t Water

June 13, 2014 — Pat Bertram

I got a bottle of flavored water at the store the other day. At least, that’s what I thought I was buying. I’d occasionally pick up a simple sparkling mineral water with lime and cherry oils added, which I found to be a delightfully refreshing drink that offered the same bite as sodas without the junk ingredients, and I’d indulge myself from time to time.

This time, however, I didn’t notice a change in the label until I got it home. Instead of simply calling it “Sparking Mineral Water” they called it “Sparkling Water Beverage.” When I saw the word “beverage” alarms went off in my head. “Beverage” added to water is like “drink” added to juice. It means it’s not what it says it is. (A juice drink generally is short on juice and water long on sugar and artificial flavors.)

The “beverage” turned out to have many different ingredients other than plain old water: carbonated water, citric acid, natural flavor, potassium citrate, aspartame, potassium benzoate, and acesulfame potassium.

If this particular beverage is water, then so is Coca Cola. The ingredients in Coke Zero are carbonated water, caramel color, phosphoric acid, aspartame, potassium benzoate, natural flavors, potassium citrate, potassium benzoate, and acesulfame potassium and caffeine.

The main difference between Coke Zero and “my” Sparkling Water Beverage seems to be the coloring and caffeine. Otherwise, they are basically the same sort of product.

I would never have bought the “water” if I had paid attention to the ingredients since I stay away from aspartame and rarely drink sodas.

I guess this will teach me to read all labels, especially the labels for something as innocuous as water.

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Posted in culture, life. Tags: aspartame, Coke Zero, juice drink, mineral water, read labels, sparkling water beverage. 6 Comments »

Interviews with the Police: Who Gets to Lie

June 12, 2014 — Pat Bertram

I’m still researching what happens after a person or group of persons finds a dead body. A couple of people I know are asking friends and relatives who are in law enforcement what would happen, so I’m hoping I get some good information from them. Meantime, I’ve been researching actual instances of someone finding a body, and the questioning seems to range from nothing more than the cops taking name, age, occupation, and address of each person to five hours of interrogation. That’s a wide spread. It didn’t seem to make any difference if the finder knew the deceased or not — sometimes the stranger was interviewed longer than the relative.

Also, I’ve been researching interviewing techniques, which range from “I’m your best buddy; tell me all” to what amounts to terrorist tactics. (Though such tactics are not at all endorsed by the law, they do exist especially when it comes to interrogating “hardened criminals.”) In the case of my book, I would think the buddy interview with a woman detective would work best since it plays against the stereotypes of both the horrifying interrogation and the woman cop who out-machos the men. (I know just the woman to play the cop, too — a beautiful and very helpful bank employee who was thrilled to let me use her unique name. She was also excited to become a detective, even if just literarily. When I was making changes to an account at the bank, I ended up telling her way more than I intended. I imagine it would be the same if she were a cop.)

It seems as if someone who finds a body can be a bystander, witness, material witness, person of interest, or suspect, so it’s possible that any way I write the interview scene would be okay, but I still need to get the opinion of those who worked such cases. For one thing, it will be more authentic, and for another, the more information I get, the less I have to use my imagination, and that’s the hard part of writing for me. (Well, one of the hard parts. Sitting down and actually writing is the hardest part. I figure if I tell enough people about the book, I’ll shame myself into it so I don’t have to keep offering excuses why the story isn’t being written.)

I did find this article, which should be helpful: 47 Quick Tips for Better Investigation Interviews.

And I found out something very interesting. Russell L Bintliff, in Police Procedural: A Writer’s Guide to the Police and How They Work, says, “A suspect, even when waiving his/her rights and consenting to an interrogation or interview has no obligation under the Fifth amendment to tell the truth if it incriminates him/her. A witness, for example, may be guilty of a crime for lying or giving false information; however, a suspect can legally lie, give deceptive information, or sign false confessions or proclamations of innocence and he/she cannot be charged with a crime for doing these things.”

So I guess, before you lie to the police, find out if you’re a witness or a suspect. And yet, it seems that a witness who lies would soon become a suspect, so then the lies would be okay. (What’s the difference between a witness and a suspect? The Miranda warning? And yet sometimes the cops don’t Mirandize the suspect right away, so that makes the difference all in the cop’s head.)

Making the lie situation even weirder, cops are allowed to lie to obtain evidence. They can lie and tell you you’re free to go when you’re not. They can lie to extract a confession. They can fabricate evidence. The only place they cannot lie is in court. Cops always say that if you’re innocent you have nothing to fear, but it seems to me that if you’re innocent, you have everything to fear because it makes you vulnerable.

When it comes to lying, then, the only person who can be prosecuted for their untruth is a witness. No wonder witnesses lie. They have too much to protect.

I’ll have to see how I can work this information into my book. Could make an interesting twist somewhere along the line.

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Posted in culture, How to, writing. Tags: finding a dead body, investigation interviews, police and lies, police can lie, Russell L Bintliff, suspects and lies. 12 Comments »

Load Bearing and the Human Body

June 9, 2014 — Pat Bertram

I know nothing about the mechanics of load bearing or proper ergonomic balance. I don’t even know what ergonomics is. Never really cared. But such topics have been showing up in my research into the best way of carrying loads long distances using only the human body.

I’m considering taking an epic walk, perhaps up the Pacific coast, and I’ve been trying to think outside the envelope, box, and backpack. An envelope, of course, could not contain all I would need to carry; though I do intend to travel light, that is too light even for me. A box would be too awkward. And a backpack — well, for those of us not used to carrying loads on our backs, a back pack can contribute to back and neck problems, gait issues, muscular pain, foot problems, bad posture, and wasted energy.

In my case, even light loads in a backpack are a problem. I recently lost a few pounds, so I figured my body would be able to handle a five-pound backpack load with no difficulty, but that wasn’t the case. After a mere three miles, I ended up with pain on the tops of my feet and in my lower back. Someone suggested that I get orthotics, but why would I need them when I’d been used to carrying more weight without even a hint of discomfort?

I have a short back, and according to Aarne Packs, “With a backpack, the center of gravity of the load is behind the body. The load acts like a lever on your back, increasing the forces acting on the body well above the force of the weight alone. When this lever acts over a shorter distance on a small torso, the forces are magnified. Therefore the reason women with short torsos may not be able to carry such heavy loads is not because they are weaker but because of these increased forces.”

When you carry extra body weight (as opposed to carrying some kind of pack), the weight is distributed all through the body, so no single muscle group or tissue has to deal with the load, which cuts down energy expenditure as well as muscle fatigue, and there is no change in the center of gravity. Ideally, then, an external load-bearing system would need to take those matters into consideration.

Traditionally, humans have used various means of transporting loads on their bodies: a simple hobo pack with a bandanna tied on the end of a stick, a pole balanced on the shoulders with a basket hanging from each end, a trumpline around the head tied to the load hanging down the back (supposedly this allows a person to carry greater loads longer distances than shoulder straps, but . . . ouch; my neck is squealing in pain just thinking about it), and the ever popular balancing the load on top of the head.

Balancing loads on the head, if done right, is supposed to be the best way since there is zero increase in metabolism. It has to do with one’s gait. According to Biomechanics of Locomotion, when we walk, our bodies go “up and down, and faster and slower, within each step. The energy changes associated with these fluctuations in height and speed are out of phase and therefore tend to cancel each other, minimizing the energy required to keep the movements going, much like in a pendulum. But in walking the energy fluctuations are not completely cancelled (as would occur in a perfect pendulum); at most about 65% of the energy fluctuations are cancelled, leaving at least 35% of the energy fluctuations which must be supported by the muscles each step, requiring metabolic energy input. When the African women carry loads on their heads, they are able to increase the amount of energy that is cancelled, reducing the muscular energy required to maintain the walking gait and compensating for any increase in muscular energy required to support the additional load.”

Carrying loads on one’s head might be fine for those who are used to it or even for those trying to improve their posture, but I cannot see me balancing anything on my head (except perhaps a hat) for hundreds, maybe thousands of miles.

I’ve been considering making two shoulder tote bags, one for each side, thinking that might help balance the weight in a more natural way, or perhaps a combination of a light backpack, belly bag, and maybe side bags. Apparently, these are good ideas. In fact, I don’t even have to make these load-bearing packs. Someone already did. One company I found makes a pack with the load balanced on either side of the body, and another company makes a pack with front pockets to balance the weight of the backpack, though the pack itself is much heavier than I would like.

It’s amazing to me all the things one has to consider when going for a simple (well, perhaps not so simple) walk, especially if one doesn’t want to look like the survivor of a wilderness romp.

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