share.triangle.com - North Raleigh News -- Fifth Friday columns - Comments

Steve Gilbert

northraleighnews — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 10:07:41 -0500

I'm thinking about joining the Peace Corps. Don't ask me why. I'm 43 years old. I have a wife, three kids, and enough obligation to keep me busy for a couple more decades. What on earth could I possibly see in serving an organization that would significantly add to those priorities, not to mention that wee-bit issue of being sent without my family to some far-off, underdeveloped country?
Honestly, I don't even know if the Peace Corps would take me, and why should they? After college, I spent four years in the U.S. Army, including nine months in the Persian Gulf during Operation Desert Storm. I served my country honorably. Shouldn't the volunteer effort in America now rest with someone else, perhaps of a younger generation, who is still delinquent in giving back something to society?
That's a tough question for a parent, especially for one whose oldest child sits on the edge of adulthood. What could I be asking of him? What manner of service might he choose? Would it put him in harms way?
But truly I am torn. I listen aghast to the horrid state of affairs going on – the war on terror, global warming, immigration and education reform – and I'm not even sure who to trust anymore. The situation, at times, seems dire and is just frightening enough to make me want to pack up the house and scurry off to some deep woods, a place where my family and I can live in peace, content and self-reliant. Is that not the very definition of a blissful life?
Then I think about my kids. What message would packing up and retreating to a life of seclusion send them? That if you're afraid and don't like what's going on you can always find somewhere to hide? Isn't that exactly what we parents try to undo every time a child comes to us in the night, shaking in their PJs, afraid of the monster camped out in their closet? We don't run away, we show them: Open the door. Take a look. There's nothing in there that will frighten you. Maybe a mess that needs to be addressed in the morning. But retreat beneath the bed covers? Don't be silly.
Sometimes I am appalled at what the world has become. I worry what the future holds and what grief our children will undertake in trying to fix it. A planet in questionable health. Wars fueled by hatred. Poverty. Greed. Political corruption. The list goes on. Fears that are by monster-in-the-closet standard simply unfathomable. And they will have come about while the world was on my watch. That's right. I will be to blame. As will every other adult American.
To be sure, my children will remember my military service. They will know that Dad did some good. But does that grant me the privilege to sit back despite this nagging worry and accept myself as merely an eyewitness to modern times, inactive in shaping the world my children will someday inherit?
I don't understand it all, I surely don't. I'm no more an expert on the ozone layer than I am on foreign governments. But I do know at some point some things will need to change. And you can't do that for children from deep in the woods. You show them. You open the door. Perhaps it doesn't take joining the Peace Corps, but it does require something. Maybe, just maybe it starts with a closet in my own wee-bit part of the world.

Jeff Wooten

northraleighnews — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 10:03:06 -0500

Fitness Myths Exposed!

Talk to anyone at your local gym, and I am sure you will easily come across one or more of these ubiquitous myths. So pervasive are these myths that I am willing to bet dollars to doughnuts that you have fallen prey to at least one of the 10.
The real question is, how many of these myths have victimized you? Check out the top 10 myths, then learn how to overcome the obstacles and get that fit and firm body you've always dreamed of -- without wasted energy!
And before I forget, let me remind you that the information you find here is not to be taken as medical advice. Always consult a qualified doctor before engaging in any exercise program.
Myth 10: If I stop exercising, my muscle will turn to fat.
It's actually quite understandable that many exercise enthusiasts believe this myth. First of all, we see what happens to a person who builds muscle and then stops training. They become fat. That formerly "buff" bod that everyone ooohed and ahhhed over now looks like a stuffed pillow. So, one naturally believes that the muscle that was once there is now gone and replaced by fat. Well, you are partially right.
As with all myths, this one must be understood and corrected. Muscle can no more turn to fat than my finger can become a kidney. This is because we are talking about two different types of tissue here.
The problem is not that the muscle has "turned into fat." The problem is the loss of muscle. With the loss of muscle comes a commensurate drop in metabolism. The body then begins to store more excess calories. And guess what form your body prefers for calorie storage? That's right, fat! So, as you lose muscle, you naturally become more fat.
Myth 9: Muscle weighs more than fat.
In my experience, the layperson tends to believe this myth mostly because he either read it or heard a fitness or health professional say it. It sounds reasonable anyway, right? Fat is just this light, fluffy substance, while muscle is solid as a rock.
This one reminds me of the joke that goes, Which is heavier, 1,000 pounds of feathers or 1,000 pounds of steel? We used to tell that joke as kids. It is funny how many people will pick the steel, when, in fact, they weigh exactly the same. We hear the words "feathers" and "steel" and think about the density of the material. It takes a small piece of steel to equal the weight of a whole trash bag of feathers. But if you can get enough feathers, you can make 1,000 lbs.
The same goes for fat versus muscle. First of all, let's understand that "solid" muscle is actually 70 percent water. Sorry to have to say that, but it's true. It's the protein (the contractile elements of the muscle) which makes the difference in that remaining 30 percent.
With that, muscle is more dense than fat. So, a pound of fat takes up much more space in your body than a pound of muscle. This means that when you begin a good training regimen, you may in fact gain weight because you will lose a bunch of fat and gain muscle. Believe me, this is a good thing, because you will then be leaner and smaller in circumference.
Myth 8: The opposite of fat is skinny.
Can you say, "The Media." Yes, we are constantly bombarded with society's ever-changing standards of beauty and fitness. This is why sex goddesses of yesteryear, such as Marilyn Monroe and Mae West, would be considered chubby by today's standards.
Here we are in 2006, and still so many women and men think skinny is healthy. Believe me, I spend a lot of time trying to convince my clients otherwise. You must understand that fat and skinny are bad. The opposite of both of them is fit. Everyone should strive for a strong, lean, functional body that does what you want when you command it to. This should be the only ideal.
Myth 7: Bodyweight exercises only build endurance, not strength.
People who assume this believe that bodyweight exercises such as push-ups don't provide enough resistance to make you grow stronger. They think that you have to use weights for this. Well, let's look a little deeper.
The truth is that bodyweight exercises can be made incredibly tough simply by making minor adjustments. The concept is to master your own body. A beginner can do push-ups against the wall, while an advanced person can do hand stand push ups or one-arm push-ups. Your imagination is the only limit.
If you think that bodyweight exercises can't make you strong, then how do you explain gymnasts? They only use their bodyweight when they train, yet they can perform feats of strength that most people can only dream of. If you are a weightlifter and think you are strong, then try doing an "iron cross" on the rings or try climbing a rope 20 feet using only your hands.
Myth 6: Diets do work, don't they?
When I speak of diet here, I'm not talking in the general sense of how one eats. I'm talking about the idea of simply restricting calories to achieve weight loss. There are all kinds of diets, and they typically have a poor track record of success.
Why do so many opt for fad diets with exercise as an afterthought? Simple, because it is perceived as easier to swallow a pill or to not swallow food, than it is to engage in a vigorous exercise program.
Diets represent the quickest path to short-term weight loss. And sensible eating is necessary. But the best way to ensure healthy weight loss is to engage in an exercise program aimed at increasing muscle mass.
When you do this, you increase your metabolism. It is the increased metabolism that causes you to lose excess weight even while sleeping. And once you add muscle to your frame, it doesn't take a lot of effort to keep that muscle.
Myth 5: Stress is bad for me.
Stress has been given a very bad rap over the years. We use terms such as "stressed out" to describe ourselves when we can't handle situations. So is stress really bad for us?
Consider this: You can't take a breath without stressing yourself. Not only is stress not bad for you, but it is absolutely essential for life. Your body thrives on stress (both physical and emotional). No change can happen with your body without something or someone applying stress to it.
Keep in mind that exercise is a form of stress. Studying a book is also stress (mental). The key is that stress, like anything else, can be overdone and must be used judiciously. If you can't handle it, then it becomes destructive. Otherwise, it is completely productive and necessary. So let's give stress its due respect. Without it, we just couldn't survive.
Myth 4: Lactic acid causes post-exercise soreness.
Just as with most other fitness myths, this one is perpetuated by fitness and health professionals themselves! If you hear it from your doctor, it must be true, right?
Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness (DOMS) is real (as we all know). However, DOMS is not the result of lactic acid build up. Your muscle chemistry simply doesn't work that way. Here is the real scoop. Soon after you begin to exercise, your body must use glycogen (the stored form of sugar) for energy production. The result of glycogen breakdown is lactic acid.
Now, when you are exercising aerobically, there is enough oxygen present for your body to resynthesize glycogen from the lactic acid. However, if you are working anaerobically, then you will go into oxygen debt very quickly. And you know what comes with any kind of debt -- that's right. Pain! This particular pain (burn) is the result of lactic acid build up in your muscles (acidosis).
However, you will notice that once you stop exercising, the burn begins to go away. This is because your body is "paying back" the oxygen debt. In other words, the lactic acid begins to go away because there is again plenty of oxygen.
So why the soreness the next day? The soreness results from the breakdown of muscle and tendon fibers. When this happens, hydroxyproline is released into the muscle. And this chemical is largely responsible for that sore feeling.
Myth 3: When exercising, my knees should never go over my toes.
You hear this all the time, but there is never a good reason for it. Sure, you may hear something about how the patellar tendon can be overstretched, but how valid is that? Mostly, what you will hear is that "it is bad for the knees if they go over the toes," and the real reason is "because I heard someone else say it."
Have you ever worked in your garden or played with your kids or done anything else that required you to squat? What happens to your knees? They go over your toes, especially if you squat all the way down. Should you never squat? That would be ridiculous.
If the only time you do deep squats is when you have to work or play, then you are asking for problems. The thing to do is train your body to handle the stress. In Chinese martial arts, they do stances in which the knees go over the toes all the time, and they not only lack knee problems, but have very powerful legs!
Myth 2: Sit-ups and leg lifts are bad for my back.
This one is much like the previous myth. There is the idea that any exercise that involves the hip flexors is evil because the hip flexors are evil. What? An evil muscle group? Well, how many exercises do you practice which are designed to strengthen the hip flexors? Probably not many.
The idea is that because part of the hip flexors attach at your lower back, they can be harmful to your low back. So, the isolationist mentality is to try to strengthen the abs without involving the hip flexors.
The reason this myth is so bad is it attempts to eliminate some of the best core exercises known to man. The problem is your hip flexors are designed to be integrated with your abdominals and back for effective core movement. Not only can't you eliminate the hip flexors, but you should make sure you train them thoroughly. Without good hip flexors, you couldn't run, jump, or swim very well. Athletes have used situps and leg lifts to achieve powerful, defined mid-sections for decades. They have always worked and will continue to work as long as they are done properly and integrated into a comprehensive training regimen.
And the No. 1 all-time myth: Don't do that!
The story goes like this:
Patient: "Doc, my arm hurts when I do this"
Doctor: "Well, don't do that"
How many times have you heard this? This is the "solution" to so many physical ailments these days. If a particular movement hurts, then the thing to do is avoid the movement altogether. The reason this myth is at the No. 1 position is because, in my estimation, it hinders so many from gaining and maintaining full use of their bodies. If we avoid pain, we can never overcome it.
I firmly believe there is nothing that your body is capable of doing that you shouldn't do. I practice finger tip push-ups, bridges on my face and front splits. I do these things because they keep my strength and flexibility above what I normally need, and they help to ensure that I am not easily injured.
There is no movement that I classify as "illegal." Look at what kids do on the playground. They aren't concerned about whether their toes go over their knees or if they are positioned just right before moving. They just do what comes naturally. They move. This is a lesson for every adult. Just do it. If you take the necessary precautions and get the green light from your doctor, then you are good to go.
----------
Jeff Wooten is a Certified Personal Trainer, Martial Arts Instructor, and Licensed Massage Therapist LMBT #4626. Jeff has been involved in fitness and martial arts for more than 20 years. Visit on the web at www.yourbodymechanic.com.

jeff@yourbodymechanic.com

Re: Great Story

Sue Ivy — Mon, 03 Dec 2007 08:11:08 -0500

Thanks Bev. I hope you and your dogs get a chance to go. I know you'll all enjoy it.
Sue

Great Story

Beverly Philp — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 19:20:38 -0500

I thoroughly enjoyed the description you wrote. The owners should copy your story since it definitely has me thinking about visiting with my dogs!

Great Job and Congratulations!

Beverly

Let Them Play

ivysue1 — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 10:22:37 -0500

Great article Bill! I fondly remember venturing out into my neighborhood for unsupervised play. Every day was a grand adventure. It truly is a shame that today's kids don't get to experience that same sense of freedom and play.

Sue Ivy

My Dance Partner Is a Broom

northraleighnews — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 17:51:08 -0500

By Dara Lyon Warner

I am a State Bar certified paralegal, educated as such in a program approved by the American Bar Association, and holding a couple of graduate degrees along with my paralegal certificate. So, naturally, I am working in a flower shop.

“What?” I hear you ask. “How does ‘naturally’ fit into that sentence?” The answer is a mere six words: Intelligence is not a marketable commodity.

This is one of my favorite rants. I excel at ranting, which may be the reason some of my friends – whose primary exposure to the legal profession is through the medium of lawyer jokes – say I should think about becoming an attorney. I feel compelled to share with you, instead, some of the things I have learned in the course of my current job – mostly doing deliveries – which I try to look at in the same way an actor looks at waiting tables: Survival until the break comes along.

One thing I have learned is that a global positioning system receiver is a mixed blessing. Aside from atrocities in pronunciation – such as “Puh-SASS-fa-ree” for Pacesferry Drive, “Ba-KAL-a-reet” for Baccalaureate Boulevard, and the “Bloody Pope” (rather than Claude E. Pope) Memorial Highway – the system is only as good as its database is current. With new subdivisions springing up every ten minutes or so, all unknown to the GPS, it’s amazing anyone who lives in one of them ever has anything arrive at their door!

When other means of attempting to find a given address fail, a phone call to the Sheriff’s Department is the usual resort. These folks are seriously under-appreciated, in my opinion. This is particularly so when they have to deal with people – me among them – who have no idea of where they are and are trying to find their way to someplace they never knew existed. Whoever happens to answer the phone at the Department is unfailingly polite and normally patient as well. Mostly, they are quite helpful. On occasion, though, I get someone who could probably fall out of a boat and not find water. I have learned that I can usually count on this happening when I have the least amount of time to spare.

From contract work I did a few years ago, entering crash report data for the DMV, I discovered there were far too many people without licenses to drive that were doing so, anyway. Based on my observations while making deliveries, I’d say this is still the situation. I also believe I have figured out who the chief licensing examiner is: Mr. Magoo. (In fact, having lived in a few other states during my life so far, I’d also say he works a circuit.) Only a blind guy could have passed some of these people on a road test. Did I miss the “Daytona” sign, or something? People drive through parking lots like they think they are on the Beltline. They drive on the Beltline – and along city streets, for that matter – like they are looking for a NASCAR sponsor!

There are things I have learned in the shop, too. I have learned that there are hundreds of flowers I’ve never heard of. I have learned that piles of wet flower stems are difficult to sweep up, and cellophane is impossible. And I have learned that, since a broom is the only thing I seem to have time and opportunity to dance with, I am happy to have no complaints about stepping on someone’s foot.

Erin Bernstein

northraleighnews — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 16:54:16 -0500

By Erin Bernstein

As an employee for a major retail store, I’m handed a lot of things in the course of a day – crumpled dollars, well-worn credit cards, change that feels like it’s paid a visit to a meat-locker, et cetera. Recently, I was handed a pamphlet by a kind face that was about Heaven. I’d like you to have this. I smile politely. Quietly, I ask my supervisor if I can dispose of the pamphlet, albeit discretely. I inform that supervisor in so many words I take personal offense to such random declarations by perfect strangers. I am told I may dispose of the little piece of Heaven and I do. The words seem to glare at me from their place among discarded Styrofoam, plastic, and all the register mistakes a girl like me could ever hope for.

The first thing I wonder is: Why me? Did my counter-side manner suggest I was less than Christian to her? Was I not wearing the appropriate symbol to steer her otherwise?

Then I feel: somewhat guilty. In the Christian tradition, it is right to spread the good news about their faith tradition, whether it is on paper, vocally, or any other method. Gospel they call it, which does mean good news. So, in a sense, the pamphleteer was doing what she felt was only natural. As natural as praying several times a day is for Muslims and confession for Roman Catholics. I’m all for freedom of religion, so was I contradicting my own mores?

My final verdict is that while such matters adhere to freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and heck, even freedom of the press, what refried my beans was her assumption that there was an issue at all with the juxtaposition of the world’s religions. I say, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

This is a season of sharing, giving, and many things that make this country great. A special time to spend with family, a time to test one’s culinary prowess, a time to show that loved one just how much you care. A time to give special thanks to those under duress oceans away. It is also a time to be thankful for shelter, as so many of us are grateful with so very little and so many of us are blessed with such abundance. Let us also give thanks for the one roof we all live under – the world.

So, whether you believe there’s a Heaven or no Heaven at all – whether you’re reborn or born again – let us be thankful for diversity. Thank someone for stirring that melting pot. Thank them for enlightening a child’s mind in a way she’d never been enlightened before. Thank them for believing whatever it is they do, regardless of whether it is just the same as yours or dramatically different.

As for me, the only thing I wear to my job that “identifies me” is my name-tag. Even it has just my first name. But, if you’d care to know, I’m a Bahá’í. And if we believed in passing out pamphlets, they would say: The world isbut one country and mankind its citizens. What am I thankful for this year? Diversity.

Maureen Sherbondy

northraleighnews — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 16:49:18 -0500

By Maureen Sherbondy

“Will any of the toilets flush?” I ask the plumber, who is repiping my house.

I forgot to use the restroom at the coffee shop, and as I pull into my driveway the urge hits me. Maybe I’ve repressed the image of two men ripping open my walls and ceilings, the toxic scent of pipe glue, the thin plastic sheets covering carpets and hardwoods. Even my Italian greyhound is bothered, his nostrils flare, and he lifts his snout, searching the fumes for answers.

I have the bad pipes – polybutylene, a form of plastic resin, pipes that were used in at least six million homes between 1978 and 1995. Eventually, the material weakens, tiny holes form, or the couplings begin to leak. They were used because they were cheap and easy to install.

I first discovered we had the bad pipes in 2003, when one day I arrived home to the sound of drip-drip-drip coming from my kitchen ceiling. I looked up at the shock of water leaking from my just-painted white ceiling. An elongated puddle expanded like a live creature on my resurfaced hardwood floors. I grabbed a plastic bowl, then called a plumber. Tears threatened to leak from my eyes as I watched the plumber cutting away rectangles of ceiling, until he finally traced the source of the problem.

I filed a claim after discovering there was a Class Action lawsuit, even though the manufacturer never admitted that pipes were defective, I was relieved that someone else would pay for it. Not a big deal, no money out of my own pocket. After all, these were flawed pipes. Seven-thousand-dollars later here I am. Turns out not all of the pipes were covered. I had the misfortune of buying a house with pipes connected by plastic connectors. Had the joining parts been copper - time would have been on our side. But with the plastic connectors, a leak had to have occurred within the first thirteen years of installation. Who made up these crazy lawsuit rules? The lawyers? The manufacturer? Definitely not the homeowners.

I’m an honest person, but mulling over the problem, maybe I should have walked in my sleep with an axe in hand, accidentally poking a few holes in those pipes. Our first leak occurred at the fifteen-year mark, and the next leak, at the seventeenth-year. Who knows when the next would come; most likely while we were on vacation, and we’d return home to a flooded house. Or, perhaps water would pour out during a dinner party, guests would flee with soaked shoes, shaking their heads, never wanting to step foot inside our abode again.

So, after the second leak, we bit the bullet, hired a plumbing company that specializes in repiping. It’s a big job; there’s drywall to cut, new pipes to install. I am displaced, no fun inhaling the dust, the toxic glue scent. No fun having toilets that won’t flush during the day. Luckily, I’ve always had too much vagabond in my blood. Each day for the past week I have packed up my laptop, some books, pads of legal paper and lived at Starbucks, Borders, restaurants- anywhere there’s a toilet close by. I return back home when my kids’ bus arrives, warning them to use the facilities at school. But, like me, they forget and I tell them the news- they can go, but not flush- not until tonight, when the water is back on. But it’s all fine. Money is just money, repairs must be done. If not leaking pipes, then something else. One thing’s certain though, if we ever buy another house there’s one question I’ll be sure to ask: Copper or polybutylene?

Rachel Biggs

northraleighnews — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 16:18:47 -0500

By Rachel Biggs

Every day I walk my daughter home from school, and every day we discover that some new piece of trash has appeared on the side of the road. Traveling the same route on a North Carolina road so regularly really makes you realize how frequently people toss a fast food wrapper out the car window without even thinking or watch passively as paper once in their possession blows away in the wind

“Why do people do that?” my daughter asks in disbelief

“Because they’re lazy, I guess,” I say.

“Why don’t they just wait until they stop at a trash can?”

Despite her obvious solution, some people just don’t do it. Our state, I’ve learned from various articles and news shows, has a very large littering problem. Heck, I don’t even need to watch the news to realize how bad the trash issue is. On our walks home, we’ve encountered torn up shoes, Styrofoam coolers, old yard sale signs, ads for new housing developments, and too many beer bottles to count

So, granted the offending piece of trash is not sharp, sticky or overly dirty, we will usually pick it up, carry it home, and dispose of it ourselves. It’s a sad state of affairs, no pun intended, when a six-year-old has a stronger sense of responsibility than those old enough to drive.

I recently learned on a radio program that Texas used to have a huge litter problem. In their quest for a successful ad campaign to combat littering, state officials targeted the demographic most likely to litter there: from memory, it was roughly the 17-to-30 year-old male. They finally came up with the slogan, “Don’t mess with Texas,” figuring it would appeal to macho pride, I guess.

Well, we are all aware of how well-known that statement has become, but not everyone may also know that with the introduction of that slogan, their littering problem decreased by thirty-three percent.
As such, I would like to suggest that North Carolina follow in Texas’ footsteps (on this issue only, of course) and come up with some new slogans of its own. Yes, I know there are already some anti-litter slogans for our state, but apparently they aren’t working. Since I don’t know which demographic in the Tarheel State is most likely to litter, I’ll offer some varying suggestions.

For the natives with strong Southern pride, I thought of these. “If you have to litter, go home to New York to do it.” Or, “We can’t be Yankee-free, so let’s at least be litter-free.” And before all the Northerners start complaining that I’m being insensitive, I’ll have you know that several Carolina natives, my neighbor included, have informed me that even though I’m from Virginia, I’m still a Yankee “‘cause it’s north of here.”

For the slightly naughty, how about this one? “If you feel like being trashy, do it in your own bedroom. Don’t litter.”

For the money-conscious: “Trash? Check or Charge? Littering carries fines.”

For the rowdy twenty-something: “You may like to party, but North Carolina’s too old to get trashed.”

For young rebels that buck parental authority: “Your mother called. She asked you to litter for her.” Reverse psychology still works, my friends.

For direct communicators: “Litterbugs stink.”

Yes, I am kidding, but I really do know how serious a problem we have in keeping our state beautiful. So here’s my proposition. We may not be able to stop the lazy, indifferent people from using nature as their own private trashcans, but we can help clean up. I encourage everyone to take action. If you see a piece of litter (one that does not pose a safety threat to you, of course), then put it in the garbage. You can always clean your hands later. And hopefully, one day, we will be able to wash our hands of the entire matter altogether.

Jan Brackett

northraleighnews — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 16:09:42 -0500

By Jan Brackett

Let’s go back to 1984. Kellee, a young female college graduate is teaching kindergarten at Quisqueya Christian School in Port au Prince Haiti. This being her second year out of school with her teaching degree still fresh accepts the position as kindergarten teacher. During her year there she meets Kirk who is working for Larry Jones ministries. As a mechanical engineering graduate of Oklahoma State University he was there helping with the feeding program. The natural beauty of the tropics was the perfect setting for romance. Unlike most stories this fairy tale was a real life-changing encounter. Kirk and Kellee met in a Bible study and soon discovered they both had similar interests in mission endeavors. They quickly realized that together as a team as a man and wife they could have a greater impact on the world. So, being destined to meet on this foreign field, they fell in love and were married the summer of 1985. Now some 4 kids and 22 years later two of the four children are preparing to make a holiday trek back to Haiti.

Jonathan, a sophomore and construction management major at Appalachian State in Boone, NC and his sister Abby, a junior at UNC in Chapel Hill and photo journalism major are leaving US soil on New Years Eve to spend part of their winter break in Haiti. Both sister and brother spent four days there over the summer and were able to visit Val Children’s Home Care orphanage in Port au Prince. .Being deeply touched by the poverty of the country and the needs at the orphanage they agreed to return as a team. Now, that time has almost arrived!

Abby has received a generous private grant to help fund her part of the trip and Jonathan is depending on his own resources and private gifts to help with his financial burden.

While they are there they hope to bring gifts and supplies that have been collected for the orphanage and will be using their time to help out where needed.

The trip this past year was quite an eye opener. Being no strangers to foreign lands and having traveled extensively in the US and Europe they were culturally shocked at the living conditions and abject poverty in Haiti. The trip during the summer was provided by their parents for the whole family to see where they had met and to also expose them to a culture with great needs. Obviously, the experience touched something deep within and has been the catalyst for driving them back to Haiti.

As a photojournalism major, Abby will be using her photographic skills to capture their experience. Despite the poverty of the country they are a people of warmth and their delightful smiles speak to outsiders of a welcoming, friendly human spirit.

It’s hard to say exactly what impact this venture will have in the lives of these two young people. We can be sure though that the people they meet up with along the way will be touched by the compassion and giving spirit of this brother and sister. Let’s not forget the children at the orphanage who will benefit the most through their caring. This is an excellent example of goodness at work in the lives of our young people.

Kristy Stevenson

northraleighnews — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 16:00:53 -0500

By Kristy Stevenson

Holiday shopping can really wear you down. After gathering wish lists from both of my children (okay, I admit I helped the 14-month old with a few age appropriate choices), I combed through sale flyers and searched online for the best deals. Some retailers were even kind enough to send coupons meant to lure me to their store instead of the competition. So, lists in one hand and coupons in the other, I headed out early to avoid the hassle of shopping on the day after Thanksgiving. I’d done my research, I knew what I needed to buy and where to buy it, I had a full tank of gas and I was ready to roll!

I won’t mention which mega chain I chose, but let’s just say that they hit the bullseye with the items I needed. The Magnetix iCoaster, for example, is apparently what every little boy ages 6 and up wants this year because it was a real pain to track down. After several stops, I somehow found the last one on the shelf in North Raleigh and was tickled pink. I headed to the checkout with my trusty coupon in-hand and patiently waited my turn in line. I was excited to have the coupon because it gave me $10 off a relatively high-priced toy. “Expires Nov. 21” is how the coupon read; I double-checked the date. It was November 21, the day before Thanksgiving, so I was golden. Or so I thought.

The cashier handed the coupon back to me and sneered, “You can’t use this. This coupon is expired.”

I checked the date again. “Today is the 21st, isn’t it?” I flinched, believing for a second that I had lost an entire day somewhere.

“Yes, but this expires November 21st.”

“Right,” I answered, “so that means I can’t use it tomorrow, because that will be the 22nd, and then a coupon dated the 21st will no longer be valid.”

“We’re not open tomorrow, ma’m. It’s Thanksgiving.”

“I realize that,” I smiled, “but my point is that this coupon is still valid today, and I would like to use it before it expires.”

“No, see you would have had to have used it by yesterday, because that was the day before the 21st, and the 21st is when the coupon expired.”

My head began to hurt as I looked around in disbelief. I waited for someone to come running out and tell me I was being Punk’d, and then I asked to see a manager.

The manager scrutinized the coupon with a big frown on her face. “Yes, see this coupon is expired, but we’ll go ahead and give it to her – as long as it’s only one.”

“One what?” I questioned.

“One coupon. You can’t use the whole sheet. It’s a glitch in the computer system. It’s fine.”

I was with her up through that point. Then she had to say it.

“It’s expired. But it’s fine.”

“The coupon clearly says it expires November 21st. That’s today. The coupon is still good through today. I used another at one of your other locations just this morning,” I argued.

“And they took it?” the manager asked.

“Yes, they took it! They read the coupon, checked the date and had no problem.”

The cashier and manager both seemed unconvinced.

“Okay, let me give you another example. If you go to Kroger to buy a food item today and present them with a coupon that says it expires today, they will honor that coupon all day long until they close and it is no longer November 21st.”

Lost on the entire analogy, the cashier then looked at me with a completely straight face and replied, “I wouldn’t know, ma’m. I don’t shop at Kroger.”

Sighing, I stood quietly and waited for the cashier to scan my coupon and total my purchases.

“Would you like the rest of the sheet back?” he obligatorily asked.

“No, thank you,” I relented. “They’ve expired anyway.”

Jan Campana

northraleighnews — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 15:57:53 -0500

By Jan Campana

Traditions come in many forms. As a family, traditions are born with the many celebrations life throws our way. Thanksgiving gave us the opportunity to add new traditions and memories for each family member. After twenty years of turkey, football and parades, we decided to try something different. We dedicated this holiday to the joy of our two sons by adding water.

On Thanksgiving Day, after a three-hour drive to Williamsburg, Virginia, we arrived at the Great Wolf Lodge. The indoor waterpark/hotel combination seemed more like a hot day at Disney World than my ideal location for turkey and all the trimmings. But it was and much more.

Included in the hotel price is admission to the waterpark. Moments after we checked into our room, the children were off to discover just how thrilling a Thanksgiving could be. When we joined them, they took us to their new favorite ride, the Howlin’ Tornado. Wanting to seem like a good sport, I allowed myself to be put in a four-person raft, which raced back and forth in a cyclone shaped bowl. Luckily for the youngsters waiting in line, my screams were drowned out by my own kids’ abundant laughter.

Back in the safety of the warm, dry room, I began to microwave the precooked dinner I had prepared at home the day before. Though the children were in summer vacation mode, including flip-flops and wet swimsuits, the Thanksgiving feast was consumed and even enjoyed by all.

We learned a lot about each other during the meal. Talk flows easily when everyone is relaxed after conquering the wave pool. Dreams began to unfold. My oldest wants a black mini cooper with red flames. His younger brother wants a NASCAR so he can be the next Jeff Gordon. Even my husband is thinking of getting a red 1964 Ford Mustang convertible to restore.

My own dreams are a bit more immediate. I hope to have this family togetherness continue. Soon, school and work will be on everyone’s mind. The new found reminder of what we are thankful for is all ready coming in second to the necessities of our everyday lives.

The next holiday is around the bend. This gives us a chance to start another new tradition that may be passed down for generations. Will I be swirling down the Howlin’ Tornado again? The children are all for spending Christmas in a water wonderland. I’m thinking the new tradition is going to be...only one new tradition a year.

This winter season will be flavored with the traditional good stuff. The tree will be decorated with white twinkle lights and the turkey will be full of the cornbread dressing. Memories will be stored and shared. My wish this year is not to sound cowardly in the latest versions of my waterslide adventures. These favored stories have quickly become the fish-that-got-away to all who will listen. Some traditions never fade. They simply take on new forms.

By Jan Brackett

mwilliam — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 15:56:26 -0500

By Jan Brackett

Abby has received a generous private grant to help fund her part of the trip and Jonathan is depending on his own resources and private gifts to help with his financial burden.

While they are there they hope to bring gifts and supplies that have been collected for the orphanage and will be using their time to help out where needed.

Debbi Willmschen

mwilliam — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 15:55:00 -0500

By Debbie Willmschen

I am a mom with two kids—an 8-year-old and a 11-year-old. I spend quite a bit of time in my car shuffling back and forth between activities. Some might think that doing so might get quite boring. However, I find my time in the car quite invigorating. It is one of the few places where my mind is actually unfettered and free to think about … well … things other than work and endless to do lists.
For example, I was returning home from taking the girls to their dance class the other day, sitting at a stop light with nothing to do, when I noticed the woman in the car behind me through my rear-view mirror. It wasn’t her car that drew my eye or her particular activity. Instead, it was something very simple—the way in which she was holding the steering wheel and her body position in relation to her hand positions. She had both hands clasped firmly in the 12:00 position, and she was leaning in close to the wheel, as if physically willing the light to change to green because where she had to be was oh-so-more-important than sitting still at this particular light at this particular moment.
As the light turned green and I continued my drive home, I wondered what our hand and body positions behind the wheel told others about us as we drove around Raleigh throughout the day. So, over the next few days, I did my own (very unscientific and very opinionated) study. Here’s what I think:

The 10-and-2-ers: These are the folks who follow the rules. They completely listened to the driver’s ed instructor in high school who told them the proper placement for your hands on the steering wheel for the ultimate safety of the driver and passengers. They never talk on the cell phone or (goodness no) eat while driving. They always signal before they turn. And, even if they were born and raised in the South, the horn is a warning device and not a way to say “hello.”

The 12 o’clockers (two hands): These people are the intense drivers—the kind you would worry about having a heart attack if you were riding with them. They often drive just below (not at) the speed limit. They tap their brakes multiple times when approaching intersections, stop signs, curves, other cars, small animals, and floating leaves to let you know that they are about to stop. They are ultra cautious drivers. They drive most of us insane.

The 12 o’clockers (one hand): They are actually the opposite of the two-hand 12 o’clock drivers. There are generally two positions for this person: 1) gripping the steering wheel with the right hand or 2) lightly resting the wrist of your right hand over the very top of the steering wheel while your left arm is draped out the window. (In my extensive research, I’ve found that the latter position is usually reserved for young men in trucks.)

Switchers: These folks are the most dangerous of the bunch. With switchers, you never know what you are going to get. Sometimes, they follow the rules and go 10-and-2. Sometimes, they are all intense 12 o’clock two-handers. Sometimes, they’ll drive with one hand IN ANY POSITION THEY WANT. Then again, on a sunny day, you might see them fling an arm out the window! With switchers, you have to be on your guard constantly.

So, what does this all mean? Not a thing really. Just a bit a fun to keep my brain occupied as I drive around Raleigh. I spend a heck of a lot of time in my car each week, and I need to find a way to keep myself entertained. As for me, I am a switcher. Just fair warning.

North Raleigh Medical Drama

mwilliam — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 15:53:20 -0500

By Chris Street

    Think quickly—your child bites into a sandwich wrap, swallows a piece of toothpick in the process and then complains, “It feels like it stuck in my throat, mom.” What to do?
(A) Ensure the child drinks lots of water
(B) Help them “cough up” the foreign object
(C) Disregard options “A” and “B.” Closely monitor the child for symptoms of obstructed breathing and be prepared for a possible trip to the ER.
Sometimes the correct choice is “C.”
    The good news according to the Center for Disease Control (CDC) is that between 80 and 90 percent of swallowed foreign objects pass through the digestive tract without incident. However, swallowing something sharp like a safety pin, straight pin, nail or even a toothpick can require further medical attention.
    Coincidentally, my wife Kathy called from work recently to report she had swallowed a piece of toothpick in a sandwich and “couldn’t decide” if it was still stuck in her throat. Dr. “husband” frankly didn’t know whether she should call her doctor, go to the ER or wait and give the piece of timber a chance to dislodge on its own.
    In order to help sharpen my focus, Kathy then tells me of this episode on “House,” a TV medical show, in which a patient’s organs begin shutting down. No one can imagine what ails the man until Dr. House (of course) dryly observes that a sliver of toothpick is stuck in the patient’s throat.
“Tick, tick, tick,” my brain begins to work. I consult Dr. Steven Tope, experienced family doctor at Tremont Medical Center.
“Sharp object swallowed? Advise trip to the ER,” the doctor quickly responds.
At this point Kathy and I agree to err on the side of caution and meet up at the emergency room of WakeMed North Healthplex, corner of Durant Rd. and Falls of Neuse Rd.
    Superb medical care follows, much as we had experienced on two previous unscheduled trips to North Raleigh’s still-fresh healthplex. Far from the stereotypical ER, the atmosphere and personnel here are helpful, polite—downright cheery.
    The most surprising feature—family members are not set apart from loved ones and left to worry in waiting rooms alongside relatives of other accident victims. Here, nurses and docs actually invite attending family to join the patient in the examination room while waiting to see a doctor.
The case of the broken toothpick ends well for my wife and we are assured that our visit to the ER was a correct choice. In addition to being a choking hazard, we are told that swallowing a sharp object can puncture tissue linings, cause internal bleeding and lead to serious infection later.
   As for the episode on “House,” the medical professionals at WakeMed North ER say the “failing organs” case stretches the plausible to paranormal extremes. Still, they say a choking hazard is never something to sneeze at.

Chocking Concerns

Toothpick and other object-in-throat accidents lead to more ER visits than one might imagine. For children, reports of choking total over 17,000 cases per year, says the CDC.

The American Red Cross reports over 3,000 deaths each year from choking-related incidents. The CDC reports one death for each 100 choking-related visits to medical emergency rooms across the U.S.

North Raleigh News -- Fifth Friday columns

northraleighnews — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 14:42:58 -0500

When the North Raleigh News section of the N&O called for guest columnsts recently for the Fifth Friday of the month, we got more than two dozen submissions. In this blog you'll find the submissions…