Sunday, January 25, 2009
IN DEFENSE OF FOOD MATTERS
I have been thinking a lot about food lately. Not because I am hungry but for several other reasons. First, I have been working with a compound derived from broccoli in the laboratory. "High" consumption of broccoli (i.e 3-4 servings per week) is associated with a lower risk of developing prostate cancer, but the mechanisms are unclear. A constituent of broccoli called sulforaphane was previously shown to prevent cancer or cause tumor regression in animal models, but, again, the reasons for this effect are unclear. Our work sheds some new light on the issue. Second, I was sidelined with a running injury for the past six months, which has led to a few extra pounds on my frame. Third, I have been cooking more in the past few months and making more conscious food purchases. Finally, on several occasions when Nicholas asked for a snack and I offered him a few choices, he said he wanted something else with more sugar (e.g. "drinking yogurt"). He loves vegetables and eats rather well, but this was a wake-up call.
Last night, I checked out "In Defense of Food" by Michael Pollan and read it in one sitting in 3 hours. He is an authoritative figure on the topic of our food choices and their consequences, having written "The Omnivore's Dilemma" and "The Botany of Desire," which I have not read. "Defense," though, is less theory, less history, and more practicality. The credo of this book, in Pollan's words, is simple: Eat Food. Not Too Much. Mostly Plants. His book lays out how drastic our eating habits have changed under the influence of the government, scientists, and the food producers- this triumvirate constitutes a "food industrial complex." Needless to say, food is a very political issue, and individuals from the three aforementioned camps have sold the American people on the concept of the importance of food nutrients rather than food itself. This has allowed for the proliferation of food-like substances devoid of the "bad stuff" (fats mainly) and high in the "good" stuff (vitamins, B-carotene, etc). This explains the concept of low-fat ice cream or fortified white bread, which one can eat to one's heart's content because they have been sanitized. Underlying this simplistic view of food is the notion that it is the individual parts of food rather than food as a whole which is the key to health. Largely, this is based upon scientific studies from the nutrition world which purport to tell us what are the good and bad parts of food but which are highly subject to bias or inaccuracy.
All of this research neglects the fact that prior to the industrialization of food, when our diets were largely plant-based and our ways of life largely agrarian, diseases like cancer, diabetes, and heart disease were rare, even when one accounts for differences in life expectancy between then and now. This point was made well by Mark Bittman, aka "the Minimalist" from the New York Times, who recently gave a talk at Powell's promoting his new book "Food Matters" (hence the cute title of this post), which I attended. His mantra is that diets high in animals products are not only bad for our health but also bad for the planet (animal waste, non-sustainable farming practices, global warming, etc). While his ideas are hardly revolutionary and are derivative of Pollan, both authors make the claim, which is hard to refute, that our food choices matter. Despite the me too aspect to Bittman's book, after his talk, I have tried to eat more fruits and vegetables and grains and to eat less meat.
Diet, in my opinion should be like the concept of climate, personally sustainable eating habits over the long-term, rather than like weather, which is subject to whim or yearly variation with the latest food cycle. We truly are what we eat and what we eat eats, and our eating climate has clearly changed in recent years. Despite my own reductionist research to "extract" specific, testable anti-cancer constituents from food, I like to think of myself, an evolving organism, as a whole head of broccoli and that explains my new food choices.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
REACHING FOR THE STARS AND THE MAIL-IN BALLOT
Each night, I have the privilege of telling Nicholas bedtime stories. Generally, we do 5-7 stories in our bed. Then we go to the bathroom, followed by kiss mom goodnight, teeth brushing, and "one more" story when he is in his bed. This is my favorite part of the day. At heart, he is a mama's boy, so it is quite special to spend some one-on-one time together.
Tonight, with the backdrop of Barack's Inauguration in mind, I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up... President? "No," he said, "I want to be an astronaut." I agreed that that would be a cool job. I went on to explain to him that whatever he decided to be, he would be his only obstacle and that hard work and talent (and good eyesight- sorry kid) are the means to success in this country. He then volunteered that he also wanted to be a voter. When I asked him why, he said he did not know and "because I want to." While I am certain that he is unaware that many parts of the world do not share our freedoms and voting rights (see Russia, Zimbabwe, Iran, Florida 2000, etc), I am quite certain that he appreciated the zeal with which his dad had followed and participated in our democratic process in 2008; Tuesday nights in the winter/spring meant primary returns or debates on MSNBC for dad and videos for Nicholas; turns out he may have been tuning in to more than Elmo on those nights. It truly was a year to remember, and it is clear that the significance of last year and today was not lost on Nicholas. 2024, here he comes!
Tonight, with the backdrop of Barack's Inauguration in mind, I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up... President? "No," he said, "I want to be an astronaut." I agreed that that would be a cool job. I went on to explain to him that whatever he decided to be, he would be his only obstacle and that hard work and talent (and good eyesight- sorry kid) are the means to success in this country. He then volunteered that he also wanted to be a voter. When I asked him why, he said he did not know and "because I want to." While I am certain that he is unaware that many parts of the world do not share our freedoms and voting rights (see Russia, Zimbabwe, Iran, Florida 2000, etc), I am quite certain that he appreciated the zeal with which his dad had followed and participated in our democratic process in 2008; Tuesday nights in the winter/spring meant primary returns or debates on MSNBC for dad and videos for Nicholas; turns out he may have been tuning in to more than Elmo on those nights. It truly was a year to remember, and it is clear that the significance of last year and today was not lost on Nicholas. 2024, here he comes!
Sunday, January 18, 2009
JUST HOW FAR WE HAVE TRAVELED
On the day of MLK, Jr's birthday, I thought I would reflect on my travels with the President-elect and the road our country has traveled. It was over 4 years ago when I first heard of and from Barack Obama. He was the keynote speaker at the DNC in Boston. Though we did not have cable and despite the fact that the major networks shamelessly decided to abridge their convention coverage and were not airing his speech, I decided to go to our basement in Baltimore and tune in to PBS. The reception was poor. I saw wavy lines and several images of Mr. Lehrer on the screen, but none of that mattered once the speaker mounted the podium. He spoke of a country that was more than a collection of disparate parts. He spoke of a new kind of politics and decorum that had been ignored or impugned by recent politicians. He spoke of hope and the audacity of that basic human aspiration...no matter what the odds.
It was that night when I knew he would be a President of the United States, who happend to be black. His color and his background were inherent in who he was and what had brought him to that moment, but they were merely parts of the sum. That is what inspired me and so many other Americans after his "sermon" was done.
I kept an eye on him and heard the rumors of those who said he would run someday but that his time was not now. I went so far as to buy and place on my car an Obama '08 bumper sticker in the Fall of 2006, well before he declared his intention to run. When he finally announced his candidacy that cold morning in Springfield in early 2007, I was thrilled. I did not think about the sharks with whom he would swim. I did not think about the skeptics and the critics. I thought that his and our time had come. While, in my heart I always knew that winning would be a long-shot, I never doubted that he should win. First came the official bumper sticker. Then the lawn sign. Donations. Conversations. Inspiration.
For the first time in my adult life (and I am one who has eschewed movements, teams, etc), I joined a campaign for change. I made phone calls. I sent out a flood of emails to old friends and family imploring them to donate, vote, and work towards our common purpose. I even mananged to rekindle a few friendships and relationships along the way through my efforts by reminding myself and my estranged loved ones and friends about the common bonds, which had not been broken between us.
There were big moments along the way- phone-banking (Texas, Oregon, Indiana, Virginia), door-knocking (North Portland), and rallies I attended (Portland in September 2007, Portland in May 2008, and St. Paul in June 2008, the night Barack won the nomination). I was elated at the nomination and watched the proceedings in Denver with rapt attention. Things got ugly in the fall, and the gloves came off in St. Paul. Yet, I never doubted that we were on the right side of history and that this campaign was about more than words; at its heart, in my heart, it was about the chance to make the world right again, kind again, just again.
On November 4th, America made the tough choice. It made the wise choice. It made the only choice it could make given the times in which we found ourselves. Around 8PM PDT, it was certain, although as soon as Ohio, the bellwether, was called, we all knew it was over. I was happy. I was pleased. I was inspired like millions of other Americans.
It was not until today though, on the day of the preacher's birthday and the eve of the Inauguration of Barack Hussein Obama, that it really hit me... like a ton of bricks ... what we had accomplished and how far this country had traveled in its 233 year history. Today, I listened to various speeches and watched various campaign videos on-line. First, I heard the last few minutes of President-elect Obama's acceptance speech from that glorious November night when he talked about how far an elderly African-American woman in Georgia had seen this country come in her lifetime. Then, I watched the will.i.am "Yes We Can" video, which was inspired by a loss, not a victory, in New Hampshire. Finally, I found the "A More Perfect Union" speech from March, 2008 in Philadelphia, where our country began. When Barack told the story of the young white woman, Ashley Baia, and the elderly African-American man whom she had inspired and with whom she had connected, it sunk in how far I and we as a nation had traveled.
Just forty years ago, my marriage to a white woman would have been considered illegal in many states. Just forty years ago, admission to the best schools in this land would have been an impossibility for me and my children. Just forty years ago, a preacher was killed for daring to have a dream. For the first time in this journey, I cried. Not tears of joy but tears of disbelief. Despite the fact that I had never doubted the righteousness of our cause, I had never really believed that the dam of reality would give way to the flood of hope... that we could travel that far.
It was that night when I knew he would be a President of the United States, who happend to be black. His color and his background were inherent in who he was and what had brought him to that moment, but they were merely parts of the sum. That is what inspired me and so many other Americans after his "sermon" was done.
I kept an eye on him and heard the rumors of those who said he would run someday but that his time was not now. I went so far as to buy and place on my car an Obama '08 bumper sticker in the Fall of 2006, well before he declared his intention to run. When he finally announced his candidacy that cold morning in Springfield in early 2007, I was thrilled. I did not think about the sharks with whom he would swim. I did not think about the skeptics and the critics. I thought that his and our time had come. While, in my heart I always knew that winning would be a long-shot, I never doubted that he should win. First came the official bumper sticker. Then the lawn sign. Donations. Conversations. Inspiration.
For the first time in my adult life (and I am one who has eschewed movements, teams, etc), I joined a campaign for change. I made phone calls. I sent out a flood of emails to old friends and family imploring them to donate, vote, and work towards our common purpose. I even mananged to rekindle a few friendships and relationships along the way through my efforts by reminding myself and my estranged loved ones and friends about the common bonds, which had not been broken between us.
There were big moments along the way- phone-banking (Texas, Oregon, Indiana, Virginia), door-knocking (North Portland), and rallies I attended (Portland in September 2007, Portland in May 2008, and St. Paul in June 2008, the night Barack won the nomination). I was elated at the nomination and watched the proceedings in Denver with rapt attention. Things got ugly in the fall, and the gloves came off in St. Paul. Yet, I never doubted that we were on the right side of history and that this campaign was about more than words; at its heart, in my heart, it was about the chance to make the world right again, kind again, just again.
On November 4th, America made the tough choice. It made the wise choice. It made the only choice it could make given the times in which we found ourselves. Around 8PM PDT, it was certain, although as soon as Ohio, the bellwether, was called, we all knew it was over. I was happy. I was pleased. I was inspired like millions of other Americans.
It was not until today though, on the day of the preacher's birthday and the eve of the Inauguration of Barack Hussein Obama, that it really hit me... like a ton of bricks ... what we had accomplished and how far this country had traveled in its 233 year history. Today, I listened to various speeches and watched various campaign videos on-line. First, I heard the last few minutes of President-elect Obama's acceptance speech from that glorious November night when he talked about how far an elderly African-American woman in Georgia had seen this country come in her lifetime. Then, I watched the will.i.am "Yes We Can" video, which was inspired by a loss, not a victory, in New Hampshire. Finally, I found the "A More Perfect Union" speech from March, 2008 in Philadelphia, where our country began. When Barack told the story of the young white woman, Ashley Baia, and the elderly African-American man whom she had inspired and with whom she had connected, it sunk in how far I and we as a nation had traveled.
Just forty years ago, my marriage to a white woman would have been considered illegal in many states. Just forty years ago, admission to the best schools in this land would have been an impossibility for me and my children. Just forty years ago, a preacher was killed for daring to have a dream. For the first time in this journey, I cried. Not tears of joy but tears of disbelief. Despite the fact that I had never doubted the righteousness of our cause, I had never really believed that the dam of reality would give way to the flood of hope... that we could travel that far.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
RACHEL GETTING MARRIED
Tonight, I saw "Rachel Getting Married," which was an amazing film. I do not want to spoil it for those who have not seen it yet, but I found it to be one of the year's most compelling, yet hopeful films. That may sound strange for a movie about a train-wreck of a person, Kym, who returns for her sister's wedding straight from rehab, but I call 'em as I see 'em. Indeed, my vision is colored by having loved too many women like Kym (present company excluded).
Anne Hathaway gives the best performance (of her life) I have seen this year by an actor (mind you, I do not see as many films as I used to, but she is dead on), and she leaves the viewer with both disgust but also empathy during various points in the film. I said to Kathleen after leaving the movie that I had that post (Indian) wedding exhausted feeling- tiredness after a too long ceremony but also wonder at the beauty and ritual of it all. At times, I almost wished we had had a wedding.. almost. Pretty amazing effect for a film.
I have said it before, and I will say it again. If a career in Medicine or Science does not work out, forget politics. Get me a press pass and a ticket to Sundance- I am the rightful heir to Ebert's throne, but for tonight the balcony is closed.
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