The Life and Language of Trees

 The Life and Language of Trees

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

When we moved to our rural location, we were greeted by several towering maple trees that bordered our property and the country road past our house.   We estimated they were about 100 feet high, five feet in diameter, and more than 100 years old.  They were dying slowly, if not from old age then from road salt.   Every year storms would break off massive limbs and send bushels of leaves into the next county.  Roots swelled the ground and threatened mower blades.  As these ancient beauties succumbed and were carved down to stumps holding potted flowers, we felt a bit wistful, like we were losing old friends.  Little did we think about how the trees might have felt.   

            Our feeling was not for lack of trees.  Miles of hilly woods surround us.  Our property is home to apple trees, oaks, black walnut, mountain ash, locust, cottonwood, and sumac, among others.  We live in a house of wood.  We have butter wood paneling.  Oak furniture is our preference.  Although we have no pines, except around Christmas, many folks out here plant them in rows because they grow fast and afford both privacy and wind breaks.  There is stalwart comfort, strength, and protection in the wood that surrounds us.

My affection for trees goes beyond practical.   Remember those youthful times when you either climbed up one, or when you had to call the fire department to rescue your cat?  Think too about all those woodsy refrains like Norwegian Wood, Weeping Willow, or Rocking Around the Christmas Tree.  Tree imagery is nostalgic and powerful, inspiring poetry like Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”.   Joyce Kilmer’s classic line rings true: “I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree”.   Recently I heard a line from the musical “Paint Your Wagon”.  It began, “I talk to the trees, but they don’t listen to me.”

Oops, yes they do listen, but in their own language!  My heightened awareness of the life of trees was inspired by a PBS special hosted by the famous actress Judy Dench.  She names each tree on her country property after a person.   In the broadcast she interviewed tree experts who showed her how the upward rush of water in a tree trunk is actually noisy if you listen through a stethoscope.   She marveled at finding her beech trees respond as a group to the underground networks of fungi extending out from their roots. 

Thus made curious, I purchased a little book titled “The Hidden Life of Trees,” by  veteran forest manager Peter Wohlleben.  I learned that besides supplying essential oxygen and disposing of carbon dioxide, trees prefer to live in forested communities where they share nutrients with their own species and create an ecosystem to moderate heat and cold, store lots of water, generate humidity, and even care for sick companions and help them recover.   I love the smell of pine needles, but had no idea that scent is a crucial method of communication among trees, while fungi provide what amounts to a forest internet and resource exchange system.

My appreciation of trees and forests has grown exponentially.   Recently I saw a cartoon showing an axe driven into a stump, with a split log lying on the ground.  A comment drifted out of the nearby woodpile: “Oh my God!  Not Greg!”  This is funny but real.   I am not a true tree hugger, but now I recognize they are social beings and act amazingly human.  It just takes them longer than we realize to show it.     

             

              

           

Time Will Tell

TIME WILL TELL

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

We pay an amazing amount of attention to time.  It seems to go by at a steady pace, like clockwork so to speak, but we like to think its speed varies, depending on what we are doing and our attitudes. 

Theoretically, Einstein and his successors would have us believe that time does uniquely vary by individual, and as we approach the speed of light, time actually slows down.  Putting time travel aside, every day we quantify this peculiar entity.  We may save or waste it, but we always measure it.

I confess to having a temporal obsession.  I have 20 different wrist watches.  All of them adjust differently, which causes a lot of frustration when directions get lost and we switch to daylight savings.  Plus I have several wall clocks, alarm clocks, sundry calendars, a weather station, an all-knowing exercise monitor, and a smart phone that broadcasts every changing moment.  So armed, I try to keep track of appointments, due dates, deadlines, and tv programming.

Given our preoccupation with time, no wonder we bestow upon it almost magical powers.  We claim that time heals all wounds, waits for no one, and really is of the essence.  When angry, we may insist that time steals from us and is a thief.  Eternity becomes a place where we can luxuriate in timelessness.  

The Greek philosopher Pericles advised that time is the wisest counselor of all, while War and Peace author Leo Tolstoy pointed out that patience and time are the two greatest warriors in the world.  The best paradoxical explanation comes from business columnist Harvey Mackay: “Time is free, but it’s priceless.  You can’t own it, but you can use it. You can’t keep it, but you can spend it.  Once you have lost it, you can never get it back.”

Despite these profound notions, time has no altogether separate powers of its own.  When it gauges or directs our lives, mostly it is because we let it.  Therein lies an important lesson.  The better we understand our relationship to time – how it affects our daily patterns of thinking, behavior, moods and attitudes – the more self-aware we become.  This helps us shape our viewpoints, habits, and destinies.

Some of the most recent revelations about time can be found in a current best seller by Daniel Pink.  Aptly titled “When”, Pink’s research highlights a dominant pattern in our moods and performance throughout the day.  In the morning we seem to be more alert, perceptive, focused and emotionally balanced.  By afternoon, a dip in mood occurs and we drift into negative feelings, becoming more frustrated or less resolute. 

Yet the afternoon does have virtues.  With our guard down, and inhibitions loosening, afternoons promote creativity and innovative thinking.  “Aha” moments are more frequent.  Then by evening, the morning’s emotional assets rebound, making us more productive and logical.    

Before you dismiss this pattern of peak, trough, and rebound, consider certain mitigating factors.  For one, roughly one of every five of us operates in reverse:  recovery, trough, and peak.  In other words, most of us may be larks, but a substantial minority are owls.  Also, much depends on the nature of our tasks, as well as our genetic predisposition, which experts call our unique chronotype.

If you still doubt the dominant pattern, some “big data” research by two Cornell sociologists is convincing.  After analyzing more than 500 million tweets by 2.4 million users worldwide, the researchers found that the peak-trough-rebound pattern prevails consistently.

  It is reassuring that millions of us use language suggesting we feel hopeful, engaged, and positive typically in the morning.  In addition, evidence suggests the importance of taking a timely lunch break away from our desks, enjoying short breaks throughout the day, and offsetting the afternoon “Bermuda Triangle” of our days with a short afternoon nap.  Pink calls these naps “Zambonis for our brains”.

 Pink and many other researchers highlight the untimely ironies of typical school schedules.  Grades and test scores can be dramatically improved by starting high school classes later (after 8:30 a.m.), and scheduling science and math courses in the morning, with English, social studies, art, and music following in the afternoon. 

It behooves us to make institutional schedules fit the peak-trough-rebound model more closely.  It is shocking to learn that, in the afternoon, much more so than in the morning, doctors make more mistakes in the operating room, judges issue more severe sentences, and parole boards grant fewer paroles.  

Bureaucracy, convenience, and tradition explain why resetting our time is like removing the stakes holding up circus tents.  Just bear in mind Daniel Pink’s admonition that today’s timing is everything, but tomorrow we may fully realize that everything is timing.

1/10/20

How We Become Lifelong Readers

How We Become Lifelong Readers

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

When you were a toddler did your parent or a relative tirelessly read stories and nursery rhymes to you?  Was there a special elementary teacher who enthusiastically used books to stimulate your curiosity?   At the dinner table when an odd word cropped up, were you challenged to look it up?  Did someone send you to the local or school library where literary adventures awaited?  

I had these experiences, and perhaps with variations, you did too. These are just a few of the prompts that may lead to a lifelong love of reading.   For instance, by the sixth grade I had devoured every available library book about dogs and knew every breed by sight.  Later on, as a parent and educator, I realized that adolescents who develop a passionate interest can benefit from consuming every relevant piece of literature on the topic.   Lifelong reading needs a trigger, and dogs were mine.

A recent article in Atlantic magazine answered why some people become lifelong readers.  While leisure reading is linked to an array of academic and professional outcomes, the underlying factors are hard to explain.  Motivation is a big stimulus.  The strongest connections seem to be socio-economic background and the culture of reading found in the household.

About half of the American public reportedly have read just one book outside of school or work over the preceding year.   More avid readers account for about 20 percent of adults.   Their habits follow predictable patterns into adulthood.  The earliest readers tend to be more educated, urban, affluent, youthful, and typically female. 

The Atlantic account also suggests that “family scholarly culture” plays a big role.  Books lying around the house provide an excuse to pick one up.  Reading becomes more appealing when it reminds us of chocolate cake instead of spinach. 

Three factors reinforce the lifelong habit of reading for pleasure.  First, becoming a fluent decoder; that is, being able to transition smoothly from print on the page to words in the mind.  Second, bringing background knowledge to the task.  Without some context, one might as well be reading Greek.  Finally, positive motivation should reflect one’s self-image as a reader.  This last factor reminds me of the ambitious elementary kids I used to see hauling around heavy copies of the Harry Potter books.   

Debates about the reading impact of TV, video games, online and mobile devices have grown heated.  Kindles have made library stacks seem antiquated.  Yet my old habits die hard.  I still prefer paging sequentially through a book, ones I can mark up easily, and then store like a historical accomplishment in my bookcase. Even so, I reluctantly admit that the large bright print and cheaper price of electronic books is alluring. 

A deeper concern is that fewer kids are developing the habit of reading.  Little more than a third of American students can read proficiently, based on the Nation’s Report Card (NAEP).  The biggest declines occur in literary experience, not so much in nonfiction reading only for information.  By no coincidence, research shows that, on average, 8-12-year-olds spend five hours of screen time a day outside of school. 

Thus certain trends are becoming evident.  More time spent as a heavy digital user associates with lower reading scores, poor sleep habits and eyesight, weak attention spans, and depressed academic progress.  However, not all of the digital news is bad.  For example, electronic reading programs are helping teachers effectively diagnose reading issues.  Moreover, digital libraries provide broadened access to reading materials.

I take comfort in knowing that high school English classes still require classic novels.   Colleges and universities still prefer students who are culturally literate.  The skills needed to follow a narrative and comprehend text deeply remain an academic aspiration.  Yet digital technology is inevitably reshaping the landscape of leisure reading.

Reading is infinitely practical and useful.  But personal experience has taught me more.  Reading books leads to deep learning especially when it becomes a labor of love.  Hopefully, parents, teachers, and young people will keep finding a good balance between the convenient and immediate outputs of technology and the satisfaction that comes from extended reading for pleasure.         

J.M. Bowen

1/2020