A tidbit in the news yesterday caught my eye, in the worst sort of way. It was a brief item on the Memorial Day opening of the area public pools, and an associated cringe worthy problem that we all know exists, but which we try hard not to think about - people using the pool as their lavatory instead of going to the restroom. I don't mean to be indelicate, [well, I do, really, I suppose, since I'm mentioning it, but I try to observe the proprieties,] but apparently people, full grown adults even, are peeing in the pool at an alarming rate.
How disconcerting.
In the survey I was reading, fully 20% of the respondents actually admitted to the misdeed. [You have to seriously wonder about their social skills, even being willing to admit to this obviously anti-social behavior, but I digress.] Naturally, that leads me to wonder how many more people do it but won't admit to it.
Given the known statistic, I wouldn't be surprised to learn, what with the human tendency to lie about everything, even when it's not ridiculously embarrassing, to say nothing of something like this, that half of the people in the swimming pool at any given time are probably eliminating in there, as well. That is a really shocking number, making me think I will never set foot in a public pool again.
I don't know about you, but I would like to think that by the time a person is old enough to be in the pool unsupervised, they would also know better than to eliminate in there. Sort of gives a whole new perspective on the old "hand in the pan of water" trick, I think. [Any girl who ever attended a slumber party knows exactly what I am talking about, here, but as I mentioned, I try to observe the proprieties, so I'm not going to expound. You are on your own with this one.]
This is not just an icky thought. People are spreading germs which can make other swimmers sick.
We would never tolerate this lack of sanitary standards in restaurant kitchens or other public places. We demand high quality regulations any time the general public is exposed to the risk of contamination, in order to prevent the spread of disease and illness. It seems sort of pointless to slather up with antiseptic soap and antibacterial hand gel 24/7, only to dive into the community toilet the moment the sun emerges, don't you think?
But for some irrational reason, [wants versus needs?] we continue to expect chlorine and other vague treatments to be sufficient to overcome all the water borne germs floating in our public pools. Given the rates of people misbehaving, it seems like a Herculean task.
So I got to thinking that there must be a way to identify the perpetrators of this outrageous behavior. I have amused myself at some length troubleshooting solutions to this watery dilemma. I am surprised some chemistry genius hasn't already come up with something that would identify the miscreants at the time of their misdeed.
My ultimate solution? Peer pressure in the form of public humiliation. As a society, we seem to have gotten away from the idea of public disapproval as a discipline technique. As far as I am concerned, peer pressure is one of the most effective deterrents to bad behavior that we have available, and I'm not afraid to use it. [Just ask my children.]
I say we utilize it to correct a behavior which is not only bad, but dangerous, especially to those who have vulnerable immune systems. Surely there must be a chemical that would react with urine in the water, causing a color change, maybe turning the water bright purple or something, so it couldn't be missed by anyone in the vicinity.
Imagine the reaction, as the water gradually turns colors around the unsuspecting swimmer, with nowhere to hide. I know what you are thinking. But admit it, you giggled. Unless, of course, you are one of the people who do this, in which case, you shuddered and made a vow to never do it again.
See? Mission accomplished.
There is a real function to this idea, beyond simple embarrassment. This would allow other swimmers not only to know who did it, but where the contaminants are.
Equally importantly, it would give a clear indication to the teenagers working there when the water was so contaminated that everyone needs to exit the pool for some type of shock treatment. [I don't know about you, but I think putting the health of the community into the hands of teenagers, trusting that they will do the testing and treating on schedule, as they are supposed to, without a single parental reminder, is a bit of a stretch.] The entire pool as a test strip, so to speak, with the outcome obvious to everyone at all times seems like a more effective way to control the situation.
I believe this is an idea whose time has come. If I were anything like a chemistry geek, I would get right on it and patent it, and make my millions. Since I am the artsy craftsy type, and couldn't even memorize the periodic table, I freely give this idea to the masses. Surely there is some eager young inventor out there waiting for the right concept to come along. Consider yourself run over.
In the meantime, I think the only diving I'm going to be doing will be into a book. I'll see you on the pool deck, with my laptop aimed at Snopes.com.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
I love to tell the story...
A storyteller is a purveyor of life's experiences. It is a moniker that I accord to the very few people who can weave a tale in a way that makes us care, incites us to feel, causes us to lose ourselves in someone else's history. Telling stories is the oldest form of entertainment, pictures drawn in the imagination with colorful words, shared happenings retold in a fresh form.
Whether it's written down, or simply spoken, stories are the thread that connect us to the past, to the future, and to each other, through our shared experiences. They draw us in and throw our emotions around. They are a way of making us walk in someone else's shoes, to feel other people's experiences, to live an alternate life that has worked out differently than our own.
Thus, I was humbled and surprised when someone recently complimented my ability to make other people laugh and feel, labeling me a storyteller. I am a Minnesota Lutheran after all, and, like most people who were brought up as I was, I have a hard time acknowledging my own strengths, especially if it is a quality I admire in others. While I have always known I have a certain skill in writing, storytelling is a different talent altogether, based not on learned skills, but on a talent and a feel for words which is innate and intuitive.
Although I have often been told that I am funny or a good writer, the idea that I am a storyteller is a more complex concept. The idea that I can move people emotionally on many levels through the power of my words is one that both excites and intrigues me. It is a compliment, to be sure, but also a responsibility, and it is one which I have been pondering lately.
Like most aspiring writers, I have always dreamed of writing the great American novel. But I seem to have produced mostly short work, instead. Maybe I get bored with my own writing, losing interest if it takes too long to get to the end. Do I suffer from attention deficit problems? Or is this a function of having honed my storytelling abilities over the years? Or perhaps I tell stories because that is simply what I have always done best, and like most people, I do what is easiest for me to do well.
I know I am driven to write my experiences, to commit to words the moments that make up my realities. Even in the midst of the most emotional moments of my life, I need to write them down to fully experience them. I am not reliving the moments, I am feeling them in a different way.
It is, I think, the same drive which has inspired humans to tell stories forever. Shared experience is a powerful binder, bringing us down to a common denominator that allows us to overlook the differences. I want to know all sides of every experience, to explore each nuance and think through every facet of every event. And that is, at the bottom of it all, what storytelling is all about.
I never gave a lot of thought to my method of telling the story, or even what I am trying to accomplish by doing it. Perhaps that is partly due to having been a writer since I was little, chronicling my day to day life in my journal or even in an actual story. My first effort at writing a story was the gripping tale of a deer that got caught in a fence, and which ultimately had to be destroyed. I still have a copy of it, and occasionally like to look at it to remind myself of how a simple story can still move its audience. Because even in that early effort, I think I already understood some of the necessary elements to make for a good story, even though I didn't know it.
So when someone unexpectedly called me a storyteller, I began to think about what it is, exactly, that sets a good storyteller apart from the others. What can I do to make my stories better? How do I craft my words so that other people experience the story, rather than just hearing it? What is it, ultimately, that sets a good story apart from one that is poorly told?
I think the most important element in storytelling is truth. Excellent stories are rooted in reality, real life events about real people. The best stories usually have a basis in everyday reality, simple truths that are easily recognizable, genuine emotions that everyone can relate to. The most proficient storytellers can pick out the common incidents that most people have experienced, and allow us to laugh or cry or empathize or enjoy that experience in someone else's life as if it were our own. Because, in a sense, it is.
We have all been caught listening to people who have an interesting story to tell, but they cannot seem to move past their opening words. They become so concerned about getting some small detail nailed down that they forget the story itself is what actually matters.
Experienced storytellers know how to move the story forward, without getting bogged down in useless information that doesn't add anything to the overall picture they are creating. This is one of the key elements that define storytellers from talkers, in fact. Whether verbally, or on paper, the most capable storytellers get to the point, giving only enough supporting information to support their theme.
From my earliest writing, I have always tried to use the underlying words as the framework for the idea I want to convey. I believe in quality of writing, where less is more. If you allow the imagination to run free, you will give your reader the real gift of participating in the story themselves.
Storytelling is the earliest form of a history book, a living reminder of our shared past. Human beings are driven to tell about ourselves, our lives, our times. Although the methods have changed radically over the years, from cave drawings to online blogs, we are still participating in the same process, a carrying forward of our lives and times, who we are and what we are about, for future generations.
Whether fictional or biographical, the classic stories, the ones that stand the test of time, pull us in and make us a part of the ongoing action. They allow us to experience the events being told, and give us a part in the ongoing pageant of life. When Shakespeare wrote about Romeo and Juliet, for example, it has endured until the modern day, not because we care about the Montagues and the Capulets, but because we understand the pain of love denied. Even with the ancient language, words which resonate for few people any more, the story continues to inspire and enthrall because we have all felt the pain of love lost.
Modern people have gained a reputation, perhaps not undeserved, for being shallow and silly, superficial and temporary. We substitute texts and e-mails for personal conversations, and our relationships are as likely to be carried out by IM or Facebook as in person. And yet, I notice that the movies and books that do the best seem to be those that have the classic themes interwoven as an integral part of the story being told. It seems, even in the electronic age, we are still trying to connect with other people in the oldest of fashions, through stories of common experience.
Next time you start to wonder what is going to become of human civilization, go read a story, or better yet, tell yours to someone new. We all have a story to tell, and you never know where you will find a connection with your own future.
Whether it's written down, or simply spoken, stories are the thread that connect us to the past, to the future, and to each other, through our shared experiences. They draw us in and throw our emotions around. They are a way of making us walk in someone else's shoes, to feel other people's experiences, to live an alternate life that has worked out differently than our own.
Thus, I was humbled and surprised when someone recently complimented my ability to make other people laugh and feel, labeling me a storyteller. I am a Minnesota Lutheran after all, and, like most people who were brought up as I was, I have a hard time acknowledging my own strengths, especially if it is a quality I admire in others. While I have always known I have a certain skill in writing, storytelling is a different talent altogether, based not on learned skills, but on a talent and a feel for words which is innate and intuitive.
Although I have often been told that I am funny or a good writer, the idea that I am a storyteller is a more complex concept. The idea that I can move people emotionally on many levels through the power of my words is one that both excites and intrigues me. It is a compliment, to be sure, but also a responsibility, and it is one which I have been pondering lately.
Like most aspiring writers, I have always dreamed of writing the great American novel. But I seem to have produced mostly short work, instead. Maybe I get bored with my own writing, losing interest if it takes too long to get to the end. Do I suffer from attention deficit problems? Or is this a function of having honed my storytelling abilities over the years? Or perhaps I tell stories because that is simply what I have always done best, and like most people, I do what is easiest for me to do well.
I know I am driven to write my experiences, to commit to words the moments that make up my realities. Even in the midst of the most emotional moments of my life, I need to write them down to fully experience them. I am not reliving the moments, I am feeling them in a different way.
It is, I think, the same drive which has inspired humans to tell stories forever. Shared experience is a powerful binder, bringing us down to a common denominator that allows us to overlook the differences. I want to know all sides of every experience, to explore each nuance and think through every facet of every event. And that is, at the bottom of it all, what storytelling is all about.
I never gave a lot of thought to my method of telling the story, or even what I am trying to accomplish by doing it. Perhaps that is partly due to having been a writer since I was little, chronicling my day to day life in my journal or even in an actual story. My first effort at writing a story was the gripping tale of a deer that got caught in a fence, and which ultimately had to be destroyed. I still have a copy of it, and occasionally like to look at it to remind myself of how a simple story can still move its audience. Because even in that early effort, I think I already understood some of the necessary elements to make for a good story, even though I didn't know it.
So when someone unexpectedly called me a storyteller, I began to think about what it is, exactly, that sets a good storyteller apart from the others. What can I do to make my stories better? How do I craft my words so that other people experience the story, rather than just hearing it? What is it, ultimately, that sets a good story apart from one that is poorly told?
I think the most important element in storytelling is truth. Excellent stories are rooted in reality, real life events about real people. The best stories usually have a basis in everyday reality, simple truths that are easily recognizable, genuine emotions that everyone can relate to. The most proficient storytellers can pick out the common incidents that most people have experienced, and allow us to laugh or cry or empathize or enjoy that experience in someone else's life as if it were our own. Because, in a sense, it is.
We have all been caught listening to people who have an interesting story to tell, but they cannot seem to move past their opening words. They become so concerned about getting some small detail nailed down that they forget the story itself is what actually matters.
Experienced storytellers know how to move the story forward, without getting bogged down in useless information that doesn't add anything to the overall picture they are creating. This is one of the key elements that define storytellers from talkers, in fact. Whether verbally, or on paper, the most capable storytellers get to the point, giving only enough supporting information to support their theme.
From my earliest writing, I have always tried to use the underlying words as the framework for the idea I want to convey. I believe in quality of writing, where less is more. If you allow the imagination to run free, you will give your reader the real gift of participating in the story themselves.
Storytelling is the earliest form of a history book, a living reminder of our shared past. Human beings are driven to tell about ourselves, our lives, our times. Although the methods have changed radically over the years, from cave drawings to online blogs, we are still participating in the same process, a carrying forward of our lives and times, who we are and what we are about, for future generations.
Whether fictional or biographical, the classic stories, the ones that stand the test of time, pull us in and make us a part of the ongoing action. They allow us to experience the events being told, and give us a part in the ongoing pageant of life. When Shakespeare wrote about Romeo and Juliet, for example, it has endured until the modern day, not because we care about the Montagues and the Capulets, but because we understand the pain of love denied. Even with the ancient language, words which resonate for few people any more, the story continues to inspire and enthrall because we have all felt the pain of love lost.
Modern people have gained a reputation, perhaps not undeserved, for being shallow and silly, superficial and temporary. We substitute texts and e-mails for personal conversations, and our relationships are as likely to be carried out by IM or Facebook as in person. And yet, I notice that the movies and books that do the best seem to be those that have the classic themes interwoven as an integral part of the story being told. It seems, even in the electronic age, we are still trying to connect with other people in the oldest of fashions, through stories of common experience.
Next time you start to wonder what is going to become of human civilization, go read a story, or better yet, tell yours to someone new. We all have a story to tell, and you never know where you will find a connection with your own future.
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