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Walking and Gawking in Ireland – Part 1

Gallery | Posted on March 30, 2015 by K.S. Schultz

Walking a mile to a mile and a half 4 times a week for 6 weeks prior to our Irish holiday deflated my middle and I lost five pounds, which to me means I can eat potatoes and bread (as long as I keep walking). You hear wild rumors as you get closer to 40, but I had to experience gaining weight while subsisting on salads and water to accept that my squirrel-like metabolism is dead along with my desire to buy a swimsuit. It all works out, though, because the rumor about fading endurance is also true. Just a few weeks of a walking routine increased my stamina and made Ireland more enjoyable than I imagined. I was even able to imitate running to catch our connection at O’Hare.

We spent our first evening in Blessington, a tiny town with a lone little terrier scouting main street just south of Dublin. On the winding gravel road back to our lodgings we got out of the car to peek at Blessington Lake.

Blessington Lake

The next morning we started off for Wicklow National Park and found ourselves stopping often to explore.

A park in Wicklow County

A park with a fast flowing stream over mossy rocks and a stone bridge called to us, as did a cemetery with Celtic crosses raised high. The faeries moved a bit too quickly for my eyes, but I swear I heard their giggles just beyond the bubbling gurgle of water.

Between my walking routine and Ireland’s vistas, I shed not only fat, but a bit of cynicism. Dreams coming true take chinks out of a calloused soul.

Walking does not build much muscle and muscle burns fat, so when I stop moving, my metabolism does, too. Motivation is plentiful on vacation, but hard to find on a snowy frigid days, which is when I discovered that truth. Almost a decade ago Ireland renewed a walking culture to combat the country’s growing obesity rate along with national dietary standards. It is not difficult to persuade an Irishman or woman to go for a stroll and GMO-free counties offer up food that reminded us what food used to taste like. My theory is that we do not eat as much when it is flavourful because we are more easily sated.

Exploring Wicklow

Low in the Wicklow Mountains

In the hills of Wicklow National Park I stumbled on loose rock and stepped in a deep uninhabited hole, highlighting the need for a walking stick. Mountain rescue teams are stationed in every area for good reason.

We were off to find St. Kevin’s monastic ruins in Glendalough and mistakenly walked up a steep road to find St. Kevin’s Parish where we lit candles for loved ones in heaven. There were lovely engraved garden sculptures on the grounds and I suspect my husband knew I would stop at the craft fair on our way back down as I was excited for any opportunity to visit with locals.

St. Kevin’s Parish

Gardens at St. Kevin’s Welcome Center

On the way up, I stopped to rest and take in the gardens at St. Kevin’s welcome center. It was all meant to be, I am sure. Just down the road we found the ruins of St. Kevin’s 6th century monastery. Raided for centuries by the Vikings, most of the standing ruins date to the 11th and 12th centuries. A man in a kilt and hose played Uillean pipes, whcih lent a melancholia to the scene, but a little girl yelling at the top of her lungs, “Rapunzel, let down your golden hair!” brushed it away. A spiritual place, the sun broke through the thick cloud cover just as I offered up my gratitude.

St. Kevin’s monastic ruins in Glendalough

Glendalough Beauty

St. Kevin’s ancient church often called “St. Kevin’s Kitchen” due to the chimney.

My husband was usually ahead of me because I am quite the gawker. Also quite the talker and writer, I have many a story to tell you about Ireland, so I will break our adventure into a few posts. Sláinte! (Good Health!)

Myth, A Poem for National Poetry Writing Month

Posted on April 2, 2014 by K.S. Schultz

Because it is National Poetry Writing Month I thought I would craft a poem for the first time in over 30 years. That is my disclaimer in case you were expecting something spectacular.

Myth

Ugly is beautiful

Intelligence is common

Obesity is comfortable

Cowardice is safe

Honesty is a virtue

What Price for Work? The Karachi Factory Fire

Posted on September 12, 2012 by K.S. Schultz

Yesterday a fire in a Lahore factory claimed the lives of at least 25 young workers who tried in vain to escape through windows that were barred. In another Pakistani city today at least 300 died in a fire at a Karachi garment factory. Trapped by bars on the windows and a bottleneck of panicked workers at the one exit to the building, many phoned their loved ones before the fire and toxic smoke overtook them. The back stairs exit leading to the roof was locked. Faulty generators are blamed as possible catalysts, but our own Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire may hint at another catalyst altogether – greed.

I found the timing of these tragedies especially meaningful due to the Michigan Supreme Court’s recent approval of a Bargaining Rights amendment for our November ballot. As a firm middle-of-the-road moderate I buck the system of reviewing media that supports my beliefs because experience has taught me that I am often misinformed and always biased. My fact-finding missions are frustrating, but that is another topic for another post. One of the constants I count on is factual history and we know the when, why, and who of the Triangle fire in New York City on March 25, 1911. 146 women perished in that factory because most of the exits were locked by the owners to prevent theft and the one fire escape collapsed. Many of the women jumped to their deaths. There was no need for bars on the windows of the 8th, 9th, and 10th floors of the Asch building. The Ladies Garment Worker’s Union was born from the Triangle factory tragedy and I credit the women that perished with the realization of worker’s rights, safety standards, and organized labor. They did not die in vain. Now the voters in Michigan are being asked to trust that these rights are secure and freely given by the generous owners of the corporations we work for. Recent history indicates otherwise as does personal experience. In a bottom-line work world can we afford to not learn from our history?

Although Pakistan is a world away, globalization connects us, as does our need to work to live. We mainly affect our own communities with our votes, but we affect the world with our dollars. My stomach turned when I read that more workplace tragedies happen at this time of year as third-world factories increase production for Christmas.

As always: take what you want and leave the rest behind.

Keep your politics out of my sex

Posted on February 11, 2012 by K.S. Schultz

Even George Orwell could not have predicted the current level of absurdity surrounding women’s health in general and birth control pills specifically. What chicanery are the men that run this country up to that they are seriously debating accessibility to birth control in the year of Our Lord 2012? I feel as though I’ve stepped through a looking glass and been transported to a long-ago era before Margaret Sanger sought funding from Planned Parenthood to research a progesterone pill that would stop ovulation in the early 1900’s. This is not an issue of religious freedom or morality, but one of politics and diversion by both political parties.

First corsets made a comeback and 4-inch stilettos returned to torture the next generation. Then in 2009 U.S. District Judge Edward Korman not only questioned the White House’s interest in the FDA’s decision-making process regarding whether Plan B should be made available to women of all ages without a prescription, but rebuked the FDA for departing from its usual procedures. Korman wrote that the FDA’s lack of good faith was evidenced by, “repeated and unreasonable pressure emanating from the White House.” The federal court ordered that Plan B be made available over the counter to those 17 and older while the FDA continued its research, all of which turned out to be a huge waste of resources when Kathleen Sebelius, U.S. Secretary of Health, overruled the FDA’s conclusion that Plan B is safe for all ages citing concerns for parental rights and eleven-year-olds who may not understand the packaging. I find it utterly ridiculous that the current administration believes they can ever appease social conservatives by claiming to have such concerns. If a parent considers it their right to know about their daughter’s sex life, then it is their job to build a trusting relationship. Tell a teenager that it is a Washington mandate and see how far that gets you. The Department of Health and Human Services has never before said to hell with science, never before trumped the FDA, but then politics has never paid so well, either. Perhaps HHS’s efforts would be better spent educating a country with the highest teen pregnancy rate among any developed country.

To be perfectly clear, Rick Santorum did not say he is against birth control. What he said is that the Supreme Court was wrong to say that states cannot outlaw contraception in Griswold v. Connecticut (1965, YES, 196frickin’5). 1.5 million women in the United States, including me, take birth control pills for health concerns other than pregnancy prevention, but why would the average male politician be well-versed in women’s health? Mr. Santorum also stated that sex has been deconstructed to the point where it’s simply pleasure. And your point, Mr. Santorum? With infidelity’s wild ride through political bedrooms, I am hardly looking to you for relationship advice or spiritual counseling. My money is on hypocrisy.

The cherry on top of the movement to turn back time is the “religious freedom” debate regarding insurance coverage for no-cost contraception. When I went to pick up the birth control pill that my doctor thought would work best for hormonal changes I was told that my insurance company wouldn’t cover it, just as my daughter was told about the name-brand pill her doctor prescribed as birth control. Because I cannot afford $110 per month for those pills, we are trying a generic that might work, but certainly not as well. These costly limitations on prescription contraception coverage were addressed in the health care reform bill that was passed in 2009. Now, if I go to work for a religious hospital or university I am not entitled to coverage of that cost, nor is my daughter. In my case it means night sweats, hot flashes, and mood swings. For my daughter, who was married last summer and is watching her college investment pay off with a burgeoning career, it is her future and her children’s future. The religious exemption may be extended to ANY employer that has religious issues with contraception coverage. Religious freedom or money? Are women so threatening with our equal share of the job market, number of seats in university lecture halls, and longer life spans that the power structure has resorted to a paternal barefoot and pregnant strategy? I may seem paranoid, but how does automated packaging of 1 million birth control packages go awry? See…that’s the type of thinking that results from taking the cheapest pill instead of the right one.

As Obama Overrules the FDA on Plan B One-Step, Access to Emergency Contraception in Asia Grows (globalspin.blogs.time.com)
The National Women’s Law Center Takes a Position on Contraceptive Coverage & “Extreme” Legislation (jonathanturley.org)

Final Goodbyes

Posted on January 26, 2012 by K.S. Schultz

Although how we say goodbye to the dead has evolved and varies from culture to culture, the need is as old as time, as is the belief that there is an afterlife. Even Neanderthals placed flowers in the hands of the dead before they sealed the bodies in caves 300,000 years ago. Memories rush in, clouded by love and grief, and although it is past too late, we appreciate them more when they are out of our reach forever. Honoring the ones we’ve lost cauterizes our wound, and we accept that the ceremony is for us, the living. It sets us on the path to healing, our cries resembling a release valve on an overflowing well of hurt. Living there for a few hours reminds us that death is the great equalizer and for a time we hold our living loves closer, sometimes afraid of the randomness of death, oftentimes aware of how brief even a long life is.

The days of public displays of the dead are waning, thank God, replaced by memorial services and “celebrations of life”. We turn to God, even if it is the only time we do so, for comfort and hope that our loved ones live on. You may shy away from reading this, grief being among the hardest emotions and certainly one we want to avoid. It is also common ground for every person that was ever born. January is to me what April was to T.S. Elliot. Time dulls the edges, but I hold tight to my deepest grief because it is all I have left of my son. It is mine and this public declaration is unusual to say the least. I know death makes people uncomfortable and talk of it is to be avoided, especially when we are years away from a tragedy. One of the changes I’ve experienced in this decade is that I am becoming increasingly transparent and immune to other’s expectations.

We attended a memorial service last week for Dale, an uncommon character and dear friend of my parents’. I was moved when the preacher said that Dale loved to tease, or as his wife Sue put it, “agitate”. It seems more respectful to remember him as he was. Dale’s agitation came with rewards, however, such as his outlandish stories about inventing the computer, the internet, and a multitude of other modern conveniences. He was a Navy Seal deep diver (for real) when decompression was unheard of and his heart paid the price. Only Dale would consider his chainsaw as a remedy for the dozens of situations he employed it for. He made us laugh and was an overly generous man. We received a thank-you card from his wife yesterday that asked us to remember our good times with Dale. We will.

The traditional “what the hell?” gift and other Christmas surprises

Posted on December 28, 2011 by K.S. Schultz

Inevitably, I receive at least one Christmas gift that makes me wonder, “What the hell made her buy me that?” and it is usually from my Mom. I am her only child and can only surmise that it is because she buys me so many gifts and gets caught up in a Christmas buying frenzy. This year it was Hello Kitty sleep pants. I try not to say, “What the hell?” out loud anymore, but could not stifle my laughter. Accustomed to my insensitivity, my Mom immediately offered, “They are SO cute!” But, I am not a cutesy kind of gal, despite the winking kitty and the kitty with reading glasses that make me giggle every time I look at them. However I create characters who are, so I will wear them when I need to channel a girly girl. When she reads this she will say out loud, “I gave you gift receipts”, but I would never dream of returning them. They and everything else quickly faded into the background when I opened the Godiva chocolate bar she gave me. “Rapture” and “ecstasy” are how I would describe my experience with Godiva.

My Daughter gave me a jar of brandied blackberry jam. I have not had booze with breakfast before, but this stuff has made me a believer. Well, at least in brandied jam. My Dad gifts me with monkeys because the monkey is my Chinese astrological sign. This year I received a monkey steel bank where the monkey climbs a palm tree to deposit a coin in the top of the tree. My home office is called “the monkey room” because it houses the majority of them. They scare the shit out of my husband who knows that monkeys are not always fun. Hearing how meaningful these monkey gifts are to me, my friend David made me monkey cookies for Christmas. The cookies were extra special because he had to form them with mix and match cutters, not having a monkey cookie-cutter, and he put spices in them so they were not the usual sugar cookies. David is not the usual friend; he is a bit spicier. In case you have not figured it out, my family goes to great lengths to buy thoughtful gifts (I think my Mom does it on purpose). In the season of consumption it may be our way of separating ourselves from the herd and appreciating each person’s uniqueness. I really am quite blessed with an unusual group of family and friends who make this absurd world not only more bearable, but lovely and laughable.

Take-Aways from George Bailey

Posted on December 13, 2011 by K.S. Schultz

It’s a Wonderful Life has been a meaningful part of my Christmas season for decades. I find as I get older small things such as my love for this classic are enduring. Every year I’m inspired by George Bailey and his truly blessed life. George is a regular guy with big dreams who feels beholden to do the right thing, which often means foregoing his own desires. Even as a kid, George Bailey is an unintentional hero who risks his own well-being for the greater good. He still wishes for a million dollars like everyone else does. Hot dog! Opportunities to make a difference in other’s lives are usually unexpected, but I love this movie because we and George get to see the impact of his actions. That there are often unknown ripple effect of our actions is my truth, but then movies and books have gifted me with what some people deem as an unrealistic outlook. I call those people “cynics” and try to ignore them even when life is tough due to my take-the-easy-way-out inability.

But, I know I am not the only one. In 2007 Vince Gill released a song written by Al Anderson with the chorus, “All that you can take with you is what you give away”, which is very close to a framed quote under the picture of George Bailey’s dad in the Bailey Bros. Building and Loan. George is sometimes reluctant to give up his plans to “shake the dust from this crummy little town off my feet” and see the world, but by the time he forks over his honeymoon fund during a run on the bank he has embraced his role in Bedford Falls. Mary’s hair must have smelled heavenly to him when they were on the phone with Sam Wainwright. His dreams were thwarted so many times by that point that he trades them in to forge a new life path with his bride. George didn’t forget his desires, his big dreams, but adjusted to life’s reality, a reality rich in intangible treasures. The George Bailey line I relate to most is when Clarence explains that he knows so much because he is George’s guardian angel and George says, “Well, you look like the kind of angel I’d get”. I feel ya, George.

Along those same lines is the trouble he faces when Uncle Billy loses the Building & Loan’s deposit. You would think that after all the good George spread around he might have softened old man Potter’s greedy mean heart, but that is not the way it works, is it? A person rarely goes against their nature. It is George’s friends that come through for him, the very ones that motivated his detour. Sometimes I think my choices have not been appreciated a whit and are likely forgotten. It’s a Wonderful Life implies that is not the case and if I consider the impact others have had on my life, my dark thoughts are rendered senseless. I take away so many lessons from George Bailey. I may be uncertain of my financial future, but no man is a failure who has friends. Heehaw!

Ousted as a rabble-rouser for all the world to see

Posted on December 9, 2011 by K.S. Schultz

Yesterday was a national day of action for supporters of 2012 federal unemployment insurance extensions with demonstrations across the country from 2-3 p.m. I told my husband that I planned to lend to the numbers in a demonstration outside our local state representative’s office, but that I was not bringing a protest sign. That was not a problem because the organization We Are The People had a sign for me and all of the other demonstrators. Within minutes of meeting a few of my compatriots one of the organizers asked me if I would be willing to say something to the crowd because they did not have an unemployed woman on their speaker schedule. “Just 2 to 3 minutes”, he said. All of a sudden I faced backing up my values with action that could result in publicity. One of my former coworkers had already driven by, so I knew the rumor mill would be spinning within the hour, but risking publicity is daunting when I am hoping someone will hire me. The work world is a precarious and intimidating place with people becoming uber-compliant in hopes of keeping their pay. Being unemployed has made me careful, too (note the abbreviation of this blog’s author’s name). However when put to the test I will do what is “right”, to the frustration of many past acquaintances and sometimes to my detriment. Anyone who knows me would tell you that if you ask for my opinion I will offer it up 99% of the time, often ad nauseam because I deeply desire people to understand what I say. What began as 2 to 3 minutes speaking to my fellow demonstrators segued into a request from the Grand Rapids Press to print my name along with the picture on this post (we are praying), an interview request from a local labor paper, and another for an on camera interview with a reporter from a local news station. To say I was uncomfortable and nervous is like saying blue flames are hot. My only regret is that I had not prepared a statement, something I will be sure to think about PRIOR to attending future demonstrations. No matter how prepared though, I would never have anticipated a reporter asking me if in lieu of finding a job as an administrative professional a.k.a. secretary, I would consider becoming an apprentice plumber. I am sad when I hear remarks like, “if they spent more time looking for a job rather than protesting…” and “they should be willing to take work outside their field for less pay”. First of all, the slim number of jobs to apply for leaves me with some spare time. Secondly, every business needs secretarial work completed just as much as they need the toilets and faucets to not leak. Almost as much, anyway.

Muppet-Style Capitalism

Posted on December 8, 2011 by K.S. Schultz

In an all-too-familiar effort to draw attention away from the world’s economic and political angst Fox Business Network recently accused the Muppets of brainwashing our children with liberal anti-capitalism ideology. Anchor Eric Bolling kicked off the discussion by stating that the new Muppet movie teaches children class warfare by pitting the iconic Muppets against the villainous and hugely wealthy oil baron Tex Richman. Walt Disney furthers their anti-capitalist agenda by energizing Miss Piggy, Kermit, and their friends to revive the defunct Muppet Movie Studio or lose it to Tex who will bulldoze it to drill for oil. The Muppets do not have the $10 million in the bank needed to save the studio , nor are they good friends with Sam Walton’s family, so their only option is to complete repairs on the run-down property and put on a vaudeville-like Muppet Telethon. I would definitely scrape up some change for the Muppets if they held a telethon and I think my friends would, too. In short, they work their little felt bottoms off to save the studio. Angles Tantaros of Fox News agreed with Bolling’s assessment of this diabolical movie, saying “It is brainwashing in its most obvious form. I just wish liberals would leave little kids alone.” In the real world where liberal and conservative parents’ wallets have been lightened by the Walt Disney corporation for decades, our littlest capitalists are immune to such imaginings. My 4-year-old niece said to her mom last week, “You NEVER buy me anything!” You gotta give her credit. Perfect timing with Christmas on the horizon and I am all too familiar with her precocious delivery. What my niece will likely take away from The Muppets movie is that if the Muppets can raise 10 million dollars by working hard then her mom and dad need to try harder so they can provide her with more of what she desires. This Christmas she desires a touch-screen phone. Our children are not in any danger of seeing money as a bad thing because of an evil oil baron that The Muppets trounce with hard-work and help from their community. If anything, Miss Piggy dripping in jewels and wearing sequined high heels with a feather boa will revive the Muppet dynasty for another generation.

Spending it all on Christmas

Posted on November 30, 2011 by K.S. Schultz

When Josh Brolin’s character in Wall Street Money Never Sleeps is asked how much is enough he replies, “More”. It must have been the Christmas season. Although we do not openly agree with him, most of us, deep down, wish we had “more” even as we tout how grateful we are. We talk about the reason for the season, but the truth is Americans plan to spend an average of $700 on Christmas gifts and we all know how those well-planned budgets fail at Christmas time. The electronic gadgets we crave are guaranteed budget-breakers; my iTouch comes in a close second to the best Christmas present I ever received. I do not expect anything will ever beat the joy I felt upon discovering an orange Huffy under the tree when I was six. Why do we get caught up in frenzied over-spending during what is supposedly the most blessed time of year with family and friends? Is it our herd mentality that is so evident on Black Friday? Is it our desire for our children to feel the kind of joy I felt when I spied my Huffy? Is it the endless TV ads, emails, and catalogs that lure us in with their touted deals? I keep telling myself that I have everything I need, but the diamond commercials make me drool. My husband puts me in check by yelling “Blood diamonds!” with faked indignation. I never should have let him watch that movie. Honestly, what makes me overspend is that I want to buy special presents for everyone I love. We get more pleasure from giving than receiving, but I wouldn’t try telling that to a six-year-old.

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