This Life's Tempestuous Sea: Risks Survived and Lessons Learned While Growing up and Growing Older (And Voicing Several Concerns for America and the World)

By Douglas Charles Toland

In a weak moment, I have written a book.
Margaret Mitchell

This book is a multilayered creation that touches on a wide array of topics, many of them drawn from personal experiences. Indeed, you the lucky reader will be blessed with enough material for at least three books within one cover. Why would I want to write such a multi-themed book? It wasnt my original intention. Maybe Ive learned an important lesson and wont do so next time. Like many older folks, I wanted to share what I have learned to be true and useful and couldnt seem to stay with a single topic.

Ive lived long enough to confirm an important realization: the gleanings from a well-lived life are at least as important as knowledge gained vicariously through reading and classroom attendance. But I think most people dont fully appreciate the value of their life lessons and end up taking most of them to the grave. I want to counter that pattern and use this book to share as many of my gleanings as I can. I also recognize several imminent dangers facing this nation and our planet and feel compelled to share these concerns. Just as important: I want my wife, children, and grandchildren to know more about who I was and who Ive come to be. I hope they will have occasions to use some of my wisdom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481735155

Douglas Charles Toland

Born in 1942, Douglas Charles Toland grew up in a semirural corner of northern Delaware. The third of three sons in a blue-collar family, he felt confined by the pressures of near-constant parental and sibling monitoring throughout childhood. Rarely confident in the adolescent social world as well, he found solace in nature and in his love for all living things. This book highlights many of his struggles with unrealistic expectations (including many of his own), feeling victimized, coping with life-threatening migraine headaches, overcoming a crippling academic deficit, and his anxiety over the Cold War and America’s expanding consumerism following World War II. But because of his family’s steadfastness, his love of weather and all things natural, discipline learned in the navy and in college, and his discovery of mineralogy, Doug developed a unique perspective on himself and this world. His fishing, prospecting, and other outdoor experiences gave him time and place to shape his thoughts on several grave dangers facing the world, in particular the people living the Western lifestyle. He developed an untutored but unique writing style by corresponding with family and friends since childhood, along with his first wife’s help in reviewing and editing technical reports. This is his story about surviving, growing beyond his earlier life’s tempestuous sea of confusion and fear of failure, learning valuable life skills while an Alaskan resident for twenty-five years, and eventually finding his spiritual and emotional center.

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© 2013 Douglas Charles Toland. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/14/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-3516-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-3515-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013905924

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Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Let’s Begin with Family of Origin, Weaving in Thoughts on Slipping Baselines and Loss of Ecosystems

Taking Chances in My Early Youth: Injuries and Exposures to Chemicals

Other Special Times—Many Good and Some Not So Good—with Dad and Brothers

Delaware’s Environmental Problems Worsen—and Thoughts on Global Oil Dependency

Mary’s and My Efforts to Reduce Energy Consumption

More Risky Experiences As an Older Child and Young Man

Onset of Migraines and My TUMS Remedy

Developing a Tolerance to Electrical Shock

Discovering Ice!

Appendicitis on a Hike and Swarmed by Yellow Jackets on a Campout

Hike to Dover

More Exposures to Toxins, Plus Dangerous Driving Episodes

Ragtop Sail Car

Making Money As Kids

Enter the Adolescent Social Scene: Girls, Dating, Sex, Enemies …

Athleticism Deters Bullies: Enter the Wrestling Era

Bullying and Sexual Predation

More Thoughts on the Big Deal about Sex

Sex and Sailors: There’s More to Sailors Than Sex, Booze and Carousing

A Long Swim in the Saint Johns River

A Do-or-Die Coaching Style

Gaining Some Perspective

Old Souls and Two Dear Friends

Go to Alaska While You Are Young (and If You Survive Your First Summer …)

Flight over Misty Fjords from Hyder to Ketchikan

Coping with the Great Gulf of Alaska Storms

The Perilous Lynn Canal

Opening an Old Mine in Glacier Bay and Panning for Gold behind Juneau

More Alaskan and Green Monster Mountain Experiences

An Especially Miserable Day on Copper Mountain

Three Green Monster Mountain Miracles

Behold: Another Alaskan Miracle

Gaining More Perspective: Contemplating Lessons from Parenting Experiences

Three Stories to Illustrate My Off-Brand Kind of Professionalism: Mercury in the Jualpa Tunnel, the Exxon Valdez Cleanup, and an Unexpected Hazard in Wyoming

Two Earlier Work Experiences: At General Motors and Chicago Bridge & Iron

Meeting a Contemporary Jesus

Risks of the Big Picture Kind—My Top Pick: Evil with Intent and Its Primary Promoter and Facilitator: Dishonesty

Asbestos in Libby, Montana, and Black Lung in Appalachia

Illicit Use of Legal and Illegal Drugs

Peeling Away Onion Skins to Reveal Truth: Examples Include Prescribing Psychoactive Drugs to Kids

Bill Gore (Gore & Associates) and His Latticework Approach to Management

Big Risk Number Two: Health Issues Related to Our Western Lifestyle, and Exposures to Harmful Chemicals

More about Risk-Taking Behavior

A Closer Look at Cancer

More Risks in the Health Arena

Big Risk Number Three: Our Bourgeoning Human Population

More Lamentations about the Western Lifestyle

Big Risk Number Four: Infectious Agents—Some Examples and Their Dangers

Big Risk Number Five: Invasive Species

Little Stuff Also Takes a Toll

Moving to Haines, Alaska

Alaskan Ritual: Moose Hunt

Last Flight with Ed Todd

Ultimate Stressor: Uninvited Houseguest

Between Haines, Anchorage, and Tucson, Arizona: The Chilkat Pass in Winter

Hurting Earth’s Biosphere

Other Ways We Sometimes Go Wrong or Fail to Respond Appropriately

More on Toxic Elements

The Nuclear Threat Is Still With Us

Returning to Toxic Substances

More on Guides and False Guides Relating to Health and Nutrition

Why I Take Certain Dietary Supplements (Even When Some Practitioners Recommend Not Taking Some of Them)

What Does Much of the Research on Nutrition Boil Down To?

Placebo Effect: Is It about Spirituality, a Sense of Purpose, and/or Being in Control?

More about My Faith—and a Few Issues I Have with Some Organized Religions

A Few Examples of Cultural Anachronisms to Ponder

My Top Nuggets for Health and Longevity

Choosing Some Healthy Foods Requires Care and Knowledge

Special Nugget: Wonderful Honey, Mary’s and My Healer—but We Are Careful!

More Valuable Nuggets

Therapeutic Stretching and Exercising on the Run

Looking Ahead

A Few More Closing Thoughts

About the Author

About the Book

You’re never really done for, as long as you’ve got a good story and someone to tell it to.

—From the movie The Legend of 1900

Preface

For making war and calling it peace, special privilege and calling it justice, indifference and calling it tolerance, pollution and calling it progress, may we be cured.

Part of the prayer, God of Our Insurgent Lives, by Harry Meserve, which was used as a Responsive Reading at Portland Oregon’s First Unitarian Church, March 17, 2013.

On the night of September 13, 1983, Russian Air Force Lieutenant Stanislav Petrov may have saved civilization. Hunkered in his bunker near Moscow, he peered at his computer and saw what appeared to be a missile attack from the United States. He had just seconds to decide whether to notify the Soviet high command, who would probably launch missiles in retaliation. However, the computer showed just five missiles, and he reasoned that an actual nuclear attack would certainly require hundreds of missiles to disable Russia’s defenses. He also knew that the satellite system had proven unreliable in the past, so he decided not to push the red button. Lucky for us!

I dedicate this book to all the Lieutenant Petrovs in the world who keep their wits even under tremendous pressure and do everything possible to prevent the unthinkable from happening. Lieutenant Petrov, you and your first responder colleagues who paid the ultimate price at places like Chernobyl, the twin World Trade Towers, and the explosion in West, Texas are my role models for taking calculated risks and other steps necessary to preserve life.

I also dedicate this book to another kind of hero, the kind who wants us to avoid seemingly less immediate and less obvious kinds of disaster, the kinds that creep up inexorably. We are the frogs in the warming water, and this kind of hero keeps trying to get us to jump out and save ourselves before it is too late, even when it seems that no one cares. This kind of hero also stands up to threats, intimidation, and discrediting misinformation from powerful people who don’t want things to change. Here are four such heroes of mine: Bill McKibben, Barbara Kingsolver, Dr. Mehmet Oz, and the great conversationalist, Oprah Winfrey. She is the one who brought international attention to Dr. Oz and many other credible experts. McKibben spells out clearly just what kind of disaster we are facing with global warming in his book Eaarth: Making a Life on a Tough New Planet. He is unambiguous about who and what is causing this warming and its accompanying consequences, yet he is not a doomsday alarmist. He and Kingsolver (Animal, Vegetable, Miracle and other publications) provide us with things we can do to live on a tough new planet. Dr. Oz is doing everything he knows to wake us up to the seriousness of our obesity epidemic and other unhealthy consequences of conspicuously consumptive and sedentary lifestyles. Oprah continues to facilitate the spread of vital information that we can all use at one time or another.

When I began this book, my wife, Mary, and I were living in Moscow, Russia. While Mary was teaching at the Anglo-American School (AAS), I had some spare time to volunteer in classrooms and to explore Russia’s vast capital, with its many wonderful parks, forests, and iconic cultural centers. I also thought about my two grandchildren, Fiona and Wesley, and chose to write about some of the more dangerous and adventuresome escapades I’ve experienced so they might better know me, know more about what I’m thinking and why, and learn from some of my errors in judgment. The first words that came to mind described the kinds of risk I’ve faced or created and compared them to the many serious risks that confront young people today. However, several months into the process, I realized that these comparisons were expanding beyond my original intent. I realized that the greatest risks many of us face today have less to do with the physical world and more to do with what many of us are now calling our Western lifestyle. Too many people are living, behaving, worrying, and eating in ways that are deep-sixing their health and the planet’s ability to sustain them. This deadly trend threatens to shorten the lives of millions and overwhelm our country’s health-care systems and providers.

The combined burdens of replacing decaying infrastructure and soaring medical costs could bankrupt America within a decade. Our nation’s budget deficit and high unemployment rate could be heralding this dire forecast: a collapse of our economy with huge medical and infrastructural costs leading the way. Terrorists can only dream of inflicting such a devastating impact on us. America also has its media messengers of doom who want people to live in a state of fear so there’s justification in calling out, deriding, vilifying, or even killing scapegoats. I hope this book will help people identify what’s really at the root of their worries and anxieties and encourage them to take action and change their lives in positive ways without scapegoating.

My motivation may have shifted in part because of our two years in Moscow. I became acutely aware of some of the pros and cons of the cultural differences between Russians and Americans. For example, many traditional Russian foods are healthier and more varied than the processed and calorie-dense fast foods that most Americans consume. Russians would probably outlive Americans if only they did not drink and smoke as much as they do, did not stress so much over their country’s uncertainties and insecurities, and didn’t eat Western-style fast food. Of course, the health and dietary issues of both countries are much more complicated than this simplistic statement, but it encompasses an important part of the difference between Russian and American lifestyle choices. And I believe that given enough time, the Western fast-food diet and lack of physical activity will gravely weaken the health and vitality of Americans to a point where the overall health of Russians will be better.

Unfortunately for the health of many Russians, fast-food and high-calorie drink dispensaries such as McDonald’s and Starbucks are increasing their presence in their vast country. Based on observation, I’m concerned that Russians who partake of Western-style fast foods will likely suffer the similar obesity and health problems related to obesity that are impacting America and other nations. I could write another book about our experiences in Russia and how that country’s culture differs from our American culture, but that book will have to wait.

With this tome, you’ll be getting at least three books for the price of one. My first priority: share some of my life’s story, notably the risky parts. Second priority: emphasize several serious risks confronting Americans—or anyone who lives and eats as so many of us do. Third priority: break down the confines of fear by standing up to the risks that should worry us the most.

In a couple of ways, the third priority is the most important. Throughout the book, I use the fast-food diet to exemplify our Western lifestyle. Americans are already burdened by costly and sometimes deadly health-care consequences, yet many of us blithely continue to hurt ourselves by gobbling huge portions of low-fiber processed foods oozing obscene amounts of saturated fat, salt, sugars, and proteins. Some of the most serious risks we face result from our own choices, including the food we choose to eat and the exercise we choose not to do. If we can learn to control and neutralize certain risks, we can dispel the fear that we associate with them.

I wonder if Americans truly understand the grave dangers confronting individuals who partake in damaging lifestyle choices. Perhaps they just don’t care or don’t know how to discuss the subject, or perhaps they cannot face the consequences for a variety of reasons. Possibly they’ve knocked their bodily chemistries so far out of whack that they cannot activate effective measures of prevention, thereby allowing the excess calories to accumulate as fat. I can only wish that all people and their doctors could shed their timidity and, with the courage and determination of Lieutenant Petrov, take action to stop making toxic lifestyle choices. As I see it, the only difference between facing annihilation by nuclear war or terrorism and death by bad lifestyle choices is time; the first two would be quicker. The latter is already confronting us in the form of a protracted downward slide made slower, more expensive, and excruciating by regimens of expensive drugs and other medical interventions with a primary focus on alleviating symptoms.

And while so many Americans struggle with obesity, over a billion people in the world are going hungry. In the article Can We Learn to Live with Less? in the February 2012 issue of Bread, Inez Torres Davis writes, The aunt of my young Tanzanian friend recently visited the United States for the first time. During her visit, the aunt pronounced, ‘God must live here.’ She saw the embarrassment of riches in our stores, our business districts, our neighborhoods lined with ‘McMansions,’ and many of our homes and churches. We can understand what she meant—such words could bring us pride if we lived isolated from a hungry world. But we don’t. And our excesses are smothering us while we deplete the planet. And as I was preparing this draft for the publisher, Tropical Storm Isaac was bearing down on Haiti, where over two hundred thousand souls were still living in tents following the deadly 2010 earthquake. Although Isaac missed Tampa, Florida, where the Republican convention was being held, it did cause some inconvenience there. What’s my point? If both political parties had spent just half of the monies budgeted on their conventions and given the rest to Haitian relief, those poor people could be living in something better than tents. We could also have redirected some of the obscene sums of 2012 campaign monies to help the million or more Syrian refugees and several million more Syrians displaced (as of March 2013) by that country’s hideous internal struggle. Where are our priorities?

What would happen to us if we followed Volya Rinpoches’s example on pages 119 and 120 in Roland Merullo’s delightful and thought-provoking novel Breakfast with Buddha? At a restaurant, the narrator in the story, Otto Ringling, and his Buddhist monk companion, Volya Rinpoches, are discussing sex. Rinpoches says, A little bit sex. Not too much. Nothing too much for Rinpoches. Food, sex, sleep, business, giving talks, sadness … Not too much. Otto asks, But why? Why a little sex? Why not a lot of sex if there’s nothing wrong with it? Rinpoches responds, You feel inside when you do something right or when you do something wrong, yes? Yes, sure. I feel inside when I have the right balance. And too much sex would throw you off? Too much anything. Too much meditating, too much talk.

Indeed, many Americans appear to lack this sense of inner balance and restraint. If we had these qualities, we’d know when to stop eating so much and stop purchasing so much stuff, and we’d limit our families to just two or three kids. And we wouldn’t fret so much.

With regard to nuclear annihilation, a threat that has been hanging over our heads for over sixty years like a guillotine: In 1950, Katherine Anne Porter wrote a sobering essay titled The Future Is Now, in which she delved into the issue of whether a quick death by nuclear annihilation is any different from a quick death by other means, such as by machine gun, hand grenade, or poison gas. She pondered whether quick death is preferred over slow death by famine, plague, prisons, and concentration camps (I include the Western lifestyle). To quote an excerpt from Porter’s essay:

I fail entirely to see why it is more criminal to kill a few thousand persons in one instant than it is to kill the same number slowly over a given stretch of time. If I had a choice, I’d as lief be killed by an atom bomb as by a hand grenade or a flamethrower. If dropping the atom bomb was an immoral act, then the making of it was too; and writing of the formula was a crime, since those who wrote it must have known what such a contrivance was good for. So, morally speaking, the bomb is only a magnified hand grenade, and the crime, if crime it is, is still murder. I agree. Porter also says, The world has always been a desperately dangerous place to live for the greater part of the earth’s inhabitants; it was, however reluctantly, endured as the natural state of affairs. Yet the invention of every new weapon of war has always been greeted with horror and righteous indignation, especially by those who failed to invent it, or who were threatened by it first …"

What Porter seems to be saying is that humankind is predisposed to invent ever more lethal means to kill the enemy, and I get a feeling from her writing that we may as well get used to it. Killing is killing, whether we do it with our fingernails or with a hydrogen bomb. What Porter doesn’t mention is the horrific collateral damage from the blast and radiation wrought by nuclear bombs. The radiation would devastate not just innocent humans but also the environment for thousands of years. A nuclear bomb is not just another big hand grenade! (I assume that Porter may not yet have known about—or appreciated the magnitude of—our more recent and insidious threat: slow death brought on by unhealthy lifestyle choices.) To realize just how horrific even one small nuclear bomb is, like the twenty-thousand-tons of TNT equivalent that demolished Hiroshima, read chapter 15 of Michael Bagley’s strange book, The Plutonium Factor.

Meanwhile, it’s a given that everyone in the world is subjected to all sorts of risks. We can reduce or control some risks such as unhealthy diets and inactivity by resolving to eat better food and to exercise. Some risks we cannot control for the most part, e.g., confrontations by rapists and other terrorists, and there are some we can only partially control, e.g., vehicular accidents. By referencing studies and providing personal anecdotes and opinions, I’m going to try to bring some understanding to a sampling of these risks so that we can transfer our fears into positive and empowering actions.

While in Russia, Mary and I enjoyed Moscow’s many large parks, forests, and greenbelt preserves. The city’s high-density population areas and relatively undeveloped natural settings are by no means mutually exclusive. We could understand why many Russians seem to be more fully involved with the earth and its bounty—mushrooms, berries, soil, vegetables, birch bark, trees, and such—than most Americans: their dachas and their natural preserves in urban areas. Even the Soviet leaders realized the importance of allowing individually maintained dachas, or rural cottages, with garden plots. During desperately lean times, Russians depended upon a hands-on relationship with the earth for survival. Each summer, droves of Muscovites still abandon the city for several weeks to live in their dachas, where they reconnect with their agrarian roots, eat healthy produce, and enjoy social traditions that go back hundreds of years. They let go of their fears and their more complex and stressful urban lifestyle for a while.

I observe that most Americans and citizens in the so-called Western countries are unwilling or unable to make such a complete back-to-the-earth transformation. We’d all be healthier if we could, in my opinion. Our country’s Depression years were grim, and most Americans who lived through them are now gone. Most young Americans today have only a detached idea of how dismal conditions were during that time, and many are unaware of how grim life became in the former Soviet Union, especially during their war with Finland and then World War II. And most Americans do not realize that the allies would likely have lost WWII without the sacrifices of many millions of Russians, Ukrainians, and people from other Soviet countries who died at the hands of Nazis and those of their own paranoid leader, Stalin. Perhaps our countries could better appreciate each other if we could learn to accept this realization.

In July 2009, after Mary and I ended our two-year stay in huge and fascinating Russia, something important and unexpected came across both of us: we had a deeper appreciation of our northern Idaho home. Much about our lifestyle here resembles that of a Russian dacha. Our North Idaho dacha is a quiet place, with six acres of trees, a garden, and a brushy meadow nestled in quiet countryside. In this bucolic area, we can occasionally disappear during long walks or on cross-country skis and ponder life’s lessons. And we enjoy frequent social gatherings over stout tea and Russian yeda. There is some truth to the stereotype that vodka is a big deal in Russia, but we were usually able to avoid it over there just as we usually avoid it at home.

As with our time in Moscow and on our beloved Alaskan mountain, our Sagle home is proving to be a good place to find the words I need to complete this book: to share what I think all Americans—and anyone on the planet, for that matter—must do to understand risks and to stay healthy and positive. However, our dacha life is often overwhelmed by distractions. Finding the time and reflective mood we need to gather and review information, share experiences with friends and family, and update opinions about issues is a much bigger challenge than it was when we lived in that distant Russian capital with its estimated fourteen million souls.

There were many times when I felt less than qualified to write about strategies to reduce exposure to risks and improve overall health and happiness. I tried to overcome this credibility problem by using credible references and personal anecdotes. I want to succeed in challenging and encouraging all of us, including me, to live healthier and safer lives. If we existed at the molecular level, I’d want to be a free radical, an ion that’s free from molecular bondage and capable of moving beyond the confines of conventional wisdom.

My perspective has been deepened by reflecting back over two decades of living with Mary and, for nearly two decades before Mary, experiences with my first wife, Fran. I also have learned to appreciate deeply the wisdom provided by my other mentors. Although I may never become completely free from my self-doubting and the constraints imposed by my place of origin, I’ve developed unusual perspectives that often happen by living far from one’s childhood home. Exposure to contrasting conditions and many different people has given me a much larger lens through which to assess and comprehend our world. My journey continues to reveal a diversity of influences and associations that probably would not have come to me within the confines of my native Delaware.

Many times, this book’s growing bulk created in me a deepening urge to stop writing. I learned that writing a broad-spectrum book (as this one has become) is an ongoing process of serious change and challenge. Maybe I should leave the topics to the more credentialed experts, but I can’t. In addition to the poor dietary choices and lack of exercise of many Americans, I’m concerned about combative and self-defeating attitudes, activities, and behaviors that are eroding the civility in my beloved United States, more concerned than I am about terrorists. This prevents me from abdicating this self-assumed responsibility. I need to share this knowledge before I lose my nerve to do so. I needed to have faith in my knowledge, wisdom, and opinions and finish this task, regardless of imperfections. The stakes are too high, too high for me anyway, to ignore. And anyone else who recognizes the dangers of our conspicuously consumptive lifestyles should feel compelled to write books, blow whistles, rattle cages, ring bells, wave banners, and shout—anything to wake people up!

The passing months also created a moving target. Each month brought a flood of new information that continually challenged my understandings and my ability to weave some of that knowledge into this book. While my brain struggled to compost the incoming information and perspectives, it continually generated new questions about what is most accurate and germane with regard to my perceptions on human health and exposure to risk. As the seasons slipped by, I occasionally floundered in all this new information, especially regarding the political fallout that continues to fulminate around health-care reform, the 2010 disaster in the Gulf of Mexico, the 2011 earthquake and tsunami in Japan, the devastation wrought by Super Storm Sandy in October, 2012, and the shameful political divide that is tearing the fiber of our nation.

So … I did not give up. To strengthen my must share conviction—that part of my soul that wants to give away what may improve the quality of life for others—I turned to such works as The Power of Myth, a book of interviews with Joseph Campbell, by Bill Moyers: You climb your mountain not for the view you have once you reach the summit but because you love the process of climbing, of becoming … During that journey I know I will be tested by the storms we must all experience … The most challenging will test the strength of your passion and your willingness to endure those storms to reach your goal … But your journey is never over until you return from it and share with society what you have learned. Then and only then can you begin your next journey in life as the process repeats itself, as you constantly become.

And I turned to one of Mary’s and my most inspirational writers, Wendell Barry, who said in his succinct prose, The Real Work: It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work, and that when we no longer know which way to go, we have come to our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.

Such writings also inspired the title for this book. It comes from an old Christian hymn. I sometimes forget the actual words of great literature and songs, but their essences remain and I come to know myself at a deeper level by realizing their meanings and identifying with the characters and the situations woven within them. Many such works have come to me via Mary. Some came through recommendations from friends, some from reading deeply impassioned reviews in lesser-known periodicals such as Utne Reader or Orion Magazine, and some from reading synopses of good literature, as in The Book That Changed My Life, featuring editors Coady and Johannessen.

As with most writers and musicians, I want to inspire others. This literary journey could prove to be my ultimate personal risk, but I think again of Lieutenant Petrov and his example of courage. I may never feel prepared to be a writer or be sufficiently lionized to share wisdom, lessons, and rewards, but I plow ahead anyway. Also, the time that I have remaining on this planet is now looking a bit short.

And I still have moments when I am actually thrilled that I undertook this literary journey. It’s actually been exhilarating to confront and overcome my self-criticism and rejection. I am looking up to a new personal mountaintop of achievement, regardless of whether the outcome will be well received. I’m still willing to risk living to the fullest in life’s tempestuous sea and facing mainstream society’s terrifying scrutiny, even though I feel like running and hiding at this very moment! Some of you may consider my information naive, inaccurate, redundant, outdated, one-sided, or incomplete, but please don’t sue me, call the authorities, or confront me with insults, censure, or subpoenas! Just do your best to read on to the end. Use my thoughts, and the thoughts of others that I employ, to expand your own universe, including your ability to apply logic when assessing risk or anything else that can affect your well-being. Use this information as a base from which to ask broader questions about what you’re learning from your own experiences and from knowledge shared by others. Read and think robustly, being open to all lessons from life’s experiences, especially when they are sobering or humbling. Then ask more questions! Many older people I know seem to have forgotten how to ask anyone questions about anything. Give thanks for the lessons learned from mistakes. And keep an open mind. Free yourself from the bondage of relying solely upon immutable convictions of your own making … or the judgments and dictates of others.

Feel free to share what you believe to be true in this book with anyone who wants to listen. But also read this book with a healthy skepticism. While my opinions and experiences are genuine, I may be neither entirely right nor wrong in how I share them and estimate their importance. I also offer no apologies if I sound like a doomsday soothsayer or insufferable bore, but I must add this disclaimer: When I discuss medical issues and remedies, they are meant to be in the context of what seems to work for Mary and me and no one else. I do not have formal medical credentials.

Acknowledgments

My father taught me things that I’m still learning …

(Part of the eulogy given by Bram Role at his father’s memorial service in Sandpoint, Idaho, June 12, 2010)

Be kind; every man you meet is fighting a hard battle.

—Ian Maclaren

For much of my life, especially as a teen, I felt socially out of place and marginalized. At times, I felt so much pain from headaches, fear of failure, and attendant deep anxiety from living outside of the social mainstream that I felt like giving up. There were times when I dreamed of simply disappearing to a magical place where no one criticized me, people were happy again, school was fun, and my head didn’t hurt. The situations responsible for my distress were creating a self-destructive and antagonistic attitude in me. I was what today’s clinicians would call an at-risk individual. I’d have been a good candidate for a study of a condition called hostile attribution bias. It’s characterized by hostile overreactions to perceived affronts. Over the years, I’ve created several scapegoats—people I thought were out to get me—and I’ve developed some reactive instead of proactive behaviors. I still don’t fully understand this distressed and dangerous emotional state.

In 2004, my daughter, Bonnie, was diagnosed with what is presumed to be a genetic autoimmune disorder. She is chronically deficient in vitamin B6 and zinc and cannot absorb iron well. She has to be treated for a myriad of symptoms, some of which are similar to heavy metals poisoning and Lyme disease. Without treatment, her symptoms vary and include fatigue, arthritis, headaches, and anemia. I might also have her disorder, but by taking supplements for most of my life, I may have averted many of the symptoms of this poorly understood condition. But in my younger years, I didn’t escape them. As a teen over a half century ago—a time when I was mostly clueless—the migraines I suffered may have been just one of several symptoms that denied me the chance to develop my full potential as a teen.

Fortunately, a voice deep within me, instilled by those who believed in me, said that I was precious and had much to live for. I decided that I wanted not just to survive but also to thrive. I had the blessings of many helpful people who nurtured my determination to keep growing and encouraged me to develop a sense of purpose. I appreciate beyond measure these many friends and family members who have looked beyond my personal foibles and helped me climb out of the trenches of uncertainty and self-doubt. Because of their guiding influences, I’ve realized a level of success acceptable to me and have found the confidence to help others. Here’s the short list of my many beloved people.

I begin by acknowledging my wife, Mary, who is living proof that unconditional love can exist between two adults, and that it can be found at any age. It can also happen at the most unexpected time. I am deeply blessed by Mary’s presence in my life.

My Father and Mother, Charles and Ruth Toland, who loved me imperfectly but unconditionally. They taught me about nature, especially the weather, earthworms and composting, soil and snow. They also told me about our relatives and ancestors, and I wish I had listened more closely. Both demonstrated the importance of being true to oneself and honest, even when it hurt. I especially appreciate Mother for breastfeeding my brothers and me during a time when this natural function was discouraged.

My Uncle Forest Hamilton, Mother’s young brother, who always took time to listen, ask for my opinions, and treat me with courtesy and respect. Uncle Forest also taught me how to drive a tractor, and he co-signed the papers when I bought my first car.

My first wife, now Fran Jameson, who insisted that I assume more control of my life and who endured, sometimes begrudgingly, through all but one of the most challenging times during our marriage.

Dr. Scott Jameson, Bonnie’s stepdad, who loves her as his own daughter and provides homeopathic care for her serious medical condition.

My children, Drew and Bonnie, who grew into amazing adults and found wonderful spouses in spite of their parents’ growing pains, divorce, and having to live in two separate worlds.

Glen and Sarah Aronson, my two equally amazing stepchildren, now also adults out in the world, who came to accept my union with their mom following our first chaotic years of blending.

My two precious grandchildren, Fiona and Wesley. May they always remind me of the old adage The child is the father of man.

My older brothers, David and Richard, who looked after me and taught me (at times harshly) many important life skills. I thank both for allowing me, albeit against their better judgment at times, to accompany them on some of their great adventures. I bless them for the times when they were patient with me, and I’ve finally learned to bless them for the times when they weren’t.

I’ve been blessed with wonderful friends too. George Brown was my wrestling coach, math teacher, mentor, and compassionate role model at Conrad High School, Woodcrest, Delaware. George passed away recently but lives on in my soul and in the souls of the many fortunate people who knew him. His wife, Betty, also recently deceased, was my dear friend as well. George, Betty, and their six extraordinary children took me in as if I were their family’s number seven.

Bob George was my cherished friend and supervising day camp counselor at Brandywine Springs Park near Wilmington, Delaware. Bob was in charge of the camp when I took my first real job in the summer of 1959, a mentor to several groups of small children. Bob also became my lifelong fishing buddy. Our friendship began during a week of training for new counselors like me at a camp on the Chesapeake Bay. One evening I hiked to a small pond and brought back two large bass. Bob was astonished and insisted that I take him to the spot where I’d caught them.

Mr. George was also the wrestling coach at New Castle High School when I wrestled for Conrad High. Our schools were rivals, but we never held that against each other. His team was one of the toughest in the state. Later he became the principal of the school, a job that rapidly aged him and occasionally broke his heart. But in sunshine or pouring rain, Bob was always ready to catch bass, break into ear-to-ear grins, and talk about good times. Mike Brown, a mutual friend and one of my high school classmates, often went with us on our fishing adventures.

I am especially grateful to Pat Denny of Juneau’s Catholic Community Service. She gave me, a non-Catholic, many hours of free counseling after Drew and I moved to Juneau in 1975. She helped me find the confidence I needed to gain a foothold in Juneau’s new and challenging environment.

Rosemary Antel, artist and organic chemist, who taught me much about many topics, from caring for injured knees to consequences of toxins in our bodies and our biosphere.

Susan Super, another Juneau friend and cohort, who taught me much about writing, critical thinking, and consideration for others. Susan is a competent project manager and a master of the spoken and written word.

Ruth Mampe, a dear pen pal during my navy years, who taught me how to write love letters and reveal my heart.

John and Ann Symons, our longtime friends and neighbors. John was Mary’s supervisor for her first job in Alaska. Both he and Ann helped us navigate around Moscow, Russia, for the two years when Mary taught at the Anglo-American School. Ann was the school’s librarian for over six years.

Dr. Peter B. Leavens, who, in 1967, picked me from the lineup of strong-backed and (speaking for myself) somewhat weak-minded and gullible University of Delaware geology undergraduates to spend a wilderness summer on Prince of Wales Island, Alaska. In that expanse of rugged beauty, I learned to find crystals, identify rock types, recognize geologic processes, blend in and bond with the wilderness, and chart new directions for the rest of my life. I am deeply indebted to Peter Leavens for that life-changing experience.

Peter and Joan Johnson, two special friends who, in early 1975, helped four-year-old Drew and me get going in Alaska. Pete, Joan, and their three children—Thor, Billy, and Cindy—opened their home to us, a safe place where I could begin putting my shattered spirit back together. Pete had been our competent floatplane pilot in 1967.

Thomas R. Hanna, who has been my patient and generous friend and crystal-collecting partner for over thirty-five years. Tom and I co-own Green Monster Mountain on Prince of Wales Island, Alaska, the same mountain where I spent part of my first Alaskan summer with Peter Leavens over forty-five years ago.

Thomas P. Moore, my mineral collecting friend and long-distance hiking partner since our college days in the mid-1960s. Tom introduced me to the beauty and allure of crystals.

Jim and Avis Hayden, Alaskan friends now living in Vermont, who share their deeply rooted, plain-speaking, rural New England wisdom with Mary and me. They even invited us to participate in their maple syrup operation, provided we help bring in the hundreds of buckets of sap! Jim and I continue to share many great Alaskan adventures.

Ludmila Cheshko, our dear Russian friend who introduced Mary and me to many of her country’s famous mineral collectors, and who invited us to numerous cultural events in and around Moscow.

Robert and Marty Betts, fine friends and world travelers, now living in Sandpoint, Idaho. Bob and Marty lived and worked in Alaska for years, including several years in Juneau when Mary and I lived there, but we didn’t meet until we attended a Friends Meeting in Sandpoint, Idaho. Bob graciously devoted many hours critiquing this book.

Counselor Eric Ridgway and his wife, Cindy Aase, whose volunteer initiatives contribute to the rich social fabric that makes Sandpoint, Idaho such a desirable place to live. They started Sandpoint’s famous 1.76 – mile Long Bridge Swim, and they help Stephen Augustine and his wife, Trichia Sullivan, with the community’s popular Vegetarian Potluck, to which everyone is welcome. They are passionate about social, humanitarian and animal rights causes, and they love to share and trade beautiful rocks that they collect wherever they go. We have Cindy and Eric rocks all around our home.

Luri Kuhns, friend and retired counselor in Sandpoint, Idaho. Luri loves to dig crystals and pan for gold almost as much as I do, and she willingly shares her thoughts on seeking the Light of truth and inner peace.

Dr. John Hallahan and his wife, Marion, of Media, Pennsylvania. Both were true Renaissance explorers who shared numerous experiences and wonders from their many travels all over the world. Both are now deceased, and Mary and I miss them dearly.

Dr. Roger Eichman and his wife, Jean. Both have shared their extensive knowledge of horticulture and their opinions on health. They have also shared their Alaskan gold claims with me. Roger and I would often espouse differing viewpoints about climate and politics while we dug for treasure. Roger and Jean have also shared some wonderful flowers, apples, plums, and blackberries from their home and garden on the Olympic Peninsula.

Roy Lawrence and his wife, Carol, dear friends in Haines, Alaska, whom I knew for over thirty-five years. The Lawrences befriended my first wife, Fran, and me when we moved to that remarkable little town in 1977. Roy and I were also prospecting partners who enjoyed looking for crystals and gold.

Ray and Vivian Menaker, also of Haines, Alaska. Ray and Vivian were retired teachers, honest hard workers, master gardeners, gentle peacemakers, contra dancers, and so much more.

Dr. Gilligan, my tenth-grade biology teacher, who believed in me even though I could barely read at a sixth-grade level, and who did not punish me for putting a pickerel fingerling in with his tropical fish.

Dolores Strahorn, now Dolores Sebastian, for becoming a dear friend while in high school. Dolores accepted me, emotional spines included. She never made fun of me and even endured several dates with me. She lives in Delaware with her husband, Bob.

Bill Hartsog, a special friend whom I initially borrowed from his classmate, my brother, Richard. Bill has always been an initiator of adventure. He is one of the most capable and successful people I know. Richard and I have known Bill since he moved into our Keystone Avenue neighborhood when I was six. Bill’s wonderful wife, Carolyn, and my wife, Mary, were born on the same day.

Marlin Ridley, my longtime friend and fellow explorer of new and exciting habitats. I’ve known Marlin even longer than Bill, since kindergarten. Marlin has been a fine companion on many fishing and crystal-collecting adventures.

David Low, my dear friend since tenth grade, who taught me how to correctly fish for bass and how to be a decent buddy even after my initial and obnoxious bullying over which of us is the best fisherman. Over the years, we developed a deep friendship that goes far beyond fishing. Dave and his wife, Connie, graciously offered to review the draft of this book, not knowing what they would be getting themselves into.

Nancy Heiser, now Nancy Robson, for sharing the best times of childhood with me. Even though she was a girl, Nancy became my closest friend and playmate during those innocent and wholesome times.

I appreciate all the wonderful people who touched my heart and soul while we crossed paths on this life’s journey. I especially appreciate my reading buddy, Savanna, who gave me lovely little pieces of wood and moss while on a fourth-grade field trip to Round Lake State Park years ago. When I asked her why she was giving me such treasures, she said, I want to give you something to remember me by. I will not forget you, Savanna.

I extend my gratitude to the informal Sandpoint scholars group, with whom I’ve been associating for nearly ten years. We meet every Tuesday in Sandpoint’s excellent library. The group provides friendship, inspiration, intellectual and academic challenges, political perspectives, and occasional healthy conjecturing.

I also appreciate the in-depth and objective information provided by National Public Broadcasting, in particular the public radio stations KTOO in Juneau and KPBX in Spokane and the public TV stations KSPS and KWSU in Spokane and KCDT in Boise.

I offer a special thanks to the grade school teachers and their students in the Sandpoint, Idaho, area—as well as in Juneau, Alaska, and at the Anglo-American School in Moscow, Russia. These thoughtful and inspiring friends invited me, a community volunteer, into their classrooms and into their hearts. I will always fondly remember our learning times together, especially with Sandpoint teachers Julie Keaton and her fourth-grade classes, and Rochelle Chatburn and her third-grade classes. My only regrets are the times when I caused confusion and consternation instead of helping. I apologize for those times. Teachers are my heroes.

Introduction

A Native American grandfather was talking to his grandson about how he felt. He said, I feel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful, angry, violent one. The other wolf is the loving, compassionate one.

The grandson asked him, Which wolf will win the fight in your heart?

The grandfather answered: The one I feed.

—Source unknown

I don’t know how much information in this book will be new to you, but I want you to believe that satisfying rewards can be found somewhere in here. In addition to possibly learning something new, I hope you will recognize your own thoughts and assumptions in my stories and come away with a greater sense of confidence about what might work for you when dealing with risks and fears. I want this knowledge to increase our longevity, improve our quality of life, and not turn any of us into worrywarts! Throughout the book, I use personal experiences to elucidate risks, the kinds that we readily recognize and the kinds that are often cloaked from our awareness and comprehension. A National Public Radio (NPR) commentator recently categorized risks as being either synthetic or natural and then further subdivided these categories into chronic and catastrophic. These terms work well for me. For example, I think of daily commutes on fast and crowded roads through all kinds of conditions as chronic risks. We know such an activity is dangerous, but we participate in the stampede anyway because it is a routine that’s become ingrained in our collective psyches. Assuming our species survives the next century or two, I bet that our progeny will study such behavior with astonishment! The announcer went on to say that catastrophic risks, e.g., earthquakes and gas line explosions, are feared the most, even though our chronic risks do more damage and take more lives. Since that NPR interview, I’ve been categorizing the risks that Mary and I face accordingly. The chance of hitting a deer on one of our country roads is one of our chronic risks. Fortunately, our north Idaho home and region are not prone to catastrophic risks of the usual kind, but this can be a subjective call. What we would see as catastrophic risks—a meth lab, a kennel with dozens of barking dogs, a shooting range or a rock quarry moving in next door, a train derailment and a resulting chemical spill, a dangerous wildfire—might not faze someone else.

I will begin with a premise that most of the risks we face are the chronic variety, resulting from our human thoughts and actions, not from fires, floods, volcanoes, asteroids, tornadoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, and other so-called acts of God. We often underestimate, and therefore tolerate, the risks that result from our own actions, such as I’m taking a chance that I can speed down a busy street without hitting a kid. Chronic risks resulting from the deliberate actions of others, sometimes with intended consequences, are less common, but because they are less subject to our personal control, they often create a disproportionate amount of trouble for our psyches. For example, I was fearful when I rode the Moscow Metro at night and often wished I had some means to protect myself, even though statistics told me that I was safer riding the Moscow Metro than when driving on Moscow’s often crowded and confusing streets. That said, our most deadly and destructive chronic risks stem from a surprisingly short list of overtly dangerous acts, whether self-inflicted (smoking, overeating, reckless driving, binge drinking, and so on) or inflicted on us by others (rape, robbery, road rage, shootings, slander, bearing false witness, and so forth).

Road rage has become so prevalent that I am developing a disturbing dread of driving. Here’s a special bulletin for you, the reader: when you find yourself embroiled in a road rage incident, extricate yourself in any safe way you can. Swallow your pride, even when you know you were wronged by some crazy driver, and get out of there!

Covertly evil acts bring us an assortment of risks that belong in their own category. They affect us in a myriad of ways, are more difficult to recognize and assess, are most often consummated via dishonesty, and are usually not under our control unless we are the perpetrators. Any of us can be the target of evil acts. In the October 2012 issue of Consumer Reports magazine, the article Scamnation! details twenty-one of America’s worst scams. Rarely have I felt as vulnerable as I did after reading this list! Examples of covertly evil acts are abundant but are often hard to put into words, although occasional sources like the Scamnation! article do a good job as far as they go. I discuss dishonesty and provide examples later in this book.

With regard to evil acts, I’ve been truly blessed, even with my many failings. Most people who know me recognize my inherent desire to do right by others, to make good choices, to bring about goodness, and to never harm anyone. And most have consistently cut me some slack when I fall short, even when they expect better of me. They’ve been able to forgive me without necessarily being permissive or indifferent to my mistakes because they seem to know that many of my mistakes fall under the law of unintended effects: We intend for one thing to happen, but something we didn’t intend happens as well. Then we wonder what happened. They know that my intentions are good, strong, and consistent, although my track record indicates that I may forever be learning how to transfer them into positive outcomes and avoid those unintended effects. To this end, I look to books like Father Mitchell’s The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything. Although I don’t subscribe to Catholicism, I believe that this Christ-centered man—and sometimes his church—can teach anyone with an open mind much about honesty (which he discusses on pages 122–126), about faith and how to care for others, and how to stay positive and hopeful. I also believe that the ongoing positive influences in my life make it impossible for me to ever intentionally choose evil. Goodness has come to me from so many prophets of light who exemplify love and convey a patient understanding of humankind’s capriciousness. It is through such people that I’ve come to know God. As Karl Rahner, SJ, said, Knowing God is more important than knowing about God. And by knowing God, I can relate to such prophets as Enya when she sings her remake of the wonderful old hymn How Can I Keep from Singing? On November 19, 2011, on Garrison Keillor’s Prairie Home Companion (National Public Radio, or NPR), Heather Masse and the St. Olaf Choir also sang a most beautiful version of this hymn.

One such prophet came to me at a time when I was becoming cynical and hardened by overwhelming difficulties in high school. I could have gone either way, or I could have gone both ways at once. Dolores Strahorn (now Dolores Sebastian), a dear classmate and a loving old soul, saw right through my churlish attitude to my true self. She recognized my vulnerable and still impressionable parts that I tried to protect deep inside and did not exploit them. One evening before Christmas 1957, Dolores invited me to sing carols with her church group around her neighborhood in Stanton, Delaware. I was ready to decline as usual, but for some unknown reason, I decided to go along this time. Sure enough, like most fifteen-year-old boys, I felt stupid and self-conscious while singing carols with a group comprised mostly of girls. That is, until we came to the home of an elderly widow. This dear person could barely walk, yet she came to her door, held on to it, and listened. Tears in her eyes sparkled in the light from nearby streetlights. Most of us soon had tears in our eyes too. At least I did, in spite of myself. After we sang a few additional carols that she requested, she thanked us with all her heart. We wished her a very merry Christmas before moving on to continue caroling. And I came away with a changed heart and a greater appreciation for love, the meaning of Christmas and God, and the goodness in people.

Other epiphanies have captured my emotional and spiritual being since that night with Dolores and her friends over fifty-five years ago. As if in slow motion, years of experiences and influences have brought me a deeper understanding of good and evil and the risks that confront each one of us. I’ve come to realize that many risks we face result when good people succumb to Lucifer’s influence. Zimbardo focuses his work on lesser transformations of human character in which ordinary people, even good people, begin to engage in bad deeds, for a short time or longer, that qualify as evil. What is evil? According to Zimbardo, "Evil is the exercise of power to intentionally harm (psychologically), hurt (physically), or destroy (morally or spiritually) others."

I see shades of gray, however, as when people either knowingly or unknowingly become accomplices to evildoers. For example, many people with managed retirement accounts know they probably have some portion of their savings invested in sin stocks, usually tucked away in some seemingly innocuous mutual fund, yet they choose to look the other way because sin stocks make money for their retirement portfolios. Even advocates for a healthier America and a better world might be shocked to discover they own shares in Altria or Phillip Morris, or that they have stock in some gaming syndicate. It’d be a contradiction to insist on pesticide-free organic products while holding investments in companies like Dow Chemical or Monsanto. Mary and I want to know just how our resources are invested, and it’s not always easy to find out!

I’d prefer to see cigarette, gaming, and liquor companies reinvent themselves by eschewing their poisonous products and diversifying into marketing healthy products. By someone’s estimate, cigarettes alone will kill over a billion people this century. That’s not counting all the health-destroying and family-destroying sub lethal effects of smoking. In December 2009, the World Health Organization (WHO) estimated that an additional six hundred thousand deaths are caused by secondhand smoke each year. Home fires and traffic accidents resulting from smoking add even more victims to the list of casualties. I consider these estimates to be conservative, especially after living in Russia, a country where nearly two-thirds of the men smoke. Would we tolerate any other agent of death that claims an estimated ten million people every year? That equates to over 25,000 dead people every day. Deaths resulting from the events of 9/11 hardly compare.

Another example of committing a gray evil is passing along disparaging remarks about someone without checking the sources for accuracy or without considering possible hurtful consequences. How maligning it would be if we passed along a political commentator’s remark that Obama is bad—and that he hopes his administration will fail! What good could possibly come of such a hateful comment? I’m at a loss as to why anyone would believe such a comment anyway. Christ would remind these angry and vengeful people, and the rest of us as well, not to bear false witness, not even around election time.

Frankly, I don’t know how to deal with our government and reconcile my tax payments when I see my dollars contributing to the biggest military budget in the world—one that is larger than the next twenty-nine or more countries combined (statistic provided in March 2011 by Jim Wallis, president of Sojourners). Another estimate claims that around 40 percent of our tax dollars are consumed by our military budget, all in the name of defense! How can I bring the fiscal burden of our defense budget into better focus? Consider this far-out example: Bristol Bay, off the coast of Southwest Alaska, supports what is perhaps the world’s biggest wild salmon fishery. The Bristol Bay fishermen net, on average, between $200 million and $300 million worth of salmon every year and support a self-sustaining, heart-healthy food industry. Estimates of the fishery’s economic value vary. The Natural Resources Defense Council claims that Bristol Bay supports the world’s greatest wild salmon runs that generate up to 14,000 jobs and revenues of $480 million annually. But now we have the proposed Pebble Mine in the headwaters of Bristol Bay where the mature salmon spawn and the immature salmon grow before heading to sea. The mine could damage or destroy some—or all—of this great fishery. The copper, gold, molybdenum, and other metals in this huge Pebble ore deposit are estimated to be worth $500 billion. Using the $300 million figure, it would take over 1,500 years of fish to equal the monetary value of these metals. Yet our military budget consumes all the projected value of the Pebble Mine in about ten months!

Here are a few examples of what could be done with just a modest portion of this money: Israelis and Palestinians could pull together (not entirely impossible) and build a pipeline from the Mediterranean Sea to the Dead Sea. The pipeline would be big enough to keep the Dead Sea from drying up. Water descending to the Dead Sea (over 1,300 feet below sea level) could generate considerable hydroelectricity, enough to operate large desalination plants in a region where fresh water is scarce and precious. The diverted money from our military budget would also sponsor other desalination plants elsewhere in the world. The plants could take advantage of inconsistent wind and solar power. Their fresh water would alleviate dangerous shortages and help feed millions of hungry people. I propose that the Pentagon reduces its order for new F-35 fighter jets from 2,450 to some figure at - or under - 1,000. At $162 million apiece, this would save nearly $235 billion (not counting the significant costs of fuel, maintenance and pilot training). This should be more than enough to fund such projects as the Dead Sea recovery pipeline.

Throw in the savings that deleting a few more F-35 jets would yield and we might have enough money to sponsor plantations of the drumstick tree (Moringa oleifera). Stephanie Velegol, A researcher at Penn State University in State College, PA, found a way to treat contaminated water with a protein extracted from the seeds of this so called miracle tree combined with negatively charged sand. The resulting treated water is free of sediment and pathogens like E. coli. Such water treatment facilities would be a boon to many regions around the globe with critical shortages of potable water. Again, it’s simply a matter of changing our priorities.

Mary and I perceive wars as disasters. The human suffering caused by wars is in the news almost every day. We despair over