Relearning Learning

Years ago I was piddling around in the backyard and happened to eavesdrop on a conversation between my next door neighbor and another gentleman.  The discussion was about work:  tough, physical work.  "So and so was one helluva worker," said the one.  "Once I saw him carry two 80 pound bags of concrete mix from the truck to the job site, a distance of at least 200 yards one way without taking a break during a 10 hour day.  I'm guessing he must have made that trip at least 150 times that day and never complained."   The other responded along the lines of, "This gal worked the assembly line at the plant where I was employed.  She wouldn't take any guff from the people she worked around, but she always backed it up with the highest productivity scores of anyone in that section.  Every now and then management would bring in some hotshot piece of equipment, but I'll be damned that that woman did not continue to do the work as quick and with a higher ra...

I was proud of that first uniform.  Neatly attired from head to toe in navy blue with gold trim, topped by a baseball cap with the scout insignia, I was an optimistic eight year old cub setting foot in the neighborhood on a bright, sunny Saturday determined to lead my pack in thin mint sales.  Early that morning the neighbors on the block who knew the McCarley boy at least acted more than happy to purchase a box or two which could be had for four bits or so back in those days.  As I gravitated farther from the safe and known vicinity of the 2300 block of Stanley Ave, however, successful sales of the mints began to...thin. The kinder rejections ranged from, "I promised my grandson I would buy from him this year," to "I already got some from a nice young man who came calling earlier."  Although cars were parked in driveways next to other houses and a passing glance revealed lights and televisions were on, several from those residences did not bother coming to the do...

This past week marked the tenth rendition of my annual bike trek across the state of Iowa as provided by the Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa (RAGBRAI).  Each of these journeys have given opportunity to enjoy the heartland of America up close through farm fields, grain elevators, small towns, and the people of this surprisingly diverse region.  The ride, which some might describe as "summer camp for adults," also provides "decompression" time, a chance to interact with fellow cyclists, have contemplative time alone, and visit somewhat obscure and out of the way landmarks.  Most importantly while I always find myself returning home physically exhausted and sun baked, mentally there is somewhat of a recharge, refocus, rejuvenation. The mind-body connection is remarkable.  If you are like me, I can recall days where I would sit at the desk for prolonged periods dumbfounded for the right words for a report or an appropriate solution or recommendation ...