Barrett Dorko
26-08-2007, 04:28 PM
It’s been a quiet week in Cuyahoga Falls…
I left Ft. Lauderdale on a steamy Wednesday afternoon last week after what I felt was yet another successful workshop. Most everybody had remained awake and no one had actually threatened me with any physical violence. For me, some days that’s enough to define “success.”
Driving along I-75 toward Ft. Myers I ejected the Livingston Taylor (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Livingston_Taylor) CD that I love to sing along to (we have the same voice) and I tuned in to National Public Radio’s All Things Considered. There I found a remarkable coincidence here ( http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=13872706).
After returning home I walked Buckeye through my neighborhood on Saturday morning and a recurring but common event caught my attention and the story on NPR flooded back. For the fifth time on this walk another dog rushed toward us from their home only to be stopped short by an invisible fence ( http://www.invisiblefence.com/) that they’ve learned not to cross. Similarly, Buckeye has learned to ignore these threatening displays and typically behaves as if nothing is happening, especially if it is by what she refers to as “a sissy dog” i.e. one has been clipped and pampered and weighs about five pounds. I’ve tried to teach her not to be so judgmental but she pays no attention.
If you check out the link to Wednesday’s story on NPR you’ll find that they were reporting on South Florida's Wetlands, specifically the canals that line the border of I-75 as it runs west toward Ft. Myers. They call this “Alligator Alley” and though there wasn’t a gator to be seen, it was very easy to imagine that the murky water about 60 feet to my right was filled with them. What the radio told me was even more interesting. These canals are commonly the dumping ground for cars rolled down the numerous boat launches that are easily accessed. These are stolen cars, cars someone can’t pay for, and, occasionally, cars with people in them. Criminality seems to be a common thread here.
I teach as much as I possibly can during the brief period allotted by Cross Country and, more importantly, the short attention span of my audience. I accomplish something I suppose, but cannot help but sense how much is hidden by inconvenience and lack of real interest. This story about the canals as I drove right past them forced me to keep looking right, hoping, I guess, to see an antenna poking through the water’s surface. Maybe a body.
Ick.
But after a while I just looked straight ahead again and switched to Josh Groban ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Josh_Groban) (we have the same voice) and forgot about the peril nearby.
I started acting like Buckeye as she walks past yet another mad rush from a snarling foe. Completely oblivious and unperturbed, she trots along, perhaps having concluded long ago that these dogs are all bark and no bite. But for the fence I doubt that this would always be true. I erected my own invisible fence on Wednesday though I knew there was some amazing stuff nearby, and not all of it a natural consequence of South Florida’s ecosystem. The worst stuff was man-made.
Might the therapists I try to teach do the same thing? Do they do it as soon as I introduce a little cognitive dissonance? Do they wait until they hit the parking lot after class or do they wait until they return to work?
I know it shows up soon enough. After all, this is easy to do.
I left Ft. Lauderdale on a steamy Wednesday afternoon last week after what I felt was yet another successful workshop. Most everybody had remained awake and no one had actually threatened me with any physical violence. For me, some days that’s enough to define “success.”
Driving along I-75 toward Ft. Myers I ejected the Livingston Taylor (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Livingston_Taylor) CD that I love to sing along to (we have the same voice) and I tuned in to National Public Radio’s All Things Considered. There I found a remarkable coincidence here ( http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=13872706).
After returning home I walked Buckeye through my neighborhood on Saturday morning and a recurring but common event caught my attention and the story on NPR flooded back. For the fifth time on this walk another dog rushed toward us from their home only to be stopped short by an invisible fence ( http://www.invisiblefence.com/) that they’ve learned not to cross. Similarly, Buckeye has learned to ignore these threatening displays and typically behaves as if nothing is happening, especially if it is by what she refers to as “a sissy dog” i.e. one has been clipped and pampered and weighs about five pounds. I’ve tried to teach her not to be so judgmental but she pays no attention.
If you check out the link to Wednesday’s story on NPR you’ll find that they were reporting on South Florida's Wetlands, specifically the canals that line the border of I-75 as it runs west toward Ft. Myers. They call this “Alligator Alley” and though there wasn’t a gator to be seen, it was very easy to imagine that the murky water about 60 feet to my right was filled with them. What the radio told me was even more interesting. These canals are commonly the dumping ground for cars rolled down the numerous boat launches that are easily accessed. These are stolen cars, cars someone can’t pay for, and, occasionally, cars with people in them. Criminality seems to be a common thread here.
I teach as much as I possibly can during the brief period allotted by Cross Country and, more importantly, the short attention span of my audience. I accomplish something I suppose, but cannot help but sense how much is hidden by inconvenience and lack of real interest. This story about the canals as I drove right past them forced me to keep looking right, hoping, I guess, to see an antenna poking through the water’s surface. Maybe a body.
Ick.
But after a while I just looked straight ahead again and switched to Josh Groban ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Josh_Groban) (we have the same voice) and forgot about the peril nearby.
I started acting like Buckeye as she walks past yet another mad rush from a snarling foe. Completely oblivious and unperturbed, she trots along, perhaps having concluded long ago that these dogs are all bark and no bite. But for the fence I doubt that this would always be true. I erected my own invisible fence on Wednesday though I knew there was some amazing stuff nearby, and not all of it a natural consequence of South Florida’s ecosystem. The worst stuff was man-made.
Might the therapists I try to teach do the same thing? Do they do it as soon as I introduce a little cognitive dissonance? Do they wait until they hit the parking lot after class or do they wait until they return to work?
I know it shows up soon enough. After all, this is easy to do.