Hard to Hold Back the Hate

Hate is an emotion that I reject. But sometimes holding back that feeling is agonizingly difficult.

A short time ago I learned that at least two people were killed (one report says it was three) and 12 injured today by a terrorist attack in my city, Kharkiv. Apparently, cowardly terrorists – clearly associated with and supported by Russian-backed separatists – planted an antipersonnel bomb timed to explode as a peaceful crowd of people showing their support for Ukraine was passing by. There are indications that they were trained and received their equipment in Russia.

The victims and their colleagues were rallying for peace in this country and honoring the 100 people killed in Kyiv a year ago by the corrupt (and also Russian-backed) Yanukovich government during the Euromaidan protests. The outrage over that massacre helped to overturn the government shortly thereafter and send Yanukovich slinking off to hide in Russia. The fact that these patriots were showing support for their country and a desire for the war to end made them targets of despicable, low-brow animals who willingly do the bidding of that heinous despot in the Kremlin.

My immediate reaction to the news was visceral. It was the kind of feeling I’ve been experiencing all too often lately when I see what is happening to Ukraine, what Russia and its sycophantic minions in Donetsk and Lugansk are doing to this country.

Ukraine Under Siege – Hard Not to Hate

It is really difficult to hold back the hate these days.

In recent weeks, as I’ve watched Putin pretend to participate in peace talks while simultaneously sending more and more lethal equipment – and his own Russian soldiers – across the border into the Donbas region, it’s been hard not to simply hate the man. I’ve seen photos and video of the low-life criminals in Donbas who are charitably called "separatists," and it has been very difficult to not let my feelings cross over into pure hate.

As I see Ukraine’s economy fall further and further toward collapse and see the value of the currency spin down into previously unfathomable depths, and as I see the terrible impact it is having on the Ukrainian people, especially those I care deeply about, it is all I can do to stop from hating all of Russia and Donbas for causing this.

As I hear and read about the terrible casualties among Ukrainian soldiers and innocent civilians in the east, see photos and videos of the carnage, and see the fear in the eyes of people here who worry that they too might be drawn into the conflict – either through mobilization into the military or actual war coming to the city – it is almost impossible to repress the desire to see the terrorists and their Russian masters receive equal measures of retribution… and more.

As I see the mindless acceptance of lie after lie disseminated by the Kremlin’s propaganda machine – seemingly intelligent people in Russia and Donbas turned into hypnotized zombies by Putin and his obedient media – I can only shake my head in sadness and disbelief. I feel sorry for them, but I don’t hate them.

Amazingly weak "leaders" in Europe and the USSA refuse to take any concrete actions to help Ukraine defend itself. They are too afraid of Russia and, in the case of Europe, too worried about having their supplies of Russian oil and gas cut off. They talk a good game about democracy, territorial sovereignty, the rights of nations, and so forth, but they are too self-absorbed to actually act on these lofty principles. Still... I don't hate them.

In all of this, it is becoming harder and harder to not just hate them all.

Hate Never Helps

When I was young and stupid, it was not so difficult to say, “I hate this,” or “I hate that.” But I learned that hate is a useless, even counterproductive, emotion. For a long time now, I have tried to take a higher road, a more positive and forgiving perspective, and not let hate be a serious part of my vocabulary.

Of course, we often say things like, “I hate it when the bus is late,” or things like that, but it’s just an expression of frustration, not true hate. But perhaps even such expressions should be avoided.

In my life, there have been people who have done wrong to me, some in minor ways and some in very major ways. But I have learned not to hate them.

There are many people and groups in our world with whom I strongly disapprove of or disagree. But I don’t hate them. I believe the current president of the USSA is a feckless leader, a terrible manager of the nation and economy, and a perpetuator of a failed ideology who is tearing my own country apart and making it a laughing stock around the world. But I don’t hate the man.

I regret that so many of my countrymen who knew better simply did not bother to vote in the last two presidential elections and that so many who did vote were mislead by the slick propaganda and put that man into the White House twice. But I don’t hate them for it.

My heart sometimes boils over with frustration at the ineffective leadership in Europe and the USSA, and the resulting dangers that are increasing as a result – especially as it relates to Ukraine. The majority of these “leaders” are corrupt, selfish and taking actions that only protect or enrich themselves, usually at the expense of the people they have pledged to serve. But, still, I don’t hate them.

What to Do When it Affects You?

There are all kinds of evil terrorists in the world, especially in the Islamic world. I want to see them defeated – killed if necessary – but I cannot say that I hate them. Perhaps it’s because most of them have not affected me directly. No one I know has been hurt or killed by the actions of ISIS, Al Qaeda, Boko Harum or similar groups. Maybe if I lost someone in those situations, I would be driven over the edge. I hope that time will never arrive.

But the terrorists in Ukraine have affected me directly: they directly threaten people I care about, and they are wrecking the economy, which directly affects all of us here. And I feel as though I am on that proverbial edge. These are terrible, terrible people; words cannot express how angry I am or how I feel about them. But I do not want to use the word hate.

I really do not want to feel hate for the people who are tearing this country apart and mindlessly killing and destroying, and I will continue to do my best not to let myself slide into that mindset. But it is getting very, very hard.

Below is a video clip of the explosion:

Ironically, today is Forgiveness Sunday in the Orthodox Church.

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* Follow-up: The death toll was officially set at three on Monday, the day after the attack, when a 15-year-old boy died in the hospital from a massive head wound. Officials say now that 10 people were wounded.

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The Joy of Driving

I love to drive!

Since the day I turned 16, driving a car has been something that has given me a special kind of joy. Perhaps it’s the sense of freedom you have when you can just hop into your machine and go wherever you want. Or maybe it’s the feeling of the wind in your hair driving with open windows, an open sunroof, or an open convertible on a warm, sunny day.

It might be the way you seem to be on a mission of discovery when taking a road trip or other long-distance drive. Your car or truck takes you through places you otherwise would never have visited and treats you to sights and experiences you could not have had without your trusty metallic steed.

And even the routine commute to work, traffic and all, can be a pleasure – especially when compared to walking in cold and snow or riding on an overcrowded bus or subway train.

Yes, I love driving, and it is one of the few things I really miss living in Ukraine.  But it’s more than those feelings of freedom and discovery; it’s something that goes deep into the heart and soul.

Driving is Who We Are

Maybe it’s an American cultural thing, a special aspect of the American male psyche. To the American man, driving is hugely important. One of the things an American boy looks forward to the most is being old enough to get his driver’s license. It’s a rite of passage, one of the most important steps that signals ascension to manhood.

The ability to drive – and drive well – is an essential part of a man’s self-image. It runs deep and speaks to who and what he is as a man. For most American men, driving skill ranks second only behind sexual prowess in their assessments of their own manhood. If a man isn’t a master of the road, he is somehow less of a man.

I’m not sure if driving occupies such an important place in the minds and hearts of men in other cultures, but the automobile has dominated American culture for 100 years, and our love of cars and driving is deeply engrained into who we are. I suppose I can’t speak for all American men, but I do believe this is generally true. I know it is true for me.

Driving Memories

I remember years ago when my first new car saw me safely and comfortably on multiple trips between Massachusetts and Maryland. We (the car and I) often drove through the night to avoid the worst of New York traffic. Good music inside a smooth and reliable ride did more than just get me through those trips, it gave me a safe inner sanctum in which the rest of the world could not touch me, and my mind could soar. It was almost like meditation.

A few years later, I took another new car on my first cross-country jaunt, traveling from Norfolk, Virginia, to Monterey, California, to begin a Navy language school. That April drive treated me to the beauty of spring in the Appalachians of Tennessee and the absolutely new (to me) landscapes of the north Texas flatlands and the desert southwest of New Mexico and Arizona. My final prize on that trip was 100 miles of scenic wonder along the California coastal highway from San Luis Obispo, through Big Sur, to Monterey. It was pure magic.

When I returned to the United States after six years in Japan, my motorcycle took me from San Francisco to Fort Collins, Colorado, through some of the most beautiful mountain scenery you could imagine. That trip took driving magic to yet another level.

There have been a number of other fantastic, long-distance driving experiences. I’ve traveled between Colorado and Massachusetts several times, usually in a rented moving truck. And on several of those trips, I enjoyed the good company of a traveling companion. It was especially sweet when one of my daughters made the trip with me from the East Coast to Denver.

I’ve driven between Denver and Chicago several times, and in the 1990s and early 2000s, I made a number of trips between Denver and Albuquerque, New Mexico, and even a few longer trips all the way down to Las Cruces on the Mexican border. And there have been a lot of other road trips over the years.

That’s a lot of miles and a lot of memories.

Of course, not every driving experience is good. Besides being a joy, driving is responsible and serious business. You have to be focused and aware to keep yourself and others safe on the road, and for this reason you can sometimes become overly stressed. Bad drivers around you, difficult weather and road conditions, and other factors can conspire to replace your driving joy with unwanted anxiety.

But that’s worst-case, and in my experience, the pleasure of driving has always far outweighed those occasional speed bumps.

Becoming One with the Vehicle

The trucks and cars I have owned (and especially my motorcycle) are integral to my great driving memories. The vehicles become part of who I am, an extension of my identity and personality. It’s important to get to know the vehicle – intimately – and to become one with it. Together, you share the driving experience, and together you work through challenging situations.

You learn the essentials of operating a car or truck, but then you have to get used to the specific idiosyncrasies of any particular vehicle. You learn that no two standard-shift vehicles behave the same with regard to the engagement point or sensitivity of the clutch, the feel and throw of the shifter, the sensitivity of the brakes, the RPM range at which the engine operates most effectively, and so forth.

Experience teaches you that every vehicle behaves differently in snow, in heavy rain, or on icy streets. You learn to handle a front-wheel drive car differently from a rear-wheel drive. And you get to know the advantages – and the limitations – of operating your four-wheel drive truck in those conditions. And you get a real appreciation for good-quality tires, as well as for studs or chains when you need them.

For me, little can match the thrill of working with a four-wheel drive truck to negotiate difficult paths – or no path at all – in the backcountry. I’ve had three exceptional off-road rides: the famous, nimble and tough white Bronco (not O.J.); my classy and sassy Nissan Frontier; and the big, powerful and comfortable Nissan Titan.

The Bronco holds the best memories because it took me into the wildest places and saw me through the most precarious off-road situations. It had a long-throw shifter, like an older truck should, and I became adept at working the clutch at a higher rev to avoid stalls, keeping higher RPMs at low speeds for torque, power and sure-footedness, quick-shifting between first and reverse to rock the truck out of jams, and assorted other tricks and techniques. Together, we worked through mud and snow, over rocks and logs, and along roads a mountain goat might thing twice about using. It was special.

Colorado: Nothing Compares to You

In September, I wrote a series of observations about my trip to the USSA that I called my American Journal. In that post, I wrote about driving in Colorado and how great it was. The best part was driving to Steamboat Springs in the northern mountains.

We drove at night along lonely county and state roads and saw only a handful of other cars for hours. The drive back was in the daytime, and there were a few more cars, but with the bright weather and beautiful scenery, it was still pure motoring bliss.

For the most part, driving in Colorado is special. There are exceptions, of course. City driving in Denver or Colorado Springs is pretty much like city driving anyplace not named New York, Los Angeles or Boston; except for the view of majestic mountain peaks to the west. And I-70 into the mountains is to be avoided on any weekend during ski season or on major holidays. That’s what happens when too many people learn what an amazing place Colorado is and crowd in to get a piece.

But those problems aside, driving in Colorado is a joy. Mountain driving challenges you with occasional narrow roads, sharp curves, sudden snowstorms, and the chance that a deer, elk, bighorn sheep, moose or even a bear might suddenly dart in front of you. Those kinds of challenges are fun, but you have to be careful. In the end, you are rewarded with the opportunity to experience some of the most breathtaking and inspiring places on Earth.

I seem to be persuading myself that I need to return to Colorado and get back behind the wheel.

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Getting Away

Like most people, I don’t always appreciate the value of a real getaway vacation: the type where you take a week or two away from home, away from work, and away from the usual day-to-day issues, responsibilities, places and people.

Taking some days off to just rest at home is good, of course, but it doesn’t really help when you need to think through issues and situations in your life and perhaps make some decisions. When you try to do that at home, the issues are still too close, and it is difficult to properly sort them out, put them in the proper perspective, and chart the right course.

I have been guilty of that far too often over the past years during the annual Ukrainian New Year and May holidays. I will relish the opportunity to take some days off from work, and I tell myself that I will take time, not only to rest, but to really do the kind of serious contemplation that I can never find time to do when I am working every day.

I say that I will organize my class materials, create some new ones, look over the situation with each student and group and determine what should be changed or improved. And I promise myself to spend time in quiet thought, really analyzing my life and making some hard decisions about the near and long-term future.

Sounds great. But invariably I allow myself to sleep a lot at the beginning, and when I am not sleeping, I continue the usual home Internet routine of watching innumerable news clips, movies and other stuff of very questionable usefulness. The beginning continues through the middle of the vacation and all the way to the end. And as the inevitable return to work looms, I find I have accomplished almost nothing that I had intended.

But aside from these weaknesses of will and discipline, taking vacations at home exposes another problem: the usual life and work remain too close at hand to effectively think and plan. There are forces at work in your daily life that influence you in certain directions, no matter if these are the right directions for you or not.

But sometimes, “getting away” doesn’t really help the situation; it only puts you into a different set of influences. When I was in the USSA last September, it gave me an opportunity to think about my life in Ukraine from a distance, which was good. But at the same time, there were some conflicting interests and opinions there that worked to influence me in another direction. It was still difficult to consider everything in a clear and neutral manner.

When you really need to get away, free your mind, and open yourself to let the universe show you the way, you need a neutral location and the chance to be alone in silence. I have just returned from a week in Switzerland, which is perhaps the most famous neutral country in history. And I did find some flashes of early-morning silence, as I mentioned in my previous post, Silence.

But overall, I did not really take advantage of it. It was a short trip, and my attention was happily paid to four beautiful little girls. The purpose of this trip was not contemplation, but rather to spend time with family. Still, I found time to think a bit, write several blog posts, and to think about the need to get away from the daily routine in order to sort things out.

I am not sure when my next vacation will be, let alone my next opportunity to relax in a truly neutral environment. Maybe it would be nice to spend some time by the sea on a warm beach or (my favorite) to take in the power and beauty a mountain forest.

Either way, I know what I need. The trick now is to make it happen.
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Silence

A few mornings ago I paused for a moment as I was getting dressed, and I noticed something that I have rarely experienced in the past seven years: complete silence.

I am staying at a kind of dormitory near my daughter’s house in Burtigny, Switzerland. At present, there is almost no one else staying here, so there are few internal noises. And Burtigny is a very quiet little village, so there is not much traffic through the center and few other sources of sound.

Sitting in absolute silence was a treat, but at the same time, it wasn’t completely comfortable. I guess this is because I experience it so seldom at home in Kharkiv. I’ve become too accustomed to the mind-cluttering noises and other distractions that are endemic to my daily life there.

So Much Noise

I live amid a cacophony of human, machine and other sounds. I have discussed these unwelcome noises in previous posts such as Substandards of Living and Just a Fond Memory.

In my thin-walled apartment, I have to put up with disparate neighbor noises ranging from arguing couples to shrieking children (which are still preferable to the drunk partiers I used to have below me). And we frequently have inebriated visitors squatting on the bench outside my bedroom window to talk, shout and argue.

The building itself offers up assorted noises like whining water pipes, the whoosh of water down the sewer outlet from a flushed toilet above me, the buzz or rattle of washing machines and other devices, and the clanging of the metal door that guards the entrance to the building. On some evenings and weekends, I am treated to the hammering, drilling and other sounds of various renovation projects.

Of course, there is the almost constant noise of traffic on the street outside the building: horns, unmuffled engines, loud stereos and, of course, the delightful screeching of under-maintained marshrutka buses.

All of this is why I keep a stash of earplugs handy for sleep time.

Away from home, the level of noise and other distractions is about the same. It’s exceedingly difficult to find the solace of true quiet anywhere in Kharkiv. It’s not the fault of Kharkiv particularly; it’s a big city, and cities by their nature are places where the hustle and bustle leaves almost no room for peace and quiet.

Here He Goes Talking about the Mountain House Again

When I lived in the Colorado mountains, quiet ruled. I gave a good description of it in the post, Just a Fond Memory:

When I first moved there, it took me a few weeks to get used to the complete silence, especially at night. The usual local noises were the gentle sound of the wind rustling through the pines and aspens, morning songbirds, the occasional cawing of a crow, and in rare instances, the barking of foxes. The nights would be especially silent… and dark.

It was wonderful… and meditative.

Why Silence Matters

Sometimes I forget how important it is to have some real silence in our lives. In silence, you can focus, you can concentrate your mental and spiritual energy, you can rise above the ordinary and reach a higher level of functioning. Silence enhances creativity, allowing space for great ideas to be realized, and it allows you to sort through the myriad of thoughts and issues to chart a more effective course for your life.

When you are distracted by sounds or other things (the Internet, for example), your mind is constantly pulled in too many directions and prevented from achieving its best. But even worse, the mind becomes weak and lazy; it comes to prefer the distractions rather than the joy of work and achievement.

To repeat a concept I wrote about in the post, The Soul, the Mind and the Heart, lack of silence allows the physical mind to more easily prevent the spiritual mind – and thus the person as a whole – from being the best it can be.

Experiencing the morning quiet of my room here makes me realize how much I miss having such silence in my life – and how much I need it. Being able to escape to silence periodically is spiritually regenerative, enhances my creativity, and bolsters my ability to keep everything else in live in the right perspective.

I need to make more room in my life for silence, and I need to create an environment in which I can get back to daily meditation – something I have let slip and neglected for far too long. For the next few days I have left here, I need to come up with a plan to defeat the distractions back in Kharkiv.

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p.s. - I have been working on this post for a few days since I started it. Now in my next-to-last night here, there are new sounds in the place: I can hear some kind of music, and a bit earlier I heard a crying child. 

Earplugs tonight.

Life at the Speed of Time

Today is the first day of 2015.

But that can’t be possible; it seems like the first day of 2014 was just yesterday. And the first day of 2013 was only last week. What’s happening here?

Everything that happened between 1 January and 31 December 2014 seems to have whizzed by in a blur. Or even worse, it sometimes feels like it never really happened… like it was just some kind of dream. That’s how the hyperspeed of time seems.

We all notice that each New Year, each birthday, each work anniversary comes faster than the previous. And as time goes on, its velocity seems to increase. It doesn’t seem so long ago that 911 was just an emergency number in the U.S., there was only one former president Bush, and no one had even heard of a leftist charlatan named Obama. It seems like it was just the other day that I visited Ukraine for the first time. And only a short while before that, I was working in Peru. I was in great shape and had hair.

None of those things (or so many more) seem like they were very long ago, but they were. So much time has flashed by in what seems like an instant.

It Wasn’t Always So Quick

When we were children in school, there was nothing slower or more frustrating than time. The clock on the wall simply did not move, especially in math class. But maybe part of that frustration was due to the fact that our school clocks had no second hands; you could not actually see the movement of time.

And summer vacations, even though they were glorious fun, also seemed to pass at a leisurely pace. That’s part of what made them so wonderful. I’m sure that for our parents, however, those summer vacations crawled by at the speed of a sleepy snail… with a handicap.

But as we get older, time speeds up. You would think that our work time would crawl by, and to be honest, sometimes it does. But usually we are so pressed for time to get things done that the available time sprints like a cheetah so that our stress levels will rise. Time is truly insidious.

Of course, nothing makes time scream by faster than the Internet. I think all of us have sat down to spend “just a few minutes” online and then realized that an hour (or three) has passed. And how many of us have missed appointments or changed our plans because the Internet literally ate our time?

More than Perception?

Often I wonder if it is just our perception that time is moving faster or if time really is accelerating. There are some who believe that everything actually IS moving at a faster pace than in years past. The further it goes, the faster it goes until each person has the lifespan of a gnat.

Do you suppose that millions of years ago gnats lived for 80 years?

But whether the laws of physics can support a real increase in the velocity of time or if it just seems to be moving faster to us, it doesn’t really matter. For every person, perception is reality, so if we perceive that it is moving faster – and many of us do – then it is.

The Past: Did it Really Happen?

Sometimes I think of the past, and none of it seems real. School days, Guam, Japan, my days at CSU, and other eras of my life – and the people in them – sometimes seem like nothing more than dreams. I know on one level that the events happened and the people were real, but they seem to have lost the feeling of reality. And often I question whether they really happened or not.

This is one of the worst effects of time’s relentless drive to increase speed. Before we can savor the moment, it is lost to the past. And then the past becomes a fuzzy recollection of faces and events that don’t seem entirely real. It’s like a movie we watched one time, long ago, and can’t completely remember.

This feeling – that the events and people of the past are just some obscure movies – is probably heightened by the fact that these situations and the people in them are each completely separate from each other. At least, this is how it is in my case. I have often moved from one geographic location to another, one cast of characters to another, with no connection from one to the next.

A person who has lived his or her whole life (or most of it) in one place has a continual connection with the place and people. In that case, there is a constant connection of the past to the present, and perhaps this keeps the past rooted in the reality of the present.

But when you've lived your life in a series of completely different situations, with no connection to each other or to the present, they have more of a tendencey to fade into a surreal kind of obscurity. Thinking about them, recalling events and faces, becomes more like just dreaming.

Maybe nothing that we consider "real life" is real at all.

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To Resolve or Not to Resolve

Today is 30 December. I am on a train bound from Kharkiv to Kyiv. Tomorrow I will fly to Switzerland to ring in the New Year with my daughter and her family. It will be a nice way to start the next year.

For a lot of people, New Year is a time to pause and look back not only on the past year but on how they’ve lived their lives up to this point. They look at what they accomplished or failed to accomplish in the past year, what good and bad things came their way, and they make some determination about whether it was a good or bad year. Then, usually, they usually feel some level of determination to make the next year better.

New Year is often about setting goals, making changes, doing and living better. We make those famous (or infamous, as the case may be) New Year resolutions. We “resolve” to change what we think needs changing. Maybe we need to stop a bad habit or adopt a good one. We resolve to work out more, lose weight, stop smoking, work harder, not work so hard, be more responsible, lighten up a little, be nicer to the people around us… yada, yada, yada.

Resolving to Not Resolve

Many scoff at the whole notion of making such resolutions. After all, the success rate for New Year resolutions is probably less than five percent. We have good intentions and greet the New Year with feelings of enthusiasm and determination, but after a short while – a few weeks or maybe just a few days (or hours) – we fail to keep the resolution. We fall back into familiar patterns, and the whole idea of the resolution falls to the wayside.

Nothing changes, and we feel even worse for the failure.

I understand the skepticism. I have certainly had my share of failed resolutions, and because of that, I haven’t really made any for at least a few years. But I have made them in the past, and sometimes I was successful. I recall some years back when I had fallen out of my exercise routine for some time, and I resolved to start attending a gym and getting back in shape. I joined Holiday Health Club, which later became Balley’s Fitness. Not only did I stick with it, I got into the best shape of my life.

Getting Help

I’ve often wondered why that worked out while some similar attempts in more recent years have not. I guess one reason was the environment. At that time, I quickly fell in with a great group of people who really motivated me to want to be at the gym every evening. I met some of the best people I have ever known in my life, and many of them are still good friends so many years later.

The social aspect of a fitness center cannot be overlooked. If you don’t have a relationship partner to help motivate you and push you, then a group of friends like that is the next best thing. I wanted to be at the gym to work out, for sure, but it was so much more motivating to see and talk with friends, get together after the gym, make plans for weekend get-togethers and just generally enjoy an active social life.  It was a special time.

I have had a couple of other successful (at least for a time) New Year resolutions. But like the great majority of people, most of my resolutions have been half-hearted and didn’t last. But in this regard, at least, I’ve been in good company.

It’s been a lot harder to stick with any kind of personal resolution in these latest years of living alone and not having that same kind of close-knit group to motivate and support. But it is not impossible; it just means that there has to be a deeper desire and a stronger will. But those are two things I seem to have lost. Giving up and giving in is easier, and there hasn’t been sufficient reason to turn away from “easy.”

That’s why I haven’t made resolutions much in recent years. I know they won’t last, so what’s the point?

The Proverbial Fresh Start 

Actually, I think there can be value in using New Year as a time to resolve to improve. There is no other time of the year that presents us with such a strong and distinct feeling of newness – new opportunity and new hope. If only for the psychological aspect, it is a perfect moment to start fresh – and we always like the idea of getting a fresh start. But, the resolution has to be meaningful, and one has to have the determination and motivation to see it through.

Sometimes we also need some external help. The caring support of a close person, together with some strictness when necessary, can go a long way toward helping a resolution take hold and the change to blossom. If that strictness is perceived as, or actually is, just nagging, then it’s no help at all. But when it is a sincere desire to help, and when the person trying to change recognizes the love behind the pushing, then it can make a world of difference.

So, am I making a resolution this year? Well, I guess I would not be writing this if I wasn’t looking at the opportunity for a fresh start at something. But I’m not going to shout it out to the world here – I’ve done that before and it was a losing proposition. I’ll just challenge myself; I will know whether I’ve failed or succeeded, and that is enough.

What about you? Are you ready to change something and make 2015 a better year?

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p.s. It Was a Good Year

In the beginning of this post I mentioned that people often look back at the year that is ending and engage in some retrospective evaluation. “Was it a good year or a bad one?” “Did I achieve or fail?” I think it’s not a bad thing to stop and take stock of how things have gone.

And what about me? Well, I have been taking a good look at 2014 lately and asking myself if I would consider it a good one or one I’d rather forget. To be sure, I’ve had some challenges and difficulties, mainly physical, and I’ve lost a fair amount of money due to the problems in Ukraine and the plummeting value of the hryvnia. But there has been a lot more good than bad… a LOT more.

It has been a good year indeed, and I expect 2015 to be even better.

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The Universe in a Pool of Water

I am sitting by a pool and fountain in the center of the main corridor in a local shopping mall called Karavan. It is a fairly large pool with eight jets that shoot water in arcs toward the center of the pool. The bottom is littered with coins – the legacy of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of wishes made.

As I watch the spurts of water fly into the pool, and look at the ripple patterns they make on the surface, I think of how the pool is like the universe, or maybe the great pool of creative energy that flows throughout the universe and connects everything and everyone.

The spurts of water remind me of individual intentions entered into that flow of energy by each of us. Or maybe they are like the actions taken by individuals.  Or both.

Each spurt creates its own pattern of ripples in the pool, successive concentric circles rolling outward in soft waves along the surface toward the edge where, eventually, the water spills over into a holding tank to begin again. Each spurt has an effect on the entire pool.

The different jets send water into the pool at different times, in different patterns, and in different frequencies. For a few seconds, the pool remains calm, then a single jet of water interrupts that calm. The spurts might enter singly, with a second or more between them. Other times multiple jets send short bursts into the pool at about the same time, and there are moments when all the jets bring forth long streams of water simultaneously.

The effects on the surface from these different patterns of water entry make me think of how the thoughts and actions of different people must affect the creative energy of the universe. Just as one thought or action moves the flow slightly in one direction, another can bend or alter that direction, even if just a smidgeon.

When all the jets send long spurts into the pool simultaneously, the surface of the water appears chaotic. And it seems to me that, with billions of souls just on our planet alone, this might be how the flow of universal power appears: chaotic. With so much action and interaction, the ripples reach the edge in a completely different manner than they probably would from a single spurt.

Nevertheless, they do reach the edge.

The Difference

But the universe is not a pool of water. It is much more. The pool of water reacts only to physical laws. Something enters the surface and a symmetrical pattern of ripples is released. When something else enters, both patterns are affected according to laws of space, time, force and volume. The pool does not possess creative intelligence to determine the value of each interaction and adjust the flow for the best benefit of all.

The universe, on the other hand, is the epitome of creative intelligence. We can’t begin to fathom its immensity, complexity or how it can sort and manage the incoming “spurts” of intentions or actions from billions upon billions of souls. But it can, and it does. And it works to fulfill intentions in ways that benefit the most.

I guess the point is that, just as every spurt, even every drop, of water that enters the pool affects the movement of the water, so too does every thought and action of each one of us affect the energy of the universe. The effect might seem small, but it is there.

And because the energy of the universe is a creative energy, I believe it responds in a coordinated and intelligent way so that each one of us can create things in life – good things and, unfortunately, bad – through our thoughts and deeds. There are laws at work here too: laws of force, frequency and intensity. The more we focus on our intentions, the more intensity and consistency we give those intentions, and the more frequently we repeat them, the more likely it is that our intentions will be manifested.

Making Wishes (intentions)

Before I began this post, I made a wish and tossed a coin into the fountain. To the hundreds of other wishes in the pool I added my own wish to be free of back pain. And in so doing, I added that desire to the billions of intentions given up to the universe every day. It was a wish worth 25 kopeks.

As I finish this, I am about to toss another coin into the pool, another intention of desire to the power of the universe. This one is worth 50 kopeks, and the subject of the wish will remain between me and the universe.

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American Journal - September 2014

During my May trip to Switzerland I wrote a blog post that I called my Swiss Journal. It was a continual compilation of observations and thoughts that came to me during that trip and for a short time afterward. That one worked out pretty well, so I figured I might as well do one for my September visit to the USSA.

As with the Swiss Journal, this is not intended to be about where I go or what I do but rather about my insights and opinions about the things I see, the things I experience, the things I feel. And also like the Swiss Journal, I’ll update it periodically during and just after the trip.

So, here goes…

Not Superstitious:  11 September – I am flying today, the 13^th anniversary of the 9-11 attacks in the USSA (well, it was still the USA back then). Knowing that the ragheaded bad guys always want to make a big splash on this day, and knowing too that there is an especially malignant bunch of bad guys operating these days (ISIS, ISSL, or whatever the hell they are calling themselves), it does sort of make me a little apprehensive. Especially considering that I’ll be flying from Germany.

But I assume also that the good guys are fully aware of this and are being extra watchful. Really, this is the assumption you have to have if you want to keep a relatively calm state of mind.

And did I mention that it’s the 13^th anniversary?  Lucky 13… yay! The passengers around me on the flight from Frankfurt to Boston were all joking about it being 9-11 (and the 13^th anniversary). I guess it was a good way to relieve the tension.

I noticed an unusually high level of security at the airport terminals in Kharkiv and Kyiv. They checked bags and had people walk through metal detectors upon entering the terminals. That’s a first.  About five weeks ago I went to the Kharkiv airport to pay for my flights between Kharkiv and Kyiv, and there was no such security at the entrance to the terminal. Of course, given the situation just a few hundred kilometers to the east, it’s not really surprising.

Crickets:  11 September – My cousin’s fiancé picked me up at the airport, and when we got to her home in southeastern Massachusetts, the first thing I noticed when I got out of the car was the sound of crickets (and assorted other wetland noisemakers). It’s a summertime sound that I grew up with, but have rarely heard since my childhood. We don’t have that kind of environment in Colorado, and there certainly is no chance to hear anything like that in a city like Kharkiv.

That sound immediately brought back childhood memories of warm summer nights with the crickets chirping and frogs croaking. We used to chase fireflies around our backyards. I associate a sense of innocent happiness with those familiar little critter noises – a little boy’s feeling of outdoor adventure and even a notion of comfort and security. I miss those sounds, and those days.

A follow-up: 15 September – Well, there are some crickets in Colorado after all. I can hear them tonight through the open window in my daughter’s house; it’s a neighborhood with more trees and shrubbery, so a little more moist. But the sound is not as deep and symphonic as near my cousin’s house. I suspect there were some little frogs and things adding to the chorus there.

A Bit of a Shock:  13 September – The opposite of childhood, of course, are the last days of life in very old age. On Saturday morning my cousin, her fiancé and I went to a nursing home to visit two people. One was Mike’s mother, who we were not able to see. The other was Shirley, who is my godmother and my cousin’s aunt from the other side of the family. She is the last surviving member of that generation in our family.

As we walked into the main greeting area, there were a number of residents sitting around in wheelchairs – all of them women. The first two on my right were sitting almost comatose, passed out with their mouths wide open. Another was just staring off into space and muttering things I could not understand. On the other side was a very old lady who was completely slumped over in her chair asleep. Another woman was more alert than the others, but her right arm and shoulder were convulsing constantly.

Note: This photo and the one below are NOT from the nursing home I visited; they are generic photos from the Internet. I would never take photos of people in such a place.

Then there was Shirley. She was partially asleep and her eyes were sort of stuck shut. A nurse tried to wipe her eyes so that she could open them. We moved Shirley to a sitting area so that we could talk with her, but she only barely recognized us. I don’t think she recognized me at all, except to vaguely remember my mother’s name. Then she fell asleep again. She was very weak.

And she was barely recognizable to me. Though I could still see familiar features in her face, age had changed so much from the woman I had known so long ago. She was gaunt and small, and her face seemed mostly twisted in pain. But I wasn’t sure if the pain was physical or something else. Perhaps both.

I started this section by saying that it was a shock – and it was. First of all, I remembered how Shirley was when I was a kid and even later. She was feisty and full of life, a wiseass even. She was blunt and never afraid to say what she thought, and she was fun. Now, in addition to her advanced age, she has Parkinson’s disease. She is a shell of the vibrant person she was. Her physical deterioration is apparent, and I suspect that she has lost a lot in her mind as well. It was terribly sad.

And seeing the others there was equally depressing. I am sure that all of them, in their day, were quite lively women who are now reduced to either lying in bed or sitting in wheel chairs, probably with half or more of their memories gone, and – to be blunt – just waiting to die.

We all become old eventually, and we all die. But to be “dead” in every way that matters is no way to live. And to be stuck in a physical body that is only marginally functioning and with a mind that is nearly gone… is no way to live. I had resolved long ago that I will never allow myself to merely “exist” in such a state, and this visit only strengthened that resolve.

America? Where?:  13 September – Another disconcerting experience was a visit to a factory outlet shopping mall. If I didn’t know better, I would have wondered just what country I was in. No more than half of the people I saw were Americans; the rest were immigrants. There was a variety of languages being spoken, Spanish being the most prominent. Immediately, I wondered how many of the people I saw there were in the country legally.

To make matters worse, the mall announcements were made in English and Spanish. I might have (grudgingly) expected that in California, Texas or someplace else in the Southwest. But in Massachusetts? I felt like I was the foreigner. In my own country, I felt like an outsider. More and more it seems to me that this is how America is getting to be.

I don’t want to get into a long diatribe about illegal aliens, the American government’s asinine policies, and such. I absolutely support LEGAL immigration and believe the USSA should do MORE to help bright and potentially productive people from places like Eastern Europe come and make America a better and stronger place. But the government seems instead to put up barriers to those who want to come legally while opening the floodgates to the illegals. It disgusts me.

I realized at that moment that I felt more comfortable in Kharkiv than in the state where I was born and grew up… and I did not like the feeling one bit. With this kind of uncontrolled illegal immigration and the totally worthless politicians running the country, I fear that the United States might truly be lost.

New Toothbrush:  14 September – I love the feel of a new toothbrush. When the bristles are straight and strong, and haven’t yet been bent, it feels like it’s really doing its job. Sometimes the new toothbrush hurts some sensitive areas a bit, but that’s a good thing. It lets you know that you haven’t given that spot enough attention. I always get a new toothbrush to begin a trip.

Having Fun: 15 September – On the other hand, excepting the nursing home and mall experiences, the first few days of this trip (in New England) have been fun. My cousins are the only family I have left except for my own daughters and their families. And it’s always nice to spend a few days connecting with them, recollecting our childhood and other memories, and just bonding.

One of the best things was getting away to the seaside. We went to a beach area that I frequented in my teens (oh, the stories I could tell), and the next day we all got together to go sailing out of Newport, RI. Along the way we had several eventful dinners, including one at my cousin Janet’s home where I got to hang out with a bunch of the nicest cats you’d ever hope to meet.

I’m in the Boston airport now, writing this to kill time as I prepare to fly to Denver for phase two of this visit. But phase one has been really nice: a mix of memories, family bonding, and just remembering where it all started. That’s a good thing for any person to do.

Going Mac: 17 September – One of my goals for this trip was to buy a new notebook computer. I envisioned getting a moderately priced HP or ASUS that runs Windows 8.1 and perhaps can function as a tablet as well as a notebook. My price range was up to $700, perhaps up to $800 for something perfect. But that was my limit.

So much for limits.

After talking with many people (including many who are disciples of the Macintosh computing religion) and looking at more Internet descriptions and reviews than I can imagine, I had a few machines in mind, but I was intrigued by the MacBooks. Despite that intrigue, however, I was definitely put off by the price. There was no way I was going to go Mac.

Yesterday, I bought my new machine. I really could not decide on a PC that I liked, and the few that really seemed to suit me were not all that much less than a MacBook Air. I took a good look at the Air in the store and decided to go for it.  

So... now I have crossed over. I've stepped out of my Microsoft box. I am not sure if I have left the "dark side" or have entered it, but after my first few hours of using the new machine, I suspect I have at least entered a new dimension (and possibly a lighter one).

Anyway, I am now a Mac guy. It's almost like entering a new phase of life.

Therapy on Four Wheels: 19 September – I love to drive. I have always loved to drive. But in Ukraine I don't drive. No car, no real need, and at least half of the drivers on Kharkiv's roads are certifiably insane. 

But I really miss driving. That's why one of the things I look forward to the most when I come to the USSA is renting a car and experiencing the joy of motoring along good highways, country roads... well, anywhere. It's theraputic to sit behind the wheel, listen to good music, feel the wheels glide along the pavement, watch the scenery go by, and think, think, think. I love it.

And although there are bad drivers everywhere, I really appreciate how good American drivers are overall. We tend to follow road rules better than almost anyplace else on the globe. All of my students who have visited the USSA on business trips and have had a chance to try driving here have come back speaking in astonishment at how much nicer it was to drive here.  I agree.

I picked up my Colorado rental car on Tuesday, and I've already put almost 300 miles on it. Part of that was my drive from the Boulder area down to Denver today. After a meeting in Denver, I went down to Castle Rock to visit the factory outlet shops, and then back up to the south metro area to my friends' house. 

Tomorrow morning, I have to drive back up to the opposite side of the metro area to meet my daughter for an outing, then I'll roll back to my friend's house on the southeast side. And then next week I get to motor up into the mountains for a few days at a resort. The only thing better than driving is driving in the mountains.

Then it will be back to Ukraine. Back to buses, subways and taxis. But I'll dream about the next time I'll be getting some four-wheel therapy.

Follow-up - Driving at Night:  When LauraLeigh, Sorin and I went up to Steamboat, we got a late start because of a commitment Laura had. It was close to 8 p.m. when we got started, so we did the drive in the dark. This was sort of a hassle along the busy parts of I-70 from the metro area up to the Eisenhower Tunnel, but it was actually nice from Silverthorne all the way into Steamboat.

I like driving at night - when there's not much traffic. There is s different feeling about it that I enjoy. But you have to be cautious driving on Colorado's mountain roads in the dark, especially the secondary highways where speeds are often 55 to 65 mph on two-lane roads. The danger is wild animals suddenly appearing in the road, especially large ones like deer or elk. Besides killing an animal, there is the potential for an accident that can seriously injure or kill the occupants of the car.

We drove carefully and very alertly. We saw one dead deer by the side of the road and a number of smaller critters like raccoons that had been pretty much smushed. We also caught glimpes of a few deer or elk standing off the side of the road, but nothing jumped in front of us. 

There are a lot of challenges to night driving in Colorado. If you're not watching out for animals in the warmer months, you might be navigating heavy snow or ice in the winter. Still, night driving is still something I enjoy doing... occasionally. 

House Party: 21 September – For the past couple of days I've been staying with some friends in an upscale neighborhood in a suburb of Denver. They have a beautiful home in a community filled with beautiful homes and matching landscaping. In the evening yesterday, we all went next door to a neighbor's home for a party. They were saying farewell to another neighbor family who are moving to Sweden.

The neighbor's home is almost as nice as my friends' place, and is often the case with parties in such homes there was a lot of attention to detail: food, drinks, decorations (everything in Swedish colors of blue and yellow), etc. These homes are quite spacious, so there was plenty of room for people to sit and eat outside or inside, mingle and talk, etc. There were probably about 20 adults and a bunch of kids (and a couple of dogs).

At one point, I got to thinking about how any of my Ukrainian friends might perceive such a party. Back in Kharkiv, almost all of us live in apartments, and there's not much space for such entertaining. Hosting such parties is not so common, and you usually have to maneuver around tight spaces. I've hosted a few parties at my place, but the maximum amount of people I can accommodate comfortably is probably 10 or 12.

Big house parties are pretty normal in the USSA, and although it can be a lot of work organizing and cleaning up, it's still fun. I used to do St. Patrick's Day parties at my big house south of Denver, and I hosted a fun barbecue and camping weekend at my mountain home once. 

But such parties are not so common in Ukraine. Get-togethers at someone's home are smaller and more intimate, which is nice in its own way. But I think any of my Ukrainian friends would find one of these American house parties pretty amazing.

A Bit of Looking Back: 22 September – This past weekend has been largely about memories. I stayed with some good friends on the southeast side of Denver, and we chatted a lot about days past when we were younger and thinner. On Sunday afternoon we had a little get-together with others from our old group who all got to know each other at a local health club. Naturally, we recalled stories from the past - the good, the bad, the funny and the not so funny.

We tried to recall the name of the bar we often frequented after we were done working out. Yes, that's right... we worked out, then went across the parking lot to eat and drink. And we liked it. Finally someone remembered the name of the place, but it took some time. 

We talked about who dated who (there were several weddings that resulted), parties we had (including Halloween costumes), and the girl we all knew who wound up in prison. It was nice to remember and to share the memories with each other.

Today I had lunch with a former colleague from my project management days. Again, we recalled things that happened when we worked together and what many of our other colleagues have been doing since we all worked together. Some of the memories were not so great, but most were fond. Even the things that were very tough at the time, like an overly politicized environmental project we did near Chicago, are now enjoyable to remember and talk about.

After that lunch, I decided to take a drive up into the mountains to visit the little hamlet I lived in from 2004 to 2007 and take a look at my former house. The drive across the Denver metro and up the canyon brought back memories of my daily commute. And it was fun to see all the old signs, hills, unique buildings and other features that were a daily part of my life in those days.

When I turned off the main highway onto the county road, it brought everything even more to life. As always, I had to slow down to 20 miles per hour going past the little elementary school and, sure enough, there was a county sheriff's vehicle checking people's speeds. Then I got to Forest Drive, the dirt road that led to the house.

I could not go to the house, of course... it belongs to someone else now. So I just drove by and looked down from the road. It really had not changed much, but it looked a bit run down, and that made me a little sad. I really loved that place.

I drove past the house, then parked the car in a little turnout at the end of the road. I turned off the engine, got out of the car, and just listened. As always, it was silent except for the soft whisper of the breeze blowing through the pines and aspens, and the chirping of a few birds. It was one of the most beautiful sounds I know, and - again - it brought back memories of how that was part of my daily life when I called that place home.

Eventually, it was time to get back in the car and leave. I drove past the house one more time, then made my way down to the "center" of Bailey, which consists of just a handful of shops and cafes. I went into a place called the Knotty Pine, which had been my favorite place to go for coffee and conversation with the locals when I too was a local. I chatted a bit with the owner, bought a couple of souvenirs, and then made my way back to the city.

Some memories, like the ones with my friends, are just that: memories. They are sweet to recall, but they can never again be recaptured or repeated. But others, like my former home, are more than that. They are reminders of a lifestyle that I loved and that I certainly can have again if I want.

That's the kind of memory that gives you something to think about for the future.

Carry That Weight:  23 September:  One of the biggest hassles of flying these days is keeping your bags under the airline weight limits. It didn't used to be such a problem; the airlines were not so anal about the number and weight of your bags. But now you have to keep your checked bags under 50 pounds (23 kilos) or else you have to pay a penalty. And you only get to check one free bag; United charges $100 for a second bag!

On this trip I have bought new clothes (including a winter coat), a unique bottle of champagne, a bunch of books (they are heavy) and some gifts. I still have some more gifts to buy, but I probably won't add an awful lot more weight. 

I was very concerned about the weight of the books and decided to send them to myself in Kharkiv via FedEx. But the cost to send a box of books was more than $350!  So I promptly canceled that idea. After that, I decided that I needed to do a practice packing to see how much weight I really have and how I can distribute it between my checked bag and my carry-on.

I had sort of been anticipating this problem, so last week I bought some new luggage: a matching set of a 29-inch Samsonite suitcase and a 20-inch carry-on. Today I packed up everything I could find, except for what I was wearing, to see whether or not I need to panic. I have a very nice, precise, lightweight scale especially made for weighing suitcases. To my happy surprise, I found that the big one weighed in at less than 45 pounds, while the carry-on was about 29. This means that I'll be able to shift a few things to the big one and still be under the 50-pound limit.

All's well that ends well, but I still don't appreciate the hassle of having to be so careful with baggage weight.

Rocky Mountain Too High:  24 September:  No, this is NOT about Colorado's position as the preeminent legal marijuana place in the world. It's about altitude... and its effects on the human body.

Since I got to Colorado, I've felt lethargic and sluggish. And occasionally, I've had just a general "blah" feeling inside - not sick, exactly, but just not feeling right. I thought that maybe it had something to do with what I was eating. But today it came to me that the problem probably has more to do with the altitude.

I have been living in Kharkiv, Ukraine, since May of 2008. Kharkiv is only about 500 feet (152 meters) above sea level. So more than eight years, I have been acclimated to what pretty much amounts to sea level.

And At the beginning of my USSA trip, I visited my cousins in Taunton, Massachusetts, which sits at only 30 feet, or nine meters, above sea level. I spent four days there and really didn't feel bad. But the problems hit me after I got to Colorado. This is really a shock!

Altitude used to be NO problem for me. Denver is renowned as the Mile-High City because it is exactly one mile (5,280 feet / 1,600 meters) above sea level. For most of my life in Colorado (which has been most of my life), I've either lived in the Denver metro area or in Fort Collins, which is at about the same altitude. But I used to go camping and bike riding in the mountains all the time, at much higher altitudes, and I never felt any ill effects.

From 2004 to 2007, I lived at an elevation of almost 9,000 feet (2,743 meters), and I always felt fine.

Since yesterday, I have been in Steamboat Springs, a resort town in the northwestern mountains that sits at about 6,700 feet (2,052 meters) above sea level. Today, I noticed that I felt worse than I did down in the Boulder area (about the same elevation as Denver). I felt really winded walking around and had no energy. After lunch I just wanted to sleep. 

The realization that I seem to have lost my acclimation to altitude is more than a little disconcerting. I am a Colorado boy, a mountain man. Along with my Irish heritage, being a Coloradan is central to my identity. The idea that I would have trouble dealing with altitude is too much to take.

If I want to get my high-country fortitude back, it's going to take time living in the hills again. And it also is going to take losing weight and improving my circulation. Being comfortable at altitude is all about your body being able to supply your muscles and organs with sufficient oxygen. At the moment, I seem to be a little oxygen deficient.

That needs to change!


Catching Up:  1 October:  I have not had much time or inclination to add to this post and, ultimately, finish it.  I've been back in Kharkiv already for several days, and I've devoted this time to resting and getting ready for the work ahead. But the return trip was more tiring than I expected, and I've been exhausted.  My last days in the USSA were pretty much go-go without much time to stop and write.  So, I'll try to do as much to catch up and finish this as I can today:


Steamboat Springs:  Steamboat is truly one of Colorado's gems. As one of the state's very best ski resorts, it's a busy place in the winter, to be sure. But there is a lot to do in the other months as well. And it is a beautiful place in many ways.

The town itself is small, quaint and very Western. Even if you stay in a condo close to the center or the ski mountain (which we did), you still sense a big difference from bigger cities like Denver or Boulder. It's more relaxed and laid-back, life moves a little slower, and the people seem more real. 

And it's closer to nature, as evidenced by a few signs:

While we were there, the weather was perfect: clear blue skies each day, with temperatures in the mid-to upper 80s F (about 25 to 28 C) during the day, and comfortably cool at night. It was late September, and at that altitude, the aspens were already changing to their autumn gold (more on that later). 

We took a drive away from the town, toward an area called Oak Creek, and it was just gorgeous. I could imagine living there... or anywhere in the Yampa valley. After having visited my old house in Bailey a few days earlier and then spending time in the Steamboat area, I felt a real urge to come back to the mountains and just stay there.

The highlight of the visit to Steamboat, however, was spending an afternoon at the Strawberry Park hot springs. There are other hot springs resorts in Steamboat, including a popular one in the downtown area. But for my money, Strawberry Park is hard to beat. It is fed by natural geothermal water from deep under the earth, and they have created a garden spot with multiple pools of differing temperatures, surrounded by the unmatched beauty of Colorado's nature.

You can just relax in one of the pools, letting the warmth of the water seep into your muscles, bones and joints.  It's like being in a huge hot tub without the bubbles and with naturally warmed water.  You can sit or swim around in the hottest pool, or move to the adjacent pool where the water is cooled just a bit by water from the river, but still quite warm.  And there are some other spots where the water is a bit less warm still.  

Finally, there is a pool that is fed directly by the river and which is quite cool, excpet for a few pockets of warm water that flow into it from the warm pool. It's nice to spend some time in the hot pool, then go and swim around a bit in the cool water.  Making this hot-cold cycle several times is especially great and can keep you from getting overheated.

The day we went, the weather was quite warm with direct sunlight. I actually got a bit of a sunburn. I would love to come in the winter when the air is freezing cold and steam rises off the warm waters. That's not in the cards for next winter, I think, but perhaps in a couple of years.

In the shot below, my daughter, LauraLeigh, and her son, Sorin, are enjoying a smaller pool with a moderate temperature:

I had been there before, some years ago, but it was even better this time. And I know that I will be back.


Fire in the Mountains:  Not really... but the blazing yellows and oranges of the changing aspens sometimes make it seem that way. In the Colorado mountains, the forests are mostly evergreen (pines and firs), and the only significant deciduous trees are the aspens. They usually grow in stands, or groves, among the evergreens. When you see them on the side of a mountain in the summer, it can be difficult to pick out the aspens from the evergreens.

But in the autumn, the aspens turn gold. Sometimes they even turn a brilliant orange. When you look at a mountain in the autumn, the stands of aspens can be so brilliant that it can look like a fire is blazing - but without any smoke.

In and around Steamboat, the aspens were in full fall colors. But the most striking colors were in the hills along the highway leading out of Steamboat over Rabbit Ears pass. I took some photos, but they don't do justice to the view that one gets in person. It was absolutely stunning.

Our entire drive back from Steamboat was punctuated by mile after mile amazing autumn views. Who could ask for more?


The Evil Empire of the Air:  I booked my flights for this trip through United Airlines. Some of the flights were on United's partner, Lufthansa, but the majority were on United itself. 

I regret this.

On my last trip, I used United because they had merged with Continental, so all my frequent flyer miles had moved into the United system together with some United miles I still had. I decided to use up as many miles as possible by flying business class. My plan was then to start using KLM as my preferred airline and build up new miles with them.

But I was not able to get good flights or prices for this trip via KLM, and I got better results from United. That was where the good results ended.

United Airlines is truly the "evil empire" of the airline industry. If Darth Vader was an airline, he would be United. If Barack Obama was an airline, he would be United. Well, actually he would be something called "Redistributive Airlines" where, in addition to paying exorbitant prices for seats in first or business class, you would ALSO have to pay extra for any service, in order to fund giving those same services to other people for free. But that's a story for another time. 

United's swallowing up of Continental Airlines - an airline I really liked - was very sad for many reasons. One reason was that Continental provided much better service, and I can see now that everything has gone the United way: downhill. Also, Continental was in a partnership group with KLM and Air France, two airlines on which I had had good experiences.

The one good thing about United was the organization and efficiency of its Web site (which was the old Continental site). Not much else about United is good. It is the most money-grubbing of the big airlines. They charge for just about everything imaginable. If you want a seat where your knees are not crushed, you have to pay extra. If you want to board early enough to find room for your carry-on, you have to pay extra. If you want to eat something - even on a transcontinental flight - you have to pay extra.

Fortunately, they have not yet levied additional charges for using the toilets.

The most galling thing was that they charge for alcoholic drinks on international flights. I have never seen this before. On my Lufthansa flight from Frankfurt to Boston, the wine was free. But on the United flight from Washington to Frankfurt, it was about $8 for a little bottle. I sorely wanted a little wine to help me sleep on the flight from Washington to Frankfurt, but not at that price.

And to make matters worse, the flight attendants were very unfriendly (and United advertises the "friendly skies"). They clearly were just "doing a job" and not in the business of customer service.

On board, Lufthansa is much, much better. But Lufthansa has its downside too. Its Web site doesn't work well, and their telephone booking agents are rude. I had problems with checking in for the Lufthansa portions of my trip.

Frankly, after enduring long hours in cramped and uncomfortable seats, I reallly do not care if I ever fly again. At the moment, I am so sick and tired of air travel, that it's about the last thing I want to do. I like to travel and see new places, but I do not want to board an airplane again for a long time.


Returning to Kharkiv:  Sadly, returning to Kharkiv was a real downer. I think I felt worse this time than any time before. I've taken two other vacation trips to the USSA since I started living here: one in the summer of 2011 and another in January of 2013. I've also been to Switzerland three times.

Returning to Kharkiv after my other two long trips to America, I actually felt like I was coming home. I felt like I had something to look forward to. But this time, it felt cold and empty to return. I guess in the past I felt like I was coming back to something at least as good as what I left behind in the USSA, but this time I felt like I was not coming back to anything special at all... just a tiny, empty apartment.

In fact, my first observation when I went into my apartment was how small it is; I don't think that realization had hit me so hard before. But after several weeks in houses and a spacious condo, my apartment does indeed seem tiny.

I've thought about why this return was so different, and it hit me that it's because in the past, I felt that I had someone for whom my return mattered. Around those two trips, there was someone who seemed to care a lot that I return, and that gave me a reason to feel good about coming back. Returning at the end of the summer 2011 trip especially, I remeber opening my door and finding a "Welcome Home" sign, as well as a fresh pot of food on the stove. It made me feel really glad to have come "home."

It gave me a good feeling about returning from those trips. It mattered to someone, in a personal way, that I came back, and so I mattered. And that was important.

But this time, there was no one. I have friends here, of course, and some very good ones. But that warm feeling that someone was awaiting my return in a special and personal way was gone. And compared to what I left behind, coming back just didn't have any satisfaction. Things have certainly changed.

I guess this leads into my final thoughts about the trip and what it probably means for the future. That will have to be the last installment of this post.


Final Thoughts:  Throughout the trip (as I have done in the past) I tried to put my observations and feelings in perspective and figure out what the future holds. For a long time, I have thought about how much longer I should stay in Ukraine, whether it continues to make sense for me to be here, and whether the time has come to take a different path.

Often, I think that I stay here only because this is where I am. It seems that I just keep on keeping on because I don't want to make a change, to leave what has become familiar and take the risk of venturing into new territory (even if that "new" territory is really old territory). It is sort of an unusual attitude for me, as I have always been willing to go to different places and try new things. Coming to Ukraine in the first place is a great example of that.

Other times, when I analyze the situation, it seems that it's right for me to be here. I argue (to myself) that I have a unique niche here (teaching English) and that it's the right thing at the right time. I question what else I could do, especially in Obama's USSA. And I know that I don't want to do low-paying work in a high-cost-of-living environment, and have to live in a low quality of life as a result.  But maybe that's just selling myself short.

So now my thoughts are more in tune with the notion that there has to be something good for me back there, and I just have to have the drive and ingenuity to find it. 

My empty feeling upon returning to Kharkiv also was very telling. I really did enjoy each day I spent with family and friends. I especially enjoyed the time I spent with my daughter and her family, just as I always really enjoy the times I have spent with my other daughter and her family in Switzerland. That's important, and it really contrasted with how I felt when I returned.

So, there is a lot to think about. But it is becoming pretty clear to me now that I need to start preparing to make a change. My life in Ukraine seems to have pretty much run its course, and it's time for someting else. I need to replenish my cash reserves, of course... I did spend more than I planned on this trip. But by next spring or summer, if all goes well, I should be ready to make a new leap.

And I think what I have learned from this trip is that it is, in fact, about time to make that new leap. 

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