The Time of My Life

This past Christmas, my daughter Anna and I decided to do something out of the ordinary so we met in San Francisco – one of our favorite cities. I first went there when I was in college – for a Beat Poets class. I stayed in a charming hotel close to Union Square and drank my first Irish coffee. In the ensuing years, I’ve returned five or six times and each time is more magical than the last. Something about the city makes my senses vibrate with possibilities.

When I returned this past December, I discovered I had booked our room in the very same hotel where I stayed nearly 35 years earlier. Nothing much had changed except they no longer had cages over the elevator doors or dumb waiters between floors. Each morning I woke before Anna and slipped down to the pub where a generous Continental breakfast awaited me. I sat near the fireplace and wrote a short story, transporting myself back to a time more than 100 years ago. I could hear the voices of soon-to-be lovers and smell the wet wool drying next to a roaring fire as the wind howled outside a year after the San Francisco earthquake. I wrote furiously while the visions danced in my imagination.

Then Anna and I would traverse the city visiting out of the way places and seeing Phantom of the Opera on Christmas Eve day. But it was Christmas Day that held the most magic for me.

We walked across Golden Gate Bridge in the morning and could see San Francisco clearly because the sun had come out – a rare occurrence over the Bay. Then we went to Union Square where I ice-skated for the first time in 40 years. I always loved ice-skating and for years had said I wanted to go again but whenever I had the opportunity some fear kept me from getting up on those single blades. But I faced my fear and despite my trembling, I managed to get on the ice and skate for 45 minutes without falling. I was exhilarated and proud. So was Anna who stood on the sidelines recording it all. If I can do that, I can do anything, I thought as I floated around the rink dodging young children sliding on the ice in front of me.

After a dinner at the Stinking Rose and one cute waiter who flirted quite artfully and tastefully with Anna and me, we ended up on Jack Kerouac Alley where I danced on the pavement as street musicians played any song we desired. I stood outside City Lights Bookstore where I had met Lawrence Ferlinghetti all those years ago and reveled in the moment and the synchronicity of my life.

Spring cleaning and shrapnel

Today I'm doing some spring cleaning of my house - slightly late for Florida, but it's still cool enough in the mornings to have the windows open. Soon I will have to shut them and turn on the air but for now I'm happily cleaning and the smell of lemon polish and lavender floor cleaner waft through the open windows.

A shiny small object caught my eye as I mopped the guest bedroom tile. I leaned over to pick it up and discovered a piece of glass - leftover shrapnel from the thieves who busted a window with a crowbar to steal my sense of safety in my new home eighteen months ago. I managed to survive the aftermath of the violation and am only reminded by the shards of glass that must have sprayed everywhere when the robbers decided they needed my family heirloom jewelry and new laptop more than I needed it. I've stopped thinking about the theft every time I pull into my garage. I don't always put on the security system at night when I sleep. And I'm proud that I didn't allow my fear to overcome my sense of well being in my home. But every once in awhile I'll find another sharp piece of window and remember the world is often cruel and arbitrary, and I look around in awe that we can survive at all. We can survive because in between the madness of harsh reality, sparkles of beauty and magic come along to set the world right.

The "hurry up and wait" game

I mailed the complete manuscript of "Two Moons in Africa" to the publisher yesterday, along with 22 photos with cut lines, directions for interior layout, author bio and book summary. It took us two weeks to pull this all together into one package. I worked every night after the day job and spent the good share of the past two weekends on it. Now we wait. . .

It may be weeks before we hear anything from the publisher, except to say they received the book. Then one day a call will come, "We need the galley proofed." I'll put myself on another marathon stretch because the publisher will tell me the only thing keeping the book from being in print will be my turnaround time. When I get that close to publication, I'm in a frenzy pushing toward that final goal. Then it will be the marketing plan that will have to be completed. Web page design and layout proofed. E-mail lists compiled and book reviewers chosen. And the long periods in between while what I accomplished is incorporated. And while the waiting time between each step becomes shorter, the waiting time in my mind becomes interminable.

It is a bit like giving birth. I know when I hold that "baby" in my hands and turn it over and see my picture on the back, I will have forgotten the four years of labor that went into its birth and only remember the exhilaration of producing something for others to see.

Then after those first moments of unadulterated joy in the accomplishment, the real work begins: the selling of the book.

And now I wait.

The Wildlife Forecast - Go green: It’s easier than you might think

Here's May's installment of my column "The Wildlife Forecast." I write this column for the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission.

“Go green” taps us on the shoulder wherever we turn these days. We all know it’s a good thing when we see it, but do we really know what it means?

Any talk about going green inevitably leads to our carbon footprint -- the amount of carbon dioxide our activities emit into the atmosphere. I decided to check out my individual footprint online. Using a carbon footprint calculator, I discovered what I’m contributing to climate change. The results gave me some things to consider.

I recently attended a conference in Orlando billed as a “green” conference. Organizers donated money to a fund to plant native trees in parks and wildlife refuges for the carbon offset.
For this particular conference in Florida, trees were planted in a forest in the Midwest.
Fine concept, but wouldn’t it be more helpful to “go green” right in the same backyard where the carbon footprint had been left? I discovered a project that keeps it local and does more than donate funds.

It started when The Wildlife Society’s Florida Chapter wondered how to offset the carbon impacts from its 2008 National Conference in Miami.

“We wanted to do more than merely contribute funds to a project that might not be compatible with our long-term objectives for biological diversity,” said Jay Exum with the society. “We felt it important to enhance biological diversity and environmental resiliency – an important component of lessening the impacts associated with climate change.”

Diverse habitat and wildlife provides greater opportunity for resiliency, something the biologists passionately speak about when addressing the impacts of climate change on wildlife.
“We also wanted the project to be as local as possible,” Exum said. “A proposal from the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission’s (FWC) Wildlife Legacy Initiative fit the objectives of our vision.”

Peacock Springs, near Live Oak, held all the keys to a perfect project funded by the State Wildlife Grants Program. The sandhill site, managed by the Suwannee River Water Management District, lacked longleaf pines, wiregrass and wildfires - all necessary components of this ecosystem.

Longleaf pines are crucial to the sandhill landscape. The trees are fire resistant and can live for 500 years. Their expansive root system keeps them in place during hurricane-force winds.
Historically, annual summer fires burned through this ecosystem, burning plants closest to the ground, but leaving the tall longleaf pines intact. When fires are suppressed, the ecosystem balance becomes skewed.

Wiregrass, growing in huge bunches low to the ground in sandhill habitats, is the perfect fuel for the fires. It also nestles other low-growing plants and supports wildlife at the base of the food chain. Without the wiregrass, other plant species cannot exist; and without the other plants, their seeds, flowers and fruits cannot provide sustenance for insects and other tiny wildlife. Without those tiny members of the animal kingdom, animals further up the food chain do not have the food they need to exist.

The planting of longleaf pines began in February. Next, workers will plant wiregrass. Prescribed burns will further the restoration process.

How does all this relate to climate change and wildlife in Florida? Without healthy habitats, no matter how rural and non-urbanized, wildlife cannot adapt or survive what is in store as the climate changes.

“A project like this one at Peacock Springs restores an important Florida ecosystem and builds resiliency into the landscape,” said Doug Parsons of the FWC’s Climate Change Team. “It’s going to help us get through these long-term changes as the climate warms.”

What I discovered about my own personal carbon footprint shocked me. Using a carbon footprint calculator on The Nature Conservancy’s Web site, www.nature.org, I determined my estimated greenhouse gas emissions exceed the national average, and I thought I was carbon-conservative. Traveling – flying and driving – really drove up my footprint. I need to make some changes now, because the experts agree that we can not stop climate change; at this point, we can only lessen its impact. I can contribute to a carbon offset program, lessen my personal footprint or plant a native tree in my backyard. In 70 years, that tree will help offset my footprint now.

Look in your own backyard for your carbon footprint. If we follow the lead of The Wildlife Society, footprints in the sand may only leave an impression not a deep hole.

Contact Patricia Behnke at pat.behnke@MyFWC.com.

Two Moons. . .finally

Sometimes we are galvanized by little things - dew glistening on a new green leaf in the early morning sun, the baby reaching for our cheek and touching it ever so softly, a look shared between two people that recognizes all there is to know. Or in the case of the completed manuscript of Two Moons in Africa: a simple sentence about the disappointment of not publishing the book. Brent Swan read that line in my blog and got to work. After all, the story is his and his wife Barbara's; I am merely the teller of their tale. Less than two weeks ago Brent and Barbara signed a contract with a self publisher to finally put the thing in print for others to view. I've had the pleasure in those two weeks to read their story once again - and even though I am intimately familiar with the details of their story - I was bowled over by the magnitude of the journey these two have traveled since October 19, 1990 when Brent was captured by Angolan rebels in the jungle of Africa and held captive for sixty-one days. But it has been the two decades that followed that has brought the greatest amount of terrorism to their lives.

Tomorrow the Swans and I will finalize the book and send it to the publisher. Within a few months finally they will hold the story firmly in their hands and when they close the book on the final page perhaps they will feel an end to the pain and agony that has accompanied their lives for so long.

That is my greatest wish for them.