If we are what we eat...

Like many children who grew up in the suburbs of America, I had a typical, and rather uninvolved relationship with the food I ate.  I was an athlete and had healthy parents, so tried to be thoughtful, but I spent very little time wondering where the food we bought in the grocery store came from and what, if anything other than satisfying my hunger, my food was doing to my body.

When I moved to a small college town in Oregon for graduate school, I got in the habit of going down to the farmer’s market on the weekend.  On bright summer mornings, there wasn’t a better way to spend an hour or two than walking by the river, sipping coffee and contemplating the splendid array of fresh, incredibly bright and tantalizing fruits and vegetables.  After a time, I even started buying some.  Immediately, I was impressed by the taste and incredible affordability of the food.  For less than I spent on that coffee I was sipping, I could buy a bag or two of locally grown, picked-just-this-morning fruits and vegetables.

I was hooked.

When I moved into my own house, I started a vegetable garden and have depended on a small but steady supply of fresh vegetables every summer since.  Like many others who have small vegetable plots, I still buy the majority of my food from a grocery store.  But, I am far from alone in delighting in eating what I grow, and each year the local food movement grows stronger.

Next week, on October 24th, the nation will celebrate its 2nd annual Food Day.  Organized by the Center for Science in the Public Interest (CSPI), Food Day is “a movement for healthy, affordable, and sustainable food.”  With a strong focus on health, the day is also meant to highlight hunger, agricultural policy, and animal and farm worker welfare.

For all the greeting card inspired holidays that fill our calendar, I find this new national celebration day to be worthy of some involvement and attention.  According to their website, foodday.org, 50 million Americans are near hunger and those who are near the poverty line are lured into buying cheap, overly-processed foods, contributing only to increasing waistlines and declining health.  In fact, it is because of this diet that one-third of children born after the year 2000 will likely develop diabetes.  And it is this downward spiral that perpetuates the current estimation that this generation of children will, for the first time in history, have a shorter lifespan than that of their parents.

While the local food movement is growing, and many people nationwide are becoming aware of just how far their food has traveled to get to their table, so far it isn’t enough to change either the food system or our health.  The USDA estimates that only 1.6% of food sales is direct farm-to-table, including farmer’s markets, CSA’s and school gardens.  

There is much that divides us, nationally, internationally, and even within our own towns.  But food is not only something that all of us need, it is also something all of us want.  Who doesn’t want food that is affordable, delicious, and good for us too?  

According to the Food Day website, there are four events taking place in Spokane and over 1,600 events taking place in all 50 states on October 24th.  We don’t have to drive to Spokane to recognize this day, and in fact, it doesn’t even have to be something we do on just one day.  Whatever our situation, eating healthy and thoughtfully is a goal to be achieved by all.


Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. October 17, 2012

From "free-range" to "helicopter" parenting

A couple of weeks ago, a rather notorious mother in New York, Lenore Skenazy, started an after-school program for children.  This is the same mother who, a few years ago, let her then nine-year-old son ride the New York City subway on his own, with nothing but a map and fare money.  Her new after-school program is an 8-week course costing $350 per child.  All that is on the schedule?  Free play in a playground in Central Park with the promise of absolutely no adult supervision.  In fact, Skenazy herself will be around the corner in a Starbucks.

Skenazy’s movement, labeled as “free range parenting” is considered by many to be radical, but I wonder instead if it is simply at the opposite end of the spectrum of the more popular, and even more socially acceptable, helicopter parenting.  Is her parenting style just a knee-jerk reaction to a movement she finds overbearing and unsuccessful?  Is it a throwback attempt, when childhood was, presumably, slower paced?

In either case, the arrival of free-range parenting is a spark for the always-conversational topic about parenting styles.  In many areas of the country, the way you parent your children has become a bit competitive.  Whose child has the highest grades?  Whose child has the fastest time, got into the best college?

This pervasive competitive spirit among some parents has me wondering.  What does it mean to be a successful parent?  A child that makes it out of adolescence without bodily harm to themselves or others?  Entrance into an Ivy-League school?  A well-rounded, happy adult? Is success as a parent even something we can measure, much less compare to others?

In a poll conducted by Vanity Fair last month, a whooping 95% of us think we rate either the same as or better than our own parents at parenting.  What could possibly make us think so highly of something that is difficult at best to measure?  Are we that self-assured that we are forming the next generation of super-adults?

In actuality, despite the fact that more and more of America’s children are achieving a higher education, kids are taking longer to be independent.  This has even sparked the new phrase “Adultescence” to describe the extended period of financial and emotional support provided by parents before children make the final leap into adulthood.  This phenomenon might instead suggest something larger in our society, whether it is the propensity of helicopter parents, over scheduling of kids, or the long list of other factors that make “childhood” almost unrecognizable to the generations that came before this one.

Free-range parenting leader Skenazy insists that total supervision of children is not only unnecessary, but harmful.  When parents hover and interact with children on a minute-by-minute basis, we neglect to let them experience such things as frustration, disappointment, and even anger.  She insists that left alone, they will work out any social transgressions and physical limitations on their own.

Here in the coulee, we aren’t presented with some of the difficulties raising children in other places are.  There could hardly be a safer place to let your kids go outside and play unsupervised, and over scheduling is not necessarily something we have to worry about either.  But nationally, all these things are a daily presence for many kids in America and it is something interesting to think about.  Would you let your children play in a city park unsupervised?

In my short three and a half years as a parent, I’ve found that, like politics, you can almost always find credible information to support your beliefs as a parent.  And, like politics, extremism as a parent ends up making everyone around you crazy.  Perhaps, for those of us in the middle on the helicopter vs. free-range debate, it is simply another exercise in finding the right balance as a parent.  After all, parenting is, if nothing else, about finding a balance.

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington.  October 3, 2012

Something to count on

There is, perhaps, nothing so steady, predictable, and at times frightening in life as the continuity of the calendar.  No matter what is happening in your life or the world tomorrow will bring a new day.  And every year, it will bring with it another birthday.  

Around this time every year, without fail, I celebrate a birthday.   A worthy cause for celebration, birthdays are an important ritual.  It is a yearly acknowledgment to yourself and the people in your life that this day is a good one, a day when the unique person that is you entered the world.  

Growing up, birthdays were joyous occasions filled with balloons and bright colors, chaotic present openings and copious amounts of cake and ice cream.  Somewhere just past the first flush of adulthood, birthdays begin to be less of something to celebrate and more of something to endure.  Older still, they become something that many start to dread.

Every year that passes I begin to understand this sentiment a little more.  As a child, birthdays are a sign that you are growing up, gaining experience and independence.  But once you pass that imaginary hump, birthdays instead slip over into the fine distinction of marking the basic fact that your earthly body is ageing.

Certainly, this is still something to celebrate.  Without doubt, I would prefer to grow older than the alternative, and I’m sure most would agree with me.

As I grow older, I also understand that ageing is simply a matter of perspective.  I am fully aware that I am in the prime of my life and am nothing but thrilled to be the age that I am.  I an also clearly remember what it was like to view a 30-plus-year-old as someone who was simply old.

The summer I was 20 I shared an office space with a 30-year-old.  He frequently made references to the need for “us young people to stick together.”  This always garnered a behind-the-back eye roll and snicker amongst those in our office who actually were “young.” At 30, this poor guy was anything but young.

Now that I have come up to and rocketed past his age, I have far more sympathy for what he was feeling.  Now when I come across college-aged kids, I am embarrassed to admit that I fully believe that we are still contemporaries, when, clearly, they wouldn’t agree with me.  When I see a younger person now their youth simply mirrors what I still see when I imagine myself.

Every year that I age, I have more appreciation for people older than myself.  As they say, growing older is not for the faint of heart.  It is difficult to accept that you are no longer young, that you may be too old to be in a certain place or wear certain clothes.  That your body may not always perform like you think it should.  I’m beginning to understand why older people shy away from a camera or a mirror.  What you see in the mirror rarely corresponds with how you see yourself.   It’s easier now to see that life is not a circle, but instead an uphill battle with gravity.

Somehow, though it happens to everyone, when you are young you never actually think that getting older will happen to you.  Youth seems to stretch before you.  Now, as I’m on the cusp of, well, something older than “young,” I understand that in fact it’s the opposite.  You are old far longer than you are young.

With each passing birthday I find that I’m happy with this phenomenon.  Youth carries with it so many uncertainties that fall away with the simple march of time, replaced by confidence and a contentment with ageing that is hard to imagine when you are young.  As for the relentless dependability of the calendar, I suppose it is just another lesson to learn as you grow up and grow older.  Rituals and predictability are, after all, comforting.

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington.  September 19, 2012

New beginnings

Every year as the calendar flips over into September, I feel a little thrill of anticipation. As an adult, I attribute this to the approaching autumn, my favorite season. But deep down I know that this feeling is a relic of my childhood, a remembrance of what September always brought: the first day of school.

Like many children, I adored the first day of school. I remember looking forward to the coming school year with such eagerness. An entire year stretched out before me with a trove of exciting days, undiscovered promises and perhaps, even some learning. My brother was a year ahead of me in school, so every year I had a peep into what was awaiting me. This made the start of the school year that much more exciting for me as I finally got to discover the secrets that he already knew.

This week, my daughter will have her first day of preschool. I realize that preschool is just a few hours a couple of days a week and will probably not compare to how I feel when she starts kindergarten. But to me, it feels like a significant milestone nonetheless.

As the calendar rolled over into September this year I felt an extra thrill of anticipation. School is starting, and I get to experience it all anew through the fresh eyes of a parent.

In the weeks leading up to this day I had a few surprises as a parent of an upcoming student. I received her school supply list, which was not, as my child mind remembered, a suggested list of supplies your child might need, like a pencil box or backpack, but instead a long list of the things each family needed to supply to the school. I had to fill out an extensive background check to be able to volunteer in her class. I was informed of the various fundraisers we will perform throughout the year, joining the ranks of other parents who are constantly pawning boxes of donuts or wrapping paper onto their friends and neighbors. And while I was somewhat surprised at the level of involvement required for preschool, I was excited at the same time. This is a new era, for our world and for our family. Certainly when I was in school, background checks were not required of parents. But I would far rather fill out some extra paperwork and ensure the safety of our children in this modern era than the alternative. Like children, we parents must adapt as well.

As I kissed my daughter goodbye, I was attentive of what I was sending her into. A world where every day her mind will expand, bending to absorb all the educational and social experiences school will give her. I am also aware that I send her out into a world that is no longer within my control. This is not the first time she has not been beneath my supervision, but as a stay-at-home-mom I am accustomed to having a level of management over her experiences. I am aware that this first day of school is not just a milestone for her, but one for me as well. If parenting is a gradual give and take between preparing your children for the world and then letting them go, then this is a start for me as well.

Since my daughter is only three, and this is only preschool, the importance of this day in her life is probably far over her head. For her, it’s an exciting day to meet new friends, sit in a circle on a colorful carpet, sing songs and play games. But for me, it’s also a new beginning, and maybe, a little bit of an end too.

Great American road trip says “See America First”

When America’s frontier was officially declared closed in 1890, the country scrambled for a new identity. For hundreds of years, we had been a nation with seemingly limitless borders. The stretch from the Atlantic to the Pacific felt endless and the people of our nation proudly embraced the idea of their pioneering character. But when the frontier closed, the nation stumbled to find a new backbone. Expansionism was over and the world wars that brought our modern nation into global dominance was still in the future.

Around this time, the elite and middle classes of the east coast were spending $500 million a year visiting Europe. In an effort to keep some of that money at home, the newly formed national parks and the great railways that depended on domestic travel joined hands and gave America a new identity. By insisting that true nationalists “See America First,” they impressed upon the nation a new identity that was tied to the terrain within our own country. Tourism in America was officially launched and a new national spirit inspired citizens.

When rail travel was replaced with the personal automobile, Americans clambered in and took to the highways. Rising gas prices notwithstanding, then, as now, the American road trip was within reach of all classes. This summer, my family and I, along with millions of others, continued this tradition. Like other families across America, we stuck to a reasonable distance and explored our neighboring states.

Leaving the highway system and the warp speed it requires, we took to the back roads and slowed down, marveling that the life we saw passing our windows existed in the same country that we did. The diversity in life and landscape was dramatic.

Traveling through three different national parks gave me some interesting perspective. I found that I was incredible proud, not just of the breathtaking landscape, but of the foresight and ingenuity required to set aside such spectacular places. It was hard to remember that when these lands were set aside, land in America was plenty and the need to preserve and protect all but absent.

As we traveled through the national parks I marveled at the diversity I saw in such remote places. License plates from almost every state, many languages, and a smorgasbord of nationalities were represented at every visitor’s center and scenic overlook. I also found it interesting to see that despite the stunning vistas, human weaknesses were just as rampant. Tailgaters, pushy camera-toting tourists, and outright rudeness were abundant. Yet in the midst of such thoughtlessness towards other humans, everyone was incredible considerate towards the landscape. Somehow being in such wildness seemed to create an air of responsibility around almost every tourist I saw. It was as if we were all united behind one pulse of thought: protect this wild place.

It is no secret that the wild places and wild things of the world are shrinking. In many places on our trip, set in the middle of some of the most rugged country in our nation, cell reception was perfect and a mobile GPS unit could find me no matter what road I traveled.

Upon creation, the National Park Service was charged with providing pleasure for the American people while also keeping them “unimpaired for the enjoyment of future generations.” Such a mission statement is challenging at best, but after spending my summer vacation “Seeing America First,” I have to say it is well worth the effort. The identity of future generations of Americans may depend on it.

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. August 22, 2012

More than a medal

When the Olympics came to Atlanta, I was an impressionable 15-year-old involved in two different high school sports.  The day after Muhammad Ali famously lit the torch, my family and I were sweltering in the Atlanta heat, working a concession booth at the aquatic center.  It was thrilling for me as a young teenager to be at the very center of such an electric venue.  The atmosphere of any athletic event has some electricity to it, but the energy in an Olympic stadium sent sparks through the entire city. 

I felt lucky to be living in a city that hosted the Olympics, and even luckier to have a front row ticket for many of the aquatic events.  As I walked up and down the stands, selling frozen lemonade from an enormous bag draped around my neck, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t impacted by what I saw. 

The Olympics also came to Los Angeles when I was living there as a child and perhaps because of those combined first-hand experiences, along with the fact that I chose athletics over other pursuits in my formative years, I’ve always gotten a thrill of anticipation when the Olympics come around.  This year, I eagerly hunkered down with the rest of the country to watch our 529 athletes take their moment. 

Besides the remarkable athletic achievements the Olympics always inspires, I find the two weeks when the Games take place to be a moment in time when the world can draw together.  It is a singular worldwide event that is for something good and simple, for pure competition and gamesmanship.  And each time, I find that there is a hope, however small or naive, that we can come together for something as simple as a sport, something as innocent as winning a game or a race.  As a citizen, I have found watching the Olympics leaves me with an enormous sense of pride.  As a nation, we can rally around our athletes without worrying about crossing party lines, racial divisions, or socioeconomic separations.  It’s as simple and uncomplicated as cheering for an athlete of our country.

This is the first summer Olympic games that have transpired since I became a mother, and I find that this distinction has allowed me to see these incredible athletes through an even sharper lens.  In a world where our celebrities don’t often do anything to deserve the word, or the admiration we give them, I find these athletes have a lot to admire.  They offer up real role models for our children.   Coming from all across America, from every race and background, these kids are making their dreams solid and achievable. 

There is a lot our youth can learn from these incredible athletes: the pursuit of a goal, the intricacies of competition, how to lose gracefully and win modestly.  They can learn about what it takes to feed their bodies appropriately and how to use their minds to push their bodies beyond their limits.  There is the opportunity to learn how to interact with a team for a common goal, how to strategize and design for an achievement.  And perhaps most importantly, there is the chance to learn how to take pride in yourself for an accomplishment, no matter if there is a gold medal.  For the athlete that has taken 4^th or didn’t make it to the final, simply to make an Olympic team is an enormous achievement. 

Every four years when that torch is lit, I find that I can remember the thrill of the Olympics being in town, where dreams are sometimes measured in a matter of inches or hundredths of seconds.  I can now point to 529 new people of my own country and countless others around the world to admire and look up to.  I applaud the excess of courage it must take to follow a dream as far as the Olympics.  My hat is off to our athletes and eagerly await the lighting of the next torch.

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington.  August 8, 2012

Water savings brings satisfaction

Before coming to Grand Coulee, my family and I lived in New Mexico where I held a job as a water conservation specialist.  When we found out we were moving to Washington, I didn’t think that much of the knowledge I had gained with my profession would be that useful here.  Even knowing that eastern Washington is considered a semi-arid environment, I assumed there would be more differences than similarities.

Every day I drive by the lakes and appreciate what a gift it is to be literally flanked by water. After spending years in an area with little open water and sparse rainfall, I don’t go by the lakes in Grand Coulee without appreciating their splendor. 

But, in a way we are teased with so much water here.  Living near two such substantial lakes can give a false sense of entitlement.  Why conserve water when there is a lake on the other side of the road? 

But making a life in a semi-arid environment demands that we be aware of any overuse of scarce resources.  And regardless of the plethora of water at our fingertips, it doesn’t necessarily mean that we should abuse its gift.

In my past life as a water conservation specialist, my job consisted of educating the public about the most efficient ways to save water and I’ve retained a few bits and pieces that might be beneficial to pass on to a town that has more similarities to a high desert environment than I initially thought.  With summer at its peak, monitoring outdoor water usage is our most efficient way of protecting this precious resource. 

As the days have hit their high temperatures, the best way we can save water is to refrain from any outdoor watering between the hours of 10am and 6pm.  Any watering outside of those times will maximize your efforts, for your garden and for your water bill.  Watering in the cool mornings and evenings will minimize the amount of evaporation from your garden, allowing it to retain the most amount of the water you shower on it.

Other ways to maximize outdoor watering efforts are to mulch any open soil areas to help retain moisture and keep the roots of your plants cool, thereby reducing the amount of water they might need on these hot days.  For those of us who aren’t lucky enough to have an automatic irrigation system, it’s helpful to set a kitchen timer to make sure not to over water when sprinklers or hoses are on.  Pots and hanging baskets may require a little water every day in the heat of the summer, but grass, trees, and vegetable gardens will benefit from longer watering less frequently.  And as much as I hate to admit it, keeping a garden weed-free is a sure way to save some water at any time of the year.  Weeds tend to be water hogs and will steal water and nutrients from your plants, making them suffer and require more watering.

Leaky indoor faucets are noticed almost immediately, whereas outdoor faucets, pipes and hoses may have to be consciously checked a few times a season to stay leak-free.  And as it is the season to enjoy our beautiful Grand Coulee sun, spending a few extra minutes in the yard can’t be too bad, even if you are just checking for leaks.   

Clearly, there are plenty of ways to save water indoors as well.  Older models of toilets, washing machines and dishwashers can be extreme water and energy hogs.  According to a new study out of the University of Bonn in Germany, washing a load of dishes by hand can use on average 27 gallons of water, yet washing the same amount of dishes in an energy-efficient dishwasher uses approximately 4 gallons of water. 

Regardless of the size of your household, garden, or lawn, there are ways we can all pitch in to monitor our use of water.  As we enjoy our lakes this summer, you can be proud of what you’ve contributed to preserving as much of this precious resource as possible.

Previously published in the "Grand Coulee Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. July 25, 2012

The true heart of the home

One of the things I’ve always loved about American homes is the prominence of the kitchen. Far more than other cultures, where kitchens are small and tucked away out of sight, American architects embraced the idea that the heart of the home is in the kitchen. I love homes that bring the living space into the cooking space. The action is there, it’s where people tend to congregate, and it allows us to be together at a time of the day when, with a different layout, families might disperse.

In early May a study came out saying that, by 2030, 42 percent of Americans will be obese. This is a shocking number, and a terrible future to saddle our children with. In other words, this means that almost half of our children, who will be adults then, will not just be fat. They will be obese, a label that has meaning beyond the simple circumference of our waistlines.

The health care costs of having so much of our population be obese will be astronomical. According to the Farmer’s Almanac, in 2011 the value of lost productivity and medical care costs due to overweight Americans and Canadians was $300 billion. Imagine that number 18 years from now when so many more of us will be so unhealthy.

But what about the other costs of obesity? In mid-June a father of two young boys in Canada was denied custody of his children in part because he was too fat. Even admitting that there were other reasons to deny him custody, the fact that the judge included this detail in his decision is alarming. A doctor at the family court clinic in Ottawa concluded that the man “lacks both the mobility and stamina required to keep up with young and active children.” The ruling also declared that since the father was unable to make the correct decisions regarding health and well-being for himself, he would be unable to do so for his sons.

This is a chilling ruling, and one that may have profound ripple effects. Who can decide whether a parent is “healthy enough” to take care of their children? And while this particular case may be extreme, the warning signs are there. I think the question we have to ask is what sort of example are we setting for our children? If we can’t take care of ourselves, can we be expected to take care of our children? Is obesity a sign of self-destructive behavior?

With the warmer days of summer, food choices tend to be different than in winter months. Fresh fruit and vegetables grace our farmer’s markets and tables. At restaurants there is a greater desire to order a salad than a nourishing plate of pasta. But tantalizing summer treats are at our fingertips. According to WebMD, in 2008 the average American ate 14 pounds of ice cream! Shockingly, this number is down from a peak in 1946, when Americans celebrated the end of sugar rationing by ingesting 23 pounds of ice cream per person.

As a parent, I find that I am constantly in the process of teaching my daughter something. But when it comes to food, I find that she often has more to teach me. If I put fruit and mac n’ cheese on her plate, she’ll invariably reach for the fruit first. She stops eating when she is full, not when the food is gone. She also teaches me to savor my food. It takes her three bites to eat one M&M.

I still believe that the heart of the home is in the kitchen and the smell of nourishing food simmering on the stove immediately puts me at ease. But maybe, as a culture, the fact that our homes orbit around our kitchens doesn’t necessarily mean that our lives have to orbit around our food. Maybe, the heart of the home is simply the loving people in it, regardless of where we tend to gather.

Declaring Independence

Next week marks one of my favorite holidays of the calendar year—Independence Day.  I love this holiday because it is typically a day filled with simple good cheer.  I find it an easy holiday to celebrate.  The weather is usually warm and pleasant.  Friends and family gather around barbeques, lakes, and pools to laugh and simply be together.  It is an uncomplicated day filled with little family drama or outsized expectations, like many holidays can be.  On the surface, the 4^th of July is purely a day to have fun, watch some fireworks, eat, drink, and be merry.

In years past I’ve spent the morning of the 4^th with 60,000 of my closest friends, running the largest 10K road race in the world.  With 150,000 spectators cheering on the runners, the Peachtree Road Race in Atlanta has always been a festive way to kick off the holiday.  This year family will be traveling across the country to spend the day with us, and we’ll enjoy a far more peaceful day lazing on the lake instead of running the streets with a mob.

As Independence Day draws closer, I watch my 3-year old daughter discover her own independence.  In fact, as I watch her, the term “independence” has taken on a whole new meaning.  Before I was a parent, independence was a clear definition, one I always associated with fighting the British and declaring a self-ruling republic.  But being a parent forces one to look at life through a different lens.  I can see that to a child, independence is something they covet from their parents.  My daughter’s first strung-together sentence was, “I do it myself!”  A clear sign that she needed some independence from me.   The need is so strong that if she is not following my directions, all I have to do is the time-proven method of counting to three.  I always assumed parents did this with the threat of some punishment.  But for my own child, the threat is simply that if she doesn’t comply by the time I reach three, I will do the task—whatever that may—for her.  She almost always complies before I reach three, the need for independence far outpacing her need to ignore my instructions.  I’m sure that as she grows older, her need for independence will become even clearer.

To be independent is not only something children in our society strive for.  Independence means something different at each age in our lives, for each person, each religion and nationality.  Independence and the freedom it offers means something different for Jewish Americans, African Americans, Native Americans and countless others.  Independence means something different to a 10-year old than it does to an 80-year old.  Some are just learning to stretch their wings and declare their independence, while on the opposite spectrum our elderly are clutching their independence tightly, unwilling to have their wings clipped.

Each Independence Day I’m always slightly surprised by how proud we are as a nation to be independent, even if it is so casually celebrated at a barbeque and fireworks show.  It shouldn’t surprise me, but 236 years later, I find that becoming, and maintaining, an independent nation is still something worth celebrating.  These freedoms trickle all the way down to my 3-year old, able to find and define her own independence.  There are many freedoms to celebrate this 4^th of July, large and small, and finding and appreciating each one of those is our privilege.

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, WA.  June 27, 2012

A moment to stand still

Next week is the summer solstice, denoting the longest day of the year and the official start of summer.  For some cultures this is a day of marked celebration.  In our own country it seems that many years this day can be passed by with a casual nod from the local weatherman mentioning the peak of daylight hours for the year.

When I was in my 20’s I spent a summer working as an environmental researcher in Sweden.  Before that time, celebrating the summer solstice was not something on my mental list of noteworthy holidays, but in Sweden it is a national holiday and one with supreme cultural importance.  For a country that is very dark much of the year, the general populace tends to transform into a sun-worshiping frenzy for the brief summer months.  As the sun doesn’t ever quite disappear except for an extended period of hazy twilight, this makes some sense.  For a transient visitor like myself, I enjoyed watching people bask so thoroughly in something that I had typically taken for granted.  Their simple joy was infectious.  When the solstice came I joined in the masses and made my way out to the countryside to stay up through the sun-soaked night, weave a crown of wildflowers on my head and dance around the Maypole. 

Since that time, I have always noted the summer solstice with fondness and an interest I didn’t have before.  It seems to me that such a day deserves some attention.  After all, we owe much to the sun. 

The term “solstice” is a Latin term that literally means the sun “stands still” and traditionally was used as a term to define an exact moment in time.  Today we use it to define the day that has the longest period of daylight. 

Ancient cultures used the summer solstice as a moment to pause and celebrate life in between the busy times of planting and harvest.  Most societies tended to focus on celebrating the sign of fertility in the earth and the immense power the sun held over their livelihoods.  They rejoiced with feasts and yearly rituals, such as leaping over bonfires to determine how high the crops would grow.  The Druids celebrated the solstice as the day of the wedding of Heaven and Earth and even today the summer solstice is considered a “lucky” wedding day.  Most celebrations of the summer solstice tend to pre-date Christianity but aren’t wholly pagan in nature.  Christians placed the feast day of St. John the Baptist on the day of his birth, a few days after the solstice, instead of the more typical feast day celebration for saints on the day of his death. 

In modern times, countries around the world have varied celebrations.  In Austria a flotilla of ships sail down the Danube, large bonfires are lighted all around Quebec, Denmark, Hungary, Germany and Estonia, while Italy and Ireland celebrate with fireworks.  In our own country, celebrations tend to congregate in cities with large populations of immigrants from Northern European countries such as New York, Minneapolis, Chicago and Santa Barbara.

Perhaps the largest celebration takes place at the great monument of Stonehenge in England.  British subjects are allowed access onto the site, which is normally roped off, on the days of the summer and winter solstice.  Perfectly aligned towards both the rising and setting sun on the solstice, the site has enormous religious, astrological, and spiritual significance in both modern and ancient times.

Another ancient structure constructed to highlight the interaction between earth and sun is the Mayan Temple of Kukulcan, which signals the precise moment where the sun “stands still.”  At that moment, if viewed from above, one would be able to see the south and west sides cast in shadow and the north and east sides blazing in the sun.

This year, the sun will “stand still” on June 20^th at 4:09pm PST.  If you find yourself aware of the time next week, take a moment to stand still and be thankful for the bountiful gifts the sun provides us before the earth’s axis tilts again, sending us back towards shorter days and longer nights.
Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. June 13, 2012