a slice of life (food page feature)

Published in The Post-Star (D1)

12/28/05

Steve's Place is everything you want a diner to be.

There's the classic old booths with individual jukeboxes, the motherly waitress, and the surly cook; the quiet conversations between locals; the nods of greeting exchanged across the room.

"Coffee, honey?" the waitress asks each new patron. Most of them have been there before, and don't bother looking at a menu. She knows what they want, anyway. Two English muffins, toasted, with apple jelly. Scrambled eggs with home fries and wheat toast. An "early burger."

It's Tuesday morning, two days after Christmas, and nobody has taken down the decorations yet. Big red velvet bows are tied around the hanging light fixtures above each booth, and tinsel and garland is all over the place. Beside the cash register, someone has marked an X across the days counting down to Christmas (although they stopped, inexplicably, on the 19th).

By 9 a.m., most of the 10 booths are filled with a mixture of middle-aged couples, senior citizens, and a few families with kids on school break. Some people are talking about the gifts they received, while others are discussing the stories in the morning paper. Some aren't saying anything at all.

Two young guys -- one with a mullet, one with curls -- take the corner booth. They order a hearty breakfast of eggs, hash browns, bacon, toast, and chocolate milk.

At the counter, an older gentleman sips his coffee and looks mournfully at the newspaper, folded open to the obituaries page. His green fleece jacket is perfectly matched with his green cane, which rests by its curved handle on the green countertop.

When he gets up to leave, his face brightens as he passes the first table.

"I thought you looked familiar," he says to a middle-aged man with a mustache. The man nods and says that he used to work nearby.

They wish each other well, and the older man walks away, leaning on his cane and smiling.

He's soon replaced at the counter by a plump woman with a wrinkled face, dressed in a pink fleece jacket.

"Back in the old routine," she says to the waitress. "Do you have bear claws?"

The waitress shakes her head sadly, and offers alternatives in a coaxing voice.

"How about a cinnamon bun?" she suggests. "Want me to toast one of those for you? Or a blueberry muffin?"

After a long pause, the pink-fleece woman says, "English muffin?"

The waitress relaxes. "OK. What kind of jelly?"

There's no hesitation here: "Red."

Along with some strawberry jelly, the waitress hands her a small, gift-wrapped package. The older woman asks for help to remove the tape. She turns the object over in her hands, peering down at it thoughtfully.

It's a magnetic notepad holder, in the shape of an angel.

Finally she says, "Thank you. That certainly is different; never seen anything like it."

She packs it up again with care, and puts it in her purse. She doesn't smile, exactly, but she seems pleased.

Over in the corner booth, the guys are fiddling with the jukebox. The one with the mullet puts in a few quarters, and they settle on classic rock -- "Put a Candle in the Window," by Creedence Clearwater Revival.

They grin at each other as the music starts playing. It's going to be a good day.

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Premature birth rate on the rise

Published in The Post-Star (A1)
12/27/05

When John Lines II entered the world on April 20, 1995, his parents didn't know whether to grieve or rejoice.

Their newborn son was 15 weeks premature and weighed 1 pound, 12 ounces.

He was 11-1/2 inches long -- "just like a sheet of paper," said his mother, Meg Lines. He couldn't breathe or eat on his own, and was so tiny that his father's wedding band fit around the middle of his arm like a bracelet.

"People just didn't know what to say when it happened," Lines said. "Do you celebrate a birth like that?"

Lines wasn't expecting any complications when she became pregnant with her second child in 1994. She and her husband both came from large families and their 3-year-old, Emily, weighed over 9 pounds at birth.

Lines, a school speech therapist, was a healthy young woman who took prenatal vitamins and didn't smoke or drink.

"It can happen to anybody, that's what I found out," said Lines, 40, in a recent interview at her Queensbury home. Her son John, now 10 years old, cuddled up with her on the couch as they told their story.

Last year in the United States, more than half a million babies were born too soon, setting a new and disturbing record.

The preterm birth rate -- babies born before 37 complete weeks in the womb -- has risen 16 percent since 1990, according to the National Center for Health Statistics. By 2004, one in every eight live births was premature.

A variety of factors in a woman's health can raise the risk of premature birth, including genetics, obstetric history, infections, smoking or drug use. But sometimes, there's no easy cause to pinpoint.

"The largest chunk of cases are idiopathic, meaning, it just happens," said Dr. Mary Nevins, director of newborn services at Glens Falls Hospital.

Fertility treatments are also a major catalyst of premature delivery, she said. As women continue the trend of having babies later in life, the use of such treatments is on the rise, which increases the number of multiple births (twins, triplets or more). In more than half of cases, multiples are born prematurely.

"Of the factors that are known (to cause prematurity), fertility treatments are number one," said Nevins. "But of course, you wouldn't choose to get rid of fertility treatments ... so it could be hard to bring the premature birth rate down in the long run."

In Washington, Warren, and Saratoga counties, the average preterm birth rate is about 10 percent of live births. That's lower than state and national averages, although the lack of any local neonatal intensive care units means that many high-risk pregnancies are transferred to Albany Medical Center.

Nevins said she hasn't seen any statistics about the rate at a local level, but she does see one indicator that it may be increasing.

"We have a vaccine called Synagis to protect against RDS, a respiratory virus which premature babies are more at risk for," she said. "And our number of babies receiving Synagis has definitely risen in the last five years."

Newborns who arrive at 34 weeks or less at Glens Falls Hospital are usually brought to Albany Medical Center's neonatal intensive care unit, or their mothers are transferred before delivery, Nevins said. Saratoga Hospital follows a similar procedure.

In the Lines' case, Meg spent the last month of her pregnancy in the hospital -- Glens Falls for a week, then Albany -- as doctors struggled to keep her alive with a series of 13 blood transfusions. She had developed a condition called placenta abruption, which means that the placenta was tearing away from the wall of uterus, causing her to bleed heavily. The placenta was also lying lower than normal, tricking her body into entering labor early.

Her doctors' goal was to help her reach 28 weeks gestation, but she only made it to 25.

The emotions she experienced were "a roller coaster," she said. She describes it as a kind of grieving process.

"It's such an all-consuming experience, and it's life-changing. Having been through it, I look at things differently. You appreciate the little things," she said, her voice choking up. "Like riding a bike, writing his name, or when he learned to read."

The Lines are now an "ambassador family" for the March of Dimes, a non-profit organization focused on improving babies' health. Each spring, the family leads a team in the Walk America fund-raiser for prematurity research and treatment. Meg is also on the board of directors for the local March of Dimes chapter.

Emotional support is often crucial for parents of premature infants, she said, and it wasn't always easy to find when she was in the hospital.

"When I was there, you made up your own support by connecting with other parents," said Lines. "Somehow it helps to get together with other people in similar situations, even if you don't talk."

She's excited about the NICU Family Support Program, which the March of Dimes recently started to provide on-site counseling and therapy for parents with babies in neonatal intensive care units. Albany Medical Center was one of the first hospitals in the nation to join the program about two years ago.

Lines sometimes sits in on the program's group scrap-booking sessions, and shares her story with other families coping with a premature birth.

"Everybody's story is different, the outcomes are different, but the emotions are so similar," she said. "I keep hearing the same common descriptives, like 'roller coaster ride.'"

The first few months of John's life were full of gains and setbacks, but in the end, the gains prevailed. He weighed more than 5 pounds by the time he came home from the hospital in August 1995. In early childhood, he overcame serious asthma and an eye problem called retinopathy, which are common complications of prematurity.

Today, John Lines is a healthy 10-year-old, although there's still a sense of fragility in his angular face and 65-pound, 4-foot, 11-inch frame. He is in fourth grade at Queensbury Elementary School, and he said his favorite activities are drawing and photography.

He shares his father's name, although his mother is adamant about how people use it.

"He's John C. Lines II," she said, giving her son a sideways hug. "He's no Junior."
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yes, i tried one too.

Published in The Post-Star (D1)
12/21/05

Judging from the children's menus in most restaurants, it seems that chicken fingers, hot dogs and fries are the only things that kids consider edible.

At least one local restaurateur is taking a chance on proving that assumption wrong. At The Wishing Well Restaurant, a fine dining establishment in Wilton, hungry kids can choose from a range of unusual options -- from crab cakes to frog legs sauteed in garlic butter.

"In putting the menu together, I took my lead from kids, because I noticed that they would order some of these things from the appetizer menu," explained Bob Lee, manager of the family-owned restaurant. "I thought, well, maybe there's a broader interest in food among kids. They're exposed to more things these days."

The frog legs aren't the hottest-selling item on the menu, he admitted, but usually one or two young patrons a week will take a chance on them.

"You'd be surprised at how many kids order them," he said. "It certainly shows that they're more adventurous than I was at that age!"

As he spoke, his 8-year-old daughter Christina sampled a fresh plateful of frog legs prepared by chef Matt Scofield.

"Hey, these are actually pretty good!" she exclaimed. "Tastes like...chicken."

Her brother, 4-year-old Max, wrinkled his nose and kept his distance.

"That's the only thing I really don't like," he said.

Christina finished eating, and began hopping around the restaurant, giggling.

"I think when you create a memorable experience for your kids, then the next time you go out to dinner, they're going to say, 'Let's go to the place we had the frog legs!' or crab cakes, or whatever," said Lee.

Of course, memorable isn't always the same thing as healthy. For parents concerned about finding low-fat, nutritious meals for their children, going out to eat can be a frustrating experience.

In a 2003 Center for Science in the Public Interest survey of 20 national chain restaurants, such as Olive Garden, Applebees and Chili's, fried chicken and french fries (or hash browns) were on every kids' menu. Most of the meals came with free soda refills or dessert, adding extra calories.
The study concluded that children consume nearly twice as many calories in restaurant meals as they do in meals at home.

In response to a rapidly rising rate of childhood obesity in the U.S., some chain restaurants have recently begun adding healthier options to kids' menus. For example, McDonald's customers can now get their Happy Meals with apple slices and low-fat milk instead of fries and soda.

Red Lobster has also trimmed down the caloric content of its kids menu. The entrees, which include grilled chicken and broiled fish, are served with steamed vegetables. Just to be safe, however, they've kept chicken fingers and fries on the menu.

Ruby Tuesday's, a national casual dining chain, introduced a "Kids Smart Eating" menu in June 2004. The menu included things like whole-grain wraps, fresh steamed vegetables and a salad bar, with nutrition information for each meal.

That experiment didn't last long. One year later, the chain decided to discontinue the Smart Eating menu in all its locations, although kids still have the salad bar option.

"Our kids' menu now is basically the same thing you're going to find anywhere: chicken fingers, small hamburgers, macaroni and cheese," said Eric Bourgeois, general manager of the Wilton Mall Ruby Tuesday's. "We did try something different and went right back to the old."

He said the corporate decision was probably a reflection of sales figures and customer comments, and it wasn't surprising.

"It's like when we took the chocolate pudding off the salad bar, and everyone complained," he said. "It's probably the most unhealthy item on the salad bar, but that's what people want. You have to give people what they want."
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pets page: dogs shake their booty...er, booties

Published in The Post-Star (B12)

12/18/05

Don't laugh at that little Dachshund trotting down the snowy sidewalk in booties and a sweater. Chances are, he needs them to stay warm this winter.

"Imagine if you walked around all the time on your hands, without gloves on," said Jesse Sutherland, manager of Sutherland Farms pet store in Hudson Falls. "Some breeds just weren't made to be in the snow."

Sutherland owns an Italian greyhound named Max, whose sleek, short-haired body gets the shivers whenever the temperature drops much below 50 degrees.

"He has no outercoat at all, which makes him a fast runner and hypoallergenic, but it also means that he gets cold easily," explained Sutherland. "He's built for speed, not warmth."

Sutherland keeps a coat on Max most of the time in winter, and adds booties when they take walks longer than a bathroom break. He recommends winter footwear for most breeds, because road salt can cause severe damage to a dog's paws.

"Salt can dry out their paws and make them crack and bleed," he said. "And once it cracks, it's very hard to heal, because they're always walking on it."

Boots come in XS through XL, and are typically made of fleece and Velcro. As an alternative to boots, some people try putting a special dogsledding wax on the pads of their pet's feet to create a waterproof barrier from salt and ice.

Jackets are sized according to the measurement from the base of the tail to the base of the neck, and should be shorter than full-length.

Not everyone bundles up their pet when the snow flies, however. Michael Hoffman, a veterinarian at Glens Falls Animal Hospital, said he doesn't think the average house pet needs any special gear for winter walks.

"Longer-haired breeds do tend to collect ice in their paws, so you have to watch for that," he said. "I have a golden retriever, and when her feet get full of ice balls, I just take them out with my fingers or wash them in warm water to melt them."

Hoffman said he hasn't treated many cases of cracked paws because of road salt, but some of his canine patients do show up with unusual injuries in winter. Some dogs have been hit by plows or snowblowers, or had their feet sliced open by skates or skis because they ran too close to their owners' heels. Others have swallowed baited hooks while their owners were ice fishing.

"Obviously, it's important to keep your dogs under control and out of the street," he said. "Just like summertime, there's a lot of things dogs can get into in winter."

The biggest problem for cats in winter, he said, tends to be frostbite on the tips of their ears.

"Just because they're so independent, they may stay out too long, and get too cold," he said. The amount of time a cat can safely be outside depends on its weight, the temperature, and the amount of available shelter.

Sutherland said one of the best-selling items at his store this season is a small fabric mat with a metallic lining, like a space blanket, that reflects the animal's body heat back at them. Cats love them, he said.

Can they wear clothes, too?

"No, cats don't really put up with that," he said with a laugh.

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Gift-giving guide

Published in The Post-Star (G1)
12/15/06

If you've already finished your holiday shopping, give yourself a pat on the back and shut up. The procrastinators among us don't want to hear about it.

If you haven't started yet, give yourself a kick in the rear and get going! You've got 10 DAYS left -- but don't panic. We have a few ideas to help you dash through your shopping list.

Be creative
You don't have to buy Hallmark's products, but you can borrow their ideas. Valerie Pillow, a Hallmark master illustrator, offers these suggestions for creative holiday gift-giving:

Personalize. Pause to think about what the person you're shopping for really likes. Don't get them a generic gift if you have any clues about their hobbies or tastes. Maybe you've noticed that they tend to drink tea instead of coffee, for example. Even if that teapot isn't precisely what they wanted, it will show them that they were more than just another name on your list.

Bundle. Maybe you couldn't think of anything besides a gift certificate to give them, but it doesn't have to look boring under the tree. If you're treating them to the spa, fill a pretty ceramic bowl with bath beads (Hallmark has snowflake-shaped bath flakes) and put a stuffed snowman in the "tub," holding the card. For movie gift certificates, fill a bowl with popped popcorn and hide your card in the middle with a few bags of candy and microwave popcorn.

Make it fun. Instead of traditional gift tags, try photos. Find snapshots of yourself and the recipient, and use a photocopier to turn them into paper images. Cut out the faces and attach them to the package, labeled "from" and "to."

Be polite
Gift-giving can stir up some sticky social situations if you're not careful. Here's some advice from Elizabeth Howell of the Emily Post Institute in Burlington, Vt., which fields a lot of calls about "gifting etiquette" at this time of year.

Someone gives you a gift that you really hate.
Join the club.
"Everybody seems to get one gift each year that's just ridiculous or horrible -- the tchotchke, the statuette, or an item of clothing that you would never put on your body," said Howell.
First, say "thank you." She recommends couching your criticism in a few words of praise. Find something you actually like about the gift -- maybe you hate that garish chenille-and-sequins sweater that Grandma gave you, but you don't mind the color, for example.
"You might want to say, 'It was so nice of you, and I really like the color, but the style doesn't really fit my wardrobe. Would you mind terribly if I returned it?' " she suggested.
Above all: "Don't lie. Honesty is one of the basic principles of etiquette."

You spent far less (or more) on their gift than they did on yours.
Come on now, is that really what Christmas is all about?
"Gifting should not be an in-kind reciprocation. It's an expression of appreciation," Howell said. "You don't need to put a dollar amount on the value of the gift."

You belong to a religion that doesn't celebrate Christmas, and someone gives you a Christmas present.
Odds are slim that they actually intended to offend you.
"Just accept it and move on," Howell said. "Remember that it's a gift that's given in celebration of the holiday season, and in appreciation of the relationship that person has with you."

Be prepared
If it hasn't happened to you yet, it will. A friend, co-worker, or distant relative hands you a present, and you realize with a jolt of horror that they weren't on your shopping list. You could seize the chance to get rid of that ugly paperweight on your desk, but wouldn't it be better to plan ahead? Here are a few ideas to have on hand:

--Ceramic mugs, filled with packets of gourmet hot cocoa, tea or coffee. (No, it's not OK to rinse out the mug you used this morning and stick a bow on it!) Wrap the mug in cellophane, and tie on a holiday ornament for a decorative touch.
--A case of your favorite wine, and a couple of wine gift bags. Even if you don't need to grab a bottle for a last-minute gift, you can use it for a holiday party ... or just consider it a present to yourself.
--Chocolate. Stuff a miniature stocking with wrapped truffles, or have a few boxes of gourmet chocolates on hand. Tie them up with festive ribbon so you won't risk nibbling away your gift cache.
--If all else fails, go with the paperweight. They probably got you a fruitcake, anyway.


(sidebar)
Charitable donations
Save on wrapping materials, and save a life while you're at it. The "gift catalogs" of these nonprofit humanitarian organizations include everything from water buffaloes to warm blankets. Don't worry, you won't have to pay shipping on the water buffalo -- it goes straight to a needy rice farmer somewhere in Asia, and you'll get a card to let your loved one know about the donation in their honor.

Heifer Project: www.heifer.org
Oxfam America: www.oxfamamerica.org
Unicef: www.unicefusa.org
World Vision: www.worldvision.org
Want something tangible to put under the tree, without sacrificing your social conscience? Check out Oxfam's links to online stores that offer fair-trade handicrafts, coffee and gourmet foods: www.oxfamamerica.org/whatyoucando/gift_center

top 10 outdoor gear gift ideas.

Published in The Post-Star (G15)
12/15/05

Let's face it, there's not a lot to do in the North Country if you're not into the outdoors. You probably have several "outdoorsy" people on your holiday shopping list -- or at least a few whose New Year's resolutions will involve spending less quality time with the couch.

George Miller, assistant manager at Eastern Mountain Sports in Wilton, suggests these gifts to get them geared up:

Stocking stuffers ($20 and under)
1. YakTrax walkers. A simple device that attaches to the bottom of a shoe or boot to add a tenacious grip to slippery soles. A great gift for hardcore hikers, as well as people just trying to survive a trip to the mailbox in winter. $20 a pair.

2. Nalgene bottle. These plastic drinking containers are virtually indestructible, and come in handy for almost any activity. Available in a variety of sizes, shapes, and colors -- the latest options include a bike water bottle and a flask. Around $8 each.
Add a little extra something by filling the bottle with small gifts like energy bars, packets of Gatorade mix, or a bandanna.

3. First Aid kit. If you can't say "I love you," at least say, "I hope you never bleed to death in the wilderness." Buy a pre-made kit or put together your own, including essentials like Band-Aids, tape, and aspirin. $15 and up.

Mid-range items ($21-$80)
1. Headlamp. Better than a flashlight because it frees up your hands, this gadget is great for walking the dog at night, or snowshoeing deep into the woods to stargaze. Available at most sporting goods stores. Two of the most popular models at EMS are the Petzl Tikka Plus ($38, four bulbs) and the Petzl Tikkina ($24, two bulbs).

2. Bear Vault. Anyone who plans to camp in the High Peaks region will need one of these to avoid a run-in with a hungry bear. It may look like just a big plastic canister, but it's rocket science to a bear, who can't master the "press down and turn" motion required to open the lid. $80.

3. Jetboil personal cooking system. One of the hottest-selling gifts of the season. Campers and backpackers will barely even notice they're toting this lightweight stove and container, which isn't much bigger than a travel mug. It ignites electrically and can boil a cup of water in one minute. $80.

4. Fleece clothing. Even if they never wear it outside, they can turn down the thermostat and save on their heating bill. The price range depends on what you buy -- North Face jackets cost more than $150, but other brands are cheaper.

Going all out (more than $80)
1. GPS unit. A great gift for people who like to wander in the woods, these devices use satellite technology to keep track of where you've been, where you're going, and how to make the trip between. Prices range from $100-500, with features like electronic maps and altimeters in the higher-end models.

2. Snowshoes. Anyone who can walk can snowshoe, according to Miller. Snowshoes have come a long way since the days when they resembled oversized tennis rackets, but they're still one of the cheapest forms of winter recreation out there -- you don't need special boots or a lift ticket to put them to use. $110 and up.

3. Two-way personal radios. Most people have cell phones these days, but reception can be spotty in the mountains and woods. These are especially useful for large families who might want to split up during a day of skiing, or just chat between cars on a road trip. $50-100.

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movie review: Chronicles of Narnia

Published in The Post-Star (G11)
12/15/05

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe 2005. Directed by Andrew Adamson, based on the novel by C.S. Lewis. Starring Georgie Henley, Skandar Keynes, William Moseley, Anna Popplewell, Tilda Swinton, James McAvoy and Jim Broadbent. 140 minutes. Rated PG for battle sequence and frightening moments.

Think of it as "Lord of the Rings" meets "Full House" -- mythical creatures and a bloody battle, mixed with a healthy dose of hugs and moral lessons. Welcome to Narnia.

Children of the Christian subculture will be especially enthralled with this true-to-the-book adaptation of their beloved C.S. Lewis's most popular novel. Even if the Biblical references fly right over some viewers' heads, this fantasy film is pure entertainment.

Lewis always maintained he did not intend the series to be a Christian allegory, but rather a supposition: What would happen if a Christ-like figure entered another world? In Narnia, that figure takes the shape of a talking lion named Aslan.

The film begins as a realistic drama, set in England during World War II. Four British siblings -- Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy Pevensie -- are evacuated from London to a rural country estate. They escape bombs, but not boredom. One day, things get so dull, they resort to a game of hide-and-seek, and Lucy (Georgie Henley) hides in a mysterious old wardrobe.

She tumbles through the back of the wardrobe into a magical, wintery world, where she meets a friendly faun named Mr. Tumnus (James McAvoy). Her sense of childish wonder is very convincing, perhaps because this is Henley's first professional acting role. Viewers find themselves sharing her sense of righteous indignation when she returns to a bunch of skeptical siblings.

Soon enough, all four of the children are not only fully convinced that Narnia exists, they're caught up in a resistance movement against the White Witch/Ice Queen (Tilda Swinton) who rules the land. They learn that under her spell, it's always winter in Narnia -- but never Christmas. (Maybe that's one of the "frightening moments" referred to in the rating.)

The relationship between the siblings is one of the movie's central themes, perhaps even more so than in the book. When Edmund makes a stupid decision that puts his life at risk, his brother and sisters band together to save him. At the same time, each child is developing a stronger sense of self. They begin as reluctant young heroes, but by the end of the movie, they've grown into their crowns.

It might seem hard to believe that anyone out of their pre-teen years could enjoy a movie featuring talking animals, but keep an open mind. Thanks to computer graphics, Aslan's expressions are almost human, and the plot unfolds with surprising emotional depth. The only things missing are sex and swearing -- it's Disney, after all.
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fads of Christmas past

Published in The Post-Star (B1)

12/11/05

In the midst of the shopping stampede to grab the last Roboraptor or XBox 360 off the shelves, pause and consider the fate of Tickle Me Elmo.

That "must-have" item that you're about to get into a fistfight over could be languishing on the island of misfit toys (or eBay) before long.

"Once you've tickled Elmo 99 times, that's about all there is," said Patricia Hogan. "Many of these toys are kind of a flash in the pan. What makes them successful for one Christmas season is that the manufacturers are very clever about marketing."

Hogan is a curator at the National Toy Hall of Fame, part of the Strong Museum in Rochester. It's not easy for toys to make it into the collection -- their popularity must last for at least two decades -- but they don't have to be particularly complex inventions.

They don't even have to be toys in the strict sense. This year's inductees included the jack-in-the-box, the Candy Land board game, and ... the cardboard box.

"Part of what makes a toy a classic is that it allows a child to create their own narrative; their own world," Hogan explained. "That's why certain things, like dolls, stay popular."

Here are a few examples of former wish list-toppers that have faded into the ghosts of Christmas past -- and a few that could still be presents under this year's trees.

1950s
Hula hoop. Such a simple invention, and yet it's outlasted some of the most hi-tech gadgets on the market. A company called Wham-O came up with the modern plastic version in 1958, and sold 21 million of them in the first six months.

Magic 8 Ball. According to toy historians, Abe Bookman invented this fortune-telling orb in 1947, but sales didn't really take off until a plastic version replaced the original glass one a decade later. The floating shape inside the ball offers 20 suitably generic answers to all of life's questions, making it a fun gift that's become a pop-culture icon.

1960s
Hot Wheels. These miniature collectible cars have parked themselves on the Toy Industry of America's list of best-selling toys -- second only to Crayola crayons -- since their invention in 1968.

Sea monkeys. Comic books used to feature ads for these bizarre sea creatures, available for less than a dollar by mail-order. The "monkeys" are actually a tiny relative of shrimp, which appear dead until placed in water.

1970s
Pet rock. A quirky idea that appealed to more than a million Americans in the '75 Christmas season, this was really just a pocket-sized rock with a humorous instruction booklet. The fad faded quickly, but left California inventor Gary Dahl a millionaire.

8-track tapes. The first step toward a new type of "toy" -- portable music gadgets. Younger generations might find it hard to believe now that these clunky contraptions were ever cool, but imagine cruising around in a convertible with Springsteen blaring.

1980s
Cabbage Patch Kids. Millions of people have "adopted" these cloth dolls with chubby plastic heads and the signature of inventor Xavier Roberts on their rear ends. As their first generation of owners becomes nostalgic parents, the Kids are gaining popularity again.

Koosh Ball. This soft-spiked, squeezable rubber ball may have been the hottest stocking stuffer of Christmas '88, but it was soon tossed to the sidelines by other novelties.

1990s
Furby. After sending consumers into a buying frenzy when it was first introduced in 1998, a more sophisticated version of this interactive plush toy is making a comeback this year.

Tickle Me Elmo. Holiday shoppers literally fought over this touch-activated stuffed animal in the mid-'90s, but these days, Elmo's giggles are muffled in the bottom of the toy bin.

2000 and beyond:
Razor scooters. In 2000, kids of all ages were asking for one of these lightweight metal scooters. Now they've moved on to new electric versions.

Rubber wristbands. An unexpectedly popular fundraiser for cancer research, the LiveSTRONG yellow bracelets sold by the Lance Armstrong Foundation inspired dozens of spin-off versions and became a popular fashion accessory in 2004.

This year, electronic toys and gadgets are the hottest-selling items. Hogan said she doesn't see much future Hall of Fame material among them.

"It's hard to think of them standing still long enough to become classics -- they're always evolving," she said.

Her own favorite childhood toy didn't require batteries. It was a pair of stilts she found in her grandmother's garage.

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Mental Illness and Substance Abuse (series, part 2)

Published in The Post-Star (A1) and poststar.com
12/5/05

Editor's note: This is the second in a two-part series on services for the mentally ill. Sunday's edition looked at the difficulties the mentally ill face when they get in trouble with the law.

The last time Brian Donovan's name appeared in this paper, it was connected to ugly words like "criminal," "guilty" and "addictions."

"Without a doubt, going to prison saved my life, because that's how I finally got treatment," he said.

Donovan, 25, spent 3-1/2 years in state prison after admitting involvement in a 2001 burglary spree in Glens Falls and Queensbury. At the time of his sentencing, he told the judge that he stole in order to fuel his drug habit. But the prosecutor suggested he seemed more motivated by "thrills."

Both were true, as it turns out.

Donovan was struggling with what are clinically termed "co-occurring disorders" -- substance abuse and mental illness.

"Looking back, it was definitely a manic period for me. The burglaries were a way of getting outside myself and having control," he reflected. "Something about it made me feel well. In a sick way, it made me feel human."

Drugs numbed his racing mind and gave him an emotional high when he felt so low that he "just wanted to die," he said. At the time of the burglaries, he told police he was spending $75 to $100 a day on the drug ecstasy.

His alternating episodes of mania and depression were a symptom of bipolar disorder, but he didn't know it at the time.

"I didn't think I had a mental health issue; I just thought that I was a bad person -- and I ended up being one," he said.

Since the age of 16, Donovan had cycled in and out of various substance abuse treatment programs, but it wasn't until he received counseling and medication for his mental illness that his life got back on track.

"I don't want mental health issues to be an excuse for my actions. What I did was very wrong," said Donovan. "I can't take it back, but I don't hold it against myself, either. I've held a lot against myself for so many years."

A common story

Forty percent to 50 percent of substance abusers suffer from at least one serious mental illness, according to the National Mental Health Association. Until recently, however treatment approaches have been completely separate.

In 1999, the state decided to take a chance on a new approach, by funding "dual recovery" programs. The Warren-Washington Association for Mental Health received one of the first grants to create such a program and now handles a caseload of about 40 people with co-occurring disorders.

Cliff Green, coordinator of the Warren-Washington dual recovery program, said substance abuse and mental health are often linked because people with mental illness are seeking a way to become "normal." Drinking or doing drugs with their peers can seem like a way to fit in.

It can also become a form of self-medication.

"With bipolar, for example, research shows that many people survive for years without medication, by using alcohol and drugs to regulate their mania and depression," said Green.

Brad Morrow, a dual recovery case manager, has personal experience with this subject.

"For years, I had used drug and alcohol to mask things. I was trying to stop feeling something, and the scary thing is -- it works," Morrow said. "I knew on some level that what I was doing wasn't sustainable. I knew I was right on the edge of a cliff."

One day, he said, "the addiction just took over." He lost his job as a cook and ended up in rehabilitation.

Even when Morrow emerged from rehabilitation, he knew something wasn't right. He finally went to see a psychologist and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

"It blew me out of the water; it really made me question who I was," he said. "I thought my life was over."

Then Morrow stopped into a dual recovery self-help meeting at the East Side Center in Glens Falls and was blown away again.

"I realized, wow! I'm hearing my story coming from other people's mouths," he said. "I felt like, 'Oh, crap, I have a real problem.' But I also felt a sense of relief: 'So this is what it is.' "

Now, he works as a case manager for the dual recovery program and helps run self-help meetings each weekday evening. Attendance at the meetings is growing, he said, because "the status quo isn't working for people with co-occurring disorders.

"The neatest thing is to watch new people coming in, and they get that look in their eyes, like, 'Now I know,' " Morrow said.

Green nodded. "It doesn't mean it's perfect. But it's different for them from then on."

Integrated solutions

In many cases, treatment is not the first step towards helping people with co-occurring disorders, said Green.

"They've been cycled through dozens of other programs and had different labels put on them," he said. "If you can't sit down with a person and decipher what their most immediate need is -- if you can't help them with what they think they need, not necessarily what you think they need -- you may never see them again."

Many of these individuals have just come from jail, a rehabilitation program or the streets.

"How can you talk about treatment when they don't even have a place to sleep?" he asked.
"There's a tremendous housing crisis in this area, and it's very difficult to place people."

In the future, Green said, he hopes the dual recovery program will be part of a "wraparound" solution.

"There will never be enough dual recovery case managers. ... I would rather see all the community providers having the basic knowledge and skills to do what we do," he said. "Co-occurring disorders are not going to go away."

A new life

Like Morrow, Donovan now uses his own experience as a foundation to support other people affected by mental illness and substance abuse. He is taking classes toward a degree in human services and works full time as a peer advocate for Voices of the Heart, a state-funded mental health agency in Hudson Falls. He also volunteers at the dual recovery program.

"Being able to give back helps me stay balanced," Donovan explained. "The odds were against me, and I'm sure they still are. But I refuse to give up. I still have hard times, but they're not like they used to be."

He insists on talking about mental health, rather than mental illness.

"I hate that word, 'illness.' It's debilitating and self-perpetuating," he said. "Ex-con, drug addict, mentally ill -- these are all labels of behaviors. They're not me."
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Mental Illness and Criminal Justice (series, Part 1)

Published in The Post-Star (A1)
12/04/05

Editor's Note: This is the first of a two-part series on services for the mentally ill.

For people with mental illness, the criminal justice system can be a nightmare. In some cases, it also can be a lifesaver.

Nancy Henthorn found this out when her son Chad, now 33, had a mental breakdown that landed him in jail.

"Oh boy, my son, he was a great son," she said. "And he's back being it ... but it's taken a lot of advocates. It's been a long road."

The Henthorns' story illustrates a problem that affects millions of Americans. The National Institute of Mental Health estimates that one in five adults suffers from a diagnosable mental disorder in a given year, such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder or clinical depression.

Some of them are behind bars.

About 16 percent of inmates in U.S. prisons and jails are mentally ill, according to a 1999 study by the U.S. Justice Department. Only 60 percent of the mentally ill inmates reported receiving treatment during their incarceration.

"There are too many mentally ill people in the system, and too little known about it," said Robert Corliss, director of the New York state chapter of the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill. "There are no standards for mental health services, and the system at the state level seems to be very overwhelmed."

Although most prisons in New York have some form of mental health services, they rely on self-reporting by inmates of previously diagnosed psychiatric disorders. This doesn't always work.

"A lot of guys going into state prison don't want to acknowledge having a mental health issue because it's a sign of weakness, and it makes them more vulnerable," Corliss said.

Others might not even know they are sick.

'I heard it in his voice'

When Chad's brain betrayed him, he was a strong, successful young man -- a husband and new father who directed ships into the Port of Houston and had an exemplary service record in the Coast Guard.

Around 1998, he started sinking.

His mother isn't sure what triggered the change. It could have been a concussion from rugby or the head wound he got when someone clobbered him with a beer mug in a bar fight, she said. The stress of working three-day shifts with little sleep could have aggravated these physical factors.

Whatever the cause, there could be no denying the effects.

"It progressed almost like a book," she remembers. "At first, I didn't believe his wife. But as time went on, I heard it in his voice."

Chad became increasingly obsessive and secretive. He accused his wife of trying to drive him crazy by writing things on the walls. Then he started trying to hack into CIA files on the computer. He thought he was a spy with a computer chip in his brain.

"It was weird -- and scary," Nancy said.

He was diagnosed with "a psychotic disorder leaning toward schizophrenia," she said, but he refused to take medication.

By 28, Chad had lost his job in Texas and was living in Lake George, where he worked odd jobs that never lasted long. His hallucinations grew worse and were amplified by heavy drinking. He became afraid of everything, including sleep.

He stopped talking to his mother and started talking to himself.

"I can only speculate on what he was really feeling," Nancy said. "All he can tell me is that he was hearing voices at that time. He doesn't remember anything else now."

In 2001, Nancy got a call from Chad's friends. He had rolled his truck while driving drunk a few days earlier, and they hadn't seen him since.

"They said, 'We think Chad's disappeared.' I didn't believe it, but slowly, over time, you realize," she said.

He was missing for almost two years.

'A cry for help'

Nancy refused to give up. She called missing persons hotlines and hired a private investigator but couldn't track him down. Occasionally, clues to his location arrived in the mail -- fines, tickets and hospital bills issued in various cities.
"He had a trail of aliases and petty theft," she said. "But he kept using my address as his home address. It was like a cry for help."

The next time his mother saw him, in August 2002, Chad was in Miami-Dade county jail, charged with stabbing another man in the arm with an ice pick. He called home to ask for $750 bail.

Nancy was afraid he would disappear again if she bailed him out. She was determined to get him into a treatment program and get him help.

"When you get a mentally ill person in the court system, you've got to make the courts aware that they don't belong there," she said. "I'm not saying they didn't commit a crime, but wouldn't it be better to get them healed and out of the criminal system forever?"

She left him there for nearly a year, hoping to get answers about when he might get treatment, but, finally, she gave up on the system. Chad pleaded guilty to a felony, was sentenced to time served and went back to Lake George in the summer of 2003.

His mother knew it was only a matter of time before he stepped outside the law again.

That fall, Chad set off fireworks through the window of his apartment building "because he thought it was pretty," Nancy said. The curtains caught fire, and he was arrested for arson. He also faced other charges, including trespassing and vandalizing a cemetery, when he came before Judge Keith Dolbeck in Ticonderoga County Court.

He was lucky to find someone else on his side.

Dolbeck had been Chad's high school science teacher and football coach, said Nancy, and she praises him for refusing to "put a Band-aid" on the problem. He sent Chad to Rochester Forensic Unit for three months of intensive psychiatric treatment. It was there that Chad finally agreed to take medication, and within six months he was significantly healthier.

"Thank God we had a judge who cared," Nancy said.

In Dolbeck's view, he was just doing his job.

"As a judge, you're not just a hammer for law enforcement -- you're there to make sure that people's rights are protected. And obviously, if someone is mentally ill, you're their advocate as well," he said. "When someone doesn't have all their faculties, they need even more protection. It's critical that they understand what they're being charged with."

'A very big burden'

In Warren County Jail, between 10 and 15 percent of inmates have mental health issues, Sheriff Larry Cleveland estimated. The jail recently established a contract with the Behavioral Health Services unit of Glens Falls Hospital to give inmates access to a licensed psychiatrist for two half-days each week. A clinical counselor is on site full time.

The jail's medical staff usually recognizes mental illness, although it has not been specifically trained to treat it, Cleveland said. With the signature of two physicians, prisoners with serious mental health problems might be sent to inpatient psychiatric centers in either Utica or Rochester.

"The identification and treatment they get in this facility is probably more than they would get on the outside," Cleveland said. "But this is not the place to do it. That's putting a very big burden on taxpayers to provide mental health services that should be provided through other agencies, not us."

A year and a half after Chad was released from the psychiatric unit, medication has stabilized his brain and he is slowly rebuilding his life. He recently moved out of a group home into his own apartment in Saranac Lake and has a job at the local marina.

He doesn't remember most of his psychotic past, and he did not want to talk about it directly, but he gave his mother permission to share his story.
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crazy as a loom

Published in The Post-Star (D1)
12/1/05

Don't wear jeans if you plan to visit Hilary Cooper-Kenny's new weaving studio -- she might try to turn them into a rug. The 58-year-old textile artist recently started her own business, Crazy as a Loom Weaving Studio, in a renovated 18th-century house in Kingsbury.

"When I first got here, my main goal was studio space. Then as I sat here weaving, restoring the house became equally important," she said. "Now it's all entangled; I can't tell where one ends and the other begins."

That's a pretty accurate description of what Cooper-Kenny does to the bundles of salvage fabrics, mill ends, and old jeans that become raw materials for her rag rugs.

"My father had a used furniture and antiques business, so I've always like the idea of making beautiful, functional things out of recycled goods," she explained.

Cooper-Kenny learned to weave about six or seven years ago, and was immediately hooked.

"Sitting at the loom is one of the few times in life that I just slow right down. I lose track of time and even forget to eat," she said. "There's a real rhythm to it; a musical quality. I get the feeling of going back to an earlier, simpler time."

A few days before the studio's grand opening this weekend, Cooper-Kenny was a bundle of energy. She shuttled quickly from loom to loom, eager to show visitors around the spacious studio.

Her husband, William Kenny, quietly painted shelves in the background.

"This house was a project, no doubt about it," he remarked. Kenny is the Ward 5 supervisor for Warren County, and he joked that "I love going to work, because it's the easiest thing I have to do lately."

The couple married in 1999 and lives in Glens Falls. Last year, Cooper-Kenny took early retirement from her nursing job at Great Meadow state prison, and started looking for a studio space to keep up with her growing collection of looms.

She fell in love with the old house on Route 4 as soon as she saw it, although her husband said his first reaction was, "Oh, no." After finding out that the building was structurally sound, "We jumped in with both feet," Kenny said. They closed the sale in May.

"It's really, truly my dream come true. A whole house to weave in? It just makes me giddy sometimes," Cooper-Kenny said. "You get a lot more work done when you don't have a studio in your home."

In the five downstairs rooms are nine antique looms, surrounded by colorful displays of Cooper-Kenny's woven rugs, shawls, scarves and bags.

Although Cooper-Kenny's work is for sale at the studio, she said her goal is to create "more of a learning place than a retail space." She plans to offer classes in weaving and spinning, and hopes the upstairs guest bedrooms can eventually be used for weekend teaching retreats.

"Everybody's got to find their passion," she said. "This is mine."
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food page: venison...this one was a stretch for me.

Published in The Post-Star (D1) and on poststar.com
11/30/05

A lot of blood drips onto the floor of Frank Hohman's garage at this time of year. He's busy carving up bodies as fast as the locals can drag them in.

"After it's processed, it looks quite edible," Hohman remarked, gesturing at several plastic-wrapped packages of ground venison. The meat looked nearly identical to the hamburger sold in supermarkets -- except that behind the venison trays, a gutted deer hung from its haunches on a hook.

His small business, Frank Hohman & Sons, processes about 100 deer each hunting season, turning freshly killed prey into a freezer full of meat within just a few hours.

"I started doing this around 1971 because I was already a butcher, and the guys in town had nobody to cut for them," said Hohman.

These days, "the sons come once in a while," he added with a laugh. For the last 14 years, he's relied on help from his friend John DeLuca.

The business operates out of Hohman's garage in Fort Ann, but Hohman and DeLuca are no amateur butchers. Both men have worked as meat managers at local Tops supermarkets for years. During hunting season, they spend nearly all their spare time processing deer.

"We work out our frustrations here, more or less," said DeLuca, as he chopped up a deer's hindquarters on a sanitized table.

A single deer can yield as much as 70 pounds of edible meat, depending on the hunter's skill. Each shot that enters the flesh causes damage, so hunters with poor aim end up with less meat on the table.

"We're meat-cutters, not surgeons," DeLuca explained.

Venison can be used in place of veal or beef in most recipes, and it's often healthier. The fat tends to taste like candle wax, so most people remove it before cooking. The hindquarters, and sometimes the shoulders, are the prime cuts used for steaks and roasts. The rest can be ground or turned into sausages, such as the hand-linked Italian sweet sausage that DeLuca makes and sells.

When it's not deer season, Hohman and DeLuca also cut local cattle, moose, pigs, and even some farm-raised emus.

There's only one thing they won't do -- eat their handiwork. Neither one of them likes the taste of venison.

"I had a bad taste once, and I haven't tried it since," said Hohman.
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wine recommendations

Published in The Post-Star (G4)

11/24/05

Domaine de la Madone 2005 Beaujolais Nouveau, $13.49 at Putnam Wine.
La Forge Estate 2003 Viognier, $14 at Putnam Wine.

If the turkey is too dry and the squash puff is sagging, distract your guests with a glass of good wine. The staff at Putnam Wine in Saratoga Springs picked out two bottles that will add elegance to the table without breaking the bank.

Wineries in the Beaujolais region of France traditionally release their first bottles of the year on the third Thursday in November, inspiring parties around the world. Beaujolais Nouveau tends to be among the lightest of the reds, so it won't overpower the turkey. It's fruity and lively, with an initial taste of black cherry jam that gives way to a subtle peppery finish, according to Putnam wine salesman Peter Zalewski.

The 2003 Viognier is a versatile white wine from the Langueduoc region of France. Although Viognier grapes used to be found only in blends, winemakers have recently realized they deserve to be recognized on their own, explained salesman Curtis Eaton. He described this bottle as "rich and unctuous, without the extensive oak aging of Chardonnay." It has hints of peach and flowers, yet is more structured than some of the fruity whites.

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pets page: cost of owning a dog

Published in The Post-Star (B12)

11/20/05

It’s hard to resist a Christmas present with fur. But before putting a gift tag on that puppy at the pet store, consider the hidden price tag — owning a dog can easily cost several hundred dollars a year.

Purebred dogs are $1,000 or more, depending on the breed. The price is far less if you’re willing to adopt from a local animal shelter. Dogs of all ages and breeds cost no more than $125 at the Queensbury SPCA or Adirondack Save-A-Stray in Corinth.

"We have a lot of mixed breeds, but we’ve also had purebred dogs that people turn in. Sometimes they just got them from the pet store a few months ago," said Matina Baker, a veterinary technician at the SPCA.

Getting a dog spayed or neutered is sometimes more expensive than the dog itself.

"This often isn’t a financial priority for people, but it’s so important," said Meredith Fiel, owner of Adirondack Save-A-Stray. "There’s a tremendous overpopulation of cats and dogs in this country, and not enough good homes to go around."

A vet might charge up to $300 for the surgery, depending on the size and gender of the dog. Some of the older dogs at shelters have already been spayed or neutered, and those that haven’t usually come with a coupon to help cover the cost.

Vaccinations are another necessary expense, to protect dogs from rabies, distemper and Lyme disease. Healthy dogs don’t need much more than an annual checkup, while others might require expensive medication for conditions like diabetes.

"You’re not always going to get a dog that will live 10 years and be perfectly healthy," said Baker. "You need to be prepared for that possibility."

Grooming is a hidden cost that comes with some dogs. This may seem like vanity, but it’s actually a health issue. Clumps of matted fur are often painful for a dog, and can develop into serious skin problems. Long-haired breeds need to be brushed and trimmed regularly, either by their owner or a professional pet groomer.

Of course, Fido will want to be fed, too. The cheapest brands of food are mostly "filler," the equivalent of junk food for dogs, so it’s wise to spend a bit more for the sake of nutrition. Estimating a food budget will depend on the size of the dog.

"My small dog goes through 20 pounds of food in three months, while my two labs go through 20 pounds in two weeks," said Baker. "But if you think spending $30 a month on food is bad, guess what? You’re in trouble. That’s probably the least expensive part of owning a dog."
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License (required): $5-15
Collar, leash and ID tag: $15-30
Food (based on 50-pound dog): $240-$600 annually
Grooming: up to $100 annually
Toys and treats: $5-$60
Kennel, crate or dog bed: up to $100
Obedience school: up to $200
Vet costs:
Office visits: $40 each
Shots: $50-$70 annually
Booster shots: $115-$130
Spay or neuter: $100-$200
Medications: $10-$1,000 annually
Total minimum annual cost: About $360 for a healthy adult dog, $475 for a puppy.
(Source: Adirondack Save-A-Stray)

pets page: dog crazy

Published in The Post-Star (B12)

11/20/05

It started simply enough.

Dawn Segedi got her first dog, a sheltie named Wizard, as an antidote to obsessive compulsive disorder.

"I was a total clean freak. I cleaned the house with toothbrushes and toothpicks, and wouldn’t let my kids get a speck of dirt on them," she said. "Getting Wizard helped me learn to live with having dog hair on the floor."

When 39-year-old Segedi developed social anxiety disorder last year, she again turned to dogs for help. She bought a Yorkshire terrier named Zeke as a "therapy dog," and was soon hooked.

"I just fell in love with their docile personalities, and the way they bond with you," she said. "They’re exceptionally loving."

Now, she owns 11 dogs: eight Yorkies and two Pomeranians, plus Wizard. Not to mention the cat and the gerbils.

A look at Segedi’s yearly expenses offers an extreme example of the cost of becoming a dog owner.

"My vet bills this year total $6,150 so far, not including shots," she said. "Dental care is another $105 each per year."

Tack on the cost of food, collars, leashes, dog beds, and clothes — yes, clothes, from poodle skirts to winter parkas — and her pets get even more expensive. When the four Yorkies she got from Brazil recently developed respiratory infections, she spent several thousand dollars on inhalers and oxygen treatment.

Segedi may recoup some of her initial investment, however. She’s starting her own breeding business, Adirondack Mountain Tiny Dreams, although she doesn’t plan to part with any of her current pets.

"Some days, my family loves it," said Segedi, who is married with two kids. "Some days, they hate it.

"The best thing is when telemarketers call. I get all the dogs barking, and they just hang up."

These days, Segedi won’t even let visitors peek inside her home, since it’s being remodeled to make more room for the dogs. "It looks like a cyclone went through there!" she said with a laugh.

On a recent morning, her pants were covered in muddy paw prints after playing with the dogs in the backyard, but she didn’t seem to care. She cuddled one of her newest pets, Laci, a Yorkie whose owner died in Hurricane Katrina.

"I have no regrets," she said. "I mean, look at this face."

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video recommendation: Baran

Published in The Post-Star (D4)

11/18/05

Baran 2001. Written, directed, and produced by Majid Majidi. Starring Hossein Abedini and Zahra Bahrami. 94 minutes. Rated PG for language and brief violence. In Farsi and Dari, with English subtitles.

This film offers a rare and intimate glimpse into modern Iran, a part of the world that most of us will never see first-hand. The script is simple, and the acting a bit amateurish, but the message is powerful.

"Baran" is set mostly on a construction site in the capital city of Tehran, where more than 1.4 million Afghan refugees have ended up after two decades of war in their homeland. Most employers won't hire them without a national ID card, so they struggle to make a living as day laborers -- sound familiar? Some things are the same in any language.

The first character we meet is Lateef, an impish, handsome young Iranian who runs the kitchen at the building site. His boss, Memar (Mohammad Reza Naji) employs dozens of undocumented Afghan immigrants, and Lateef considers himself above them because he has an ID card. He also has a hot temper and a streak of arrogance.

When one of the Afghan men falls on the job and breaks his foot, Memar hires the man's son, Rahmat, to replace him as the family's sole breadwinner. But Rahmat is silent and frail looking, and it becomes quickly evident that he isn't capable of heavy labor.

Memar shows a soft side when he decides to give Rahmat the job of cooking for the workers instead of firing him. This means kicking an infuriated Lateef out of the kitchen and in with the rest of the construction crew.

Lateef devotes the next few weeks to making Rahmat miserable, until a surprise revelation stops him in his tracks: Rahmat is actually a girl, Baran.

In one beautiful instant (and remember, beauty means suspending disbelief), Lateef falls in love with Baran, who is unaware he knows her secret. He abruptly channels his vengeful passion into a self-sacrificial quest to make her life easier.

Watching Lateef's transformation from a selfish jerk into a humble hero is at turns comical and heartbreaking -- but writer/director/producer Majid Majidi doesn't shy away from the reality that love can't always conquer all.

Images are more important than words in Majidi's work, giving it a cultural transcendence beyond subtitles. It's only in retrospect that viewers realize that Baran didn't have a single line in the script. Her eyes said it all.

"Baran" is available at Crandall Public Library. If you enjoy it, check out Majidi's other visually stunning films -- "The Color of Paradise" and "Children of Heaven."

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enterprise: Religious commune opens cafe

Published in The Post-Star and on poststar.com

11/15/05

CAMBRIDGE -- Members of the Twelve Tribes of Israel community have mostly kept to themselves in the 25 years since they started a communal farm on the outskirts of town. Now, they're interested in getting to know their neighbors better over a cup of coffee -- or yerba mate, a drink brewed from an herbal stimulant.

The group is putting the finishing touches on its new Common Ground cafe, which will open on Main Street sometime this winter. It will feature homemade, organic food, in a wood-walled space meant to be inviting.

"I think the name of our cafe says it better than anything," said Bob Racine, a Twelve Tribes member. "We want to get to know people. We want them to know why we live this way. It's too big a step to say, 'Oh, come on over to my house,' but going to a cafe is a little bit more of a neutral place."

Racine has lived in Cambridge for about seven years. His name within the group is Shoresh, which means "root" in Hebrew. Most of the members have taken a Hebrew name, because their faith emphasizes the Jewish roots of Christianity. They try to live like the early Christians by sharing all their money and possessions.

Of course, the early Christians didn't have to deal with the Internal Revenue Service.

Most churches and religious charities are tax-exempt under section 501(c)(3) of the tax code, but their employees still pay personal income tax. In groups like the Twelve Tribes, however, the employees' personal incomes and the group's business income are all combined in a communal treasury, so paying taxes gets complicated.

Twelve Tribes is a unique kind of tax-exempt business the IRS classifies as a "501(d)," under a small subparagraph of the tax code created for "religious and apostolic organizations." This means that the group's members are taxed on a "pro rata" basis of personal income, as if the treasury had been divided equally among all of them.

"It's a way to avoid double taxation," explained Racine. "We don't look to get out of paying taxes, but we do expect to be taxed justly because we are different."

He pointed out that Twelve Tribes pays property tax on its 112-acre farm in Cambridge because "we believe it's a legitimate tax," even though they could argue for exemption as a religious group.

Any income from the cafe will be added to the group's shared treasury, along with revenue from its Common Sense line of natural body care products.

Twelve Tribes has 38 communities throughout the nation and world, and operates 10 other Common Ground cafes in the United States and Canada, including ones in Ithaca and Rutland, Vt.

Its Oneonta community is also planning to open a cafe, although it has run into some opposition from town officials.

The Cambridge Common Ground cafe will be located in the former King Bakery on Main Street. Men from the Twelve Tribes group have been working on it in their spare time, using natural materials like driftwood and fallen branches to transform it into what looks like a cozy mountain cabin.

Most locals said they're looking forward to eating at the new cafe, regardless of the religious beliefs behind it.

"We've gotten nothing but positive response. People in town have even stopped by to help us work on it," said Bill Johnson, a Twelve Tribes member known as Reya (friend). "It's been nice." #
LOGGING ON
www.comingtocambridge.com www.twelvetribes.org

profile of a stein artist

Published in The Post-Star (D1)
11/14/05

His parents wanted him to be a lawyer. He wanted to be Van Gogh.

Then Tom O'Brien became something no one predicted: a stein sculptor.

He's created more than 34 ceramic steins for Avon in the last two decades, with commemorative themes that range from cougars to the U.S. Postal Service. They're "tchotske," he admits, but collectors snatch them up by the tens of thousands each year.

"Am I going to argue with what sells?" he said. "My favorite artist is Van Gogh, but he never sold a painting in his life."

O'Brien got into the business through a chance encounter in the mid-1980s, after he left a job as an advertising art director to become a freelance illustrator. Then a neighbor stopped by his home to sign some real estate paperwork, and noticed "Hercules," one of O'Brien's first sculptures.

"He said, 'Would you like to work for me?'" O'Brien recalled. He took the job at a commercial studio which designed decanters and beer steins for Avon. His steins proved so successful that he soon began working with Avon on his own.

"It was more like 'Oh, great, a job!' than 'I'm so happy to make steins!'" he explained. "But it was kind of fun, and I enjoyed the fact that it made more money than most other jobs."

Making a stein takes about two months, from the drawing board to the final mold. O'Brien turns the wood for the stein's base on a lathe in his basement, then applies clay and sculpts it into a detailed relief. He sends a urethane cast of this to Ceremarti in Brazil, the world's largest stein manufacturer, which makes the final ceramic product.

Avon stopped calling on O'Brien three years ago when it decided to switch to "licensed steins," replacing his unique creations with celebrity-themed tankards made by Anheuser-Busch.

That gave O'Brien more time to pursue his true passion -- portraiture.

"I love portraiture more than any other aspect of art, because I can say what the subject feels about themselves, and what I feel about them," he said. "I try to express their personality using only their face."

He uses the skills he learned from stein-making to create "portraits in relief," in which three-dimensional faces emerge from a flat backdrop that can be hung like a painting. His subjects are typically friends, neighbors, and family members.

Currently, he's working on a terra cotta relief sculpture of a young girl named Sophie, his friends' granddaughter. He chose to depict her as a mermaid with two faces. One has a giddy grin; the other a menacing pout.

"She has such a dramatic personality, and I wanted to show that," he explained. "She can change her mood in an instant."

Avon had a change of mood this year, too. The company brought back one of O'Brien's steins in its latest holiday catalog. This one depicts animals from the African Serengeti, including lions, elephants, and zebras.

Now 70, O'Brien's life is full of art. He lives in Hadley with his wife of 36 years, Renee O'Brien, an artist best known for her work with a pinhole camera. Their small home includes one studio for Renee's paintings and photographs, and two more for Tom's portraits and steins.

The couple met in art school, and lived in Long Island until six years ago.
Their son, Aaron, is a lawyer.

"How do these things happen?" joked O'Brien.
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Health: chronic pain management

Published in The Post-Star (B1)

11/13/05

Sometimes, pain is more than a symptom of illness. It is the illness.

Physicians recognized this 40 years ago, when pain management emerged as a sub-specialty of medicine, but public awareness remains low.

"There are few illnesses with an adverse public health implication as great as chronic pain," said Dr. Russell Portenoy. "Yet we haven't widely accepted the reality that pain is an illness in its own right, and that should be the foundation for every conversation about it."

Portenoy is the chairman of the department of pain management and palliative care at Beth Israel Medical Center in Manhattan. He recently conducted a survey that found at least 30 percent of Americans had experienced, within the past year, pain that lasted for three months or more -- in other words, chronic pain.

Chronic pain can be triggered by a disease that causes tissue damage, such as arthritis, or by a terminal illness like cancer.

In some cases, however, people experience pain even though their body appears to be physically healthy. Nervous system dysfunction seems to be at the root of such cases, but that's about all doctors know at this point.

"We call those cases idiopathic," Portenoy said, "which basically means we have no idea."

Little funding is available for researching pain as a disease, although the pharmaceutical industry has invested heavily in developing medications that temporarily reduce the sensation of pain.

Portenoy supports the long-term use of opioids like morphine and Oxycontin for chronic pain. At the same time, he hopes the medical community will someday understand the neurology of pain well enough that his patients may no longer need drugs.

"The amount of time devoted to pain management in medical school is minute," he said. "It's strange, since pain is the number one reason that patients see doctors."

There are only about 9,000 licensed pain specialists in the United States, and more than 30 million Americans suffering from chronic pain, Portenoy said.

"The implication is that there is no possible way for chronic pain to be managed only by pain specialists. Primary care doctors must step up and address the problem," he said. "We have a problem of access."

Neither Glens Falls nor Saratoga has a pain management division in its hospital. Patients in this region who suffer from chronic pain have few treatment options. They can seek referral to a specialist in Albany, or try alternative therapies like acupuncture and chiropractic care.

"The most common regions I treat in terms of chronic pain are the neck, back, and headaches," said William Tackett, a Queensbury chiropractor.

Tackett works with the muscles and joints to improve circulation, which can relieve inflamed nerves, but said he believes most chronic pain is caused by "a misfiring in the brain."

"It's the brain taking something that would otherwise be a non-painful stimulus, and interpreting it as pain," he said.

Tackett said chiropractic adjustments have made some chronic pain patients more comfortable, although he can't offer them a cure.

"I'm a hero to them if I can reduce their pain by 50 percent, because of how much pain they're in," he said. "I know darn well there's only so much I can do for them. There's only so much anyone can do for them, until we understand the brain better."

That's not a message that most patients want to hear.

"People tend to view disease as being a matter of a broken organ that they can take to a physician, like a mechanic, and get fixed," Portenoy said. "In fact, most diseases cannot be cured, only managed. Physicians really are chronic illness managers."
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LOGGING ON
To learn more, log on to:
Beth Israel Medical Center's Pain Management Dept: www.stoppain.org
American Pain Foundation: www.painfoundation.org
American Pain Society: www.ampainsoc.org
National Chronic Pain Outreach Association: www.chronicpain.org

Where everybody knows your name...

Published in The Post-Star (G1)
11/03/05

Six bars rub shoulders along the first 500 feet of Caroline Street, just off Broadway in Saratoga Springs.

Locals can easily slap a few labels on most of them, but Desperate Annie's (or "D.A.'s," as regulars call it) is harder to typecast. It attracts both cops and college kids; hipsters and aging hippies; the barely 21 revelers and the over-the-hill drunks.

"This is the kind of place where cops can sit down with criminals and not worry about work getting in the way," said Isaiah Rees, 34.

Rees has been a bartender and bouncer at D.A.'s for nearly a decade, but he's a newbie compared to John Branson, who has worked behind the bar for 25 years.

"It's a family of sorts," Branson said.

The only rule, he said, is don't be a "jerk," although he used a different word.

Nothing is especially spectacular about the place at first glance. It has the dirty floors and dim lighting of many neighborhood bars, with decor that looks straight out of the free box at a yard sale.

It might be the huge jukebox that draws people in, or the hundreds of postcards plastered on the ceiling -- a collage of bare breasts and cheesy vacation photos sent in by loyal customers.

It's probably not the stuffed deer head wearing sunglasses mounted on the wall behind the bar that keeps customers coming back.

More likely, it's the bar's lack of pretension. If Desperate Annie were a real person, she'd be the girl who was popular in school because she never tried to be. She would be nice to everyone, while making her closest friends feel like they belonged to some special club. And, miraculously, she would never age.

"When you're in your 20s, and trying to find your home away from home, that's what this place can be," said Justin Wilcox, 34, who lives in the city and has been a regular D.A.'s customer since his college years. "There are certain things a regular can count on, that will always be here -- like cheap drinks, and the Simpsons pinball game."

Wilcox said he's outgrown spending five nights a week at the bar, but other customers are more dedicated. Kevin Roberts, 43, stops in at D.A.'s almost nightly.

"I've been coming here for 25 years, since I was a college student," said Roberts. (The drinking age was 18 then). "It's mellow and comfortable. Nothing ever seems to change."

That's just what the bar's owner wants to hear.

"I bought this place in 1993, and the only things I've added are the deer head and the picture of Elvis," said D.A.'s owner, Travis, who goes by his last name only.

He goes by one name, Travis said, "to keep some mystique" and if you want to hang out in his establishment, you'd be wise -- even if you can discover what it is -- to avoid using it, because he's very touchy about it.

Depending on whom you ask, the Annie who inspired the bar's name 30 years ago was either a local girl who was underage and desperate to get inside, or a rather promiscuous lady who would do anything for a drink.

More desperate men than women show up in D.A.'s these days, but the all-male staff is eager to fend off the "meat-market" label that can get slapped on bars.

"No one gives you any trouble here. Women can come here and feel comfortable. They know that the bouncer will talk to anyone who's bothering them," Rees said.

So, is D.A.'s the neighborhood Cheers? The place where everybody knows your name?

"Yeah, I guess it really is," Branson said. "We're like Cheers with bad language."

On a recent Friday night at about 11, three young twenty-somethings wandered down Caroline Street and through the doors of D.A.'s. They showed the bouncer their IDs and waited for his approval.

"I've never been in here before," the guy told his two female companions.

He looked around, taking in the jukebox, the postcards, the deer, and the clusters of people talking and laughing.

"Cool," he declared.

investigation of Lake George accident continues

Published in The Post-Star (A1) and Poststar.com
11/5/05

The National Transportation Safety Board released a toxicology report Friday afternoon indicating that the captain of the Ethan Allen had no drugs or alcohol in his blood 46 hours after the tour boat capsized on Lake George, although his urine tested positive for alcohol consumption within the previous 80 hours.

Richard Paris, the vessel's captain, provided voluntary blood and urine samples to investigators two days after the tragedy that left 20 senior citizens dead.

According to Warren County Sheriff Larry Cleveland, Paris told the NTSB on Oct. 3 he had not ingested alcohol since the Thursday night before the accident.

But in Friday's press release, the NTSB stated Paris told them he had consumed alcohol the night before the accident.

"Yeah, that was confusing," said Cleveland, after reading the release. "But I don't think he (Paris) changed his statement. We got all our information from the NTSB, so I don't know how to explain that conflict."

Terry Williams, a spokesman for the NTSB, said he would look into the discrepancy but provided no further comment on the toxicology report.

"It's too early to draw any conclusions on it," he said.

The NTSB used a newly developed method of urine analysis called "EtG testing," which detects ethanol glucuronide (EtG), a by-product of alcohol consumption. A sample of Paris' urine provided on Oct. 5 contained EtG at a level which toxicologists said can confirm alcohol consumption within the previous 80 hours.

The results of the toxicology report were not surprising, said Cleveland.

"We fully expected that they would come back with something in that 80-hour time period," said Cleveland. "But even if he had anything to drink after the accident, it would have showed up. That's the problem."

Cleveland said he's skeptical the EtG test proves anything useful to investigators. "We would never use this type of test in police work," he said. "It doesn't tell you how much alcohol was consumed, or exactly when ... Nobody should draw any conclusions based on the EtG about his condition at the time of the accident. It's scientifically impossible."

Cleveland said he interviewed Paris less than an hour after the accident and saw no obvious signs of alcohol consumption, such as bloodshot eyes or slurred speech.

"I say it now, and I'll say it again; he was not under the influence at the time of the accident," he said. "We have no reason to believe he lied at any point."

Paris, who lives in Queensbury, said he volunteered for the tests because: "I wanted to clear some things up." He denied Friday that he ever told investigators he had been drinking the night before the accident.

"To my knowledge, I never said that," he said by telephone Friday. He said he's doing "OK" since the tragedy but has "lost a lot of faith in the press." He declined to comment further without consulting his attorney.
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a video story!

Check out my foray into multimedia reporting...a video documentary of an old-fashioned place called the Boston Candy Kitchen (which is in Glens Falls, NY...not Boston!).

This is why I'm not a sports writer.

Published on Poststar.com, Web exclusive

11/02/05

Cambridge and Salem are the kind of places that feel like they could be the set for a movie about small-town America. Life moves at a slower pace than in the big city, and no one gets too riled up about anything.

Except, of course, football. Their varsity boys football teams will face off for the Class D section title on Saturday.

A few days before the big game, a reporter set out to find out whether high school football was on everyone's minds in these small towns.

What she found was that even when people say they don't follow football, they do. Everyone knows about the rivalry between the Cambridge Indians and Salem Generals, and most can tell you that Salem is the only team Cambridge lost to this season.

A handful of locals gathered at the Cambridge Diner around lunch time, including Danny Foster, a retired educator. He lived in Cambridge for 30 years before moving down the road to North Hoosic, and he's been an Indians fan for years.

"It's interesting to watch the kids develop from Pee Wee football on up," he said. "It's really fun to identify a good player at 6 or 7, and watch how they progress."

He plans to be at Saturday's game in Hudson Falls, wearing a Cambridge sweatshirt with the name and number of a former player -- his grandson, Justin Schmigel. Even though his grandson graduated several years ago, Foster still enjoys watching the games.

So, is football a big deal around here?

Foster raised his eyebrows and put down his burger.

"Yeah," he said slowly, in the tone a dairy farmer might use if you had just asked whether milk comes from cows.

"I mean, it's a rural town. It's not like on Saturday you have a choice of 300 things to do," he explained.

A few miles north in Salem, things were even quieter, but there were a few telltale signs of football rivalry. Outside Bain's Auto, the owner had strung up a white sheet painted with a football, the names and numbers of all the Salem players, and the words "Rough and Ready, Salem Generals Are #1."

Inside the local hardware store, a handful of local men gathered around the counter when the reporter dropped the word "football."

"I think this'll be Salem's year," said David Linendoll, a store employee. Earlier in the day, he had listened as two customers had placed a bet on Saturday's game. One man was from Salem, and the other was from Cambridge.

"I won't say how much, but they bet more than I would have put on a football game," he said.

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Cider producers get a raw deal

Published in The Post-Star (D1)
11/02/05

This is the last fall that customers in New York can enjoy the taste of raw apple cider.
A new law requires all cider sold in the state after Jan. 8, 2006, to be treated with ultraviolet light or pasteurized so that it is 99.99 percent free of bacteria.

Cidermakers will either have to invest about $15,000 in equipment to kill potential pathogens in their product, or stop making cider. Some small local orchards are choosing the latter.

"We can't afford the equipment, and we're going to have to close down our cider business after all these years," said Frances Clough, who runs Stetkar Orchards in Saratoga Springs with her husband, Charles.

To make their cider, the Cloughs use a century-old, tractor-powered press called "Old Faithful," which is one of the main attractions at their small orchard and farmstand.

"All my customers are very, very angry about the law," said Clough. "They're going to write letters to protest it."

For the last eight years, New York cidermakers have put mandatory warning labels on all raw cider, to let customers know that it could contain unhealthy bacteria. That hasn't stopped many people from buying it, however. They say it tastes better.

"Customers want the option to buy what they want to buy, and I think they should have it," said apple grower Jim Perry.

His business, Perry's Orchard in Eagle Bridge, will also stop making cider after this year. He produces only about 2,000 gallons of cider a season, and can't afford the investment needed to comply with the law.

Perry isn't giving up without a fight, however. He's leading an effort to get the law amended, by circulating petitions and flyers asking people to write to their state legislators, the Farm Bureau, and the Apple Association.

"It's an uphill battle," he said. "But I'd feel bad if I didn't try."

About 50 growers in the state will be affected by the new law, said Perry, and he's called all of them.

"I'm not the only one who will have to shut down my cider business," he said. Small growers will be hit the hardest, but Perry said he talked to a few who make as much as 10,000 gallons of cider a year and still can't afford the equipment.

According to a legislative memo, the cider bill was prompted by a recent episode in which more than 300 people were reported to have become ill from drinking raw cider, and "the cost (to producers) is certainly minuscule when weighed against the great public health benefit that will be derived."

Perry said he researched the Clinton County orchard where people were sickened, and he's not convinced that cider was the culprit. Even if it was, he said, the Apple Association and Farm Bureau should have pinpointed the source of the pathogens and spread the word to other growers.

"It really burns me up that they didn't warn all of us about whatever caused it, so it wouldn't happen again," he said. "Instead, they come up with this bill. I haven't yet uncovered the hidden agenda."

Although he doesn't think the law can be repealed, he has a compromise in mind.

In Washington County and several other counties in New York, dairy farmers can get a permit to sell raw milk directly to their customers. Perry thinks the same opportunity should be extended to the cider industry.

"Why should cider be more regulated than milk?" said Perry. "It's not any more dangerous."
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Culture shock

Published in The Post-Star (D1)
10/29/05

The sign on the door of McCann's Drug Store in Hudson Falls advertised: "All Cards $.99." So when Rev. Victor Achima Owan got to the cash register with his card and was charged $1.06, he was puzzled.

"I thought, are they trying to take advantage of me just because I'm new?" he said. "I finally asked someone, and they explained to me about sales tax."

Taxes weren't the only thing that shocked Owan when he arrived in this country in June 2003 to become an associate pastor at St. Mary's-St. Paul's Catholic Church in Hudson Falls. He came from another place named "Falls" — the town of Agbokim Water Falls in Nigeria — but the similarities ended there.

As an African getting his first taste of American culture, Owan's first months here were full of confusion and surprises. Those experiences inspired him to write a book called "Culture Shock," a self-published handbook to crossing the cultural divide between Nigeria and the United States. He hopes that his humorous personal narrative will smooth the way for others making a similar transition.

Something as simple as sneezing can be complicated in a foreign country.

"Back home, it's a sign of good health when you sneeze. It means that someone, somewhere, is speaking well of you. We look forward to it," explained Owan. "Here, each time I sneezed, people said, 'Are you OK?' and I didn't understand their concern."

He was equally baffled by the way people greeted him, which seemed rude and aggressive."Everyone shakes hands with such a firm grip here. That intimidated me at first," said Owan. "In my country, when somebody shakes your hand that way, they are sending you a message, and it's not a good one."

While making eye contact is a normal part of polite conversation in American culture, Nigerians show respect in the opposite way — by looking down when someone more important is addressing them.

"Having people look me right in the face used to make me so nervous that I would stammer," he said.

Now, 36-year-old Owan seems comfortable in his new life at St. Mary's-St. Paul's, where he said he's experienced nothing but love from parishioners and others in the community. He has learned how to wash dishes and is getting better at cooking — things that men just don't do in Nigeria.

Although he's the only Nigerian priest in the Albany diocese, and perhaps the only African in Hudson Falls, Owan said he hasn't encountered any racism. He likes to make jokes about how much his dark skin ("chocolate, not black," he insists) stands out in a crowd of pale northern New Yorkers.

"Once, I went out to dinner with two white friends, and the waitress gave them white doggie bags, but gave me a black one. I decided to give her a hard time about it, asking 'Am I not black enough?' " he said. "We were all cracking up."

When he first arrived here in June 2003, Owan was looking forward to his first sight of snow. For months, he prayed for it to fall from the sky, and when it finally did, he ran outside and jumped in the snow like a child. But after two winters in upstate New York, he's starting to understand what it means to have too much of a good thing.

"I think God was too generous with me," he said, laughing.
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global warming?

Published in The Post-Star (D1)

10/24/05

The sky isn't necessarily falling, but it's certainly heating up.

The Northeast experienced its warmest July through September in more than a century this year, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, and last month was the hottest September on record in terms of global land temperatures. Hurricane season was unusually strong, too -- there's only been one other year (1933) with this many storms.

For many scientists, this all points to one conclusion. Global warming is changing the Earth's climate, fueled by humans' ever-increasing output of carbon dioxide from things like cars and factories.

Local farmers aren't so sure. Many said it's been a strange year, with one of the latest frosts they can remember, but they aren't ready to jump on the global warming bandwagon just yet. They're used to coping with fickle weather patterns.

"I've seen so many changes in the weather over the years, that I'm pretty skeptical," said Tom Borden, 51. "We shouldn't ignore it, but I'm hesitant to throw in with the idea too quickly."

His family has owned a farm in Easton for six generations, which includes an apple orchard and a dairy farm. He said the long spell of dry, hot weather this summer made for a good haying season, and the corn matured more quickly than he'd expected in September. The late frost has allowed him to keep harvesting apples into late October, without concern for the bruising that can occur on frozen fruit.

"It's been a good growing season for us; a real long one," said Borden. "I wouldn't say I've never seen this before, but it's rare."

Ken Macica, a farmer in Schuylerville, said it was a season of mixed blessings. The dry summer took a toll on the size of his pumpkins, but he had a bumper hay crop of about 12,000 bales. Heavy rains in recent weeks have put a damper on his corn maze. There's only one place where things have grown predictably -- his greenhouses.

"You can grow anything in a greenhouse," he said.

But what happens when the whole planet is a greenhouse that won't stop heating up?

While a longer growing season could be a boost for agriculture, warmer fall temperatures also mean a duller, delayed foliage season. For upstate New York, where tourism employs more than 106,000 people, that could be a real problem.

"As we have fall after fall of dull colors, people will no longer travel great distances to see it," said Dr. Barrett Rock, a professor of natural resources at the University of New Hampshire. "I don't think this year is a fluke. It certainly follows a pattern that we've been in since the mid-90s."

Rock was part of a team that published a 2001 report on how climate change could affect New England and upstate New York. Using what's called the Hadley model for computerized climate modeling, the team calculated that the average temperature of the region could rise by 6 degrees Fahrenheit in the next century. And that's the conservative estimate; another modeling system predicts a rise of 10 degrees.

That might sound good to people who complain about cold weather, said Rock, but think of it in these terms: The average temperatures in Boston will eventually mirror the current climate in Richmond, Va., or Atlanta, Ga., depending on which model is correct.

"There would be no skiing, no maples to tap and no beautiful displays of fall foliage," said Rock. "I'm just a dumb botanist, not an economist, but I think its very safe to say that there will be severe, significant economic impacts with the kind of warming that's predicted."

Local science writer Bill McKibben agrees that the forecast for the next 100 years doesn't look good.

"By some point in this century, unless we really get to work changing our fuel systems in huge ways, we'll have no real winter -- no period when snow stays on the ground," predicts McKibben. "We'll just have month after month of mud season -- and brutally hot summers."

McKibben, a former writer for The New Yorker magazine, has been researching this topic for years. In 1989, he wrote one of the first books on climate change for a general audience, "The End of Nature." His latest book, "Wandering Home," offers a hopeful look at this region as a model for change.

"A hundred years ago, the Adirondacks were largely clearcut, and now it's become the largest example of ecological restoration anyplace on Earth," said McKibben, who lived in Johnsburg for many years. "What makes that especially sweet is that it wasn't done by building a wall around it. There's still many people making a living there."

Thinking locally is an important step in the right direction, he said, and farmers are well-positioned to take the lead by helping to build strong local food networks. Buying local food not only helps the economy, it reduces carbon dioxide emissions because less fuel is used for transportation.

Rock said he's not surprised to hear that many farmers are reluctant to accept signs of climate change.

"They're right, the weather is always changing, but it's also true that the atmospheric chemistry has changed in the last few decades. We're seeing a dramatic increase in the amount of severe weather, and that's going to affect farming in a big way."

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