© Catherine Haslag

Conservation Laws

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There are many conservation laws that govern how the universe works.  I teach two of these laws in my chemistry classes.

The first is the Law of Conservation of Matter, which states that matter cannot be created or destroyed. Atoms can rearrange to make new compounds, but the amount of matter you start with will equal the amount of matter you end with.

The second is the Law of Conservation of Energy, which states that energy cannot be created or destroyed. Energy can convert from one type to another (kinetic energy to potential energy or mechanical energy to electrical energy). Still, the amount of energy you start with will equal the amount of energy you end with.

These laws mean that you can never create more than you started with.
Business pushes the concept “do more with less.” However, since you can’t end with more than you started with based on the Laws of Conservation of Matter and Energy, it is impossible to do more with less.

This example is one of the many reasons a basic understanding of science is essential – it allows you to understand when someone is peddling bullshit, so you know not to buy it.

© Catherine Haslag

The Tree

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© Catherine Haslag

Jumper Cables

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During my senior year of high school, I got my first car – a 1973 Oldsmobile Delta Royale in toad green. We called it The Toad. It was a hand-me-down from my Uncle Jerry. It was a boat, but it got me where I needed to go. This car offered several amenities to 18-year-old Catherine:

  • bench seats in the front and back,
  • a heater that could bake a turkey on defrost,
  • a trunk that could carry numerous bodies (if necessary), and
  • one of those old radios with the big silver buttons you had to jam in to make the station change.

Much to the horror of my stepfather, I could lay head-to-toe in the back seat, and neither my head nor feet would touch the doors. I was forbidden to take it on dates.

These jumper cables got me a parking spot and to class on time.

My Uncle Dick gave me some equipment for Christmas that year that every car owner needs: jumper cables. These weren’t any run-of-the-mill set of jumper cables; they were 20-foot, heavy-duty jumper cables. At the time, they seemed like overkill. Wouldn’t 6 or 9-footers work just as well? Over time, I came to appreciate the wisdom of this gift.

I never lived more than a few blocks off campus when I was in college, but sometimes I still needed to take my care to campus. If you arrived after 9 am, it was hard to find a spot. It was common to see people driving through the lots, stalking a student who was headed back to their car. If you followed them and patiently waited, you would be rewarded with a parking space.

I often used this tactic to find a parking spot. One day, I saw a woman headed back to her car. I rolled down my window and asked where she was parked. She motioned towards her car. I followed her and waited patiently for her to pull out of her space. I waited and waited. Finally, she got out of her car and walked over to my window. She had left her lights on, and her battery was dead. I couldn’t pull in close to her car because the spaces all around her were occupied. All she had was a set of short jumper cables. However, I had my trusty 20-foot jumper cables. I pulled up behind her, took out my cables, and we had her car started in no time. When she left, I took her parking space. My 20-foot jumper cables got me a parking space, and I made it to class on time.

Those jumper cables have had a home in every car I’ve owned. Over the years, they jumped the vehicles of friends, strangers, and my own during a polar vortex in January 2019. There were piles of snow everywhere, the coldest wind I have ever felt beating on me, and I was parked nose-first into the space, but the cables still did their job. I never worry about reaching the battery because the cables are always long enough.

There are times when we need to be thrifty and times when it’s worth it to invest in a better quality item. So my advice is to always spend the extra money on a pair of heavy-duty, 20ft (or longer) jumper cables. You will not be disappointed.

© Catherine Haslag

Un

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I live life by the semester as a college teacher: fall, spring, and summer.

It’s generally an excellent rhythm for me. I have time and space to work on new ideas for my classes in the summer. This is important because it’s hard to work on new ideas for courses while teaching. Then, in the fall and spring, I put those ideas to use and focus on working with my students.

This fall was the first time I wasn’t giddy about going back to school. It wasn’t the usual fresh start I previously relished. Usually, I enjoy the buzz and energy of the new school year, but not this year. This August felt more like a trudge into the repetitive and mundane. I wasn’t starting as my usual, fresh from summer self.

This semester has been one of the hardest of my career. I see the exhaustion in my students and feel that same exhaustion in myself. So many mornings, I have said “Good morning” at the start of class and received silence in return. The students I see are shell-shocked and burned, even at 9am. This doesn’t bode well if they have later classes. It’s hard to keep students motivated when they are already running at less than half a tank. It’s even more complicated when your tank is low as well.

I know my students and I aren’t the only ones who feel the weight of it all. We are about to enter year 3 of a pandemic with no unified approach and no definite end in sight. Our country is divided as it has been for more than 150 years. Misinformation runs through the internet and cable wires like wildfire, adding to the mess. We went on as best we could with life as usual, but this is a time of the unusual, the uncertain, the unsettled, the uncomfortable, the unrest…this is a time of the un.

There is no semester rhythm in the time of the un.

Next week, I will give finals, figure grades, and make a game plan for the short break between the fall and spring semesters. This is a time to rest and prepare for the spring semester – when I will do my best to deal with the un of life…and hope my students will too.

Oscar

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His name was Oscar.

He lived at Westphalia Hills for some period of time that covered at least the end of November 2019 to the very beginning of December 2019. I don’t know exactly how long he was there, just that his stay overlapped with my uncle’s time there in hospice.

Photo obtained from Shutterstock.

I encountered Oscar every time I entered the complex. Oscar wanted someone to help him back into bed and he wasn’t shy asking for help to reach this goal.

His ONLY goal.

And he pursued it with single-minded dedication.

This was my only interaction with Oscar. He would politely ask me to help him back to his room. Then he wanted help getting into bed.

This wasn’t a dirty request. He wasn’t being inappropriate. He just wanted to be in his bed…and stay there.

The first time I went to find a nursing assistant to help him, I found out this was Oscar’s game. He roamed the building all day looking for someone to take him to his room and help him into bed. But the staff didn’t want him in bed. They wanted him out and active, even if his only activity was finding a way to get back into his bed.

You always knew where Oscar was. You either heard him asking for help (Oscar wasn’t a quiet guy) or someone yelling at him to get out of their room. Oscar often rolled into the rooms of other residents. I still remember the day he ended up in the room of a pair of ladies. You would think a fox had just gotten into the hen house based on the commotion that erupted.

I tell this story not to make fun of Oscar but rather to share the comic relief he provided to me and my family at this time. As we were watching my uncle take his final steps from this world, we had Oscar’s antics as a distraction. We shared stories about what he was up to each day and what trouble he caused. He provided levity during a very heavy time. Oscar will never know how he broke the tension of a very difficult time for us.

I don’t know who Oscar was before or after those three weeks, but I am grateful for the encounters we had.

I think of him often, smile, and hope he achieved his goal.

© Catherine Haslag

Pre-Flight

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I flew for the first time when I was 10.  I went with my grandma and uncle to California to visit my other uncle.  We flew TWA out of St. Louis.

I recently took my first plane trip in 2 years.  I flew to Las Cruces to visit some friends.  As I sat in Chicago for three hours waiting for my connecting flight, I started thinking about how air travel has changed since I took my first flight in 1990.

We used to stand in line at the airport to check in and get our boarding passes.  It was common to check a bag and you were allowed to check one for free.  Now, I check in from my cell phone.  It costs $30-$50 to check a bag, so I pack everyone I need in my carry-on.  If it’s not necessary for the trip, I don’t take it.  I have gotten really good at packing light.

Boarding passes were printed.  You had to be careful notto lose it.  I spent a lot of time checking my pockets to make sure I still had it.  They also doubled as a great bookmark for the trip.  Now, I pull my boarding pass up on my cell phone or watch.  No more checking pockets and no more handy bookmarks.

I don’t remember having any layovers when I was a kid.  It was a lot more common to get a direct flight from St. Louis to California or D.C.  Now, I always expect a layover.  I can’t tell you the last time I flew and didn’t have a layover in Chicago (ORD), Dallas (DFW), or Denver (DEN).  Oddly enough, I have never had a layover in Atlanta (ATL).

I remember my grandparents, uncles, cousin, and I all going to the airport together when I was a kid.  When my Uncle Dick flew in or out for a visit, we went and sat with him at the gate until he boarded his flight, or we met him right at the gate, searching the faces of the people walking up the gangway for his.  Now, those human moments of hugs and delight at seeing your loved one again happen at baggage claim or in the “kiss and fly” zone.  Unless you are a ticketed passenger, you aren’t getting past security.

There were meals and a snack on the planes.  Every flight.  I would get off a plane with a full belly.  As a kid, I was very concerned with what our flight would be serving.  Now, you are lucky to get a drink and a cookie.  Airlines don’t give nuts out on flights anymore because of allergies. The only meals I see served on planes are for international flights…and they aren’t as good as they used to be.

There used to be in-flight movies, usually a family-friendly film that was recently released but may or may not be in theaters at the time of the flight.  It was projected on a few screens scattered throughout the plane. Now, large planes offer each passenger their own mini entertainment center with movies and TV shows they can scroll through and choose from.  If your flight doesn’t offer you this option, most travelers have a phone or tablet they can watch downloaded movies and TV shows on to view in flight.

There have been changes in luggage styles, services offered in the airport, the way passengers dress and entertain themselves on flights.  Walkmans have been replaced by ear pods and iPhones.  Books and trashy magazines are still a standard. Hudson News is still a standard shop in many airports.

Security has changed too.  You still run your bags through a scanner, but now you have to take off all jackets, shoes, and items that aren’t the layer above your bra and panties.  Body scans are standard practice, often followed with a pat-down that in other situations would qualify as sexual assault.  I have literally had a woman with TSA put her hands in my pants.  When I went through security for my first flight, my 10-year-old self didn’t have to strip first and no one touched me inappropriately.

Another sign of the times and how much things have changed.  Something common and mostly insignificant that reveals so much more about what our world was and is becoming.

©2023 Catherine Haslag, All Rights Reserved.

Attention

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Everyone wants your attention.

The junk mail.

The spam texts.

The telemarketers.

The jingles on the radio.

The commercials on TV.

The ads on social media.

The Billboards along the roadside.

The videos blaring at the gas stations.

The sponsored content in online news.

Each one stealing a little from you,

Until you have nothing left to give.

© Catherine Haslag

Prime

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Me on my birthday in City of Rocks State Park in New Mexico.

Primetime, prime numbers, Amazon Prime, prime meridian, prime rib, Prime Directive, primadonna, primeval, Optimus Prime, primordial, prime cut, prima ballerina, prime of your life.

Prime can be used as an adjective or a noun. As an adjective, it means of first importance, main, of the best possible quality, excellent. As a noun, it is a state or time of greatest strength, vigor, or success in a person’s life. The word originates from Old English prim and from Latin prima.

Needless to say, I have been thinking about prime lately.

There are a total of 25 prime numbers between 1 and 100 – 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31, 37, 41, 43, 47, 53, 59, 61, 67, 71, 73, 79, 83, 89, 97.

Me on my birthday in City of Rocks State Park in New Mexico.

I had no idea until I made this list that I had already celebrated 12 prime years of my life. If I live to 100, I will celebrate 12 more. This puts me squarely in mid-life.

I just celebrated prime birthday number 13, a prime number itself. This prime birthday by extension makes this a prime year for me. This is how I am framing this next trip around the sun for me – a prime year.

A prime year to learn, to grow, the develop relationships with those I love, to get stronger, to explore, to read more, and to continue enjoying this thing we call life.

I am truly in my prime.

I look forward to where this prime year will lead me.

 

Thanks to Fred Bogott for pointing out that 41 is a prime number.  You inspired this post and my outlook on this coming year.

© Catherine Haslag

One Year

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One year ago this month, I posted my first blog. I created this space to help me develop my voice and become a better writer. Over the course of the past year, I have learned a lot about myself, how I want to live my life, what I want to say with my voice, and how I want to say it. I will let you debate on the improvement of my writing skills.

Biking the Root River Trail, Summer 2021

The blogs I have shared here have come to me while riding my bike, driving to Missouri to visit my family, and tearfully at 3 am when I couldn’t sleep. I have writing ideas jotted in my various journals, in my notes app on my phone, and on my computer. Some of these ideas will become blogs posted here. Others will never get beyond those few jotted notes.

I have also drafted a few pieces that will not be shared on this blog or anywhere else. They are still too raw and do not communicate a message that I think is worth sharing with the general public. While I have a first amendment right to freedom of speech, that doesn’t mean that all of my speech needs to be shared. I strongly believe in freedom of speech, but I also feel we have the responsibility to self-censure when that speech won’t contribute to creating a productive discourse or a more perfect union.

I have learned so much over the past year while writing for this blog. I learned that I am not good at writing book reviews. While I love to read books, writing reviews is not my jam. It puts too much pressure on me and takes away some of the pleasure I get from reading.

I learned that a good piece doesn’t have to be long. One of my favorite poems is only 4 words long.

I have learned that some ideas/thoughts are not things I want to spend my time writing about, so I let them go back into the invisible universe of ideas. Someone else can use their time to explore it.

I learned that stillness, reflection, and time are key to developing a good blog post. I don’t have to shoot for the moon. The simplest of ideas tend to lend themselves to better writing. (I assume that if you are reading this that you think my blogs are at least marginally good. If you disagree that my blogs are any good, then I wonder why you are reading this and not something else.)

I learned blogging provides space for me to examine, process, and rethink my life, values, ideas, the world around me. I learned that facts are guideposts for me to locate truth, which is incredibly valuable to me. I learned that I have a hard time relating to people who don’t value facts as I do.

This space has also allowed me to take a trip down memory lane. The nostalgia has been a welcome respite during the pandemic. It has also helped me to appreciate some things in my life I had never given deep thought to previously.

I have also learned that I want to keep doing this work. Even if no one else ever reads this, I find value in writing it…and that’s all that really matters to me.

As I state on the front page of this blog, “…this blog is for my growth and learning…” I still don’t know where this work is leading me, but I am enjoying the journey.

I look forward to seeing where it takes me over the next year.

 

A Very Special Thanks…

Thanks to all of you who have read and continue to read my blogs and sent me feedback over the past year. I really appreciate your time and insights.

I want to give a big thanks to Sue Grove, who has proofed some of my blogs and helped me learn how to write using active voice. I am by no means perfect in this, but I am improving with every sentence I write.

Thank you also to my wonderful partner, Jason, who manages all the website details so I can just think, write, and post. Thank you for being a cheerleader for my vision. I love you.

©2023 Catherine Haslag, All Rights Reserved.

Fall Back

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It happened again this November 7. In the wee hours of the morning, the clocks rolled back an hour.

Daylight savings time ended.

This time of year is hard for me. The daylight is already dwindling as the northern hemisphere tilts further from the sun. I live in southern Minnesota. The summer solstice provides us with 15 hours 30 minutes and 9 seconds of daylight. The winter solstice brings a measly 8 hours 59 minutes and 2 seconds of daylight, a 42% decrease. I am writing this on November 7 where we have 10 hours 1 minute and 50 seconds of daylight. Tomorrow, we will have 1 minute 19 seconds less daylight.

The shorter days are hard on me. I try to get more exercise, take vitamin D daily, and spend time outside whenever possible to help combat the shorter amount of daylight. The gut punch each fall comes when we “fall back” by setting our clocks back one hour. There is something about that shift of daylight from being in the evening hours to the morning hours that just knocks it out of me. For me, the extra hour of sleep isn’t worth it. I feel like I spend so much of my time in the dark because the sun sets before 5p now (4:56pm to be precise). The darkness makes is feel so late so early in the evening. I could crawl into bed at 8pm this time of year…and sometimes I do.

So I hunker down, drink more hot tea, find some good books to read, take double the vitamin D, make some hot soup, and wait for March 13, 2022 when we will spring forward and have daylight in the evening again.

References

Sunrise Sunset, (2014-2021). Sunrise Sunset Times in Austin, MN. https://sunrise-sunset.org/

(Yes, I looked up all of those hours of daylight and sunsets.)