New Bohemians | The Life Adventures and Creative Works of Bob and Claire Rogers

The West. A deep breath of dry cool air.

We topped a small rise in western Kansas in Turtle. Morning light cast our shadow down a long straight road ahead of us. The colors were intense, the air sparkled, the land rolled off in wheat stubble and stone fence posts to a horizon uncut by haze. A railroad track led to a lone grain elevator. I took an involuntary deep breath; a gasp almost, of clean dry air. It’s been months since I’ve been able to see that far, months since the air was so clear, blue and white and wheat color, chocolate loam, the sky so big, so big.

I enjoyed our time in the Midwest and East, the Ozarks, Appalachians, Great Smoky Mountains; the bike rides, the friends and family, and the new/old friends of 50 years at my high school reunion. Every bit of it. Except maybe the heat and humidity, the haze and in places the traffic.

I enjoyed the trail rides: Great Allegheny Passage and Greenbrier River Trail, the quiet back road roadbike rides of the hills of Maryland and West Virginia. I didn’t miss the West. I was too busy enjoying what the East and South had to offer.

But when that expanse opened before me, I knew. The West.

And then there was the old windmill silhouetted against the sunset sky at our boondock spot, just after dinner, before a good night’s cool sleep. Ahhhhh.

It’s hard to explain. I’ve always needed space. The East and South embrace with haze, green matter, round mountains and stringent culture. I enjoy all that. But. I need the other: the dry air, rugged rock strewn plains and high mountains, scrub and cacti, and tall trees, deep blue sky. And wide a wide open culture.

I didn’t come into the West until my mid 30’s. I knew I belonged and I was welcomed.

It’s all America, and I love it all, but the West is my magnet, drawing me back.

A few days more of The Great Plains, then the high passes of the Rockies, the Colorado Plateau of Utah and Arizona, finally in a month, the basin and range of Southern Arizona, desert.

Today and tomorrow a fly-in at a small Western Kansas airport for a little work, then we slow to the pace of the plains and mountains.

Diabetes Shoppe; Commercializing Slow Death

I saw this sign in the window of a pharmacy in a small Kansas town. It struck me as profoundly sad at first, and as the meaning sunk in, sick. Then it made me angry.

The word Shoppe, as used in signage and advertising is evokes certain emotions: an ice cream parlor, a soda fountain with marble counter, mirrored back bar, ice cream and soda delights, a cool place on a hot day. Evocative words and images are brought to mind: ye and olde, junque, vintage boutique, collectibles, quaint treasures, vintage clothes, treasures found in intimate spaces soothing the senses with sophisticated design and exotic scents.

Diabetes is not so pleasant. It is part of a collection of interrelated diseases: arterial diseases, heart disease, blood clots, stroke, limb amputation, loss of mobility, organ failure and others. Diabetes and it’s resulting diseases are known in the medical community as metabolic syndrome, because it involves the entire metabolic system, the most essential in the body. The consequences of diabetes cover a wide range, all unpleasant, painful, leading to early death.

Shoppe: a place where one goes to get the myriad of medical paraphernalia and drugs to slow the progression of metbolic syndrome? Sick.

There is a magazine, perhaps more than one, and hundreds of internet sites, devoted to the management of diabetes. These are also advertising mediums, and attempt to make sophisticated anything they can sell related to diabetes. Many of the paraphernalia and drugs for diabetes do help bring temporary relief of symptoms and may slow the progression. But none are a cure. None reverse the slow decline of the whole body.

But there are two things, two very simple things the diabetes patient can do to slow and reverse diabetes. But I’m sure these are not sold in the Diabetes Shoppe. That is because they cost nothing, and therefore there is no profit in these two things:

Eat a low glycemic, mostly plant based diet, and increase physical activity. Simple. Too simple. We have been conditioned to go to a pharmacy or hospital (diabetes shoppes) to fix our diabetes. Most physicians, to their credit, at least mention diet and exercise to avoid, or reverse, diabetes. I think many people just don’t believe that these two simple lifestyle changes can cure them. They can and will. I know several people who have reversed their diabetes, and associated body damage, by these two simple changes. It works. If you have diabetes, tell your doctor you are ready to commit to the cure. You can even do it yourself; the internet is full of health newsletters with ideas for diet, and exercise programs.

Stay out of the Diabetes Shoppe. You can do it!

Joplin Missouri No One Ignores a Tornado Siren. One Year After Tornado

We knew severe weather was on the way and parked turtle into the wind; 90 degrees to the wall of black looming in the west. The severe thunderstorm warning predicted 70 mph wind gusts. We’ve experienced 60 mph once in Turtle and she rocks severely if parked beam-on.

We went into the WalMart, thinking we had time to pick up a few things for dinner before the storm hit. Wrong. We were just about to head for check out, when we noticed the usual random pattern of shoppers movements had suddenly turned to a purposeful unidirectional flow. A clerk nearby said, “Move to the back of the store please. There has been a siren.”

In Joplin, Missouri, no one ignores a siren. A siren means one thing, tornado, or at least very very severe thunderstorms capable of producing a tornado. The center of town was nearly destroyed a year ago. People obey sirens.

Shoppers and staff move slowly to the receiving area, nominally protected by concrete block walls. We are quiet, the employees efficient, purposeful, calm.We stand looking at each other, and the roof girders as heavy rain pounds above. People clutch cell phones, some broadcast their own message to family: “Get yourself to shelter. Now!”

A young woman presses her phone to her ear, other hand covers her other ear. Tears gather, run down her cheeks. She is a cosmetologist from the beauty parlor. My guess is she had been working in the WalMart a year before, where many were trapped, several died. The pad where the destroyed store stood lays barren, just in front of the new store, mute reminder to all who pass it.

A woman pats her husband’s shoulder repeatedly, speaks encouragements into his ear. He is vulnerable, in a electric shopping cart, oxygen canula in his nostrils, face blanched; frustrated by his smartphone, looking for the weather radar.

A few soft sobs provide a background to quiet talk. The prayers are silent. Everyone is patient. This will pass. Hopefully.

And it did pass. This time.

Joplin is still traumatized. Some will never get over it. Each long tornado season will hold dread; each thunderstorm vivid memories of chaos.

As for us, we felt calm. Our travels have taught us that worry is useless; once you have done what you can, relax, focus, and you are prepared to act. But then, we’ve never been through a tornado.

(For a great story about staying focused amid the chaos of the 2011 tornado, read this Wall Street Journalstory.)

Calm Again in Joplin

Store staff announced the all clear and returned quickly to their stations. People rushed for the checkouts and then into the now light rain. They were going home to check for damage; winds had been clocked at 80 mph. We got a look at Turtle, still standing. Relief. When we returned our skylight had been sucked open by the ferocity of the wind and the bed was damp, but otherwise we were fine. We had parked the right direction. Claire was disappointed we missed the excitement inside Turtle; and she’s the one who gets sea-sick.

(The next day at the farmer’s market a vendor told us their greenhouse was damaged and their garage door collapsed into the garage.)