Is the research process actually easier these days?

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Most people seem to feel the Internet has made research faster and easier. That might be true—for quick and dirty searches. However, writers wanting to ensure their sources are credible may be turning to flimsy websites in an attempt to get their work done.

I had the opportunity to contemplate this problem when I found myself trying to answer the question, “Are ovaries glands?” For the record, the word “gland” worked better in my rhyme scheme than the word “ovary.”

Like most modern people, I started with Google—actually plugging in this question, word for word. I could have just grabbed the Wikipedia article that appeared at the top of my list of search results. I was happy with the answer. Actually, the second hit also revealed a worthy answer, another Wikipedia article. My third hit came from WikiAnswers. Ask.com provided the fourth. And the fifth site had heart: “Ovary Glands – Ova Achiever.” This site sells stuffed body parts. No joke.

Yes, I could have punted and trusted the information I found on Wikipedia, as it is often accurate. No doubt writers do this every day without reprisal. Yet most writers consider their art form to be a risky business. After all, we regularly put ourselves on the line, exposing our guts to the world in the form of poems, stories, articles, and ultimately books. The last thing we need is to get something wrong because we didn’t dig deeply enough to verify a certain point, as simple as that point may seem.

In any event, I make my living goading college students to think about where their sources are coming from. So I forced myself to move away from Google and try a research database (if you don’t know what a research database is, check out one of my soapbox lectures: The Information Landscape: Thinking About Research Databases).

For this question, I turned to the Gale Virtual Reference Library. It contains many of the reference books older folks once used in pre-Internet libraries. The contents of GVRL will vary from library to library, as librarians handpick the titles included in a particular subscription.

One great thing about this database is that it allows the user to run a keyword search on all of its titles simultaneously. This certainly becomes a faster process than spending time in the stacks browsing the indexes of one heavy tome after the next. However, there is a noticeable drawback. GVRL often contains a lot less titles than a typical print reference collection. FYI: print reference collections are still in existence—in case you miss the old system.

So I ran my search on GVRL, and I must admit the digging process felt clumsier (this time I entered the words, “ovaries” and “follicles”). Instead of locating a succinct answer to my question, I found myself wading through a number of articles packed with medical jargon. It felt like the information I needed was in there, but I wasn’t completely sure.

I tried eliminating the word “follicles,” but I pretty much ended up scanning the same murky details.

Finally, I decided to broaden my topic. I switched to the word, “gland.” The Gale Encyclopedia of Science finally delivered an entry that set my mind at rest, “Other endocrine glands include the thyroid gland, the parathyroid glands, the testes and the ovaries, the thymus gland, and the pituitary gland.”

I know, I know. Nobody wants to do this—especially your kids. Yet most writers put a lot of time and effort into developing their craft. They spend a lot money on workshops, MFA programs—books about writing. It’s a shame most people don’t bother to learn how to become competent researchers.

Where can I find a research database? 

Almost all college libraries subscribe to research databases. These search tools are often password protected, only available to students and college employees. However, some college libraries may allow walk-in use for the general public.

Many public libraries provide research databases for their users. Here are a few examples.

Works Cited

“Glands.” The Gale Encyclopedia of Science. Ed. K. Lee Lerner and Brenda Wilmoth Lerner. 3rd ed. Vol. 3. Detroit: Gale, 2004. 1826. Gale Virtual Reference Library. Web. 10 Feb. 2014.

Poem in Far Enough East

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My poem, “Restoration,” has been published in Far Enough East.

Poem in The Rathalla Review

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My poem, “Jugular,” has been published in The Rathalla Review.

Rolfing and Plantar Fasciitis

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It’s tough to know when to throw in the towel on a physical activity that may be tearing up the body. While tennis or running or dance comes with benefits that can’t be measured, the time spent on activities such as these could very well be deducting time from some undefined pursuit meant to take place down the road. Engaging in a physical passion becomes a balancing act between resting in the joy of exertion and assessing the damage.

Some six years ago, at the ripe old age of 45, I wondered if I would have to curtail my hiking. I was camping in the Anza Borrego Desert with some friends, and we tackled Whale Peak, which is a modest, squat sort of peak, albeit a hill that offers impressive views. By the time we made it back to camp, we had put in close to 9 miles.

The next morning I could barely walk. I was in shock, harboring thoughts like, Already? My feet hurt, I was less able to keep up, and I wondered if I was going to become one of those people who could do little more than putter around the house.

While I never went to a doctor for an official diagnosis, a friend and former nurse suggested I might be dealing with plantar fasciitis. Plantar fasciitis, according to The Gale Encyclopedia of Fitness, “is a condition in which the plantar fascia–the arch tendon in the foot–becomes very painful, swollen, irritated, or inflamed when tiny tears occur on its surface.” It tends to develop in middle-aged people who have traditionally been very active. It can also be a problem for those who are overweight.

I started looking for solutions, and it wasn’t long before I encountered some useful advice, suggestions like: wear larger shoes, add inserts to cushion my feet, and stretch regularly (particularly the Achilles tendons, calf muscles, and hamstrings).

While all of this helped to some degree, I found myself scaling back. I let go of tennis, which was really bothering my feet, and I watched my hikes grow shorter. I began to exist inside a smaller box—I began to accept that fact. And I allowed myself to live with an out of shape feeling, which I hated.

Then last fall I tried to figure out – yet again – what I could do in order to stay fit. This time I tested the treadmill, with the hope that I could jog on it safely.

Things did not go smoothly. In the beginning I dealt with the expected getting-in-shape soreness. That I could accept. Yet my feet quickly became painful—I literally hobbled out of bed. And while the overall soreness went away after a couple of weeks, my feet kept screaming. Despair over the possibility that I was stuck with a sedentary lifestyle was sinking in fast.

Meanwhile, I’d been seeing a rolfer for several other trouble spots. I wasn’t expecting him to help me with my feet, but one day this dilemma came up in casual conversation. To my surprise, he immediately suggested he could work on it. He told me something else, too, something that really eased my mind. He said the pain was mainly due to lactic acid build up (the same phenomenon that causes overall soreness when a person returns to exercise after being inactive). This surprised me because my feet seemed so wobbly and sore—I thought I was dealing with a problem that was causing serious debilitation. I’d been backing off on everything, so that the pain would back off (so that I wouldn’t injure myself even further). But lactic acid? Well, I knew about that.

Rolfing, according to The Gale Encyclopedia of Alternative Medicine, is “a holistic system of bodywork that uses deep manipulation of the body’s soft tissue to realign and balance the body’s myofascial structure. Rolfing improves posture, relieves chronic pain, and reduces stress.”

It is a bit of a commitment. Most practitioners ask their clients to schedule a series of ten sessions, as rolfers employ a methodical process that eventually covers the entire body. In other words, each session builds on what was done during previous sessions.

I actually went through this series over ten years ago, but I’ve continued to see my rolfer for tune-ups. He’s particularly worked wonders on my cranky lower back. Because of this, I was happy to let him take on my feet.

He explained why he thought it would help. He believes manipulating the fascia in the feet helps to stretch it out, as well as relieve lactic acid build up. This all sounded well and good, but I didn’t expect much. I’d been grappling with this soreness, with mixed results, for too long.

I am pleased to note his treatments on my feet have delivered some remarkable results. I can now work out and feel normal – almost pain free – the rest of the time. Even better, I’ve resumed the sort of workout I enjoy doing, putting in 3.5 miles on the treadmill four to five times a week. I’m in shape again and no longer worrying about living a sedentary life (for the moment, anyway).

Of course, I never had an official diagnosis from a doctor, so perhaps I got it wrong about the plantar fasciitis. All I know is, the moment my feet touch the floor in the morning, I don’t notice them.

Atkins, William A. “Plantar fasciitis.” The Gale Encyclopedia of Fitness, Ed. Jacqueline L. Longe. Detroit: Gale, 2012. Health and Wellness Resource Center. Web. 15 Jan. 2014.

Wells, Ken R. “Rolfing.” The Gale Encyclopedia of Alternative Medicine. Ed. Laurie J. Fundukian. 3rd ed. Vol. 3. Detroit: Gale, 2009. 1940-1943. Gale Virtual Reference Library. Web. 15 Jan. 2014.

Poem in Labletter Monthly Notes

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My poem, “The Gull,” has been published in Labletter Monthly Notes.

Two poems in The Wayfarer: A Journal of Contemplative Literature

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My poems “Rainstorm” and “Tradition” have been published in The Wayfarer: A Journal of Contemplative Literature (page 32).

Poem in Euphemism

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My poem, “Maidenhair Falls,” has been published in Euphemism.

Poem in The Road Not Taken: A Journal of Formal Poetry

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My poem, “Trespasser,” has been published in The Road Not Taken: A Journal of Formal Poetry.

Keeping up with the Garden

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I’ve been writing too many poems about the garden. I started with the bougainvillea that refuses to bloom, before moving on to skunks and raccoons insistent upon digging tunnels under the fence at night in order to hunt for grubs, the carnage that comes about due to survival of the fittest, and, more recently, a red coral tree that has made a spectacular comeback after nearly being killed off by last winter’s cold spell.

Sometimes I worry my work isn’t “heavy” enough. The garden does feel like a luxury in the face of the terrible problems taxing our world. Yet when I have a breather, and I find myself staring at plants, words often begin to crest. That’s when I head for the computer.

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I started yearning for a garden shortly after moving to San Diego. I would take long walks in my neighborhood, only to find myself ogling people’s yards. Not only does this climate sustain a truly interesting selection of flora (it’s easy to see where Dr. Seuss found inspiration for his quirky plants), it is possible to set up a garden so that something is blooming at any given time of the year. That’s an exciting prospect for someone used to a more traditional winter.

In the end, I have the Water Conservation Garden at Cuyamaca College to thank for the fact that my own yard now supports a xeriscape garden in lieu of lawn. Cuyamaca’s garden is a teaching garden, one that encourages the use of drought tolerant plants and innovative landscape design. Students and non-students alike spend hours within its fences, taking notes on various plants, not to mention low-water gardening techniques. Indeed, the fellow who initially put in my garden is a graduate of Cuyamaca’s Ornamental Horticulture program.

My landscape designer gave me a beautiful start—then he gave me the reins. I quickly became worried that I would not have the ability, time, or inclination to keep up my garden. Lawns are a no brainer, but nudging plants to grow into pleasing shapes and color schemes takes some doing. To be sure, some of my favorite plants died early—some did not fulfill their promise. I have struggled over finding good replacements. I’m not sure I’m putting them in properly. Pruning confounds me (I generally feel like a butcher). I can handle the weeds, but I don’t like the pests. In the end, I often think about what I have not yet done with the yard. I know I could go further. I have friends who would have by now.

But really, do I have to keep up with the Joneses? We’re talking about a garden here. Secretly, I like its in-progress state. It will probably never be manicured to perfection. It generally displays a measure of unkemptness, which I tend to ignore until I can no longer stand it (sort of like my hair). I do occasionally meditate on benches, hanging art, chimes, statuary, and other accents I might add. I’m sure I’ll get to it someday.

My garden has come with some surprises. It does require less water than a lawn. And setting all of those aforementioned insecurities aside, it really hasn’t been difficult to maintain. I generally roll up my sleeves every four to six weeks to weed and prune. I particularly like to tinker outside after a stressful week at work, as I am reminded that not all creatures are on the clock—time can stretch in a different direction.

Most weekends, however, I sit in the garden cradling a cup of coffee as I stare at hummers particularly drawn to the Mexican sage. The Mexican sage sure is a trouper. I’ve decided that when all else fails, put in some Mexican sage. It’s been in bloom for months.

Treading Lightly

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Running took hold of me in the late 70s. I actually got started at Ashland High School, in Ashland, Oregon. I joined the girl’s JV cross-country team (remarkably, we had enough female runners for two teams in that relatively small school). It wasn’t long before I was pouring over the annual shoe issue of Runner’s World. On special occasions, I began receiving accessories, such The Complete Runner’s Day-by-Day Log and Calendar by James Fixx. And I could generally be found – rain, ice, or shine – running through Lithia Park.

I learned a great deal from that cross-country season. In the end, however, I decided I wanted to run for the joy of running—not racing. Though I occasionally entered a road race after that, I spent most of my time appreciating the scenery. Indeed, some of my fondest memories of Ashland center on running the back roads.

I continued running in Eugene, where you could actually cross paths with the likes of Mary Decker and Alberto Salazar, as they trained in residential areas. You could also view Salazar’s shoes in the Oregon Electric Station, a popular restaurant co-owned by the said runner. Sadly, I missed out on the Steve Prefontaine phenomenon by half a dozen years or so. Believe me, I know I missed out, because I kept hearing stories about how the fans went wild whenever he burned up the track in Hayward Field. People in Oregon still tell these stories.

At the University of Oregon, I discovered dance, and after a few years of trying to run and take dance classes, I let go of running. I figured my Teutonic build (my Teutonic joints) could handle only one of these activities. The years passed, and dance also had to go. I was living in Seattle then—quickly becoming a couch potato. I did make weak attempts to stay in shape on a Stairmaster. Of course you can only do so much walking in the rainy weather.

Since I’ve moved to San Diego, I’ve been in and out of the Y at predictable intervals. I’m not sure I’m getting anywhere. As menopause approaches, so do the pounds. I finally decided to pull myself up short and tune into the sixteen-year-old runner. My Teutonic joints no longer allow me run on pavement, but I thought I might get a good routine going on a treadmill (with the second thought that if I built enough strength and flexibility, I might be able to take an occasional run on the beach).

It’s been a long time since I was sixteen.

Back then I quickly learned that if I could slog through the first three weeks, a runner’s high would finally show up. From that point on, running would actually be fun. This time, however, the first three weeks found me struggling with plantar fasciitis (a problem that surfaced five years ago), not to mention sore knees, and overall stiffness.

As an older person it is tough to know just where to place your edge. You don’t want to give in after the first morning that makes you feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. Soreness and stiffness can be handled with age-appropriate workout goals; though it certainly becomes discouraging to remember a time such challenges did not come up. There does seem to be a happy medium between a rigorous fitness routine and debilitation. I’m still trying to figure out where that line is.

Meanwhile, my thoughts drift back to those athletes in their sixties and seventies who once ran in the same road races I entered as a young adult. Perhaps my Teutonic build will prevent me from enjoying such achievements. For now, I’ll relish the abbreviated runner’s high that has finally decided to appear as I try not to watch the minutes pass on the treadmill monitor.

Running on the Oregon Coast.

Running on the Oregon Coast.