by Dave Markwell

I had the unfortunate experience of passing a mirror the other day. I did not look as good as I felt and it made me mad. I felt like the mirror was tricking me, because in my head, I looked much better. I had witnessed myself looking better many times. I was sure of it. What was this stupid mirror’s friggin’ problem!?! I wondered. After some soul searching and kicking my dog, I came to the conclusion that mirrors are both criminally deceptive and warmly reassuring. They are both tremendous liars and unbearably honest and it really depends on the day as to which I prefer. It depends on whether the lie or the truth makes me feel better. Usually, I suspect, it’s the lie.

This mirror passing incident inspired much thought about how we look. I mean how we REALLY look. It seems that how we look changes all the time. Some days, I look in the mirror and think, “Not too shabby, Markwell. Not too shabby.” Other days, I see a thin-haired, rather Shrek-ish creature unworthy of even a cross glance in my direction. I don’t know if my looks really change that dramatically or not. However, I do notice that sometimes other peoples’ looks do indeed change. I can look at my son one day and see a fine, handsome, and intelligent kid capable of capturing the heart of the fairest maiden in the kingdom, otherwise known as the hottest chick in class. Other days, I look at him and see a creepy, hairy, little rodent complete with the big teeth and yellow eyes and I am sad with the understanding that he is going to die lonely. I love him either way, so don’t judge me here…and it’s unlikely that he’s really that ugly anyway, even on a bad day, but here lies my question: What do we really look like? Are we our best or our worst vision of ourselves? And what determines which look we see? Many factors, I’m sure, shape our perception, but I think the most urgent one is simply how we feel. When we feel good we look good, even to ourselves. It is impossible to look bad, feeling good. I have known plenty of average, if not outright ugly, people who look beautiful, because they are happy. Likewise, I have known many of pretty, but ugly folks as well. Beauty is an illusion. It is a magic trick. It is not a “look” and cannot be seen. It is felt. Beauty is a personality and has its own life. It lives in an easy smile and a kind word, a hearty laugh and a genuinely concerned frown. It is that which connects us as human animals on our deeper levels.

Our judgment of beauty is sometimes primitive, largely banal and usually involves unseen elements of character which sway the eyeball one direction or another. I believe, though, that we will always recognize and appreciate a truly beautiful soul, sometimes even our own. With this in mind, I will not call my son ugly just because he invents, on a daily basis, new ways to shave time off of my life. I know, more than anyone, how truly extraordinary he is. And if the mirror is unkind to me, I will simply shine a casual middle finger in its direction and move on with my day. A mirror can’t feel the minute variations in a heartbeat or see inside a soul and that’s where everything important and truly beautiful resides.

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

A recent article in the Highline Times illustrates how little we as humans really understand of nature and salmon recovery: http://www.highlinetimes.com/2012/01/09/news/csi-highline-investigation-uncovers-more-salmon-s. This year Miller Creek has shown a remarkable amount of salmon returning to the creek.  There are far more fish returning than the Port of Seattle, the Cities of Normandy Park and Burien and the citizens of the area ever expected to count. When the third runway was under dispute, the Port of Seattle claimed that there were no fish in Miller Creek and therefore claimed there was nothing worthy of protection in the creek. Only through the constant efforts and insistence of the two groups-Trout Unlimited and CASE-was the Port forced to do a study on the fish populations in the creek. When the scientists came out to do an electric shock treatment on the creek, they found that Miller Creek was a creek that had fish population worthy of saving. Of course those of us who have lived around the creek-citizen scientists-knew this from their own personal observations.

While more fish are returning to the creek than ever expected, there are still some big problems for the fish. 40% of the fish are dying before they can spawn due to polluted storm water.For sure Burien needs to improve its Storm Water management system. Burien has known this for a long time but simply has not allocated the adequate funding to do the job correctly-to keep the waters clean. As individual citizens we can still do our part to help in the recovery of Miller Creek and the entire Sound. Please follow these simple practices in your own neighborhood and help to keep the fish that manage to make it back to the creek alive and spawning in Miller Creek.

HOW TO MINIMIZING SURFACE AND STORM WATER RUNOFF:

• Preserve plantings next to streams, lakes, wetlands and the Sound.  Plant trees and shrubs native to the Northwest whenever possible.
• Control pet access to streams and lakes.  Pet wastes-poop-degrade water quality.
• Maintain your vehicle regularly.  Leaking substances from vehicles contains toxic metals and are a major source of water pollution.
• Wash your vehicles on the grass, over dirt or at a commercial car wash.  Keep suds out of streams, lakes and the Sound.
• Recycle your motor oil at the nearest gas station.  Don’t dump it down the storm drain or pour it on the ground.
• Sweep your walks and driveway instead of hosing them down.  Dirt, gravel and debris from these paved surfaces contain contaminants that pollute water.
• Reduce the use of chemicals, pesticides and fertilizers.  If you fertilize your lawn, use a fertilizer with the lowest numbers available.  Try to use a fertilizer with a zero as the middle number-example 3-0-3.  The middle number is the amount Phosphorus in the fertilizer and it is this element that causes toxic algae problems in the shorelines.  By the year 2014, this element will be outlawed in fertilizers.
• Maintain your septic tank.

Sincerely,
Linda Plein

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by Dave Markwell

“Dad, you need to make my sandwich”, my twelve year old son, Aden, informed me this morning. And so began our daily dance. Every single day, we both don’t want to make the sandwich, so every single day we bob and weave trying to avoid it. His strategy is to dink around and stall for twenty minutes collecting his school stuff and falsely searching for his shoes and socks until I have to make the sandwich. My strategy is less sophisticated: I sit on the couch drinking coffee and yell at him to “hurry up”. This doesn’t work. He screws around until I am faced with the choice of making his stupid sandwich or wasting a half-hour of my valuable morning time driving him to school because he missed his bus. I always make the sandwich. I hate making his sandwiches. I have made hundreds of them. I used to enjoy it. I used to feel dutiful and loving and proud while making his lunch. I don’t feel this way anymore. In the past, I would sneak a secret treat into his lunchbox to surprise him. I would imagine him finding my gift and declaring to all his classmates seated near him in the school cafeteria that he and he alone, had the best Dad ever! I don’t care about this anymore. Now, I just want him to make his own damn sandwich.

I’m not sure when this changed, but I suspect it has been a progression. I recall no definitive moment standing as a benchmark between times. It just happened. Somewhere along the way, things changed and the doting, ever-concerned father was replaced with a somewhat indifferent and passive man bearing a rather eerie resemblance to my own Dad. It is happening. I am becoming my Dad. I swore I never would, but it was inevitable, I suppose. We become our parents, just as they become theirs. And so it has been since time began.

As I ponder this phenomenon, the only conclusion I can draw is that all kids possess a diabolical power to transform their otherwise reasonable, rational, thoughtful and intelligent parents into mindless and shameless servants. They need things that only we can provide and we have a duty to provide these things. They know we have this duty and so, they manipulate our sense of this duty to turn us into resentful, yet still compliant lackeys placed on this earth to serve only their needs. We are mobile, but beaten robots. We are the defeated.

Since the dawn of parenthood, kids have been screwing over parents exactly this way. It’s what they do. Our job is to take it. It’s what we do. I say this without ill regard or malevolent intent. It is just so. It doesn’t bother me all of the time, just most of the time. I have become a servant, a serf, whose purpose is serving my kingdom’s masters. The masters happen to be a lovely, slightly snotty, eight year old girl and the aforementioned too-smart-for-his-own-good twelve year old boy. They direct my day, hour by hour, minute by minute. They own me. I say this without complaint, only somber resignation. It is what it is and I signed up for it.

“DAD!! DAD!! DAD!!, Diego threw up in my room. Come quick!!” my girl bellowed from the hallway just as I sat down on the comfy couch for an afternoon snack. I didn’t want to clean up dog puke. But I did. I didn’t want to scrape the still warm and soft, half-digested Purina off the carpet. But I did. I did this and I will do this for some time, I suspect. I am here to serve whenever and wherever directed, including and probably especially, on the super nasty jobs. So it goes.

“Hold on, Sweetie!! Let me get a towel!” I replied to my little gal… with a much better understanding about why my Grandma and Grandpa always looked so happy watching my parents serve their masters…

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

WOW who writes this stuff for the City of Burien website. Currently on the website under annexation of north Highline this statement is made in the last paragraph, “…Financially feasible, and even provide additional resources to the City above the costs of annexation, since Burien would receive up to $5 million a year for ten years …”.

Amazing how wrong our City staff can be! Let me quote Washington state law RCW 82.14.415(6), “All revenues collected under this section SHALL be used SOLELY to provide, maintain, and operate municipal services FOR THE ANNEXATION AREA.”

How does the above quoted state law allow Burien (or any other City) to “provide additional resources to the City ABOVE the costs of annexation”? If the City writer cared to learn more he/she might try reading RCW 82.14.415(7) which further details what the annexing City MUST do with these Sales Tax Credits and what to do if the Credits actually exceed the costs of providing services in the area.

Okay now to give the City staffer a math lesson. It is NOT POSSIBLE for the City of Burien to receive anything near $5 million. Not even possible to receive near $1 million. Why? Because the above state law specifically details the formula upon which any City receives this Tax credit. The credit is based upon the state’s Sales Tax collected in the annexing City not as reported in the BERK Report based upon the City Sales tax.

Manager Mike Martin has already stated that Burien, “has received a total of $584,000 to date to help the city provide services in the NORTH Burien annexed area” referring to the Area X north highline. That amount is nowhere near $5 million as referred to in the website. Even if Burien annexes Area Y and again based upon sales tax formula the City MIGHT be able to get an additional $200,000 since the sales tax would then include those collected in Burien to INCLUDE Area Y (White Center business area). Burien does not have a snowballs chance to collected “up to $5 million” EVER. Note the City of Auburn received its first annexation check in 2008 for $1.25 million. Auburn has a enormous retail and commercial sales tax base compared to Burien. How could anyone speak of getting “up to $5 million” when it not even a remote possibility? Unless it is written to purposefully deceive, such a statement is grossly incompetent.

Who writes this stuff for the City? How could these significant errors get past the City Manager and the Council?

- Chuck Rangel
Burien

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On January 9th I attended a Boundary Review Board meeting at Cascade Middle School to listen to people make their cases either for or against a Burien annexation of what is known as “Unincorporated King County Area Y.”  Only one thing was really clear when I left this meeting: I am concerned about how this annexation is being approached.

To be clear right off the bat, I have not decided if I am for or against annexation of North Highline yet and I had hoped that these meetings would help me decide. What I experienced at this meeting was a lot of noise and what I am starting to believe is willful ignorance towards the facts.

Person after person got up at the meeting and talked about how the City of Burien was trying to pull a fast one on everyone or how the BERK report was a scam or incomplete or how we don’t want “those people” or “all that crime” in Burien. What stood out to me was how many of these people had no factual evidence to support their claims and most had no background in what they talking about. I was amazed at how many people spoke with such authority on matters such as finances, city planning, urban development, crime, and the morality of Burien City Council Members when most, if not all of the speakers had no platform or experience from which to speak from with such expertise.

A number of speakers were allowed to speak for longer than 3 minutes because they claimed to represent groups of citizens concerned about annexation. In these extended speeches I heard a number of outright factual errors about finances, education, and crime. The City of Burien and the King County Sheriffs Department have provided plenty of information about these topics on their website but for some reason these speakers “facts” and figures were no where close to what the City of Burien and the King County Sheriffs Department have provided. That tells me that these speakers are either patriotic Americans who are standing up against our deceptive local government or people who don’t care about facts, only care about what they want to be true, and don’t care how much they have to stretch the truth to get what they want. I think the latter is probably the most likely.

One of these speakers, the wife of newly elected Burien City Council Member Bob Edgar, Chestine Edgar, went as far as to claim that the region (Burien and White Center) are “over saturated with libraries.” Mrs. Edgar, I want you to know that I disagree with your support of the two Burien libraries being closed and believe that you are stretching the truth if not outright lying* when speak against annexation.

*EDITOR’S NOTE: We spoke with Ms. Edgar shortly after this letter was published, and she states that she did not make the statement Mr. McCumber quoted her as saying. Also, we encourage future Letter Writers to defer using accusatory, slanderous language.

I was also extremely concerned about Burien City Council Member Lucy Krakowiak’s actions at the meeting last night. When it came to speaking about Burien libraries being closed, she chose to not speak her opinion about the issue as it may be a conflict of interest because she is both a City Council Member and a member of the King County Library Board. Last night Krakowiak showed no hesitation to speak her opinion about annexation. I perceived her actions at the meeting last night to be very hypocritical and again made me wonder if she understands her elected role.

I still do not know if I will support or oppose the annexation of the unincorporated area, but I do know that the decision should be made out of reasonableness and factual evidence.

- Mike McCumber – Burien

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by Dave Markwell

Sitting aboard Delta Airlines flight 822 heading east for a plane change in Detroit while traveling on a holiday “vacation” to Rochester, NY to visit my wife’s family, I glanced across the aisle and saw my daughter seat-dancing to a song I’m sure I hate, listening through the ear buds of her mother’s I-Pod. My wife sat diligently underlining words in a book. I noticed that she underlined a lot of words, so many, in fact, that I contemplated that she might have saved some ink by simply highlighting the words she DIDN’T want to remember. To her right, sprawled my son, Aden. He wore big headphones, while drinking a Coke. The crown jewel of his outfit were the “Elvis” sunglasses perched on his face, complete with poofy, black sideburns. These glasses are perhaps the finest or perhaps the worst gift I have ever bought him. The jury is still out, but he wears them without shame, all the time. He gets a lot of attention, which is probably something any good gift should deliver to a 12 year old boy.
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In a couple of days, the dog-eared, much scribbled on 2011 calendar will be removed from the nail in my kitchen and replaced with a clean 2012 one. I love New Years, not the holiday itself, which I think is grossly over-hyped, but the event. When the clock strikes 12:00, a page is turned and a new and promising future begins. I love this part. I love the idea of a fresh start and a new beginning. I love another chance to do and be better. I love an empty highway, free and bright with hope. Some days, I wish New Years would come more than once a year.

As I reflect upon my life’s past year and game-plan the year ahead, I need only look across the much too-skinny aisle of flight 822 to find inspiration. Most of the time, I am uncomfortably aware of the ways my life could be better. Unfortunately, these sentiments are powerful and can sometimes over-shadow all the things that are pretty great already. I think this year I will spend a little more time remembering all that I already have instead of pining for hollow and disposable trinkets.

A wise man, whose name I cannot recall, once said, “Nothing matters much. And few things matter at all.” I already have what matters. With this in mind, I will carry the image of my family across the aisle throughout the year. I will remember my happy, butt-dancing eight year old girl. I will remember my goofy and glorious “Elvis.” I will remember my kind, beautiful and magnificent wife engaged in her constant quest for self-improvement.

As a resolution, I will dance with my little girl any time she will let me and occasionally make her when she won’t.

As a resolution, I will NOT tell my son to take off his stupid glasses. The kid’s got potatoes for wearing them through the crowded holiday airport. I will not peel them.

As a resolution, I will keep a hearty stock of pens handy for my wife because, God knows, she’ll need them. I will support her in simple and honest ways, so she will know she’s important to me.

My New Year’s resolutions sat right next to me on a long plane ride to Detroit and sit with me every day of my life. These are the “few things” that matter at all.

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

by Dave Markwell

I love going to the mailbox this time of year. Normally, I am shamelessly indifferent about receiving mail. Bills and junk mail have lost their allure for me. In fact, I usually outsource this duty to my eight year old daughter who still enjoys the little surprises hidden in our black box. As such, she can have this job…except during the holiday season. I love getting Christmas cards. I love seeing old friends growing older. I love seeing their kids, whom I don’t see often enough, getting bigger and growing up, too. I love creative “photo shop” efforts and solemn family poses. I love pictures of my friends and family standing in the snow or by the beach with their smiles and dogs.

While I love receiving each and every computer-generated or hand-written Christmas card, I am shamefully neglectful in sending them. Every year, I say it will be different next year. I will get my family together and shape a perfect card. It will be funny and resonant and important. I will send this masterpiece to all the people I care about and they will really understand how much they mean to me. Unfortunately, also every year, I don’t do this. My good intentions have paved a nice, sturdy, four-laner heading straight south. My wife gets mad at me. My kids get mad at me. And likely some of my friends who send the cool cards wonder, “WTF, Markwell”. I’m sure these people are as interested in seeing my kids and dogs as I am in seeing theirs. They would probably enjoy a card from me. Well, this is my failure and mine alone.

Through the years, my wife has suggested some decent cards to send. I vetoed them, because they were not awesome enough. I have high expectations for my Christmas cards and instead of sending something less-than-spectacular, I send nothing. I use this as my lousy excuse every year and every year my wife shakes her head and says, “You are lame.” I cannot argue with her, I kind of am. This is my curse, lameness.

Like every thing else in life, technology has changed even Christmas cards and I enjoy “e-cards” very much, too. Dancing heads make me smile. My friends’ joyful faces planted on an animated reindeer shaking its rear end, makes me happy. While I am critical about what I send…or rather don’t send…I am not picky about what I get. I do not critique other’s cards. I love them all and though it was not “technically” a Christmas card, couple of days ago, I received a fantastic note in my “inbox” that was as meaningful as any card I have received in recent memory. This note was certainly inspired by the spirit of this season.

Twenty years ago this week, my buddy, JK, was commissioned as a naval officer at a small ceremony in Moscow, Idaho. I was home for break from college at the time but, to support my pal, I loaded a compromised collection of jokers into my Dad’s jeep and made the 300 mile trek across the state to witness JK’s milestone. He was to become a Navy aviator and as a long-time friend, his milestone was ours, too. In his recent e-mail, he expressed appreciation for our efforts so many years ago and attached a photo of us taken at the grand event. We were all skinnier and had more hair. Some of us had A LOT more hair. (You know who you are.) It was a great moment for all of us.

In his note, JK reminded me of my regular closing to our phone conversations during this time. I always ended our chats with “Don’t crash.” As morbid as this may sound, at the time, and maybe still, it was important for me to say this. Understanding that military service is, by nature, dangerous, I wanted him to be careful and in some slightly gruesome way understand that he was important to me. He always replied that he would “try not to”. This was strangely comforting to me and, at the close of his note this week, JK said he is still trying not to crash…and I was still comforted.

While I have rarely subscribed to conventional forms of expression, I do possess a deep understanding that life is always short, and in some sad instances, the sands’ ceaseless trek through our hour glass will shatter the bottom with its pace.

With this in mind, very few people in my life are completely unaware of my feelings about them. And even if they don’t get a Christmas card from me this year, (which they won’t) they are my what I treasure most and they can all rest assured that NEXT YEAR will be THE year for the most epic card ever!! It will sing and pull heartstrings and inspire. They will feel the piece of my heart that beats for them. My art will speak everything that I feel and sometimes don’t say. Next year, for sure, they will all know, with certainty, how much I don’t want them to crash.

For this year, I still wish for EVERYONE: An abundance of abundance and a lack of lack. A smile and a song. Peace and health and hope and love for this season and all seasons. Merry Christmas to ALL!!!

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

Please exercise your fiduciary responsibility before proceeding any further down the road to financial disaster that annexation of Area Y will ensure (see below and attached).

Members of the Burien City Council –

Yesterday, I received a document from the King County Assessor’s Office regarding Area Y/White Center/North Highline.

While it was only a preliminary draft, it shows Area Y as decreasing in taxable land value by $126,295,650 for the year 2012. This is significantly lower than Berk or the City of Burien projected the value of the land to be in the report and the application. Of course, this means less monies coming into Burien should they annex the area. The Assessor’s office anticipates that the Fire District will receive $189,443 dollars less next year to operate in Area Y. Area Y land values dropped by 17% and remember that Berk projected in its report that land values would continue to rise by 2% annually in the area-that is a difference of 19% from the report to the reality of the situation. I am still waiting to hear the approx. amount less of total dollars this will bring in to operate the area in 2012.

You will recall the the Assessor’s office notified Burien that the City will receive approx. $467,000+ less monies to operate the City in 2012 due to the declining land values in Burien-the core area of the City dropped by 8.+% and the newly annexed area dropped by 12 to 17%. Again Berk assumed that values in the city would increase by 2% in Burien.

Clearly, the City will receive a significantly lower amount of revenues than anticipated. The assumptions about revenues in the Berk report draft are no longer valid and will not be valid for a number of years-if ever. This is a point that will be made about the Draft Berk Report and the assumptions for revenues that the report is based upon-to the Boundary Review Board.

Please see attached the document from King County .

Also, I received a letter that clearly states that the Highline School District would receive more monies for the north end schools, if Area Y were to annex to Seattle.

Sincerely
John and Linda Poitras

Here is a screenshot of the spreadsheet referenced in this letter; you can also download a PDF here and an .xls here.

Click image to see larger version.

[Have something you'd like to share with our Readers? Please send us your Letter to the Editor via email. Include your full name, and, pending our review, we'll most likely publish it.]

by Dave Markwell

Through the various trips and travels of my forty-two years, I have learned many things. Some of these things have come through very deliberate efforts, but probably the majority of the “knowledge” I have gained and carry with me today has largely been serendipitous or just plain accident. Gratefully, I seem to stumble into people and experiences that educate me in ways that I could not buy and would not trade. My eyes are always open to these people.

For example, at my Rotary club lunch this week, we were treated to some Mt. Rainier High School choir kids singing some songs. It was great. The fact that I enjoyed it speaks to it actually being pretty great, because I generally do not like “glee” ish stuff much at all. Exaggerated and dramatic singing tends to make me wince and curls my innards a little bit. I leave the room when “those” shows are on TV. Nonetheless, I truly enjoyed watching these young adults do their thing. I did not fiddle with my food or wish I was someplace else during their performance. I paid attention and was happy doing so. When they finished, I applauded enthusiastically and loudly. A valuable lesson was in action here.

A couple of years ago, at another Rotary lunch, I sat next to my buddy, BJ, idly chatting. I don’t remember the exact context of our conversation, but it involved our weekly program speaker and he intimated some important words shared with him many years earlier. These words were at the heart of my lesson. He said that he always claps excitedly for any performance or speaker he hears. He got this advice some time ago and it changed his perspective. Understanding that every person or group of people standing up in front of an audience is vulnerable and is sharing something of themselves makes every performance worth applauding. The simple act of standing there is worthy of appreciation. Whether one agrees with or enjoys what is being said or sung doesn’t matter. It takes cojones to say it or sing it and this should be rewarded with a hearty clap. I took this insight to heart and as I was enthusiastically applauding the nervous teens sharing their songs, I looked over at BJ and saw him, too, clapping like a madman. I smiled a thankful smile. This was a great lesson to learn.

Another unintended lesson that has resonated throughout my life came from my Mom. As a kid, I was a little high-strung and prone to some anxiety about fairly innocuous circumstances. One morning, before school, I was stressing out about something no doubt unworthy of my over-reaction. At this point, my Mom looked at me with the deep concern that only a mother holds and said, “Just relax”. As elementary as this idea seems, it had avoided me until this moment in my life. Surprisingly my Mom’s subtle, yet brilliantly powerful words worked. I just relaxed. I changed my mind and even today I remember this lesson whenever I’m faced with a situation where relaxing is helpful, which is basically all the time. I shared this lesson recently:

A couple of week’s ago, a client at my CrossFit gym worried her way through the workout, distracted and tense. Following her efforts, I gently inquired what the hell her problem was. She was stressed out about some work stuff and it was affecting her ability to focus and truly function at her normally pretty high level. It is worth noting that she is a high-achieving young doctor with a tremendous mind and spirit. She is not a whiny complainer with a perpetually half-empty glass. She told me her dilemma. It was a deal, but not a big one. I told her my “mom” story and suggested that she “just relax” and take care of the issue, no biggie. She felt better in that instance when she gave herself permission to relax. It was a moment of clarity. Her reaction was visceral. She did not know that she could actually make herself relax. This is a tremendously powerful tool and we all have it, always. We always have this power to change our mind and how we think about things. Knowing this makes the whole of life easier and more fun. And if this insight can help even one of the best and brightest, it can help anyone.

So, during this wonderful holiday season of miracles embrace all of the head-shaking and neck-hair rising experiences that it has to offer. Keep your eyes peeled for new ideas and perspectives. Share your own with others needing them. These ARE the miracles. This year, RELAX during Christmas dinner when the screaming kids knock over the gravy boat and the dog barfs up a turkey neck….and always…CLAP like crazy every chance you get!! Lessons learned….

e given every single day. It can be a kind word, a smile, a wave, a bad joke. It can be a gesture that says something or says nothing. Sometimes saying nothing, says something. It can be a flower or a book or a meal. In fact, a meal, I know from experience, is a good gift, especially if it is a deluxe and delicious, super-bitchin’ omelet served in bed.

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

by Dave Markwell

Every year my Rotary Club donates dictionaries to all of the third graders in our city. Distributing the books to the students is always a neat event. It is fun seeing all of the young faces exploring their new gift and it feels good to give this gift. This year was even cooler for me because my daughter is a third grader.

A couple of days ago, I went to the school and handed out dictionaries to her and her classmates, many of whom I have known since kindergarten. It was great seeing their enthusiasm and it was fun seeing my daughter in her school environment. I pick her up from school every afternoon, but I don’t often witness her in a classroom. She was happy to see me, but also a little bit anxious as I had, the previous evening, detailed all the ways I was going to embarrass her during this event. Waiting for her dictionary, she wore a nervous smile and begged me with her eyes to not do anything stupid. She needn’t have worried. I behaved myself and was proud to be there. I did come to understand as I stood watching her interact and actually pay attention that she is a pretty good kid. It is easy to forget this. At school, she listens and minds her manners. Things are different when she is home with me. Besides her good behavior, this experience illustrated to me that she is growing up faster than I can comprehend and is changing in ways that astound me when I catch glimpses of them.

Prior to the dictionary distribution, I went to the school office and signed my girl out of class for the rest of the afternoon as a little surprise for her. After the books were handed out, I told my daughter that we were leaving early to meet my wife and to get some hot chocolate at Auntie Irene’s, a local coffee shop. She was pleased with this news.

During the brief drive from Des Moines Elementary to the coffee shop, the radio was tuned to a country station and a song mentioning “paradise” was playing. The song referenced islands and sand and sun and it felt pretty good to hear about these things on a rather dreary northwest afternoon

At the coffee shop, I sat in a comfy chair while my wife and daughter playfully visited. Glancing out the window at the waters of my life, Puget Sound, the song about “paradise” kept replaying in my mind. The idea of paradise is a little slippery and nebulous to me. It’s a “you know it when you see it” kind of thing. That afternoon, sitting with my girls, sipping a good cup of coffee, looking out a rain splattered window at my world, I felt paradise. And it was nice.

I felt paradise, too, when my daughter was collecting her things to leave the classroom as her envious classmates returned to their school work and my girl looked at me with a conspiratorial shrug and a grin of pleasure. She knew that she was special. It’s important to feel special sometimes and the fact that I made her feel special made me feel special. Paradise was found…again.

These moments of paradise are a soft-soled dance with perfection and feel good every time. What struck me and stayed with me following this insight was that moments like this happen often. Every single day we experience moments in paradise. The key to achieving them is seeing them. They are there. We just have to look.

Each day is filled with brief sparks of true moments that slow us down and baffle the noisy world we spend much of life living in. These moments are paradise. A certain peace lives in this stillness that reminds and recharges and sometimes reinvents us in ways that make us better. Paradise lives here and surrounds us always. It is in the mind and heart. It has infinite shapes and colors. And the hue is especially shiny on a dark and damp afternoon playing hooky with a happy eight year old daughter.

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]