Six Simple Rules for a Better Life, an interview with author David Singer

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of meeting David Singer. He is the author of the book - Six Simple Rules for a Better Life. .

Jess's mission with What You Can Do has always been to break down the world's most pressing issues into tangible steps. That's why were were so interested in David Singer's message. His ideas were very comparable to ours. He took the time to answer a few of our questions.

What inspired you to write the book?
Nothing feels better than knowing that I’ve made a difference in other people’s lives. I’ve always tried to help family and friends. I wrote Six Simple Rules for a Better Life to be able to help a wider audience.

You talk about six simple rules. Was it hard to narrow it down?
Six Simple Rules for a Better Life is highly personal and these “rules” have been ones that have worked for me. Most of them are things I think about all the time: be happy, be nice, be organized, and be healthy are long-time parts of my core being. Being happy, nice, and healthy were ingrained in me by my parents. Being organized is something that developed for me as a young adult when I realized how it helped me to be successful, less stressed, and happier.

Being a lifelong learner is something I fell in love with, a happy addiction that I developed after college. And as part of that learning, a big part of which was from reading, I became absorbed by the stories of leaders—people who have made the world a better place.

I had been collecting all kinds of wisdom for many years and when I began to organize it to write the book, everything I wanted to talk about fit into one of the six rules.

Your section "be a leader" fits right in line with the spirit of what you can do. can you talk a little about simple ways that people could be a leader?
When I was writing the book and told a friend about “Be a leader,” he said, “I don’t think everyone can be a leader.” I explained that I wasn’t talking about the kind of leaders that business books talk about, rather the kind that is demonstrated by the people who changed the world, such as Martin Luther King, Jr. and Mother Teresa and that the leadership I was writing about includes making the world a better place even in “small” ways. We all have it in us to be a leader.

Being a leader is about volunteering and taking on responsibility. It’s about setting an example in everything you do at home, at work, and in your community. Getting involved in your community is one of the simplest ways to be a leader. There are so many opportunities, so many places that need your help. And a side benefit is that it’s tremendously gratifying to help other people—possibly the greatest secret to happiness.

One of the things that really stuck with me in reading the book was the idea that it takes 21 days to develop a new habit. Can you talk about that a little for people who may not have read the book?
We live in a world filled with offers for immediate change. “Get rich quick,” “get thin now,” “stop smoking today.” Those quick fixes, when they do work, rarely last. In the same way, we’re encouraged each year to make New Year’s resolutions—grandiose plans, which nearly always fail.

You know how it works—gym memberships spike in January and then those same gyms’ parking lots are empty by February. Instead of creating the once-a-year, New Year’s resolutions type of list, the better way is to create and maintain a running list of goals—an ongoing list of life-improvement ideas.

The key to accomplishing those goals is to then break them down into small pieces, small enough changes that you can stick with them. It takes 21 days to form a new habit, so if you slow down and focus on one new habit every 21 days you can experience many positive changes each year. This slow and steady approach is extremely effective and adds up to the positive changes we all want.

Even if you slow down further (for example, one new habit every month, or every six weeks), you can accomplish a great deal because slowing down to make changes is the secret to making real, lasting change.

One more thing.. Looking forward to more accomplishments is a great motivator and a list of goals is great raw material for our progress. But it’s important that we don’t end up seeing the list of goals as a list of shortcomings. Even someone who would not be officially labeled as a perfectionist could become frustrated by a list of things that they have not yet accomplished—so, it’s important to make a second list—a list of achievements—and to stop and celebrate our progress every day, looking back at all that we’ve accomplished. We deserve it!

What's the next step for the book and for you as a writer?
I’ve gotten fantastic feedback about the book. As I said in answer to your first question, my reason for writing this was/is to help people and even if they get only one thing out of reading the book, that’s great (and most people will get more than one.) The other day I was in a dentist’s chair listening to my iPod and I was thinking, “Would Death Cab for Cutie be happy to know I’m listening to their music right now?” I don’t know how it works for them, but I know I would be happy any minute I knew someone was reading my book because I would know I was helping them in some way.

The book has sold quite a few copies, yet it’s far from being a bestseller. I want to change the world, to make it a better place in small ways, and in as big a way as I can. The more people who read my book, the more people I can help to be happier, healthier, and more—and the world a better place. So, spreading the word is the big next step for the book. I’m doing that through social media, word-of-mouth from people like you, and speaking engagements.

I’m writing more than ever now because of my weekly blog posts. I’m enjoying that and will continue to do that as long as I enjoy it and am delivering information that is helping people in some way. I have a lot of other books in my head, and it’s likely that I will publish more at some point. Right now, I’m enjoying the ride of this one, the incredible gratifying feeling of making a difference for people who are reading it.

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To find out more about David Singer, please visit SixSimpleRules.com.

WYCD Guest Blogs on Tiny Green Mom

Click here to check out our WYCD list of one minute activities you can do with your family to go green. Thanks to TINY GREEN MOM for featuring "What You Can Do" on her website!

Check it out here: WYCD with Tiny Green Mom

I Am BP

I’m tired of hearing about BP. So tired... and angry. So angry! But what am I doing? Well, not being anywhere near the Gulf and not having the ability to travel there for any length of time, I'm doing what many people are doing: I'm very busy hating BP.

Then recently one evening I was draining my son's bathwater and taking a moment to breathe as my 4-year-old did a naked lap around his room. For those who know me, what you're thinking is exactly right. What? You were draining the what from the what? That’s right. In yet another admission of being a seriously flawed person, I was in fact watching gallons of grey water go to waste. Yes, knowing that I was doing the wrong thing, knowing that I was living in a state with a water shortage, knowing there was something I could have done to prevent waste, I watched every last drop get sucked down.

Then I had a thought: I am BP.

Okay, so I'm not an oil company. I'm a mom who lives in a rented apartment with her family and blabs on a blog occasionally and at times eats more ice cream than she should. But all this energy I'm expending to be mad at BP is doing about as much good as reenacting some drama queen moment from Gone With The Wind. I may not be an oil company, but if I'm not doing what I can to prevent the next disaster, than aren't I a microscopic version of BP? I know the risk I'm taking every time I am too lazy to recycle or waste water just like BP knew the risks they were taking. Heck, I hate them, right? So don't I want to be better than them?

Every day is a chance to not only recommit ourselves to save water and help the environment, even if it’s just so we don’t pull a BP. Sure, I would say that we have been doing a lot in this house. But every now and then, it's time to take it up a notch just like BP should have a long long long long time ago. When the next disaster happens, I would really feel terrible if the one I was hating was myself.

Going Against the Flow

My husband came home from work one day and told me they showed an award-winning film called Flow. http://www.flowthefilm.com. When I asked him what it was about, he said, “Babe, do not see this movie.”

Let us get past the fact that my husband gets to watch movies in the middle of his workday and contemplate his explicit instructions. Why? Well, those who know me know the extent to which I worry. Even the Bible has nothing on the doomsday scenarios that play out in my head at the slightest hint of trouble. My poor husband was simply trying to save us from weeks, perhaps months of Victorian Era fainting meets Debbie Downer kind of stress.

Too late. I went to the film’s site and read the synopsis beginning “Irena Salina's award-winning documentary investigation into what experts label the most important political and environmental issue of the 21st Century - The World Water Crisis…” Gulp. My husband was right. Nevertheless, more research: “more than one out of six people lack access to safe drinking water,” and “36 states are facing water shortages by 2013.” Oy. What did I do? I shut down the computer! I just couldn’t take it. I’m one person. I get maxed out just thinking about what to make for dinner for goodness sake. Karen, out.

A few months later, I came across a Brazilian commercial suggesting that people pee in the shower to save water - a cute little cartoon that made it sound like the best thing since roller-skating. Now, while it’s none of your business as to whether or not I did it, I did. And even though that means that you will never accept an invitation to take a shower in my home, I saved 5-6 gallons of water by not flushing my toilet. That felt great.

I started developing new habits. The more habits I changed, the more I examined other routines. Did I really need to run the water while I brushed my teeth? Did I really need to rinse my dishes before putting them in the dishwasher? Did I really need to wash my vegetables in a colander? No. No. No. Slowly, one thing led to another and before I knew it, we established a household policy of not buying bottled water, just as Ms. Salina’s documentary warns. Not so scary anymore.

So, good for me. Pat pat. Thumbs up. But here’s the problem. When I spread the word about changing habits, I usually see the kind of frozen smiles that make me sure that if there were an ejection seat, they would push the button. I get it. This is scary stuff, and it’s much easier to go on running the sink at full blast to push a kernel of corn down the drain than it is to be in a constant state of awareness about the water crisis. But this crisis is ours only if we want it. You don’t have to be an activist, a hero or Bono. So, here’s a challenge. Watch the upcoming episodes and pick one thing. Just water your plants with ice cubes. Just don’t buy bottled water. Just pee in the shower, for goodness sake, we don’t even have to know about it! Make one commitment. One. Everyone can do that. Any one of those things could save gallons of water. Do that and believe me it will spread. Trickle! It will trickle into everything else that you do. Hey, any subject that ends on a pun that cheesy can’t be all that scary, can it?

In Honor of September 11th

Although today would normally be our closing blog for Go Green Back To School, today is September 11th and we all felt it was an important day to acknowledge. Recently, we asked writer, Tommy Casatelli, a retired firefighter with the FDNY if he would serve as a guest contributer. His firehouse - 226 - was called to the World Trade Center that day. Tommy has begun writing a book about his experiences in the aftermath of September 11th and has kindly written a personal essay for us, available below.


Words I'll Never Write, in a Diary I'll Never Keep

Six years ago today, I drank Guinness Stout and Jameson's whiskey in O'Hara's Bar, a low ceilinged place with brass rails, checked tile floors, yellowed white walls, and stools with worn green fake leather cushions. O'Hara's is tucked neatly on the corner of Cedar Street in the shadow of the Liberty Street firehouse, directly behind and one half block from where the World Trade Center once stood.

I'd been there six, maybe seven hours when I ordered a tenth Guinness and fifth whiskey. Neon shone above me and I remember raising my face to bask in the gaslight, enjoying the charming buzz only men who'd quaffed nine beers and four whiskeys could know.

It was a perfect drunk---one that slowed time, yet allowed me to remain sharp and bright as that neon. It was not the kind of sloppy drunk that encouraged men to piss their pants or fall off bar stools.

And even if it had been, I wasn't worried---I'd never been that kind of drinker.

The pants I did not piss that day were what I called “buffet” pants: itchy black polyester with a band of elastic at the waist. A proper fireman's uniform required quartermaster issued dark navy blue trousers with a crisp crease and loops for a real belt. My official trousers lay crumpled in the bottom of my closet or buried in the backseat of my truck.

My uniform jacket fit, as long as it remained unbuttoned. The jacket's left chest bore medals I'd collected during my nine and a half years on the job, all won the summer of 2000 when a blown pilot light and an innocent flick of a switch took down three floors of a Brooklyn brownstone yards from my firehouse on State Street.

Three people died.

I'd found a fourth, alive, in the cellar---an old man mumbling, “Miles, Miles, where is my Miles?” His hair was snow white and stood pin straight from his bloodied head. “Where is Miles?” he asked. I'd laid my hand on his arm and remember wanting to tell him something-anything---when Miles appeared over the old man's shoulder. He was doing dishes in a pristinely cluttered kitchen. And brushing his teeth in a white tiled bathroom. Or was he walking a dog in Prospect Park?

I saw Miles never hearing the explosion that knocked dishes off the wall in my firehouse half a block away.

A great fireman from Ladder 110, one I'd always admired, bulled through the rubble from the rear into the cellar. I smiled at him and thought about Miles reaching for that light switch but never about the brick, wood beams, pipe, beds, clothes, doors, knives, forks, plates, and cantilevered floors that balanced over our heads. The fireman from 110 lifted the old man then carried him into the safety of hundred-year-old Brooklyn elms in the yard. Other firemen began wading into the debris.
I remember thinking that I should move, that I was in their way or that I might be standing on Miles. I pictured him flat as a pancake with jaunty cartoon X's for eyes. I began searching for Miles when something, or someone, grabbed my leg. I tried to scream. Gas from the leak coated my tongue. I was afraid to look down. When I did, I saw that a gray tomcat had curled himself around my black leather fireman's boots.

Weeks later I learned the cat's name was Miles.

Six or seven years ago, I'd sat on that barstool and looked at the medals on my chest. They were washed green and red and neon blue and I drank more and tried to ignore the ghost of my Marine Corps drill instructor screaming insults every time I sat, stood, or stretched in my ridiculous pants. An angry red stripe had cut tight across my lumberjack belly despite the elastic. The bartender tossed a wet, sour rag on the bar in front of me. I picked it up by the corner and dropped it on the floor. I didn't want to stain my pants. They had served a purpose. The jacket, too. They were part of a costume. They were the scuffed black Keds poking out of the bottom of a small boy's plastic Superman costume--- the kind of shoes never shiny and red enough to make a boy truly believe he was a superhero.

O'Hara's was packed with firemen from all over the globe that day. They drank like moonshiners and fawned over a spattering of FDNY firemen holding court in the corner. When I looked at my brother firemen, I imagined we looked like the random few native New Yorkers who reveled in Times Square on New Year's Eve, necks stretched skyward like wide-eyed science teachers from Ohio or stay at home moms from Wichita, Kansas.

I'd buried my nose in the black stuff and did my best to ignore the party hats and noisemakers I saw shimmering in the barroom haze. Fire company patches from California and Spain and Minnesota were ripped off uniform sleeves and stapled to the low ceiling and the crowd roared every time like it was the first time.

The harried bartender had pretended he didn't hear me when I asked about the old man who'd been working the bar on the 11th. Ignoring him ignoring me, I'd waited for someone to inform him that six or seven or eight years ago, I was there too.


I'd stroll outside the bar from time to time to take phone calls, real or imagined, or to look up and down the block with narrowed eyes as if searching for a tardy friend. I'd leaned against the scaffolding surrounding the still damaged building and breathed great mouthfuls of second hand smoke until my eyes watered. Then I waited, red faced and coughing for someone to nod solemnly, to know the cough was from the ash and smoke and grit and sweet baby Jesus who knows what else I'd swallowed that day.

I'd spat in the gutter hoping the smokers knew it was from the cancer I prayed wiggled through my body like termites.

The glasses piled up. By 10pm, I believed it really was New Year's Eve. I'd traded the 226 memorial bracelet, the one I took off only in the shower, for a sweat stained London Fire Brigade hat. I'd rambled about the men memorialized on the small bracelet, how they were more than tiny scratched names on a black metal band. I told the English fireman about the old bartender I'd seen that day six or seven or eight years ago, how we were now sitting in that very bar and how the old man's face was covered in dust, streaked wet with sweat or tears as he struggled to close the heavy door and metal gate.

I pointed through the bar's window to the back of the firehouse across a street that was really more alley than street and told how I'd pulled crying civilians and one damaged fireman from the broken back window of the firehouse.

I remember the fireman from England, or was it California or Wichita? nodding politely before gushing about how brave we were. I nudged my pint to the floor reaching for the second or third whiskey he'd bought me. The sound of shattering glass made me jump and I'd wished I hadn't switched positions that day and I drank more. I knew the Englishman wanted to be involved, wanted to really know. He yearned to touch me so he could touch that day--- to be part of it--- and I'd point to the bracelet on his wrist, not mine, and say no, no they were the brave ones, they charged into those buildings I stayed outside doing my job and they went up those stairs and I'd twist his arm and point to the bracelet and say you see this name right here? that's the man I switched with, the man who saved my life, and my shoes ground the broken pint glass into the checked tile floor and I would have went up too I swear I tried to go up but it was my job to stay and pump water into the building but they were in the building and I ran when they came down but I never left, I never left my friends and then I retired and then my stomach fell into my shoes and my balls crawled into my fat goddamn belly and I hated the Englishman for wanting to know for wanting to touch me to be me to have my medals and my FDNY patch and memories and I'd drink and try to raise hell to remember/honor my friends and I ran for the door barreled through the visiting firemen random bagpipers and bikers wrapped in American flags clogging the street that was really more alley than street and sometimes I'd get the bracelet back and sometimes I wouldn't and sometimes I'd stay and sometimes I'd leave and always I raged broke windows teeth small bones in my hand and I'd try to remember how many bracelets remained from the handful I kept wrapped safely in felt in the top drawer of my dresser at home a thousand miles away.

That was six, or seven, or maybe, just maybe eight years ago.
I don't know. It's hard to remember.
It's even harder to forget the things you remember.

Last year, I didn't go to O'Haras. I locked my door and pulled the shades.
I busied myself reading a thin book about men carrying things in Vietnam.
I didn't drink stout. I didn't sip whiskey.

The pants with the elastic band? Stuffed in a black plastic trash bag.

A girl who'd refused to let me hurt her also refused to let me to crawl under my bed. When I wept, she ran sweet, soft hands over my ugly knuckles.

She is a wonderfully freckled southern girl and she smells like sunlight and I thought she might be my love. She whisper-cooed in my ear when I tried to run into the street, run to O'Hara's or a place that wasn't O'Hara's in the shadow of where the World Trade Center once stood.

The girl held me tight when men in the book died and held me even tighter when the author of the book about men carrying heavy things in a jungle a thousand miles from home spoke of watching men die.


This year, I don't want to go to O'Hara's. I don't know where I'll be. Maybe under my bed, alone, or in the mountains of upstate New York with the girl. Maybe I'll run a trail through the woods. Or fall asleep in the girl's arms.
Most likely I'll read.
Maybe I'll cry.
Wherever I am, I will try not to think of my friends.

This year, I pray to honor these men by ignoring them.

Supporting Our Troops

Allow me to introduce myself. Hi. I’m a flaming liberal. I’m anti-gun, anti-violence and anti-war. I think if every dime spent on war and getting people killed were spent on education and diplomacy, the world would be a hell of a lot better off than it is now. That’s me. Nice to meet you.

When I began working on this week of episodes about supporting veterans’ and soldiers’ issues, my flaming liberal values weighed heavily on my mind – mostly, how much I believe war is nothing but a misuse of power. While we all know that in a job like this – writing about supporting various causes – the risk of sounding like a hypocrite runs high. No one person can do everything. But for some reason, this time, I really felt like a charlatan. Who am I to talk about supporting veterans and soldiers when I don’t support war?

But then it hit me. I’m using soldiers and veterans interchangeably with the word war. See how I did that a couple of sentences ago? Well, sure, I’ve understood intellectually that you can “support the troops” without supporting the war. But it wasn’t until working on these episodes that “supporting the troops” meant more than a thumbs-up at a bumper sticker going by.

When a 21 year-old man comes home, unable to walk and can’t get around in his own home, war is not the issue. When a soldier can’t buy simple things like razors and socks because the nearest “convenience store” is hundreds of miles away, war is not the issue. When a family can’t afford to fly to the hospital where their injured mother is staying to show their love and support, war is not the issue.

No one’s telling you to throw away your politics or keep your mouth shut on the issues. But when it comes to supporting active duty soldiers and veterans, really, who cares? It’s not about guns, violence or war, it’s about people, families and life. And they deserve way more than a thumbs up.

Go Green Home - a closing blog, by Staff Writer, Karen T. Hartline

As we close out Go Green Home week, here’s an idea from WYCD staff writer, Karen T. Hartline about a simple way you can conserve water during your bedtime routine. Read on and go green!

Frenemy
Last night, I was getting ready for bed and my husband walked in on me in the bathroom doing the most embarrassing thing ever! Drum roll please... I was spraying my face with the water from the spray bottle! Did you fall out of your chair in shock? Perhaps you fell out of your chair from shock at what a boring life I must lead. Hey! I'm sure someone more exciting is writing a blog out there! Who needs you! (No, no, come back! ) Anyway, when my husband passed the bathroom, he heard me laughing at myself. He opened the door and said, "Are you spraying your face to save water?" "Yes." Of course! Why do I do anything anymore?

I was thinking... I thought, you know, I really don't have to wet my face with water before I put my cleanser on. I could just give it a couple of sprays and I'm in business. I have two things to say. First, it worked. my face was wet enough to give it a good sudsy wash. Second, it was miserable! Please, someone tell me it's okay to use a whole pint of water to wash my face instead of a half a teaspoon from the spray bottle! Hello? Okay, fine! Perhaps I will actually get used to this. The navy shower has become second nature, why not this. But while everyone loves water: swimming in it, drinking it, gazing at it, bathing in it - no one, but no one likes it coming at them in little misty drips. No one! That's why umbrellas were invented!

When my husband walked in, I was actually laughing at myself for doing this miserable thing, cursing about this spray bottle while voluntarily misting my face. But the point is, I have discovered that the spray bottle can do a lot more than wet the toothbrush and save TONS of water. This morning I went to wet my hair the usual way - by turning on the sink. But then I remembered... Spray bottle!

You know what should be invented (not by me, by someone smart) is a warmer for the water in the spray bottle. Maybe it would be a little less, well, shocking if it were warm water hitting my face. The thing is, when the water sits in the spray bottle, it just gets to room temp, which is not hot enough for me! Oh spray bottle... my new frenemy. You could be just the thing to save the world... and irritate the hell out of me.

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To read more entries from Karen T. Hartline's blog please visit - Every Last Drip

Go Green Home - a blog written by WYCD Staff Writer, Karen T. Hartline

Our staff writer, Karen T. Hartline has been journaling/blogging/writing about her own Go Green Home effort – water conservation. The below entry, we thought, was an interesting way to incorporate the love of gadgetry and greening your life a little bit. Gadget-mongers, read on!

A Little Bubbly
I keep forgetting to write about this, but I saw the coolest thing. I'm so not a gadget person, so many many things I see are cool to me, but as one who thinks about water all the time, this was a winner. I usually don't drink sparkling water because I don't want to buy a lot of bottled drinks. But when I went to this friends house, she asked me if I wanted some and proceeded to go to this little appliance with a container full of water from her tap. She just lifted a whatsit, pressed a thingy, waited about 5 seconds and wah-la! (pardon my French) Sparkling water!

Now, don't tell my dad, but I think I'm going to get one of these things for him for his birthday (His birthday was in the beginning of January - better late than never). Like I said, I don't buy sparkling water, and I don't recommend many products on this blog because I don't believe you should have to spend oodles of money to save water. But my parents buy so much sparkling water and my father drinks it by the gallon right out of the bottles. If you like sparkling water, I highly recommend it.

If you like sparkling water, I highly recommend it. Here are some links to these gadgets:
Soda Stream
Penguin Water Carbonator
Sparkling Water Kit

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To read more entries from Karen T. Hartline's blog please visit - Every Last Drip

Social Decorum and The Need for Sustainability: One Vegan's Quest Not To Sound Like a Self-Righteous Bore, a Guest Blog by Eric Walton

Social Decorum and The Need for Sustainability: One Vegan's Quest Not To Sound Like a Self-Righteous Bore, a Guest Blog written by, Eric Walton

On April 22nd of this year, Earth Day will turn forty and eight months later, so will I; which means that for exactly half of my life, I will have been a devout vegan. And yet, when asked to explain why I am a vegan, as I often am, I'm nearly always stymied by the question. Not because I don't have plenty of good reasons for not eating animals and the food made from them, but because I know that giving anything like a complete answer will often result in terrible awkwardness.

For instance, I sometimes give this pithy answer that only partially accounts for my decision to abstain from animal foods: “I don't eat animals because I believe in compassion more than I like the taste of muscles and organs.” And true though that is, it always sounds sanctimonious and preachy. I realize that I have no reason to apologize for the moral clarity I feel on this issue, but nonetheless, I'd rather not sound like a sententious prick to someone who's just asking a polite question.

Still other times someone will ask why I'm a vegan and I'll respond with the somewhat more ambiguous answer that, “It's for ethical as well as environmental reasons.” This will sometimes allow me to expatiate briefly on the demonstrable links between a meat-based diet and deforestation; water-shortages; desertification; top-soil erosion and water and air pollution. If time permits, I might even mention that in the U.S. alone, over 260,000,000 acres of forest have been converted to cropland to grow feed for farm animals. And though these are also perfectly legitimate and sensible reasons for eating low on the food-chain, who wants to ruin someone else's otherwise happy meal by confronting them with the damage done to the planet just so they could eat it? I'll tell you who: party-poopers.

When I'm feeling especially indignant about the state of the world and the social injustice and economic disparity with which a meat-based diet is inextricably linked, I'll sometimes reply to the curious that I'm a vegan for political reasons, that I find it unconscionable that over half the world's grains are fed to livestock, while 16,000 children starve to death on this planet every twenty-four hours; and that is to say nothing of the 84,000 adults who suffer the same hideous fate every single day, in part because the grains that could have been used as sustenance for them are instead being fed to cows, pigs and chickens. Take it from me, introducing that little bit of trivia into the conversation is the perfect way to get yourself crossed right off the guest-list.

And on those occasions on which I'm feeling particularly philosophical (as is often the case) and am in the company of those who seem to be of like mind (as is seldom the case), I may invoke Kant's Categorical Imperative and state solemnly that in sparing the lives of animals and showing solidarity with the world's needy and hungry by eating a diet that doesn't deprive them of the means to feed themselves and their families, I am acting, “according to that maxim whereby I can at the same time will that my actions should become a universal law.” Of course, when in a Thoreauvian state of mind, I may explain that though I am not bound to devote myself to the eradication of any evil, I am obliged to wash my hands of it and lend it no practical support. I cannot tell you the number of friends of I have won with that bit of rhetoric.

Socially speaking, certainly the most palatable reason one can offer for being a vegan or vegetarian is simply that it is healthy. Given the amount of research that has been done on the subject and the ready access to information that we in the 21st century enjoy, many people already know that compared to meat-eaters, vegetarians not only live, on average, six to ten years longer and are fifty percent less likely to develop heart disease, but also tend to have lower body mass indexes; lower blood pressure; lower blood cholesterol levels as well as lower rates of hypertension, type 2 diabetes and colon and prostate cancers. And, as vegans Natalie Portman and Alicia Silverstone can attest, it helps keep you skinny. Not surprisingly, the most solipsistic reasons for being a vegan can be the most agreeable to many people in our image-obsessed culture. Perhaps for this reason, I am almost never content to defend the vegan diet on the basis of its health benefits alone, even when doing so might bring relief to the poor sod who had the impertinence to inquire about it.

As the 40th anniversary of Earth Day approaches, as the connection between diet and the environment becomes more and more demonstrable and as climate-change threatens to imperil the future of our own species and many, many others, I am compelled (nay, obliged!) to answer the question “Why are you a vegan?” with a truth so inconvenient that even the venerable Al Gore is (so far) reluctant to mention it: the vegan diet combats global-warming.

Consider this:

*The production of just one pound of beef creates as much greenhouse gas as driving an SUV forty miles.
*Following a vegan diet decreases your carbon footprint by fifty percent more than switching to a hybrid car; and for every person who follows a vegan diet, one acre of trees is spared each year.
*According to Goveg.com, “In the U.S., seventy percent of all grains, eighty percent of all agricultural land, half of all water resources, and one-third of all fossil fuels are used to raise animals for food.”
*A study at the University of Chicago concluded that if every American had just one meat-free day per week, it would be the equivalent of taking 8,000,000 cars off the road.
Given the clear and unequivocal evidence of the connection between meat-production and global-warming, it is, I believe, a matter of great moral urgency to inform those who will listen of that connection, regardless of the social stigmas that may result. However, as everything is more pleasant when delivered in rhyme, I have composed the following Limerick to help soften the blow:

As you sit serenely devouring your steak medium-rare,
I would indeed be remiss not to tell you, “Beware,
Of the horrible things that brought that meat to your fork,
(And the same applies, I might add, to fish, fowl and pork)
And, incidentally, you're wounding the planet, perhaps beyond repair.

*G Eshel and PA Martin, “Diet, energy, and global warming,” Earth Interactions 10, Paper No. 9 (2006): 1-17.
www.census.gov/main/www/popclock.html and www.fightglobalwarming.com/page.cfm?tagID=263

*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Starvation

*H. Steinfeld et al., Livestock's Long Shadow: Environmental Issues and Options, Livestock, Environment and Development (2006).

*NewScientist.com, "It's Better to Green Your Diet Than Your Car," 17 Dec. 2005.

*Andrew Pierce, "Global Warming Is Mankind’s Greatest Challenge, Says Prince," The Times 28 Oct. 2005.

*http://www.goveg.com/environment-globalwarming.asp

*Diet For A New America by John Robbins, Stillpoint Publishing (1987)

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Guest blog written by, Eric Walton

Parched - a guest blog by Karen T. Hartline

Parched

Well, I haven't written for a few days as you may have noticed. The official reason is that I have been quite busy and a few things changed in my schedule last week that made it difficult to fit blogging in. You know how it goes. But there is something else that has made sitting down and writing this blog even more difficult. I bought a bottle of water. Yes, after I went on and on about how we just have to stop buying this stuff, what did I do? I bought a bottle of water.

It was at a theater. As usual, I hadn't been anywhere close to the daily requirement of water and I was parched. Here's the conversation between me and the guy at the snack table.

Me: "Do you have any juice?"
Him: "No"
Me: (Pointing to a bottle I didn't recognize) "What is that?"
Him: Water. (He gets one from the fridge)
Me: Oh. Do you guys have a water fountain?
Him: No (He opens the bottle of water) If we had a water fountain, we couldn't sell bottled water.
Me: (Awkward laugh)
Him: I know. We're a bunch of dirty capitalists here. (He hands me the opened bottle of water) That will be three dollars.

Then next thing I knew, I was crouched in a corner drinking this bottle of water with my cookie, hoping I could finish it before my friend (who reads this blog) came out of the ladies room. As you know, I mess up. My only penance is transparency on this blog and the promise that I will continue to try and not mess up, especially after I get really preachy!

Is this a bad time to give an assignment? Probably, but I'll do it anyway. I have been given the task of writing about conserving water at work. Now, much of what I have in mind has to do with transferring what I do at home to the work place. As you may or may not know, I work from home. Sure, I've had plenty of office jobs, but that workplace mentality kind of goes out the window when you spend some days working in pajamas while doing a mud mask. So, I was wondering if anyone has any ideas for conserving water as it applies to the workplace. Any thoughts???

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To read more entries from Karen T. Hartline's blog please visit - Every Last Drip

Are Dinosaurs Finally Going Extinct? Part of the Carbon Sharing Guest Blog Series by John Ausiello

Are Dinosaur’s Finally Going Extinct?

In 1700, the world was comprised largely of small agrarian communities, the population totaled less than one billion people and the average life span was less than 30 years. Today, nearly 6.8 billion people walk this earth with almost 500 million living in megacities around the world, all interconnected through a dizzying array of intercontinental flights, internet connections and I-phone conversations. The average life span in the United States is currently 77 years. In a mere 300 years we have radically transformed how we live, were we live and for how long we live. How did this happen? A complex question no doubt but in part it is because we learned to harness the energy sequestered in the fossilized remains of carbon-based plants and animals from millions of years ago: first coal in the 1700s and later oil in the 1800s. With abundant and cheap fossil fuels we have created an industrialized food system that is dependent on energy-intensive machinery and diesel-powered transport, enabling us to feed 6 billion mouths. With abundant and cheap fossil fuels we have created a multi-trillion dollar economy that is dependent upon the production and distribution of oil-based products on a daily basis while in the process generating more wealth than the world has ever seen. And with abundant and cheap fossil fuels, we have created a complex public health/health care system dependent on cutting-edge technology to cleanse our water, sanitize our cities and revolutionize our understanding of human disease, all combining to more than double our average life span in a few hundred years. In short, affordable energy has quite literally helped reshape our world.

Unfortunately, there is growing concern that our fossil fuel endowment is not as robust as most think and not as large as currently needed. On the surface, such fears may seem preposterous (despite all the talk about the renewable energy sources, oil, coal and natural gas still power approximately 85% of our daily endeavors). Yet an ever expanding group of learned professionals would argue otherwise due primarily to their concerns about “peak oil”, the moment in time when the world’s annual oil production has reached its peak.

The story begins in 1956 when a geologist name King Hubbert predicted that US annual oil production, then the largest in the world, would peak by 1970 followed by a permanent decline. At the time his ideas were ridiculed but history was ultimately on his side. In the early 1970s, US oil production did peak, rather quickly transforming our nation from the undisputed international leader in oil production to the largest oil importer in the world. Today, numerous geologists and oil experts are predicting that world-wide oil production has reached or will soon reach its peak. While it is not possible to explore in detail all the ramifications of “peak oil” (quite literally countless books are now available discussing some or all aspects of this phenomenon) suffice it to say it will pose a tremendous challenge to our energy intensive society where oil remains our most widely used primary energy source. If production peaks and demand continues to rise (which is almost a certainty in the rapidly growing economies of China and India) basic economic principles dictate that prices will increase, perhaps dramatically, effectively ending the era of cheap oil.

Of course, alternatives to oil exist but the most likely short-term replacements are coal and natural gas. Since these fossil fuels are already in wide-spread use, ramping up production in the short term would not be difficult. However, with the threat of global warming growing by the day, it will be necessary to decrease fossil fuel consumption, particularly coal, the dirtiest of the fossil fuels. Further complicating the picture, coal and natural gas are finite resources themselves and are likely less abundant (at least at easily affordable prices) than commonly believed (some contend coal and natural gas production could peak in the next couple of decades). Renewable energy remains our best option but at this moment wide-spread use exists only in the dreams of environmentalists, raising serious questions about our ability to quickly and affordably replace declining oil production with any combination of renewable energy sources. It is quite likely therefore that we must accelerate our conservation efforts.

It is time to realize that our primary energy sources are not as stable as many think. Some fear that within the coming decade, peaking oil supplies will trigger an energy crisis characterized by volatile and escalating prices. Amazingly, despite the threat of peak oil, this evolving story has received little attention within the mainstream public. As with most challenges there are solutions (in my mind the most important is conservation) but first we must begin to acknowledge the threat. Until we do so, we will continue to squander our remaining fossil fuels, making eventual solutions that much more difficult. So I challenge those less familiar with this subject to pick up one of the many books currently available and to educate themselves on the matter. If we truly are entering the twilight years of the fossil fuel age, we need more informed leadership than is currently available. We need to replace the child-like cheers of “drill baby drill” with the more nuanced, informed mantra of “conserve baby conserve.”

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Blog is part of Carbon Sharing, a guest blog series by John Ausiello

Carbon Sharing - A guest blog by John Ausiello

Enjoy the second enstallment of John Ausiello's blog - Carbon Sharing.

Man in the Mirror

They arrived in Copenhagen confident, leaders in their respective nations, charged with the task of curbing global emissions. It had been more than a decade since the last agreement, known to all as the Kyoto Protocol. Since that time, a time when the US was too mired in its own concerns to ratify the treaty, the science has become more certain, the threats more severe and yet CO2 levels have continued to rise. So it was with a sense of urgency and hope that these men and women convened in Copenhagen, set to change the world. Instead, based on the thoughts of many, they left having once again shortchanged our future.

To be fair, an “agreement” was reached but one without binding emissions. The US did pledge aid to third world nations to help mitigate some of the costs of global warming adaptation but such generosity seems to me a few decades too late and a few billion dollars too short. The commentary that has followed has been at best luke warm, at worst harsh in its condemnation. Bill McKibben the renowned and widely respected environmental leader of 350.org has gone on record harshly criticizing President Obama.

I too am disappointed with the results of Copenhagen but I believe it is misplaced to put all the blame on our leaders. The reality is that President Obama is an elected official with the sole responsibility to act on behalf of his electorate. He does not speak solely for environmental scientists however correct their ideas may be. His voice is the collective voice of all those citizens who cast favorable votes on that famous night in 2008, a group unified under the banner of the Democratic Party but in reality a group comprised of millions of people with disparate ideas, motives and concerns. As such, when he veers from the path we think he needs to take, we must ask ourselves do we need to make our voice, the voice that yearns for better environmental leadership, more clearly heard?

So I do not put all the blame at the feet of our leader. We must acknowledge that as a nation, we are not where we need to be with regards to climate change. Amongst environmentally minded folk we may speak as one, living by the mantra “reduce, reuse, recycle” while yelling at the top of our lungs that nothing is more important than curbing CO2 emissions. But unfortunately across America, even amongst liberal voters, we speak as many. I suspect some still perceive the state of our current scientific knowledge as incomplete and not convincing enough to warrant the personal sacrifice called for by environmentalists, while I suspect many others, especially in this time of economic hardship, do not doubt the science but simply have too many daily concerns to devote their attention to an abstract and distant threat (a way of thinking I most certainly followed until just a few years ago). It is not surprising therefore that our leaders fail (in our eyes) to do what they need to do: help create a carbon neutral future.

Where does this leave us? For now, those of us that are worried are left to do the heavy lifting without the immediate and full support of our government. But the historical record has shown that in past times, under similar pressure, individuals have helped reshape the course of our nation--whether it was our Founding Fathers who launched the birth of a nation when they dared to dream that “all men are created equal” or more recently Rosa Parks who, with grace and dignity helped usher in the civil rights movement by forsaking her “position” at the back of a bus. This is not to imply we can tackle the challenges of climate change without the eventual support of government. In truth the challenge is too great. But to garner the full support of our leaders we must become more active. We must show greater support to organizations like 350.org that have mobilized millions so that soon we can mobilize tens of millions. We must, in short unify our voice so that our leaders have no choice, lest they risk re-election, to lead us where we need to be, on a path towards a more sustainable future.

So to those of you that have begun the fight, I ask “can you do more?” And to those of you that have not yet started, I remind you of the words once spoken by RFK:

“If not you, who? If not now, when?”

Opening Support the Elderly week - a guest blog

To kick off our Support the Elderly week, we wanted to feature a blog written by the writer of the week. Karen T. Hartline wrote all five episodes this week, so we wanted to hear from her.

When I think of the word “elderly,” I think of my grandma. Frieda. She was definitely your old-school kind of grandma. She had gray hair as far back as I can remember, everything she cooked tasted delicious and the only workout she ever did was washing and scrubbing. She was an awesome, outspoken lady packed in a tiny body and you couldn’t help but love her.

This got me thinking about my son, and how he views his grandmother - my mom. My mother takes step class, attends seminars at the Historical Society, teaches night school, and walks faster than me when we’re at the supermarket. Text messaging, Skype, email – check, check, check. While she can tell a mean story about the old days, most of the time, she’s way too busy making plans for what she’s going to do next. In my son’s eyes – she can do no wrong.

It’s funny that my mother is about the same age that my grandmother was when I was my son’s age, yet the two images are so different. Together, these two images are indicative of the vast spectrum of needs of America’s aging population. There are those out there like my grandmother, but perhaps have no one to visit. Then there are those who are more like my mother, but don’t know where or how to apply their energy and talents.

I think the challenge for those who wish to reach out to this community, is to recognize the diverse needs of this population. The more important thing is to decide what your own strengths are, and then figure out who can benefit from them. If your “thing” is getting people together to volunteer for a community project, there are people like my mother – my son’s grandmother - who would love nothing more than to be put to work. But if you love nothing more than having a good conversation, I know from experience with my own grandmother, that you have the ability to make someone’s day.

Shout outs - A guest blog

To finish our Water Conservation week, we are featuring another guest blog written by Karen T. Hartline.

Enjoy - Shout outs

Yesterday, while in my son's bathroom, I noticed that there was a razor on the shelf (don't worry, it was high above my three year old's reach). Of course, at first, I rolled my eyes, thinking, (begin reading in a fast, high pitched, whiny ramble for the sake of authenticity) "What is this doing here? So ridiculous how I'm the one that has to put everything back in its rightful..." Then I realized something: my husband has been remembering to shave in the second bathroom. Why? Because it has a pluggable drain. This way he doesn't wast water letting it run and run while he shaves ten years off his face (no beard makes him look younger... heheheh). Ohhhh... Awesome honey!

I also want to do a shout out to my kid's teacher, who told me that they will start watering the class plant with the water left in their cups. I don't know that this will keep the kids from actually turning off or turning down the faucet, but I think that it's important just to have the expression "save water" in their heads. I mean, my kid knows that when he comes in the house, he has to take off his shoes and put them in the closet. He knows that if he wants something, he has to say please. Of course, we're still working on a few things - say, getting a tissue when you've got snot running down your face... why aren't kids bothered by a stream of mucus above their lip??? But the point is that these are all things that we started him doing early. So why not water conservation? Maybe, since it hasn't been on my generation's agenda our whole lives, that we don't necessarily think to make it a priority for our kids. But we have to get them ready for the world that they live in, where water shortages are becoming more and more common. So from now on, it's look both ways before you cross, don't talk to strangers and SAVE WATER!

To read more from Karen T. Hartline's blog - Every Last Drip, please visit - Karen's blog - www.everylastdrip.blogspot.com

It Ain't for the Polar Bears

It Aint for the Polar Bears
- a guest blog by John Ausiello

For those of you that do not know me (which of course is almost everyone reading this blog) I am a 36 year old physician in New York City who has become deeply passionate about global warming, energy and our environment. I was recently asked why I think such issues are important and what I may be doing about these problems. In future blogs (should I be lucky enough to write more) there will be ample time to address what I and others think can and should be done but today I would like to address the former question.

By now most of us have heard from the scientific community the litany of reasons why global warming is a threat. But the purpose of this blog is not to regurgitate such concerns point by point. Nor is it to sell anyone on the need to protect polar bears or other endangered species however invaluable such efforts may be. Instead, it is about a much more basic and personal reason why global warming is a concern of mine: his name is Alexander Ryan Ausiello, a little fellow who happens to call me daddy.

Alex is now 18 months old, happy, healthy and blissfully ignorant of all that may go wrong in the coming years. As a new parent I share the concerns that surely all young parents must. Is he ok when he coughs at night? Is he warm enough on a cold winter day? Is he growing and developing normally? Will he be vertically challenged his entire life like daddy?

My environmental concerns however have raised a whole new set of concerns perhaps unique to our generation. By the time Alex is 36, it is my fear that we may have squandered our opportunities to reverse global warming amidst our continued indifference. It is my fear that he may be stuck navigating life’s difficulties with the same outdated technology, wondering how billions will adapt to rising sea levels. Or his concern for endangered species may have become a reality as he lives slightly more alone in a world ripe with extinction. It is my fear that he may be entrenched in a world with far fewer options, with far greater threats and with far more uncertainties than the world inherited by his father. And it is my fear that he may have long ago abandoned the idea of parenting, thoughtfully refusing to bring another helpless child into an increasingly unstable world.

At the same time, as concerns for global warming are mounting and the citizens of the world are responding I have hope. By the time Alex is 36, I have hope that the world may have begun to cool thanks to the herculean efforts of his parent’s and grandparent’s generations. I have hope that Alex will be thriving in a world powered by renewable energy, wondering how we ever chose to burn oil to power our daily activities. That he will be in the early stages of a seemingly limitless adult life all made possible by the ingenuity and perseverance of the human spirit. And most importantly, I have hope that he too will have a son or daughter of his own, appreciating the raw emotion that can only come from staring into the eyes of your newborn child.

By the time Alex turns 36, it may be too late to make a difference, all the important decisions will have been made. I hope we have overcome our inertia and have chosen to act wisely. If so, I hope I am there with him to enjoy the dawn of a beautiful new day.

I hope.

Potty Mouth

To kick of Water Conservation Week, we are featuring a guest blog entry written by Karen T. Hartline.

Enjoy - Potty Mouth

This isn't the first time that I've felt like a big fat dummy, but I would say that this is one of the most memorable ones. While staying with my sister in NYC, we were invited to her very close friend's place for dinner. As we're getting ready, my sis turns to me and says, "Hey, you'll be interested to talk to this guy, because he knows how to make the water go down the toilet without flushing it." Okay... So after everyone scrapes the last of this delicious meal off the plate, I turn to the husband and say, "Hey... can you tell me about how you flush the toilet?" I should mention I had spent the evening up to this point making normal dinner-conversation to build everyone's confidence in me as a completely non-psychotic houseguest, which may be the only reason that that this guy graciously let me follow him into his bathroom to demonstrate how to flush the toilet without, uh... well, flushing the toilet.

Here's the answer - get a pad an paper and write this down: pour water in the bowl.

Am I the only one that didn't know that if you pour a gob of water in the toilet bowl that the toilet will flush itself in order to not overflow? Am I? Come on, I can't be. Anyway, I looked at this guy the way the Munchkins looked at Dorothy when she dropped her house on the Wicked Witch.

Now, for those of you just joining us, (and for those of you who forgot), I've been wondering how to feel better about the gallons of grey water that gets sucked down the drain every other night when my son takes a bath. Ta-dah! I finally know what to do with it. I was a bit ambitious at first and insisted that my husband not drain the water in the bath, but as we were going to bed, I freaked out about the slimmest possibility of my son falling in the tub in the middle of the night (the bathroom is attached to his room with no lock on the outside). I know it's a longshot, but I'm a worrier and pictured him doing a jackknife off the soap dish while I was asleep. So, my latest venture is to collect the water in gallon milk cartons one by one and use it to flush the toilets.

Well, I may be the only one to not have known this trick already, but I'm glad I learned this easy way to save gallons and gallons of water. Thank you to my toilet genius friends!

To read more from Karen T. Hartline's blog - Every Last Drip, please visit - Karen's blog - www.everylastdrip.blogspot.com

Ahoy Matey

Water World...

One summer I got a little fancy and went on my friends' boat a couple of times (they call it a boat... I call it a half-a-yacht). It's a lovely floating mass and easily fit me along with Jessica, Christian, their son Jonathan and their dog Buddy... like I said - it's a half-a-yacht.

On this particular afternoon, we were on the half-a-yacht cleaning up after a fabulous lunch that Christian had carefully prepared and so, to pitch in, I decided to do the dishes. That's when I found out the sticky thing about any kind of floating living space - there is a fixed amount of water. The boat was anchored in the water rather than being docked into a site so there was no clean water source beyond what was in the tank. This fact however, didn't occur to me until Christian said in passing, as I was hunkered over the sink, my hands filled with the sudsy good stuff, "Be mindful of the water, because once we're out, we're out."

I looked at him, my head cocked to one side and said something along the lines of, "Huh. Right." Then I looked back down at the running faucet and abruptly shut it off. I felt confused suddenly - like I was given the task of figuring out some riddle that if answered correctly would result in clean dishes. And that's when I realized how much of an idiot I was being. You don't need to run the water while you're scrubbing the dishes. Genius! I scrubbed the wet dishes while the water was turned off, then rinsed and VOILA clean dishes! I was able to pitch in without costing the boat the remainder of its water supply.

When we began this challenge I remembered that experience. My main goal was always to shorten my showers but who says I can't save a little in my kitchen as well? I'm not always successful at remembering to shut it off, but I'm definitely making some improvements!

And I guess that's the best way to start!

That's My Bag, Baby

An update on how Ashley is doing in her pursuit of breaking up with plastic bags...

My quest for the What You Can Do challenge is to shop "greener" by using reusable shopping bags instead of carrying home groceries in new plastic bags. I feel somewhat justified taking plastic bags occasionally to pick up after my dog, but certainly don't need the 50 bags currently sitting in my pantry. And even though I have plenty of reusable shopping bags, they spend most of their time collecting dust in the closet. I read somewhere that it takes three weeks to start a new habit, which means I've got a long way to go towards smarter shopping. In the past, I haven't even been able to remember my reusable bags on back-to-back shopping trips.

On Day One of the challenge, I grabbed four reusable bags from the depths of my closet and placed them securely in my car's trunk. After a quick workout at the gym, I headed to the grocery store and completely forgot to bring in the bags with me. As I was swiping my credit card at the check out, I realized that hiding bags in my trunk was not the way to accomplish my goal of environmentally savvy shopping.

Since then, my success rate of bringing bags to the store is about 50%. I also discovered other opportunities to reduce waste by carrying my own bags to the mall (not sure its going to happen) and drugstore. My goal for this week is to clean out my cluttered pantry by taking plastic/paper bags to the recycling center at my grocery store. And so I can successfully create a new environmentally friendly habit in the next three weeks, my reusable bags will be riding shotgun.

Mary Micari on WYCD's First Episode

Our first episode is about Arts in Education. Funding has been cut across the United States, but meeting with the folks at Young Audiences New York was eye-opening.
Here’s what I did not know until yesterday: Arts Education is not in the curriculum in all New York City schools. That means that music class, art class, choir and band are all virtually non-existent for our city’s kids unless a school has the gumption to apply for a grant to bring arts into their environment. (And I am sorry that I had to use the word ‘gumption’ but I am angry.) New York City is one of the most culturally vibrant cities in the world, and our own school kids are denied the arts in their schools. Ummmmm, some questions.
The arts were all over my education growing up on Long Island in the 1960’s and 1970’s. In fact, the best times that I had in school involved the arts. I would not like to imagine growing up without learning to play the recorder in the third grade. I was really so bad at it, too, but I didn’t give up until the teacher asked me to “stop, please”. I can still remember the green felt bag that was the recorder’s home. And how I would take it out to practice and torture my parents with my jazzy rendition of “I’m a Little Teapot”. Oh, how I dreamed that my amazing recorder playing would win David Cassidy’s heart. Good times.
I was in the choir. I was involved all the school plays from kindergarten (where I played Bacteria in the Ecology Play) all the way through my senior year in high school. I took classes in drama and directing. In fact, because I wanted to take so many arts classes, I never had any free periods and subsisted on a diet of Blow-pops and cafeteria coffee (it was the late 70’s and there was no such thing as nutrition). My arts education helped to make me who I am today. All right, so maybe that’s not the best recommendation, but it is still really important.
It seems wrong that the arts are considered non-essential curriculum. I understand that it’s all about reading, writing and arithmetic, but we learned yesterday what I long suspected: children do better in all of their classes when they are exposed to the arts.
So, what can you do to help arts-in-education? Well, we got a lot of great ideas from YANY. If it’s not in your child’s school, make sure it is at home. Spend an hour a week making art together, or making a movie on your computer, or having a sing along. A few years ago, my friend and I were singing with my nephew, who was 7 at the time, around the dining room table. I noticed that he was fidgeting a bit during one of the songs and I asked him what was the matter. “I really have to pee” he said, “but I don’t want this moment to end.” I assured him we would keep singing. We did. We have never really stopped.