Egypt

It's a curious thing, but Southern Illinois is referred to as "Egypt" and there are at least three cities south of I64 with Egyptian names--Cairo, Thebes, Karnac (and others see http://www.illinoishistory.com/egypt.htm). The land between the rivers, where northern Illinoisans came to get corn when drought devastated their crops etc-- there are many versions of the origin of the Egyptian moniker. One reason the occured to me as I ventured there this week was that it might as well be Egypt since it is so different from Chicago. We went from sub 20s and snow to the mid 40's and rain, in just 330 miles. Then back again. Today here in Chicago its 12 degrees and very dry. Not enduring another winter in Chicago will be one of the adjustments I don't think we'll mind making.

The Amtrak Saluki 391/2 is a very good way to get to Carbondale, and it ran nearly on time both ways this trip. It was a lot of fun having Ryder and Karen along this time too. Ryder and I sat in the dining car and played chess for part of the journey both ways. His chess prowess is developing nicely and he seems to enjoy the game. I waited for many years to find a chess partner and now I have one! I remember fondly playing chess with my dad, so playing with Ryder connects my son to my father in a special way, though Wayne passed away long before Ryder was born. Five hours on a train is so much more tolerable than being stuck on an airplane. And the whole of the train experience is very low stress. No search or intrusion. You can bring food and you can plug your computer in. If only the trains were equipped with WiFi...

We are keeping our options open and looked at a new property. From the listing and photos this place sounded great. As soon as we drove up Apple Ridge Lane off of old Hiway 51 just north of Makanda, we were disappointed by the looks of the place. We went inside and the smell of mothballs was very strong and though it had been carefully staged, the rooms were so small it was easy to cross this one off the list. The Victorian Legend goes right back to the top and we are close to putting some earnest money down. Having some land many turn out to be a really good idea the way the economy is looking these days. Now the task of readying our house is our major occupation. It is gratifying to get the place ready to sell because it is forcing me to finish all the incomplete projects I've been sitting on for years. The technical difficulties with the moulding and installing the trim can no longer stall my efforts. One way or another these jobs will be done. Our house is not a fixer upper, by any stretch, but of course there is always work that can be done. We remodeled the kitchen so long ago that it could be done again. Regardless of all the work that is done, it will still be a 1913 vintage mini-Victorian. Knowing this makes us cringe as we consider buying an 1890 true Victorian, fully restored or not. The house on Springer Ridge Road will still be nearly 120 years old, new wires, plumbing, HVAC, kitchen and all. Bring it on! I do hope to avoid installing all new baseboard this time. One thing for sure, I have learned a lot about working on old houses and no know that the work is never done.

The visit to SIU was very productive as I make further preparations for taking over as head of the department. The Blagojevich scandal has everyone all a buzz. Both at the U of I and at SIU all bets about the recission are now off. It looked like Rod was going to cut the University budgets by 8%-- now who knows. These are very exciting times we are living in. The hope for change has morphed into excited anticipation as our junior Senator prepares for the Presidency yet we have to live through this pay-to-play nightmare while the Governor trys to sell Mr. Obama's Senate seat to the highest bidder. I heard the analogy, comparing Blago's blatant crookery to a shop lifer at Walmart who sees the security guard watching him and then procedes to stuff merchandise into his pants apparently not caring that he is going to get caught. Is he crazy, deluded or just a megalomaniac ? Apparently he is all three.....

looking back at 20 years at UIC-- the Dharma of Science

I thought I would start with a confession—I have my PhD in Biochemistry and I have actually never taken a course in Physiology. One of my mottoes has been “pose as an expert and soon become one” and I used this to my advantage in 1989 when I was hired in my first professional position, Assistant Professor at UIC. I was recruited from Michigan in the guise of a reproductive physiologist because of the work I’d done in Anita Payne’s lab in steroid hormone biochemistry. If I had to describe myself then, I would have said I was a steroid biochemist. The physiology of gonadal steroidogenesis is reproductive endocrinology. And so, I morphed into my new role as a reproductive biologist. I spent 8 hours per lecture that first year preparing to teach in the Pharmacy course about the menstrual cycle and I stayed just enough ahead of the material to make it through the first year—teaching all of endocrine physiology in the Allied Health course. I continued to give the same lectures for 18 years until PHYB341 was replaced by the new GEMS Physiology course.

Through that time I became an endocrinologist, a reproductive biologist, and a physiologist. All of our work was in vitro in primary cultures of Leydig cells, a craft I’d helped to develop and perfect in Michigan. Very few labs had the expertise in Leydig cells or molecular biology that my lab had, and this served us well. Based on the observation that Leydig cells and testicular interstitial macrophages are closely associated, I postulated that since these cells were physically associated, they must be functionally associated, and proposed that macrophage elaborated factors must affect Leydig cell function and this hypothesis guided the next 15 years of work in my lab. We identified a new role for pro-inflammatory cytokines, as regulators of steroidogenesis, and helped to foster a burgeoning interest in immune-endocrine interactions. But the question which emerged as I taught my lectures in endocrine physiology, was does what we see in vitro happen in vivo? And so, I embarked on a series of studies in systems physiology. To activate macrophages in vivo we used LPS, bacterial endotoxin derived from the cell walls of gram negative bacteria, reasoning that LPS would activate the immune system without having to make the animals septic with bacteria. We showed in vivo what happened in vitro—only more so (to paraphrase Jacob Manot what is true for elephants is true for bacteria, only more so). We observed what I still believe is an astounding effect. Within minutes, literally, after injecting a single sub-letal dose of LPS into mice, serum testosterone levels begin to fall. It becomes significant after 15 minutes and at 2 hours serum testosterone is reduced by over 85%! This is a highly reproducible finding which we observed in 100s of mice. The problem was we couldn’t reproduce this in vitro. We determined that the decrease is due to the inhibition of StAR. Karen Hales expressed the full length StAR protein and bacteria and made a superb antibody which works in all species from teleost to human and spawned many fruitful collaborations for us. It made sense that shutting off steroid biosynthesis by preventing the substrate cholesterol to get into the mitochondria where the first enzymatic step in steroid hormone synthesis takes place would account for the rapid shut off. But how did LPS cause this? We could not cause this to happen in vitro with cytokines and were stumped for quite some time. And then our friend Jossey Orly came to visit from Israel and using our antibody he demonstrated that if you treat Leydig cells in vitro with CCCP, a protonphore that disrupts the mitochondria, you can replicate the in vivo effect. We quickly repeated this and realized that LPS somehow causes Leydig cell mitochondria perturbation! Now we could model this in vitro and explored the role of the mitochondria itself in the process of steroidogenesis. We still did not know what mediated the effect in vivo, but soon determined that it was reactive oxygen elaborated by the testicular macrophages that affected the adjacent Leydig cells. I was fortunate to have John Allen and Thorsten Diemer in my lab at the time and we published a series of seminal papers which changed the way people think about steroid hormone production—that it is the mitochondria which is the key regulator, not StAR or the enzymes; and established the importance of oxidative stress and inflammation as key mediators of immune-endocrine interactions.

Despite the number of highly cited papers in high impact journals coming from these studies, the NIH did not deem this line of work fundable, .and I knew I was going to have to do something other than study immune-endocrine regulation of Leydig cell steroidogenesis. One of the reviewers said “Dr. Hales has found another bad thing that LPS does to Leydig cells,” dismissing the whole body of work which demonstrated the role of oxidative stress and the mitochondria in regulating steroidogenesis. So, I tried alcohol vs. Leydig cells, diabetes vs. Leydig cells, Dioxin vs. Leydig cells and aging vs. Leydig cells—which all have as a central theme perturbation of mitochondrial function via cumulative oxidative insult. 5 or 6 more grants attempts later, I was still unfunded and facing extinction. This became a real test of faith and I seriously pondered changing professions, but to what, I was not sure. I had been on the same path for my whole career.

Soon after the birth of my son I found my way back to the path. Desperation breeds contemplation and sitting into the late hours rocking baby Ryder gave me lots of time to think. I had envisioned years of studies which explored the mechanisms through which reactive oxygen species controlled basic biological processes—mitochondrial energetics, gene expression, serving as signaling molecules as well as electrophiles. My grandiose visions however, did not get me funded. The sentiment in the NICHD for funding the male was characterized by a cynicism- statement s coming from NIH staffers like “you can cut somebody’s balls off and they won’t die, so why study them;” and “since we have Viagra and ICSI we don’t need to study the male;” and “honestly, Buck, outside of Andrology no one really cares about Leydig cells.” So much for being one of the world experts on Leydig cells, a lot of good that was doing me. Indeed, a true test of faith. Racked by insomnia I started reading books about how to sleep. They offered practical advice about coffee consumption late in the day, and regular habits, etc. but one thing each of these texts had in common was the suggestion of meditation. I was in Borders one evening and I picked up a book by Rob Nairn entitled “What is Meditation?” which turned out to be a primmer in Buddhism. The book really spoke to me, I realized I’d been searching for this path for my entire adult life and had oft been exposed to “eastern “ philosophy during my years in Boulder—and beyond. For years I had been practicing yoga and was ever more interested in the esoteric aspects of the practice and the interaction between Yoga and Buddhism. I began to read more and more books about Buddhism and discovered the Buddha within. The power of mediation and the tenets of The Dharma were concepts so familiar to me that I felt like I’d found my way. The Way. Buddhism is not a religion as much as it is a process and I had a new tool in my psychological toolkit to help me find my way back to the path. My own understanding of Dharma was well stated in the January 19, 2007 edition of "dailyIinsight" from Yoga Journal:

• "Your personal Dharma is the path you follow toward the highest expression of your own nature and toward the fulfillment of your responsibilities to yourself, to others, to your society, and to the planet. In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna often speaks of dharma as something inborn, a life calling that each of us has been given and from which we depart at our peril. But he also uses the word to mean right action, and for most of us, personal dharma comes down to that most basic question: What is the right thing for me to do now? Or, Given my nature, my skills, and my personal preferences, what actions should I take to support the greater good?"

What actions could I take to support The Greater Good? What path do I follow toward fulfillment? I kept the faith, I believed in what I do and what I am and was lucky to be nimble enough to adapt my research efforts into a more sustainable effort.

If you were to ask me now how I define myself, I would say that I am a cancer biologist. How I went from steroid biochemist to cancer biologist is not as much of a leap as it might sound. Reasoning that in response to immune insult, potent oxidants and inflammatory mediators combine to perturb, and shut down hormone production—but in steroid target tissues, oxidative stress and inflammation work in concert with hormones and the result in carcinogenesis. So instead of looking at the testis, which evidently no one cares about, I looked at the prostate, which a lot of people care about. With Gail Prins help we looked at oxidative stress in a rat model of prostate cancer, and I was able to get funded by the local American Cancer Society who have a grant mechanism to attract new investigators into cancer research. That one year of ACS funding was what helped me turn the corner. I never was able to get NIH funding for the prostate cancer project, but one day, I heard a Gyn Onc Jean Hurteau here at UIC say that ox stress and inflammation are thought to be important to the pathogenesis of OvCa which caught my attention. He then said that the only good model for OvCa is the chicken. I immediately thought of my old friend, with whom I collaborated since I was in Anita’s lab, Janice Bahr, who is a world expert on the reproductive biology of chickens. All of our antibodies worked in the chicken so I had followed her work and decided to see if she would like to collaborate. We were successful in getting a pilot grant from the DOD testing the inflammation hypothesis in the hen model and this funding really got me going again. One of Hurteau’s interests was in omega-3 therapy for OvCa. So I was keen on the literature but couldn’t imagine gavaging hundreds of chickens every day with fish oil. Then I was in Whole Foods one day and noticed the omega eggs in the cooler and wondered how they were able to get omega into chicken eggs. Well they feed them flaxseed, the richest vegetable source of omega-3 fatty acids. I proposed using the hen model as a pre-clinical test for chemoprevention of OvCa with flaxseed and got funded by the AICR, and then the NCCAM. Using the hen as a model for dietary intervention to prevent or treat cancer turned out to be a very tractable idea, and we have also been funded by the NCI to determine if broccoli can prevent OvCa in hens. And yes, chickens do eat broccoli.

These functional foods work by interacting with specific molecular targets do decrease oxidative stress and inflammation. We are able to draw upon the expertise we developed looking at these forces in Leydig cells and have expanded this to the study of a very important and deadly disease. I remain steadfast in my belief that if you do good science and let biology lead the way, you will answer important questions, whose answers raise more questions which guide you further down the path. It is true that you have to be nimble as you find your way along the path and be able to surmount the obstacles you encounter along the way. My Dharma is science and biology guides the way. All of the work we did in Leydig cells is still important and has helped create significant interest in the role of immune and endocrine interactions in the maintenance of homeostasis, as well as mediating pathologies. But our current work in ovarian cancer is more important because it holds the promise of discovering early detection for ovarian cancer, prevention and treatment of the disease, and most important, it provides hope for women who have the disease, hope that their daughters, sisters and friends may not have to suffer what they are dying from.

There is a lot of public interest in cancer biology, antioxidants, dietary intervtion, natural, and alternative medicine-- so I have decided to launch a new blog which I will call CancerChix, so that I can share my thoughts and observations on these topics without diluting these posts with my rambling narratives about bicycle commuting, diet and exercise and politics.

In the wake of the flood

It has been an incredible two weeks since the election. We just heard that Alaska's felonious and the longest serving Republican Senator, Ted Stevens lost his bid for re-election to Mark Begich. Now even Alaska has a different hue. The Purple Haze of the new America-- not red, not blue anymore. Just America. With 58 seats in the Senate and two still up for grabs, the Democratic party is teetering on the brink of a filibusterer proof majority. No more obstructionist anti-majority legislation tying the hands of the party in power. The accusation that the Democrats have done nothing since resting the majority from the GOP in 2006 overlooks the fact that all of the progressive legislative initiatives were vetoed by Dubya. Now true change can begin in Washington DC. Change that came from the heartland, from main street USA, from rural and urban communities, from the east coast, west coast, third coast and deep in the desert southwest. Yes, change we can believe in and it is exciting to see how the country is embracing the Obamas. It is so refreshing to hear the soon to be leader of the free world speak with eloquence and vision. People whose criteria for voting for president was that they could have a beer with him is ridiculous. Not to say it wouldn't be a pleasure to have a beer with Mr. Obama-- but I want to be in awe of his brilliance, not placaded by his mediocrity. Sixty some days to go.

A time of great upheveal, of great uncertainty and of great opportunity. As the world embraces the new America, we look forward to our move to Carbondale and the next phase in our careers. I visited Carbondale last week with two goals in mind. First was to establish a relationship with a local banker in preparation for making an offer on the Victorian Legend. Second was to meet with the administration at SIU in preparation for moving my scientific enterprise to Carbondale. The only thing that won't change is what is most important-- my family and pets, all of us relishing the change that is just around the corner.

After I concluded my visit with the department I dialed the Garmin for Springer Ridge Road and made the first drive from the parking lot at Life Science III to the Victorian Legend-- 7.4 miles, just three turns. A straight shot south from campus to the very edge of the state and national forests. I parked my rented Ford in the driveway, skirted the house and buildings and took a walk on the property. 40 acres is huge. I headed straight east from the barn and stayed to the north of the pond and creek that bisect the property. The north pasture is rolling, generally downhill, and planted in hay that had been mowed this season. I walked all the way to the east edge of the property to the fence line and found a path to Club Road, which separates the property from the farm on the north. I walked down the road, which appeared not to have had any vehicular traffic in recent months. Down the road went, down hill with the creek and woods from the property on my right and the confluene of two creeks in the woods on my left. I followed the road for 15 minutes going deeper and deeper in to the woods, alert and cautious, not knowing what lay ahead. Soon I came to an opening and found a very old house. Judging from the weathered wood and style of building, the house looked to be 100 years old. No sign of habitation, and I wondered who owned this place and what its story might be. I found a camoflouged glove, no doubt dropped by a hunter, oddly near an old sign posted "no hunting." I followed the road back toward the property, climbing the steep lane through the tall trees, which looked to be a hundred feet tall. An old forest with limestone craigs covered in moss. Silence. Not a hint of the sound of man. The wind in the trees and the call of the birds, the trickle of the creek. It was a spiritual awakening as I was dumbstruck with the notion-- oh my goodness, this could soon be my property.

I have grown accustomed to living among people. The density of population in Oak Park took a lot of getting used to. Living within feet of our neighbors, hearing their conversation on a warm night when everyone's windows are open. Smelling their cigarette smoke as they stand on their porch smoking. Seeing through their windows in the morning's early light when the light from their bathroom illumnates them. A mutual resepect for privacy causes us to look away, ignore the sounds of their chatter, and try to ignore their smoke. As we walk to school in the morning and pass through the neighborhood, looking at the gardens and Cubs or Sox flags hanging from the houses, seeing the kids trooping down the street to join our parade to Lincoln school, I am aware of the not too distant sound of the El screaming by and the traffic on I290, Harlem and Roosevelt. The holy silence beckons. We sure are going to miss Trick-or-Treating in our neighborhood though.

Proud, American

So much has changed in America, in the world, since last Tuesday night. We waited with excrutiating anticiaption as the polls closed and the vote tally began to come in. The first tally gave McCain a 16 to 3 lead, Kentucky, South Carolina vs. Vermont. As it turned out, that was the only lead McCain enjoyed all night long. But it seemed to take forever for the polls to close and votes to be counted. But when Pennsylvania went into Obama's column, a sense of expectation began to replace the trepidation. The McPalin campaign had devoted much of its final effort to the Keystone State, and a keystone it turned out to be. Obama carried the state by 2 to 1. But it wasn't until Ohio went to Obama that we really started to get excited. One of the classic moments in election coverage was when Karl Rove was explaining how Ohio was critical to McCain's chances, slim though they be-- when we was interrupted "uh, Karl, Ohio just went to Obama." Hooting and hollering and a mounting sense that our dream was about to come true.

It was exciting to be in Chicago for the election, though I did not go to the rally, opting instead to watch the returns at home with my family and best fiends. After Ohio went for OBama and we were waiting for the polls on the west coast to close, we bet at how many minutes past ten they would call it. I guessed 10:03 and other guesses ranged up to 10:15. Instead it was 10:00:03 CDT. And the celebration began. My friends were from Ohio, Minnesota, Iowa, and Virginia, and me from Colorado and they all went blue. And our work in Indiana last Sunday is most gratifying now knowing the we delivered Lake county. We were so pleased Indiana went blue, though we didn't know until well past midnight when the vote tally from came in. We were on our feet, hugging, kissing, cheering, stomping our feet, celebrating this most important moment in American history. We watched our friends, neighbors and colleagues en mass in Grant Park, as the camera panned the crowd for minutes with no commentary from the talking heads. The scene from around the country, from around the world was incredible-- a beautiful thing to behold. Seeing the tears stream down Jesse Jackson's face, the tears of joy from the students at Spelman College in Atlanta-- my own tears of joy! Words fail to express the magnitude of this moment.

Tuesday morning had dawned bright but chilly, a perfect autumn morn. The first thing I did that morning before I went to vote was hang the American flag in front of my house as I recalled Howard Dean's words from the summer of 2003-- "its time to take the American Flag back from the right wing extremists." And now we have. We watched McCain's speech from Phoenix, it was very nice and reminded us of the John McCain we had respected and admired before he sold out to the Karl Rove machine-- but true to form, his faithful followers booed and heckled when he mentioned Obama. He tried to hush the gaggle of ardent neocons, though they chanted "Sarah, Sarah." Yes, that is what is left of the Republican Party, and they got what they deserved. And so did we! A president we can be proud of. A man with intelligence and vision, and a rare eloquence. YES WE CAN!

When I rode my bike to work on Wednesday, riding through the fog of the champagne hangover, the whole world seemed to have changed. It was eerily warm for November, sunny and all the leaves were shimmering in their autumnal glory. As I rode through the west side, just as desperate as Gary, I was on Flournoy just east of Kostner, and there were three guys lurking mid block. Spontaneously we all raised our fists triumphantly in the air and hooted, one yelled "black power" and another yelled "OBAMAAAAAAAAAA". I felt so excited and honored to share this with my homies, as we all united in our jubilant celebration. It felt like a festival all week at UIC. people stopping people on the street to shake their hands or give them hugs. Tears of joy and much discussion flowed freely-- it seems that everyone is engaged, excited and HAPPY!

Everyone is happy, except perhaps, the die-hard Palin supporters. The infighting in the McCain camp and blame game that is going on is a delicious thing to savor. The McCain campaign staff who announced that Sarah didn't know that Africa was a continent or what countries were in North America was greeted by the Governor of Alaska with the comment-- they were a bunch of jerks! But the true endorsement of Palin by the McCain campaign,"Wasilla hillbillies looting Neiman Marcus from coast to coast" pretty much sums it up. All that remains of the republican party are the 30-40 year old white men heckling McCain at this concession speech. We suspect Condy Rice secretly voted for Barack, based on her heartfelt and tearful congratulations. And we know Colin Powell did.

The sound track in my mind, through out this amazing ride has added to my goose flesh and teary eyed joy. On Thursday as I waited for the El, opting out of riding through the sleet, I heard Uncle John's Band on my MP3 player and I swelled up with pride and determination. Each of those lyrics rang true-- "he's come to play to the rising tide!" as the tide of humanity rises as one, a wave of positivity and determination! "Well the first days are the hardest days, Don't you worry any more, 'Cause when life looks like easy street, there is danger at your door. Think this through with me, let me know your mind. Woh - oh, what I want to know, is are you kind?" YES! no one said it was going to be easy. But thank goodness we have a leader who has the vision, and the kind gentle spirit to lead us home. Obama's campaign stayed on message the whole time and his equanimity was the guiding light. Well he might ask you-- are you kind? I do not believe those dedicated followers of McPalin can be considered as kind. All they inspire is anger, hate and disgust. It is heartening to hear some of the most ardent of them now sing the praises of the new day that has come to America. But like Mr. Obama said-- there is only one president at a time, and he does not become president until Jan 20th. Just under 70 days of W left to endure.

Other of the songs in this sound track-- triumphant, US Blues-- wave that flag wide and high! Yes! seeing the gathered multitude waving Old Glory at Grant Park brings more tears to my eyes and more geese to my flesh! "Red and white, blue suede shoes, I'm Uncle Sam, how do you do? Gimme five, I'm still alive, ain't no luck, I learned to duck. Check my pulse, it don't change. Stay seventy-two come shine or rain....Wave that flag, wave it wide and high. Summertime done, come and gone, my, oh, my" Such a fitting ode-- and indeed Summertime has come and gone. And-- Scarlet Begonias "Strangers stopping strangers just to shake their hand, Everybody's playing in the heart of gold band, heart of gold band..." The whole world is celebrating. From Paris to Berlin to Istanbul, from the villages in Kenya and the outback of Australia-- yes, we are the eyes of the world....

countdown to history

With just hours to go until the first results of the election are known, I find myself nervously waiting as though I was an expectant father in the waiting room enduring a 22 month long labor. Oh my gawd, it is almost here. The moment of truth. The crowd is already massing in downtown Chicago for the Obama election night rally. The excitement around town, in anticipation of the outcome is electric. Yet the outcome is as yet not known. We have donated several times to the Obama campaign, more money than we've given to all other campaigns combined. And it appears that all of our donations are being wisely used.

I spent Sunday in Gary Indiana walking door to door to help get out the vote. It was an extraordinary experience. As I walked through one of the poorest neighborhoods in America, I was touched by so many people's enthusiasm for Obama, and gratitude that a suburban white from Chicago would come to their neighborhood for this cause. I was invited in for dinner, embraced, celebrated as we shared the same hope for a better day for our country, and excitement that their vote really counts this time. Indiana is poised to be a state no longer considered as a Republican stronghold. Not a red state, not a blue state, but truly apart of these United States. Mary, Ryder's godmother, and I drove to the Gary office of the Obama campaign and arrived to find 100s of volunteers fanning out to canvass the city. We were dispatched to the south Broadway office on the very southern edge of the city and arrived with dozens of other volunteers, most of whom had come from the Chicago area for the day to help. We were given instructions and told that our goal was to get out the vote. Early voting in Indiana doesn't end until noon today (Monday) and most folks didn't know they could still vote early. The lines for early voting were pretty long in downtown Gary, so folks were being shuttled to other sites with shorter waits. When we went door to door, if we talked with people who needed a ride to vote, we took their names and numbers and the campaign was going to dispatch volunteers to take them to vote. Mary and I covered about a 10 block area in 4 hours probably knocking on over 300 doors. A dozen or so folks were pleased to know they could vote early and we gave them instructions. Many folks had already voted and the majority said they were going to vote on Tuesday. They said they were going to school at the end of the block first thing Tuesday to vote. They were grateful and receptive. As our tour continued we ended up in the projects and it was rather dicey. I covered one side of the street while Mary covered the other, and I kept her in eye contact the whole time. The further north we got on Pierce street the worse it got, until finally we began to feel vulnerable and conspicuously not from that neighborhood. I went down a few steps to a basement apartment and just as I was about to knock the door burst open and a cloud of pot smoke came billowing out. Three African Americans came staggering out and were very surprised to see me standing there. I said "I'm with the Obama campaign" and I sensed their relief. I retreated up the stairs as they all said yah yah yah we are going to vote. Voting was the last things on their mind's right then so I beat a hasty retreat. I never felt threatened, but understood the precariousness of the situation. Across the street a few doors up I was greeted warmly by person after person who was carrying covered dishes into one house. One gent invited me in for dinner and Christian fellowship. he said they all get together every Sunday to share a meal, that way everyone gets to eat. He was such a lovely guy, I was tempted to accept his invite just to share in their community. He assured me they had all voted our would vote on Tuesday. And he blessed me for the effort I was making that day on their behalf.

I heard one pundit say that Jesus Christ was a community organizer. As was Mahatma Gandhi-- and this community was organized. It was impressive, I mean really impressive to see grass roots politics at work. And this was just one precinct in one city. All across the county tens of thousands of folks are on the sidewalk going door to door in support of the Obama campaign. Who ever doubted his executive experience should think twice. For the Obama organization to have mobilized over 3 million supporters each reaching out to every corner of the country, is an astounding act of administration. We crossed paths with the steel workers union and the SEIU who had also deployed their members to get out the vote. People in Indiana are so excited, it was very encouraging. I have heard so much vitriol and hate from the McCain campaign, all they inspired is negativity. Obama has remained above the fray, unflappable, steady.

I was just talking with my lab manager who was an avowed non-voter with no interest in politics for the 04 election. She is totally engaged and was making arrangements to be late tomorrow because she has to vote where she was registered when she lived at home, not at her current address. All of my students, generation Y, the 20-30 year olds are all wildly enthusiastic and are going to vote-- and are doing all they can do to get out the vote. The youth vote has not appeared in the polling and has been dismissed because though they are registered, they are not considered as likely to vote. Not this time. I am so excited that I am having a hard time working today!

it will be quite a historic , to be sure-- regardless of the outcome. But only in my darkest fears do I still worry that those Republicans are going to pull something off. But we are going to let them steal this election, no way.

It was such a shame that Obama's grandmother died yesterday, on the very eve of the election. Obama said that the biggest mistake he ever made was not going to see his mother to say goodbye before she died of ovarian cancer. He was not going to make the same mistake with his grandmother. Knowing how deeply affected Mr. Obama is by ovarian cancer, having lost his mother to it makes me feel so proud that I have now devoted my work to this dreaded disease. Funding and support for biomedical research will surely be much improved in the Obama administration. The whole world will sigh a huge collective exhalation of relief once Barack is elected. For surely there are hundreds of millions of people the world around who are holding their breath right now, waiting for the election results.

Hope dawns anew tonight when Barack Obama wins the election. I can not even begin to wrap my mind around the other outcome. Hope, not fear will carry the day.

Wildly enthusiastic, cautiously optimistic

May the Force be with us.

Change We Need. Ryder read the bold message on the thousands of signs being waved by the nearly delerious crowd of believers at the live Obama event at the conclusion of his 30 minute "infomercial" broadcast on all the networks in prime time (except ABC). He said that Obama is Yoda, speaks he like him. Yes, Ryder, right you are-- the knight of the good force, and may this force be with us all. When I think about what he evokes in me, I get goose bumps and tear of joy in my eyes. Change we need, indeed we do! My Goodness, there is so much tumult building to this incredible conclusion, the economy crashing, feeling for the bottom, the markets waiting to rebound with the affirmation of a new progressive administration. The desperate millions of Americans with out healthcare, facing eviction after foreclosure, in worse straights than any of us have faced since the Great Depression. It took a leader with great vision, tremendous resolve, and comforting equanimity to guide the country back and once again, we will call upon a man with the same qualities as FDR to help us help ourselves. The darkness must end. The failed policies of the last 8 years that have plunged us into a war with no end in sight and into economic catastrophe. We are no longer the trusted and most admired country in the world, instead, we are now regarded with disdain, disbelief and disgust. But it is not anti-Americanism, it is anti-Bushism. If the whole world could vote, Obama would be elected by a unamamous landslide. Unless the Republicans steal the election by preventing the majority of Americans from casting their vote or having their votes count-- Barack Obama will be elected as the next President of the United States.

The contrast between Obama and McCain is so stark it is hard to understand how anyone could be undecided. All that McCain inspires is anger. He inspires his supporters with hate and vitrol. Nothing positive, all hate. And Carabou Barbie whips her crowds of admiring supportores into a lynch mob hysteria. Their racism is barely concealed-- refering to Obama as "that one" or shushing his supporter who yelled that Obama was an Arab--no, no, he's not an Arab, "he's a decent family man." In other words-- Arabs and by extension, Muslims are not decent family men. And Barbie was celebrating the pro-America parts of the country. Hello? Isn't Illinois a part of America too? Nothing positive. All devicive, angry desperate attempts to sway the masses. But it is not going to work.

They are now replaying parts of the 30 minute Obama commericial. It was so impressive! Masterfully done hitting every of the issues straight on, with never mentioning his opponent or saying a single negative thing. And how does McCain respond-- a bolus of negative hateful attack ads. True to each of their forms. All McCain can say is bad things about Obama. Obama instead speaks of his vision with a true eloquence that inspires and lets us cling to our belief that we deserve the change he can bring. Change we need, yes! Change we can believe in, yes! Change we will deliver on November 4th-- please! I shudder to think of the response of the angry millions if somehow they perpertrate the greatest act of fraud in history-- it is the only way McCain could win because it is clear that the vast majority of Americans are hungry for the change that only Obama can bring. The skies would darken with the toxic smoke as the disinfanchised multitude strikes back. Riots worse than Watts 65, or Chicago in 68. No Way. We can't let them win. Come on, bring it on! I am heading to Indiana this weekend to help our hoosier allies deliver their state to Obama. They are so excited to sense that they can make a difference, that for once, their vote in Indiana will count.

Last weekend Ryder and I were camping in the heart of Indiana at Camp Tecumseh with the Y Indian Guides. As we drove through the tiny town of Brokston 10 miles off of I65 not far from Lafayette, we saw several houses boldy displaying Obama yard signs. There it was, a clear sign that Indianan is not the Republican stronghold the McCain campaign has been counting on. And maybe we can help the campaign deliver the state to the good guys. Indiana, Ohio, Florida, North Carolina, Colorado-- true blue afterall?

Just a little trouble in the Big Ugly

No doubt about it, we are living in troubled times. With the economy on the skids, and great uncertainty in the looming Presidential election, it seems people are just a little bit more on edge than usual. Tough times bring out the worst in people, and also the best. I have a sense that people are banding together to fend off the wolf at the door and the feeling of community is stronger than ever. At the same time, the disconsolate are angry and their emotions sometimes get the better of them. And then again, maybe things are just they way they are and some folks are just folks and others are just kids-- looking to cause trouble.

It was a very tough week riding to work last week, traveling through the heart of the hood on my bike route from Oak Park to UIC. Unusually warm for late September and I was hard pressed to make a deadline so I was working later than usual and riding through The Big Ugly when lots of people were out on the streets. The term Big Ugly was coined by "Da Editor" and I took exception to my bike route being referred to this way. I contended that you can find beauty everywhere, even if its the glinting of the sun's first rays on the broken glass that litters the way. I blogged about this last year: http://virtualbuck.blogspot.com/2007/06/beauty-in-big-ugly.html, and have continued to see more of the beauty than the ugly in the Big Ugly. Its not the physical world where the beauty lies (at least not on this bike route), but its the beauty we experiece in the people we meet along the way. The sentinels of the west side are so familiar to us that we have formed bonds with them. The newspaper sellers who greet us early in the morning--the meliflulous voiced guy on Kostner and Harrison who yells "icecream!!!!" giving us high fives as we ride by. Just west of Kostner, in the crook of the big bend, the very heart of K-town, ground zero, we see Lucky, who sits on his bucket on the corner of Kilbourne and Harrison, clicking his imaginary stop watch as we ride by, and saying "yes sir, yessir...".

Just opposite Lucky's corner is the Holy Temple of the Community of God Worship Center, a white clapboard storefront church and community food pantry, Reverand L Carter's ministry. This summer in front of Reverand Carter's church, a very friendly and outgoing gent has been selling water, two bottles for a dollar. I've started stopping, giving him a dollar and he'll slide the water into my paniers for me after he makes sure I get some cold ones. On one of these recent, very warm afternoons, I stopped and bought some water, and chatted for a few minutes. He asked if I did triathalons and suggested I must be in pretty good shape riding all the time. I told him, jokingly, that just riding through this neighborhood got my heart rate up. He laughed, and his companion who was sitting at the table on the sidewalk laughed uproariously. Then he said "you don't know the half of it, I don't want to get you alarmed, but you know that viaduct right there? There was two murders in the last two weeks right there. And you should hear it around here at night." He held his finger in the shape of a gun pointing into the air and said, "bang, bang, bang...." I told him that I really appreciated that he was looking out for us when we rode by. To which he replide "Oh no, its not me who's looking out for you, " then, in a perfect preacher's voice pointing to the sky, he sang out "its the Lord above who is looking out for you". I bid him adieu and rode on home, struck by the thought that while I ride through there everyday, he lives there 24/7-- ground zero. The folks who live there hate gun violence and gangs even more than we do-- it affects their daily lives all the time. I really enjoyed my interaction with the good Reverand, and believed this gent to be the Reverand Carter himself.

Then came the trouble. It was a Wednesday evening, approaching 5:30. I was sitting at the corner of Kedzie and Congress waiting for my riding partner, Paul who'd had to change his plans at the last minute and had called, but I didn't hear my phone ring. So I just sat on my bike, waiting. A group of 4 or 5 teenagers ambled on by. One of the kids was dressed like a gangsta, and was carrying a 3 foot long crowbar, smacking his palm, play- fighting with his friends, pretending to hit them. Innocent fun, it seemed, but I avoid looking at them too closely so as to not attract their attention, though they did make me a bit nervous. They wandered away, and I dutifully sat waiting. When the group with the crowbar wielding gagnst wannabe turned and headed back towards me, I decided it was time to go and rode on west, hoping Paul was OK.

I dismissed the incident and contined on my merry way. I sometimes feel like a jolly yahoo, waving to all the folks who sit on the porches and watch me ride by day after day. They are always there and we recognize each other-- I'm the white guy riding his bike waving at them-- no doubt not what they usually see from their porch perch. Reveling in a way, and feeling rather insular, protected in my cacoon of good intention and warm feelings for my fellow beings, I had become unwary. Riding along after picking up some water from the good Reverand, west of Cicero and cruising, I saw three youths standing on the corner, of LaVergne and Harrison in front of the school. As I gathered speed, riding through the stop sign I saw the tallest of the three step out into the street and face me down. He could have been stepping out to look for his bus, or perhaps he was going to give me high fives as folks along the way often do. I stayed the course and bore down directly towards him, not even thinking about evading him, and as I got near him he took a swing at me and slapped me hard on the arm with his open palm. It stung like hell and shocked me. I thought about stopping and going back to tell him my opinion of his affrontery, but instead, picked up the pace and rode away from his as quickly as possible, never looking back. Suddenly I was made AWARE again. My unwariness was vanquished and the hostile envinroment surrounding me frightened me. I was both angry and had my feelings hurt-- how dare he do that to me? Doesn't he know I'm just like him? Becuase I reach out to his homies I deserve to be treated with respect.... no, I am just an easy mark. Some white dude riding alone in his neighborhood, daring to stay the course and challenge him instead of swerving out of the way into passing traffic to avoid his "greeting." Had he been alone he wouldn't have had friends to show off for. If I'd been riding two up, he'd likely not have done it either. It really gave me second thoughts about how safe I've come to believe I am riding through the wilds of west Chicago.

The next day, riding home, alone again, I stopped to visit the Reverand and buy some water. We had a nice chat and I told him about this incident. He gave me some advice--"this is what you do, " he said "you stop here, get some water, rest up for a few minutes, then get on your bike and ride like hell just as fast as you can past there!" Ah, some great advice. I learned also, in this conversation, that his name is Howard, his companion is Rosie, he is the Reverand Carter's nephew and caretaker of the church. And that our long time bucket sitting friend who lives on the corner is named Lucky. And he said that Lucky may not "be there" but he sure isn't stupid. I continue on my way, reminded to be aware, but not to fear. These are just folks and I can tell they appreciate that I am open and friendly. And I can also tell that gangs of teenagers do not appreciate my karma quest but see me as yet another target for their angst and an easy distraction from their boredom.

Number Twenty

This last weekend was our 20th Labor Day in Oak Park. And it will be our last. We moved into our house on Wisconsin Ave on August 26, 1989, just days before I started work at UIC. Of course, around here, 20 years of service as a faculty member, is not recognized-- I guess its typical of how faculty are generally treated at UIC. But that is another diatribe. It was a long and eventful Labor Day holiday, starting off in style with the Rat Dog and Allman Brothers concert at Northerly Island on Chicago's lakefront-- a very nice concert venue on the site of old Meig's Field where Da Mayor famously bulldozed in the middle of the night. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meigs_Field.

It was a perfect night and both bands delivered. I felt at home with my contemporaries and happy to celebrate the music with so many young folk too. Seeing several rasta skate girls in dreads and all their natural glory added to festive feeling of the show. The Allman brothers reprised Jessica with Waren Haynes and Duane Trucks playing the dual guitar lead, so reminiscent of Duane Allman and Dicky Betts-- an electric lyric quality to the guitar line. A real crowd favorite. And crowded it was. While its fun and exciting to have the communal music experience, it is also challenging to be among so many revelers.

I took Friday off to work at home, and had a very productive day mitering trim and fitting moldings to match the original circa 1913 trim that needed replacing. One good thing about getting the house ready to sell is I am now forced to finish all the projects left undone for so many years. The end result of this carpentry task was immensely satisfying. It is gratifying to see work in equal finished project out. Quite a contrast to my work-a-day world. I labored away in the house all day until 4 PM when I picked up Ryder at school-- and then it was off to the pool; the last weekend for the pool for the year and it was hot enough to really enjoy it. And it was crowded too! We went to the pool Friday, Saturday and Sunday, and though it was open on Monday, we managed not to go that day too. And so, the pool closes for the season, our last summer in Oak Park. To cap it off, we visited the carnival at the Cermack Plaza in Berwyn, the site of the famous Berwyn Spike, immortalized in Wayne's World. Alas, the spike is now gone and they are building a new Walgreens in its place. Talk about classing up the joint. We rode our bikes to the carnival and arrived in the late afternoon when it was none to crowded and very hot, sunny and exposed. We rode the Pharoah's Slipper, the Tilt-a-Whirl and the Ferris Wheel. From the top of the wheel there was a great view of the Chicago skyline, and to the the south, you could imagine seeing the first Ferris wheel at the Colombian Exposition of 1893. I felt nostalgic for the view and just a bit of melancholy knowing how much different my horizon will be next Labor Day. It was the hottest Labor Day weekend since we've been in Chicago, not a cloud in the sky all weekend long.

The political theater taking place in the presidential campaign offered some amusement, the unexpected announcement that Sarah Barracuda would be McCain's running mate and then all the RNC attendees who took of their Republican hats and put on their American hats to help the poor people of New Orleans who were about to be washed away by Gustav. So much compassion! This time they were going to be there and also avoid having Bush and Cheney speak at their convention. They are having their convention in the Twin Cities for a reason, to celebrate the twins-- McCain and Bush. And the chicanery-- the thoroughly vetted, or so they say, Sarah Pilan as Veep-- like my friend said, if they get elected, they can park her trailer right there on the White House lawn.

Summer time come and gone my oh my....

It was Labor Day weekend 1977, Red Rocks Amphitheater, Morrison, Colorado, the third night of a three day Grateful Dead concert experience. The days were bright and sunny, as clear and blue as only the skies of Colorado can be, and the Dead were rockin'! We had been treated to an incredible range of favorites and new songs as well, this being the in the era of Mars Hotel, Blues for Allah and the newly released Terrapin Station, some of the Dead's finest efforts. At the close of the first set, a rollicksome US Blues was greeted by a swirling wind. As Donna G0dchaux stood at the microphone, wailing the lyrics "summer time, come and gone, my oh my..." the chilly wind whipped her long hair across her face, and fall was in the air.

This vision came to mind yesterday as we walked Ryder to his first day of school-- 2nd grade at Lincoln School. I was beset with a melancholy, the realization that the summer is over, the school year has begun. As I rode my bike to work early this morning, into the rising sun, my bare arms were chilled in the cool morning air. A brilliant day found us wheeling through the west side, not a cloud in the sky, the big orange sun rising in the east and exceptionally low humidity. Summer time, come and gone, my oh my.

This song, the US Blues is so very appropriate this week as we watch the Democratic Convention in Denver, city of my birth. The media seem surprised to discover what a lovely, vibrant and clean city Denver is. The shots of the 16th street mall with that brilliant blue sky make me so homesick. Uncle Sam has been hiding out in a rock and roll band. And now he is coming out of hiding! Truly stunning speeches by Michelle Obama on Tuesday night and last night Hillary Clinton gave the best and most important speech of her life! Democrats unite! No more Bush, No McCain! hope not fear, health care for every one, government for the people, not the select few! She beat the Democrat Drum brilliantly and I am so encouraged, so excited, and yes, so hopeful, that we can all come together and end the tyranny of bigoted old white men running this country into the ground for too many years! Look at the audience Hillary and Michelle are igniting with passion and excitement-- a broad cross section of Americans. Look who McCain is appealing too-- old white men! No country for old white men, no more. Now its time that fair representation for all of America, not just the privileged few. The Grand Oil Party's days are numbered. If only we can make it to January with out Bush and Cheney starting another war, with Iran-- or Russia? How dare Bush chastise Putin for attacking a sovereign country. Five long years ago Bush did what no American president has ever done-- invaded a sovereign country and waged war under false pretenses-- a conspiracy built on lies and deception to serve big oil and corporate enterprise. Enough! Democrats unite and lets get these fiends out of office!

Row Jimmy, Row

Last week when we were down south, Ryder and I went canoing on Little Grassy Lake for about 2 hours and I found it to be a great upper body workout. I perfected my J stroke and could paddle vigorously, pulling at a good clip, and more or less keep the canoe straight. It was a lot of fun and I really liked the sore muscles I experienced, evidence of a bit of exercise. This week as perused my email, I found a message from the Livestrong.com touting the virtues of rowing. I didn't know I was subscribed to email bulletins from this site, but I was subscribed to the Daily Plate and it seems as though Livestrong consumed them. It is actually quite a nice site with lots of different type of exercise, health, fitness and diet related content. The bit on rowing caught my eye and I recalled how I would row a few years back after I suffered an injury and couldn't run. I really liked it but when I returned to my feet, I abandoned rowing. Well, now that I have to meter out running carefully due to my knees, I was receptive to rowing again, and gave it a try. The Concept 2 machines are positioned so that they look out over the courtyard adjacent to the student union, so its better than television, watching the student body walk by. Especially now that all the students are starting to return for the fall semester and are fit, tanned and aren't wearing winter coats. So I jumped on and rowed 2000 meters in about 14 minutes. It felt great, so I did another 1000 meters and really started to feel it. The next two days I felt tight and trim-- good core, lower back, upper body and leg work.

Today I warmed up and then did 5000 meters, which was just a bit of a challenge. At about 2500 meters my butt started to burn, the gluteus and piriformis. The compression of my knees on the "catch" concerned me and bothered me a bit, but I didn't feel any real pain, just an awareness. I had a whole body experience as I felt my trapezius, lats, pectoralis, deltoids, biceps, triceps, abs, quads and calves, all involved. I breathed into each pull and kept my heart rate up. I really humped to break 30 minutes for the 5000, and when I got off I felt like I had a very good workout. I did a 1/2 mile on the treadmill to stretch out my hamstrings and feel if my knees were ok, which they were. After my matt work I felt really good and quite well exercised. I plan on including a few rowing sessions into my regimen now. I have been dropping weight with 4 workouts a week and watching the carbs. One of these days I will step on the scale at the gym and the beam won't tilt with the 200 lb notch engaged. I haven't been below 200 since I was in my 20s and then before that in my teens. I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.

Little Grassy Lake (SIU part 2)

We left Oak Park at 2 in the afternoon, Friday afternoon, and it took us an hour to make it to I57. I57 connects the north with the south. Not just northern and southern Illinois, but the geographic north/south of the continental United States and the cultural north and south. This great American road, connecting Chicago to Memphis and points south provides smooth sailing with little traffic. I usually drive 137 miles south to the Champagne-Urbana exit to go to the chicken lab. This trip, our second drive to Carbondale, we sailed on by the birds on towards Arcola, Effingham, Mt Vernon, all the way to Marion, and into the Crab Orchard National Wildlife Refuge to Little Grassy Lake, adjacent to Giant City State park, just on the outskirts of Carbondale. We arrived at campground after the marina had closed so we picked a prime tenter's spot on the tip of a finger of land, jutting into the lake. We were alone in this section of the campground, well removed from the legion of camping trailers and RVs arrayed in bunches along the road to the marina. Long term campers were well entrenched and decorated with Christmas lights, bird feeders, boat trailers, grills, coolers, bug tents, TVs/radios, A/C blaring in the trailers, little gray wheelies connected to the toilet-- every trailer had the same model poop cart. We felt like Spartans just car camping, exiled to the tenter's cove. Kentucky was in the air. Heat, humidity and that drawl. No one was moving very fast-- except in their jon boats on the water. Life is on a different scale at Little Grassy Lake campground.

After we pitched our camp, we cooked a simple dinner of turkey cheese burgers and baked beans. Cooper settled right in but Mirabel would never rest. She chased dragonflies for hours, pointing at them then snapping at them, occasionally inhaling one. Then she discovered that the lake was filled with life, and she spent hours standing in the deep grass in the shallow water, pointing and snapping. Cooper sat like a lion surveying his domain with a pleased countenance. As the darkness gathered around us the sky grew light with stars. Even in the intense humidity the stars shone brightly, not obscured by city lights-- one could forget that there are more than a few dozen stars if you only see the sky in Chicago. The ambient sound intensified in the darkness. Croaking, clacking, cricketing, splashing and rustling-- no sirens, screaming Yamahas, rumbling Els-- or east coast bound 737 shattering the din. Dark and quiet-- what a relief. We could have used a bit of a breeze though-- it was suffer some in the heat. As we lay in the tent on top of our sleeping bags, I could feel my heart racing with the effort of pumping blood to my periphery to cool me off. I could not take my rest, my mind was roaming like a wild beast in the west.... I was profoundly taken with the realization that this was the world we would soon be living in, back to nature. In my more rational mind I knew that on most early August nights in Carbondale will find me comfortable under air, and not camping at Little Grassy-- but just outside my door, just a few miles from Little Grassy, my new back yard will stretch out into the dark and silent. A wonderfully comforting thought that scared the hell out of me. Oh my gawd! what in the world are we doing, moving to the south. We are going to have to learn how to saunter for sure. Adapt to the new sensibility, talk slow and be very polite. I57 carried us to the deep south of Illinois, 30 miles from the Ohio river to the south and 30 miles to the Mississippi to the west. Quiet and dark, heart racing, 5 of us in our spacious tent, even the gentle sounds of two dogs and two other people sleeping couldn't lull me to slumber. All I could think about was that I would soon be living here-- next summer would find us living in Carbondale-- but where we do not know.

We enjoyed exploring Carbondale on our own this time. Nothing scheduled until Monday's house hunting. We visited the farmer's market and were delighted with the locally grown veggies and fruit-- blueberries, peaches, melons, tomatoes, squash, onions-- we provisioned ourselves for camping, and enjoyed the ambiance of what will become our new weekly farmer's market pilgrimage. It was mighty hot, that's for sure. We shared the shade with two women who had moved to Carbondale from San Antonio last year-- they agreed it was hot but liked that it cooled off at night here. yeah, right I thought. We are so accustomed to camping at altitude when it does cool off at night. But I suppose, compared to San Antonio, this was mild. The best thing to do in the heat is to get in the water. So we drove west through Murphysboro to "the spillway" at the southern tip of Lake Kinkaid. It took a bit of navigating and some visitors had turned back when they discovered the pond at the foot of the spillway was flooded. This didn't slow us up. Ryder, Mirabel and I jumped in and swam across the pond, then clamored up the rocks to the cascading water. A family with three young children were enjoying the water, sitting with the water crashing over them. Ryder and I joined them in the warm shower, such a delight. We climbed all over the rocks, then swam back to Cooper and Cookie. I swam with Cooper who was reluctant at first to swim, but with some maneuvering joined the fun. What a relief to get into the water. We will be spending a lot of time being wet once we move to C'dale.

On the way back to Little Grassy Lake we visited Makanda for an ice cream cone. It was nearly 5 PM and the locals had gathered on the porch to share some joy, and were a very welcoming crew. We visited with the old hippies for a while, and I felt right at home, though not quite as grizzled as some of these gents. A very different air to this place than at Little Grassy, though the atmospherics were much the same. I have a feeling that I am really going to like living among these folks who are organic, artistic, erudite and real easy going. Ryder scored a beautiful tie-dye a the Smelly Hippie-- a candle and tie-dye shop with a bigger name than inventory.

The days remained hot but the humidity lessened and indeed, it did cool off nicely at night. And the less humid it got, the brighter the stars shone. As the dusk gathered we went fishing and as soon as we cast our lines, we caught fish. Ryder was so excited with the two small crappies he caught, he really wanted to clean and eat them. I felt guilty about keeping 5 inchers, but he would have been so disappointed had I thrown them back, so we took them back to camp. He proudly showed them to his mom. I cleaned them and we threw them into a skillet with some butter. And bless his little heart, Ryder ate both fish, working his way around the bones, fins and skin. He agreed that next time we would throw the little ones back, and wait until we caught a bigger fish to eat. The whole time I was bleeding inside, lamenting the bad Karma of killing something to eat it-- and I know that the Buddha would not kill the fish. But he would eat it if I caught it and gave it to him. A thin line to cross-- or is it? I even hate threading the squirming worm onto the hook perhaps even as much as gutting the wiggling fish. None the less, I am planning on going fishing again.

Monday we spent the whole day looking at houses with Marcia. By the 6th hour it was 96 degrees and we were exhausted. Karen and Ryder drove with Marcia and I drove the Subaru with the dogs, who endured the long hot day mostly from inside the car. Our first stop was a 1908 brick plantation with 45 acres just a few miles from town. the house was awful, simply dreadfully kept up and decorated. It was dank and dark, with 1950's era everything. Less that 400K for this monstrosity on all that land. We could parcel the property off, tear down and rebuild a nice modern house.... ugh. Then we visited the "Victorian legend" again, a property we'd seen in May and really liked. 1895 Victorian completely restored with new wiring and plumbing, a modern kitchen-- it is a real beauty. And on 40 acres with a working barn and pond. The more we thought about this place, the more I was sure this was the one we wanted. We looked at our options for trying to secure this place now for future purchase-- we have to sell our Oak Park house before we can buy one in Carbondale. But what if this IS the one? Well, we had to be sure. It is indeed spectacular. But it only has two bathrooms and three bedrooms. A nice formal parlor and dinning room, much bigger than our current place. It is a bit of a drive from SIU, about 8 miles, and the nearest neighbor is 1/4 a mile a way. Quite a change from Oak Park.

We took a much more extensive look this time, exploring the basement, the out buildings and we all walked down to the pond. Ryder was so excited to see the doc and pond. We could see dozens of fish in the water-- Mirabel saw them too and jumped into get them! Ryder hung on to her leash, but didn't follow her in. Cooper and Karen ambled to the pond, pausing to flick the tics off the dog. Yup, tic country. And chiggers too we've now discovered.... OK, so maybe the Victorian Legend is not ideal, but wow, what an amazing place. So much land and such a beautiful house. Not unlike the devil we know, our 1913 mini-Victorian in Oak Park. Renovated or not, this house would be a perpetual project-- and 40 acres?

We then visited houses in the Unity Point district, reported to be the best school district in the area. The house we visited on May Apple lane was like a cabin, rather small, decorated with vast numbers of hunting trophies and chicken wall paper and kitsch. The wife was a quilter and the husband was a hunter. Oddly similar to a house we'd seen in May in Cobden, deep in the woods, filled with trophies and camoflogue clothing, only at this place the wife was a scrap booker. The thing we like best about the May Apple place was the kennel with German Shorthaired Pointers in the back and the awesome fishing pole rack in the garage. It was rather small, dark and the lot was entirely wooded.

Next we saw "the house". Still under construction, on Lake Lenore, a beautiful, modern house on 5 acres, with a lake a few hundred feet from the walk out basement. We were very attracted to the idea of living in a newly constructed, fully modern house-- 4 full baths, 4 bedrooms, granite and Corian counters, slate tile, beautiful hardwood floors-- every detail well executed and conceived. We met the developer/contractor who was working on the master bath when we arrived. Wow, this place just blew us away. The lot seemed too small as a good portion of it contained a part of the lake, and we had to travel a newly built and rather primative gravl road to access the place. But it was only 4 miles from SIU, and did I mention-- brand new? It was a lot of fun looking at this place and we have moved it to the top of our list-- in a tie with the Victorian Legend. We hope that these places will be availalbe when we have earnest money in hand. The way the housing market is moving now, this is a real possibility. If only we can sell our current home when its time. By the time we saw the next two properties we were pretty burned out from house hunting, over heated and hungry. The two we liked the most made the others pale by comparison. We do anticipate that there are other very attractive properties to consider, and know that each place will have its pluses and minuses.

We enjoyed one more night at Little Grassy Lake then rolled up the camp and drove on home to Oak Park. Not a bad drive at all-- until you get to the outskirts of Chicago when the traffic snarls and the tempers flare. What a different world it is in southern Illinois. We can hardly wait to move there. We spent the rest of the week-- my summer vacation, painting the stairwell and entry way. Gorgeous. Our house is looking really good! The irony of making it so beautiful for someone else. Looking at houses instucts us in how to prepare ours for sale. I must take all my hunting trophies down and put them away. Yeah, right.

We finished the week with our annual gala block party. We love our neighborhood and are so fond of all our neighbors. This will be what we miss the most when we move. Not the traffic, the light and sound pollution, the cost of living, the crime etc, but all of our dear friends and neighbors. Such is the price of moving.

White Sox Win!

It couldn't have been a nicer day for a game-- sunny and warm but not too hot. The whole lab went to the Cell to see the White Sox play the Texas Rangers, taking the afternoon off to enjoy the splendor of MLB on a mid-summer's day. Kristine organized the outing, bought the tickets and made all the arrangements for the 12 of us. We massed in the lab at 11:30 and took the El en masse to 35th and the Dan Ryan, to the home of the Chicago White Sox. Ryder had two pals along, Sam and Tiger so we had great hope that the fireworks would not perturb him. We found our seats on the 5th level-- nose bleed seats, down the 1st base line near the foul pole- great seats with a perfect view of all the action. Truly, there isn't a bad seat in the house. Our first test came just after the singing of the national anthem when the sky exploded with sky rockets-- and Ryder stood cheering and clapping his hands wildly over his head! It almost brought tears to my eyes seeing his enjoyment, instead of seeing him with his hands pressed over his ears and that look of abject terror. His near pathological fear of loud noises, especially fireworks has plagued him-- and us. You never know when you might encounter fireworks, at most major league sporting events is one place for sure. And there were plenty of fireworks at the game. Especially in the 8th inning when the Sox came from behind to score six runs. It was Carlos Quentin's 3 run homer that set off the fireworks. Thome had a solo homer in the first inning too, and during all of these displays Ryder soldiered through, barely affected by the booming explosions which were very near our end of the stadium. A huge breakthrough. And for the girls in the lab too-- die hard Cubs fans, they all seemed to enjoy going to the south side and seeing the Chi-Sox kick some Texas booty. The big gun, Josh Hamilton struck out 4 times and popped up to end the game. It is always a pleasure to see a team from Texas get their butts kicked, especially one formerly owned by the worst president in the history of world, one whose days are numbered-- thank goodness! I do not believe he will return to his failed career as an owner after his failure as president. In fact, other than getting elected, he's failed at every thing. Notice the price of gas recently?

and the road goes on forever...

A glorious mid-summer day with perfect sunshine, low humidity and not a cloud in the sky. The wind is blowing off the lake bringing the temperature down to the mid-seventies in the afternoon, still quite brisk this morning. I had a great ride in. I was about two minutes behind my riding buddy so I chained up to the big sprocket on front and cranked. By the time I caught her 2 miles later I had been cruising along at over 20 mph and huffing. It was good to catch my breath when we joined up. The rest of the ride was very pleasant, always nice to have company, especially if you can still cruise along at a decent pace. The group dynamic suffers from slow riders pulling back the pack, but we are tuned into a very nice 16-18 mph pace, getting me to work before the electronic lock opens the door. Just as I clicked out of my peddle the door clicked open, 27 minutes from Austin to the College of Medicine West. My homies let me know how close I was getting to my partner. At Laramie, the newspaper man told me that the lady said I would be trying to catch her, sure enough, he was right. At Kostner the euphonious one chimed out "ice-screammmmm" then let me know "lady ice-cream" was just ahead. As I rounded the corner back on to Harrison south of the Ike, there she was, 2 blocks ahead. It was a good sprint to catch up before the light at Pulaski changed.

As I ride through the hood on my way to and from work, I alway see the same folks, always in the same place, doing the same thing-- year after year. We all seem to disappear in the winter, but during the warmer months, there they are. The constant welder, the guy with the world's best work ethic at Latham industries, always at work always giving us the fist up salute as we cruise past. And the folks sitting on their front stoop in the evening as I ride home. I was struck by the realization that those 6 or 8 people, ranging in age from small children playing in the postage stamp front yard, to the old woman sitting on steps-- possibly 5 generations of the same family, all must live in that brownstone two story home. What struck me was knowing that this is what they have to look forward to. Nice and cool on the porch, watching the world go by. Day after day, year after year, this is their neighborhood, their world, their reality-- their future. No plans for leaving, just dreams of it. As their path stretches out forever before them, I rejoice in the certain knowledge that my path is about to change. Not the path of my life or my beliefs, this is THE PATH, the way, but my surroundings, my environment, my reality. My new bike ride to work will be on country roads up and down the hills of southern Illinois. Evenings spent on the wrap around porch looking out on the the fields and ponds and forests of my own property. Taking dog walks on my own land. Our neighbors not feet from our door, but hundreds of yards away. We'll hear birds singing, not the neighbor singing in the shower in the morning. The sirens screaming by will be the mythical creatures of Odysseus, not the cops on Harlem running down speeders. As I look to the future, I can only use my imagination to see what my surroundings offer, instead of knowing that just past Cicero heading west on Harrison there is a pot hole just past the bus shelter that I have to go around every day.

Bastille Daze

My favorite month is July and today is the perfect July day, low humidity, bright sun and clear blue sky. Alas, I am at work enjoying this lovely day from the other side of the computer screen. Today the French celebrate the revolution and I celebrate my birthday. Double-nickles, half way to 110. I was starting to feel old, promoted to professor and having reached the top rung of the academic ladder all I could envision was no prospects other than more of the same. Then the incredible opportunity came along and my path changed course, now leading me to a new academic challenge-- chairman. Now I feel young! A young chair with many fruitful years in my career ahead of me to devote to building the department. Now my efforts won't be micromanaged and unappreciated, and I can give my heart and soul to the job and it will be my department I am doing this for. I am energized and excited. I can hardly wait to assume the helm and take the reins. And move to Carbondale. So much to do to get ready yet it seems like such a long time to wait.

When I was on the treadmill last week, preparing for my OCCAM lecture at the NCI, I was in a bit of a funk not happy with the few pounds I've gained during the course of all my travels, and all the distraction of travel and pending moves, have gotten me off track with my day to day work. As if an electric current suddenly was connected to the treadmill, I felt this buzz begin in my feet and the vibrations traveled like a jolt of lightening through my body and out of my head-- with goose bumps and chills the epiphany came to me--BEGIN WHERE YOU ARE.

yes, of course, it always takes work, we are never there-- the journey not the destination-- yes and I have lost sight of the path. Begin now, start here, at this moment and go forward. Forget about self deprecating recriminations. Forgive yourself and go on. Having rediscovered this bit of wisdom reminds me of the story of the two monks traveling through the country side. They encountered a divan carrying a wealthy noble, stuck in the middle of a muddy road-- the rich woman demanded that the monks carry her across the muddy road so she wouldn't get soiled. The old monk slogged through the mud, picked her up and carried her across, depositing her on the dry side of the road. The rich woman said nothing, not a word of thanks, and turned and walked on her way. The monks continued down the road. After several hours the younger monk said to the older one-- "how could you do that for her? she demanded that you carry her and then didn't even thank you! Are you not angry?" The old monk said "I carried her and left her back there, yet you are still carrying her with you. Who now has the greater burden?"

yes, leave it behind, go forward, start now, begin where you are. do the work, mind the calories, get the papers written the grants submitted, get the garden weeded and house cleaned-- forget that you have lagged behind on all these things, don't carry that burden, instead, get the work done, start now, do it.

takin' off those sailin' shoes

At least for a while I will be staying around town. In the past 12 months I've traveled ~15 times, including 4 trips to DC, Yellowstone, Hawaii, Colorado 3 times, Carbondale twice, San Francisco, Ann Arbor, camping with the Indian Guides in Wisconsin twice.... now for the so called "road warrior" who travels regularly for business, this number of trips would be laughable, but for me it is the most I've ever traveled in a year. Just this week made a very quick trip to Washington DC , Bethesda actually, to visit the NIH. I was invited to give the monthly lecture at the OCCAM, a division of the NCI. Office of Cancer Complementary Alternative Medicine in the National Cancer Institute. This was one of my finest moments, I must say, going to the temple of science and presenting our work on dietary intervention in ovarian cancer. I could tell I delivered a good talk that was well received and garnered many good questions and lots of positive feedback. The cancer community was impressed with the chicken model and our results on suppression of late stage ovarian cancer with flaxseed created quite the buzz. I am working feverishly now to get these data into publishable form. I struggle with how much to say in how many papers. A good problem to have. The OCCAM is a great niche to find myself in. In a few weeks my talk will be published on the NIH website: http://www.cancer.gov/CAM/ under the monthly lecture tab. One of my new colleagues at SIU, Laura Murphy gave the previous talk. We will have the foundation of a critical mass of CAM research at SIU, which is one of the strengths I plan on building my vision of the department around. I felt like a dignitary visiting the NIH in this capacity. My previous trips to the DC area for study section have been much more work than this, reviewing all those grants and assigning scores knowing full and well that only one of two, if that many will get funded. The state of funding for biomedical research is in a terrible crisis. We have an unfunded war costing the US $500,000 a minute, yet the whole of the NIH budget is less than $28 billion for the year-- about a month of funding for the war. And what good is all that spending doing us? NOT ONE SINGLE THING! I must always remind myself of what Werner Herz told me when I graduated from UCHSC with my PhD in Biochemistry-- 25 years ago (!!!) "there will always be a shortage of good people" and so, the answer to the crisis is to do the best you can do, and as I've found in my incarnation as a cancer biologist, its important to be nimble.

Oddly enough when I was googling OCCAM to find the link to the monthly lecture videocast, the first search term that came up was for Occam's Razor, the postulate that simply states: "All other things being equal, the simplest solution is the best." Rather a cosmic coincidence. I believe I have found my niche in CAM as we embark on our 2nd funded study, this one to see if broccoli prevents ovarian cancer. And yes, chickens do eat broccoli. Consider Pliny the Elder who wrote Naturalis Historia (AD 79). He is known for his saying "True glory consists in doing what deserves to be written; in writing what deserves to be read". Relevant to my work, he described the anticancer properties of the calabrese a Mediterranean cultivar of broccoli. This made us question, when was cancer as a disease first recognize? The word cancer came from the father of medicine, Hippocrates, a Greek physician. Hippocrates used the Greek words, carcinos and carcinoma to describe tumors, thus calling cancer "karkinos". The Greek terms actually were words to describe a crab, which Hippocrates thought a tumor resembled. Although Hippocrates may have named "Cancer", he was certainly not the first to discover the disease. The history of cancer actually begins much earlier. The world's oldest documented case of cancer hails from ancient Egypt, in 1500 b.c. The details were recorded on a papyrus, documenting 8 cases of tumors occurring on the breast. It was treated by cauterization, a method to destroy tissue with a hot instrument called "the fire drill". It was also recorded that there was no treatment for the disease, only palliative treatment. There is evidence that the ancient Egyptians were able to tell the difference between malignant and benign tumors. According to inscriptions, surface tumors were surgically removed in a similar manner as they are removed today. (from http://cancer.about.com/od/historyofcancer/a/cancerhistory.htm)

So, its good to be staying put for a while, so I can get back to work.... speaking of which....