Thanks Jim & Jamie Dutcher for permission to use photo of Lakota.

Friday, October 30, 2009

A Flower For All Seasons

Walking along a trodden down path, wildflowers blooming as bees abuzz with nectar, one can transcend to another world of sorts.  Bending from the waist to smell the fragrance of this splendor, dreaming of escape from calamity and tasks awaiting my attendance (chores, work, bills), a handsome man (my boyfriend) approaches from behind baring a small token of his affection… a few carefully plucked daisies mixed with some buttercups and one dandelion (this makes me smile).   It wasn’t my birthday.  It wasn’t our anniversary.  It was an ordinary summer day.  This gesture, so simple, so full of pleasure, reminds me one does not have to wait for a special occasion to send flowers to someone you care about.  Here it is, nearing the end of October, flowers have tucked themselves away, leaves are strewn about, and we walk along a similar path when the urge strikes to give some flowers.  I make do with a little bouquet of chosen leaves baring shades of red, orange, and yellow and bare witness to the immediate effects this act has as a smile broadens across his face.    

Copyright © 2009 Alyssa Polacsek & Latté News

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Pay It Forward Carl Sgro Style

True story. As a kid, my grandfather had a boat. He would take us (us being my entire family - brother, sister, mother, father, cousins, aunt, uncle, grandmother, and the dog) out on his boat to enjoy a day of fishing. His mastery and command of his vessel led me to believe he was the founder of the ocean and all things hidden beneath its surface.

On one particular day, as my papa doled out the fishing poles to us kids, he turned to me and stated he had “run out” [of fishing poles]. The look of disappointment on my face must have registered and Papa said, "All that's left are shark poles. You can use one of them instead." Now, I'm not sure which was more obvious, my disappointment or the sudden onslaught of fear I attempted to hide as I feigned enthusiasm. What would happen if I caught a shark? Surely, I'd be pulled overboard and eaten alive. All I wanted was to catch a sunfish, but, now I'd have to reel in a shark? Well, at the end of the day I caught nothing. Zero. Nada. I was greatly relieved although, I claimed to be upset by the fact I hadn’t caught a shark. My papa put his arm around my shoulder, winked and said, "Maybe next time."

This image of a grandfather taking his grandchildren fishing is nothing out of the ordinary. But, a man by the name of Carl Sgro has taken something ordinary and made it into something extraordinary. Carl Sgro, a tournament-quality bass fisherman who studies fish habits and behavior, who has fished in inlets and lakes from Maine to Florida, has founded a wonderful program in his local community, “Take A Kid Fishing.” Perhaps this is the result of not only his enthusiasm and appreciation for the sport but, a childhood memory of fishing with someone special. Perhaps this memory was so profound, the desire to give a similar experience to kids today sparked its growth? Regardless of where the motive stemmed, similar programs have popped up all over the world. While I cannot make the claim Carl Sgro made this happen, I imagine him to be somewhat influential. Is there an experience from your childhood you can pass on to your children or community? If so, pay it forward… Carl Sgro-style!

Copyright © 2009 Alyssa Polacsek & Latté News

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Bull or Bull Shark?



Don't let your fingers dangle in the water.  And, don't you worry 'bout the Day-Glo orange life preserver.  It won't save you.  It won't save you.  Swim for the shore just as fast as you are able.  Swim.”  Further along, “It's murder out there, murder out there.  Sharks patrol these waters." Morphine.
While these lyrics are a metaphor, they swim through my head as I compose the following short funny story... although, not entirely;  More like, "food for thought."


One day I tell my stepsister about my fear of water.  There are several reasons behind said fear but I'll reserve those worries for another time. Anyway, I tell her about the Bull Shark... a fast moving, carnivorous shark, oftentimes mistaken for the Great White, with the ability to swim in as little as two feet of either salt or fresh water.  She doesn't believe me, goes home and looks up this information only to discover its accuracy and truth.  This resulted in her newfound fear of water, which (by the way) was not my intention.  So, here she is visiting on a separate occasion when I launch into another story about something or other (I forget what) but she stops me.  She does not want to hear it, whatever it is, for fear she’ll abandon doing something else she once enjoyed as the result of whatever it is I have to say.  The funny thing is... I think it had to do with online dating or something.  Well, I guess that is pretty frightening when you think about it.  Sure, you know someone who met someone online and now their married.  Well, before we all place faith in “that system” let’s see how long their marriage lasts, shall we?  Anyway, I digress…


Allow me to introduce the BULL SHARK (Carcharhinus leucas).  This shark is perhaps the deadliest when it comes to shark attacks… reason being, they can swim in such shallow waters thereby putting swimmers, divers, and surfers at greater risk than other “man-eaters,” such as the Great White, Tiger and Hammerhead.  It is not that the Bull sets out to target and kill a human.  In fact, the Bull’s eyesight is better than ours and their sense of smell can detect a drop of blood a quarter-of-a-mile away.   It is confusion that is accountable.  The Bull shark, aptly named for their blunt snout, habitually warns their prey with a head-butt before attacking and normally feeds upon other fish, sharks, dolphins, stingrays, pretty much anything in its path that is edible.  Unfortunately for humans, sometime we get in their way and an arm or leg is mistaken as a fish. 


Another reason humans are at greater risk for attack by a Bull Shark over any other shark is their adaptability to fresh water.  Their blood is able to release its salt concentration by up to 50% providing them the ability to swim in rivers, estuaries, and lakes.  How do they get there?  Perhaps when a flood occurs breaching barricades, a shark enters and misses its chance to leave before the waters recede.  Most sharks would certainly die but, in the case of the Bull (and River Shark – a true fresh water shark), it could actually maintain and multiply upon reaching sexual maturation, occurring between 8 - 10 years old (assuming another of the opposite sex is patrolling the same waters), thereby creating schools or pairs of sharks in the strangest of places… like for instance, Lake Michigan.  Bulls have been found as far as 1200 miles up the Mississippi River, the Amazon, along the shores of New Jersey, Massachusetts and elsewhere around the world.  These creatures have the sustainability to survive (unless man destroys them first).  Fortunately for them, they are not at high risk as of yet, although studies do show a decrease in numbers and more than likely there will continue to be a decline for years to come.  But for now, they’re safe.  Question is, are you?  

Copyright ©  2009 Alyssa Polacsek, Lakota Films, LLC & Natural Child Blog

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Time For Breakfast


Tick… tick… tick, an annoying sound reminding me it is time to get up and start my day.  Who do I blame?  Jost Bürgi?  After all, he did invent the minute hand back in 1577.  Although, it had its fair share of problems and as a result in 1656 Christian Huygens created the pendulum clock.  Or, do I blame the Egyptians, the Hindus, the Greeks for having recognized time in the first place with water clocks, the hourglass, and sundials?  As I lay staring up at the ceiling, pillows perfectly molded around my head, blankets embracing me with warmth and security, I ponder; how many others are ticked off?  Perhaps I should blame myself for not purchasing the clock radio or the one with the dim lights?  On that note, there is the borborygmus, the rumble in my tummy reminding me I am hungry and I toss off the covers, quickly exposing myself to the cold elements of morning.  Shivering, I grab my bathrobe thankful for the man or woman who came up with this nifty design.

Otter (Lutra Canadensis), an appropriate name for my feline,rubs against my legs then darts and weaves around my ankles with every step I attempt to take forward, a testament to his hunger and urgency to eat breakfast.  I almost laugh out loud at the very word, breakfast… break fast… not to be confused with the tempting French breakfast, Le Reacquisition… a meal consisting of one or more alcohols mixed together.  I opt for a cup of coffee, a couple of eggs and toast lightly buttered, instead and Otter will have a can of 9-Lives if he doesn’t cause me to fall and break a limb beforehand.  After a dozen or so near mishaps, I manage to peel back the lid on his food and dump its contents into his bowl as he descends, lapping at his meal with no sign of stopping to even glance in my direction as a means of thanks.  The sound he makes is downright frightening making me think I’d lose my hand if I attempted to touch him or his dish.  As I rinse the can, about to toss it in with the recycling, I decide to read the ingredients to see what it is that causes him to go bizerk.  “Meat by products, water sufficient for processing”further down, “pantothenate, riboflavin supplement, pyridoxine hydrochloride, menadione sodium bisulfite, sodium nitrate.”  He seems happy.  None-the-less I am left with a look of stupor wondering what the hell it is he’s actually eating and, furthermore, what’s in my food?  I grab a loaf of bread and look…“Whole wheat flour, water, wheat gluten, high fructose corn syrup, 2% or less of: mono and diglycerides, dough conditioners (sodium stearoyl lactylate, calcium iodate, calcium dioxide), calcium sulfate, extracts of malted barley and corn, dicalcium phosphate, diammonium phosphate, and calcium propionate (to retain freshness).”  All I know is, this is nothing like mom used to bake.  Well, at least the eggs are safe.  The container reads “No antibiotics.  No hormones.”  Lutein and zeaxanthin are good for your eyes; choline aids brain development, and folate – all kinds of goodness generating new cell growth, protecting against anemia and serious birth defects, not that I’m planning on having a baby anytime soon, if at all. 

Ahh, my beloved coffee! For years I have listened to the scare-tactics and back-and-forth arguments of damaging side effects verses medical benefits.  Arguments claiming you stunt growth, cause heart palpitations, anxiety, liver damage, cancer and other serious illnesses.  On the flipside I’ve heard (or maybe I simply want to believe) when coffee is consumed in large quantities it actually prevents type 2 diabetes and reduces heart disease.  Then I wonder aloud, “Am I at risk of diabetes and heart disease?”  I determine I am an unlikely candidate as neither run in my family but for the sake of others I will brew a large pot to play it safe; seven scoops of bold roast to seven cups of water.  Coffee contains antioxidants and tannin.  Caffeine opens blood vessels, stimulates circulation, reduces asthma and it is the ergogenic of choice propelling me through my morning and workday.  

Otter finishes eating his breakfast and moves to bask in the sun filtering through the window as I decide to proceed with my meal as planned although I opt for one slice of toast instead of two.  I grab a cast iron skillet because Teflon produces pefluoronated compounds; hydrogen fluoride, carbonyl fluoride and perfluoroisobutylene which when heated can increase the danger of Teflon toxicosis causing shortness of breath, irritation to the nose and throat along with other flu-like symptoms sometimes including death. 

I’ve been up for all of 15 minutes and already life is looking grim.  I toss the pan on the stove, turn up the flame, add a small amount of olive oil, and wait for it to heat before cracking two eggs.  I depress the lever on the toaster.  By the time it pops the coffee should be brewed, the eggs over-medium, and the toast crispy.  Note to self; be sure to use an oven mitt so as not to burn myself on the skillet handle like I did the last time.  Arranging my food on a plate in a presentable manner, I think what else is in my cupboards that are potentially harmful?  Maybe I should move to the country and grow organic food free of pesticides, preservatives, and other additives but in this day of economic duress, the thought is far easier than application.  Looking up at the clock I’ve somehow managed to time everything just right.  I sit and pick at my mostly healthy breakfast and wonder if I should thank Jost Bürgi and Christian Huygens, for it appears I’ll make it to work on time… again! 




Pay It Forward Carl Sgro Style - Reputation Management


True story.  As a kid, my grandfather had a boat.  He would take us (us being my entire family - brother, sister, mother, father, cousins, aunt, uncle, grandmother, and the dog) out on his boat to enjoy a day of fishing.  His mastery and command of his vessel led me to believe he was the founder of the ocean and all things hidden beneath its surface.  On one particular day, as my papa doled out the fishing poles to us kids, he turned to me and stated he had “run out” [of fishing poles].  The look of disappointment on my face must have registered and Papa said, "All that's left are shark poles.  You can use one of them instead."  Now, I'm not sure which was more obvious, my disappointment or the sudden onslaught of fear I attempted to hide as I feigned enthusiasm.  What would happen if I caught a shark?  Surely, I'd be pulled overboard and eaten alive.  All I wanted was to catch a sunfish, but, now I'd have to reel in a shark?  Well, at the end of the day I caught nothing.  Zero.  Nada.  I was greatly relieved although, I claimed to be upset by the fact I hadn’t caught a shark.  My papa put his arm around my shoulder, winked and said, "Maybe next time."


This image of a grandfather taking his grandchildren fishing is nothing out of the ordinary.  But, a man by the name of Carl Sgro has taken something ordinary and made it into something extraordinaryCarl Sgro, a tournament-quality bass fisherman who studies fish habits and behavior, who has fished in inlets and lakes from Maine to Florida, has founded a wonderful program in his local community, “Take A Kid Fishing.”  Perhaps this is the result of not only his enthusiasm and appreciation for the sport but, a childhood memory of fishing with someone special.  Perhaps this memory was so profound, the desire to give a similar experience to kids today sparked its growth?  Regardless of where the motive stemmed, similar programs have popped up all over the world.  While I cannot make the claim Carl Sgro made this happen, I imagine him to be somewhat influential.  Is there an experience from your childhood you can pass on to your children or community?  If so, pay it forward… Carl Sgro-style! 


Copyright © 2009 Alyssa Polacsek, Lakota Films, LLC & Natural Child Blog

Time For Breakfast

Tick… tick… tick, an annoying sound reminding me it is time to get up and start my day.  Who do I blame?  Jost Bürgi?  After all, he did invent the minute hand back in 1577.  Although, it had its fair share of problems and as a result in 1656 Christian Huygens created the pendulum clock.  Or, do I blame the Egyptians, the Hindus, the Greeks for having recognized time in the first place with water clocks, the hourglass, and sundials?  As I lay staring up at the ceiling, pillows perfectly molded around my head, blankets embracing me with warmth and security, I ponder; how many others are ticked off?  Perhaps I should blame myself for not purchasing the clock radio or the one with the dim lights?  On that note, there is the borborygmus, the rumble in my tummy reminding me I am hungry and I toss off the covers, quickly exposing myself to the cold elements of morning.  Shivering, I grab my bathrobe thankful for the man or woman who came up with this nifty design.

Otter (Lutra Canadensis), an appropriate name for my feline, rubs against my legs then darts and weaves around my ankles with every step I attempt to take forward, a testament to his hunger and urgency to eat breakfast.  I almost laugh out loud at the very word, breakfastbreak fast… not to be confused with the tempting French breakfast, Le Reacquisition… a meal consisting of one or more alcohols mixed together.  I opt for a cup of coffee, a couple of eggs and toast lightly buttered, instead and Otter will have a can of 9-Lives if he doesn’t cause me to fall and break a limb beforehand.  After a dozen or so near mishaps, I manage to peel back the lid on his food and dump its contents into his bowl as he descends, lapping at his meal with no sign of stopping to even glance in my direction as a means of thanks.  The sound he makes is downright frightening making me think I’d lose my hand if I attempted to touch him or his dish.  As I rinse the can, about to toss it in with the recycling, I decide to read the ingredients to see what it is that causes him to go bizerk.  “Meat by products, water sufficient for processing” further down, “pantothenate, riboflavin supplement, pyridoxine hydrochloride, menadione sodium bisulfite, sodium nitrate.”  He seems happy.  None-the-less I am left with a look of stupor wondering what the hell it is he’s actually eating and, furthermore, what’s in my food?  I grab a loaf of bread and look… “Whole wheat flour, water, wheat gluten, high fructose corn syrup, 2% or less of: mono and diglycerides, dough conditioners (sodium stearoyl lactylate, calcium iodate, calcium dioxide), calcium sulfate, extracts of malted barley and corn, dicalcium phosphate, diammonium phosphate, and calcium propionate (to retain freshness).”  All I know is, this is nothing like mom used to bake.  Well, at least the eggs are safe.  The container reads “No antibiotics.  No hormones.”  Lutein and zeaxanthin are good for your eyes; choline aids brain development, and folate – all kinds of goodness generating new cell growth, protecting against anemia and serious birth defects, not that I’m planning on having a baby anytime soon, if at all. 

Ahh, my beloved coffee! For years I have listened to the scare-tactics and back-and-forth arguments of damaging side effects verses medical benefits.  Arguments claiming you stunt growth, cause heart palpitations, anxiety, liver damage, cancer and other serious illnesses.  On the flipside I’ve heard (or maybe I simply want to believe) when coffee is consumed in large quantities it actually prevents type 2 diabetes and reduces heart disease.  Then I wonder aloud, “Am I at risk of diabetes and heart disease?”  I determine I am an unlikely candidate as neither run in my family but for the sake of others I will brew a large pot to play it safe; seven scoops of bold roast to seven cups of water.  Coffee contains antioxidants and tannin.  Caffeine opens blood vessels, stimulates circulation, reduces asthma and it is the ergogenic of choice propelling me through my morning and workday. 

Otter finishes eating his breakfast and moves to bask in the sun filtering through the window as I decide to proceed with my meal as planned although I opt for one slice of toast instead of two.  I grab a cast iron skillet because Teflon produces pefluoronated compounds; hydrogen fluoride, carbonyl fluoride and perfluoroisobutylene which when heated can increase the danger of Teflon toxicosis causing shortness of breath, irritation to the nose and throat along with other flu-like symptoms sometimes including death.

I’ve been up for all of 15 minutes and already life is looking grim.  I toss the pan on the stove, turn up the flame, add a small amount of olive oil, and wait for it to heat before cracking two eggs.  I depress the lever on the toaster.  By the time it pops the coffee should be brewed, the eggs over-medium, and the toast crispy.  Note to self; be sure to use an oven mitt so as not to burn myself on the skillet handle like I did the last time.  Arranging my food on a plate in a presentable manner, I think what else is in my cupboards that are potentially harmful?  Maybe I should move to the country and grow organic food free of pesticides, preservatives, and other additives but in this day of economic duress, the thought is far easier than application.  Looking up at the clock I’ve somehow managed to time everything just right.  I sit and pick at my mostly healthy breakfast and wonder if I should thank Jost Bürgi and Christian Huygens, for it appears I’ll make it to work on time… again! 


Copyright © 2009 Alyssa Polacsek, Lakota Films, LLC & Natural Child Blog

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Thursday, October 8, 2009

The Do



The bridge is broken / acoustic version by thedoband

As far as indie rock bands go, the do (as in the first and last notes on the musical scale) kick ass! Hauntingly beautiful, disjointed yet connected, visually inspiring and engaging; they make me want to run out and film everything everywhere, edit it together and submit it to film festivals. Granted, this is something I try to do every once in awhile (I've made it my business) but it's worth mentioning regardless, because this duo transcends the urge.   From do-to-do and every note and every feeling in between, the do captures and blends both old and new into a fresh sound familiar to Paris and Helsinki.   And (because someone asked), Helsinki is in Finland.  So, who are the do?  Olivia B.Merilahti and Dan Levy.  For more information visit them at the do.

Copyright © 2009 Alyssa Polacsek, Lakota Films, LLC