Mary Beth Writes

I wrote the following column September 25, 2004 -- and now I am sitting at my desk September 15, 2017 and it is all just as relevant. Gorgeous day. It's going to be a beautiful weekend. Go outside!

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Hasn't this been a gorgeous week here? What perfectly perfect weather. Cool enough to sleep at night, bright mornings, warm and breezy afternoons illustrated by children kicking leaves on their way home from school. Sunsets more brilliant than a bargain bin in a Chihuly factory.

Yes, it's been a fairyland of a week and I have enjoyed it thoroughly.

Did you notice these two intriguing stories this week in the paper?

There seems to be benefits for some kids who have ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) who play outside several hours per day.  Outdoor play in a natural space might be, for some kids, as powerful as medication. This is not a proven therapy, but a strong connection currently being studied.

Also, adults over 70 who walk less than a quarter mile per day are twice as likely to suffer from dementia as older folks who walk 2 miles or more per day.  Once again, this is not a guarantee or a treatment, simply a fascinating observation.  To keep perspective on this, the people who sit around eating bon-bons (I made the bon-bons part up, could you tell?) suffer symptoms of dementia at a rate of 18 people per 1000.  The walkers get struck with dementia at 10 per 1000.  As long as you are sure you are one of the 980 who are doomed to a sound mind (I wonder who is going to define that for us), I guess you can do what you want.

Both of these studies are interesting and both are aggravating.  Don't you just want to say, "Duh..."?

Experts just noticed that going outside and moving around makes us saner and healthier?  Where have the experts been the last few millennia?  Inside at their desks?    

If you've ever co-existed with a child you already know that kids who play outside are less squirrely than the ones who sit inside and watch TV all day.

There is something outside in the plainest of places that is never inside, not even in castles.  Outside is where we are more than the facts we know. 

There are realities outdoors that we intuit and process without thinking.  Our skin feels wind. Is it a mild southern wind that makes us calm?  Is it a greenish wind from the east that makes the hair on our arms stand up?   

We hear birds in the distance and pay no attention, unless it's a bird we've never heard before.  How did we notice that odd caw? 

The lake laps and roars.  There is a rustle in a field of growing crops.  A car comes down the street, on the other side of the house from where we are working in the yard, and we pay attention because it isn't familiar. We sense that someone is behind us and we turn, the neighbor's dog is staring at us.  We remember the wrapped snack cake we put in our pocket when the phone rang. 

There are so many things we know that we didn't learn from books or classes or interactive videos.  Outside is where we exercise those other, older skills of being human.  

What I have observed so many times in my life is this.  If we don't go outside, we get sick.  We need to let the knots inside us uncoil.  Somewhere in a day we need to move enough to turn off the tension in our shoulders.  We need to chug along, let oxygen whoosh all the way down to our toes and back. 

For some this is regular, organized outdoor exercise.  For others it happens when they work in the yard, or on the car, or mess around on boats, or take the kids to the park or the dog for a walk.   For children it happens when someone unplugs the TV and pushes them out the door.  They wander the yard or park or neighborhood.  They invent whatever their kid spirits need to invent that day. 

Here is where I've been going since I started this column. If you feel as though you are tied in knots, then let me remind you of something you already know. 

There is more to us than what we worry about.   

Go outside and be whole for a while.

 

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Some Sore Paw Thoughts

 Last night I read on the sofa for a couple hours. Then I came upstairs, brushed my teeth, and went to bed to read some more. Honest, that’s it. That’s mostly what I did yesterday. A few chores and errands. A lot of reading.

Then while turning one more page - my foot started to hurt! One moment nothing; next moment a big twitchy thing flared along the side of one foot. I rubbed it and tried to stretch the muscles but that made it worse, so I took ibuprofen and went to sleep. I woke this morning and although it hurts less, it still hurts.

Genius & Why you Shouldn't Judge a Fish by What it Can't Do

Someone asked me what I thought might be the definition of genius. (If you send me an open-ended question I might try to answer you, too.)

Here are some of my thoughts.  Because on Halloween, plus the day the House of Reps votes on how to proceed with the impeachment proceedings, plus California is on fire, plus there is a half of foot of snow out my window – why wouldn’t we talk about shades of genius?

Sometimes it's calming to talk about a situation that doesn't exactly affect many of us. 

Why I'm Lukewarm on Heroes

I was emailing with my very smart cousin about heroes. He wrote (in a longer email): Are there heroes left? It seems like some of us have been pretty busy debunking our heroes, and if taking the varnish off is the objective, they’ve been very effective, IMHO. And the follow up question, what are the consequences of a hero-less world? 

 I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. So instead of posting the 17 pages I have written, let me say SEVEN things about heroes.

The Erie Canal; Means and Dreams

This photo is from Schoharie Crossing State Historical Site. The crumbling infrastructure is the oldest part of the Erie Canal -where it crossed Schoharie Creek. 

...

Crown Point, Ticonderoga, and Saratoga

Not everyone wants to see where the American Revolutionary War got up and got going - but we did.

.... 

The summer after college I worked in my family’s printing business, trying to earn and save enough to move out. To where I was not sure, but somewhere!

"The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, Gang aft agley..."

Thank you, Robert Burns, for that title. 

We were driving from Gaspé to the next town when this happened.

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