lifestyle

By JEWEL KATS and DAVE SILVERBERG
Young People's Press
Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Dear Jewel,

I'm 17 and overweight. My whole family is overweight, but I'm the only one concerned about it.

We always have lots of food, lots of snacks, and lots of Pepsi around the house. How do I get out of this spiral of eating and drinking all the time?

I want to date, but I need to lose 50 pounds.

-- PORKY

Dear Friend,

The moment I read your sign-off my heart cracked. Being overweight doesn't make you an animal. Referring to yourself as "Porky" falls into the derogatory-name-calling jurisdiction regardless if it's you who's hurling the self-damaging insults. So quit doing it. You're doing more harm than you realize.

Now, let's get to the business of your calorie-laden home environment and your desire to shed unwanted pounds. I got in touch with Elke Sengmueller, a dietitian who advises you to stop at your family doctor's office and butt out the idea of going on a diet for once and all.

She says, "If you think you are overweight, I would recommend that you get a complete assessment from your (family) doctor. Ask for a referral to see a registered dietitian with expertise in working with teens and weight issues. Whatever you do, do not start a diet. Diets have a 95 percent failure rate and usually result in more weight gain in the end. It turns into a vicious cycle with negative health consequences."

Once you've hooked up with health professionals, you'll have the much-needed support to help you turn a new lettuce leaf when it comes to your eating patterns. According to Sengmueller, you mustn't feel responsible for controlling the unsound dietary habits of your family members. You can, however, act as a role model.

"Newly health-conscious teens," she says, "are in a challenging situation when living with loved ones who are not on the same wavelength regarding looking after their health. It's nearly impossible to change others who are not ready to change, but you can start by setting an example and looking after your own health."

If you want to see wholesome foods added to your junk-food-littered kitchen cabinets, you've got to step up and make your desires heard. Sengmueller encourages you to play an active role in family grocery-shopping excursions. She goes on to warn that there's a chance your new food choices may not be readily embraced by your kin. Even so, you have to remain steadfast in your commitments.

As for dating, you're totally misguided in your notion that you have to lose 50 pounds to enter Cupid's playing field. Wrong. Sengmueller agrees:

"Dating and relationships can happen at ANY size! People are more attracted to others who appear confident, try new things and have good self-esteem. It's hard to have good self-esteem when you are thinking of yourself as being 'Porky.' Adopting a healthy lifestyle where one eats in a balanced way -- not dieting! -- and gets regular activity does wonders for self-confidence."

Remember: Being overweight doesn't make you any less of a person. You can still enjoy life despite sporting a fuller figure.

Sengmueller says, "Contrary to popular culture, being overweight does not have to be a negative experience. ... Overweight people can do anything a thinner person can: play sports, eat healthy, get good grades, be funny, etc."

-- Love, Jewel

Hi Dave,

My best friend is a great guy, but he's really insecure around girls. Every time he asks a girl out it has to be a double date with me and my girlfriend. He's afraid to go it alone.

This was OK the first few times, but we're getting a little tired of him talking to us all night, instead of his date. We really don't want to double date with him anymore, but I don't want to hurt his feelings. We've been friends since we were 6.

We have another year of high school left and we'll both likely stay in town for college. I can see him trying to drag this on forever. Any advice?

-- TIRED OF SHARING

Dear TIRED OF SHARING,

Your story reminds me of a "Seinfeld" episode in which George double dates with his friend Jerry because he feels comfortable with his friend. It's easier for him to express his feelings with his buddy beside him, because it's doesn't feel so "date-y."

I'm guessing your friend comes from the same mindset, but, like George, he has to grow up. No one should be double dating every time he goes out with a girlfriend.

Here's what you do, and it isn't easy: Don't double date with your friend anymore. Tell him it's over, you prefer time alone with your girl and you think it's for the best. For both of you.

Let him know you want him to be independent and to finally do what any boyfriend should do -- spend one-on-one time with his date. It's not an unreasonable request. And if you explain your decision without losing your temper, your buddy should understand where you're coming from.

What you should avoid at all costs is apathy. Don't let this situation drag on longer than you want. If you're looking to make your friend independent, you have to act quickly but tactfully.

Good luck!

(Got a hot question for our cool columnists? E-mail Jewel or Dave at writeus(at)ypp.net or check them out on-line at http://www.ypp.net.)

By MIKE HARDEN
Scripps Howard News Service
Wednesday, May 09, 2007

With each passing year, the ranks of Jesse Brown's contemporaries thin a little more.

Tom Hudner and Bill Koenig, Navy pilots who flew combat missions over Korea with Brown, are still around, though each has passed fourscore years.

Forrest Flewellen, who knew Brown from the Naval ROTC program at Ohio State University, recalls losing his friend.

"He was such an exemplary person," Flewellen said recently. "He was the first black naval aviator in this nation's history; the first one to die in combat."

Brown, who died of injuries when his F4U4 Corsair went down near Korea's Chosin Reservoir in 1950, was saluted last week when a plaque citing his military achievements was unveiled at Converse Hall at Ohio State. A day later, another plaque honoring Brown was placed on the wall of the recently opened Naval Aviation Monument Park in Virginia Beach, Va.

"I am named for my grandfather," recalled Jessica Knight of the pilot who broke the color barrier in Navy aviation. "His name, Jesse Leroy, turned quite nicely, I must admit, into Jessica Leroyce.

"It dawned on me the other day that I am now, at 24, the same age as my grandfather when he was killed in the Korean war. I think about all the things I have not achieved and the sacrifices I have not had to make."

The man for whom Jessica is named was born in Hattiesburg, Miss., in 1926 and was valedictorian of his high-school class.

"Some of his friends back home discouraged him from coming to Ohio State," Flewellen said. "They said, 'You don't want to go up north to a school like that which gives scant attention to black people.'" But Brown wanted to be in the clouds. To do it, he was willing to work full time loading railcars in Columbus when he was not attending class.

"He was making a 3.8 GPA in his engineering courses," Flewellen said.

But Brown was impatient. He took a break from his studies to earn his Navy wings. He was assigned to an aircraft carrier in the Pacific.

"I was his wingman and roommate," Bill Koenig recalled by phone from his Virginia home. He noted of the day Brown died. "We were flying about 30 miles southeast of the Chosin Reservoir. We were following a mountain road when Jesse said, 'I'm losing power.'" Brown crash-landed on a snow-covered slope not far from a high concentration of enemy troops.

Tom Hudner, also flying the mission, brought his own Corsair around to the slope, made a belly landing and rushed to the crash site.

"The smoke coming out indicated that there was something that could burst into flame," Hudner said. "I thought it was just a matter of pulling him out of the cockpit and waiting for the helicopter to get us out."

But Brown's leg was pinned in the smoking wreckage.

The temperature was well below zero. Light was fading. Shock from Jesse's injuries and hypothermia were taking a toll.

"He was very quiet," Hudner said. "He might have been fighting to stay conscious. The only thing he said was that, if anything happened to let his wife know how much he loved her."

His widow was given his Distinguished Flying Cross.

Hudner, for putting himself in grievous peril to try to save Brown, ultimately was awarded a Medal of Honor.

"Jesse was a real trailblazer in what he did," Hudner said. "We can't put ourselves in his shoes. It was obvious that he was living in a very difficult time.

"Yet it wasn't that he was just the first black to wear Navy wings. It was a lot deeper than that."

By BEN GRABOW
Scripps Howard News Service
Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Big Brother is watching you Google.

The Internet search phenomenon, a brand name that is both noun and verb, is closely watched. But it's not the NSA or the CIA who's browsing your history. It's Google itself.

Yes, Google is watching you Google, and they've been watching as long as you've been Googling.

Google knows when you've been sleeping, Google knows when you're awake, and Google has filters that discern between bad and good, if you want to be good for goodness's sake. Google knows where you shop and what you read. Google remembers that time you thought you had lupus.

In reality, Google knows these things about your computer, not necessarily about you. They track the sites your computer visits by logging your IP address and your cookies (not your Oreos, but I'm sure they're working on it). And by now this is pretty much common knowledge. At the very least, it's readily available in their privacy policy. Go ahead, Google it.

Google has, however, recently reached a new level of watchfulness. And as anyone who has a Google email account will tell you, it's kind of creepy.

But let's back up a second. If I know that Google's watching every keystroke, and I know that Google is storing that information, why would I want an email account provided by the All-Seeing Eye? Simple. I really like Google.

This is a site that bases its popularity on simplicity and results. The interface is intuitive and clean, the advertisements are small and unobtrusive, and I always find exactly what I'm looking for. I have used Google so much and to such great effect that Googling has become a way of life. Coworkers seek out my Googling abilities. My Google-Fu is strong.

So naturally, I wanted a Gmail account. But even I was unprepared for the true power of Google.

Basically, it works like this: A friend invites you to Gmail. You happily join and add a sixth email address to your collection. After sending a few emails, you begin to notice that the small, unobtrusive advertisements in the margins seem to be based upon emails you have just sent. It's as if someone was reading your email and using that information to sell you on organic lupus treatments.

But it doesn't stop there. Once you've signed in, your Google searches are tracked to that account. Suddenly there's a name and, if you've uploaded a picture, a face to that search. It's scary enough in its own right, but even more frightening in the hands of a website with satellite images of your porch.

Of course, Google is not alone in this kind of online surveillance. In fact, virtually every site with a sign-on or search engine is tracking your visit. The difference is, the other sites aren't as transparent about it. And the other sites don't offer up the resulting research as ads for you to ignore.

It's getting to the point where Google will not only know exactly what you're looking for, it will know before you do. First your email, and then your mind. So don't be surprised when the next advertisements show up before you've typed a word.

And if you plan to find instructions for a tinfoil hat, please, use Yahoo!

(Ben Grabow writes for the young, the urban, and the easily amused. Contact him at thinlyread(at)gmail.com.)

By CARLEY RONEY
Scripps Howard News Service
Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Q: My mother doesn't want us to start the dancing until after dinner -- she says it's tacky to have people dance straight through the meal. But I'm worried that the reception will be boring if we wait that long to start the music, and that people might even skip out early. How can we compromise?

A: Often a parent's priority for a party is civilized conversation over delicious food, whereas the bride and groom are looking forward to seeing their friends cut loose to the sounds of Justin Timberlake.

If you're having a large sit-down dinner that may cut into dance time, one way to strike a middle ground is to start the dancing early in the reception, but to limit it to the time in between courses. That way, everyone will get on the dance floor straight away.

Just make sure to have your band or DJ mute the tunes (or at least play soft dinner-appropriate music) when food is served so everyone will be seated to enjoy the meal.

Or, you can split up the music. Have your band or DJ play a little dance-invoking music toward the end of the cocktail hour and before the first course is served; then, have them start the music back up after dinner.

With either of those strategies, you and your mom should find that there's plenty of time for both fine dining and dancing.

(Carley Roney, co-founder and editor in chief of The Knot, the nation's leading wedding resource, advises millions of brides on modern wedding etiquette at www.theknot.com.)

By MARK PATINKIN
The Providence Journal
Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Last week, in marches across the country, there were loud voices again in the debate about illegal immigration. It made me want to seek out one of the voices seldom heard.

I found her at the small business she owns on the East Side of Providence, R.I.. It's called Citi Nails. It offers manicuring services. She has four employees.

She is known as Christina Chhay, but her real first name is Phaly, pronounced "Polly." She is 39, was born in Cambodia, and has three sons, one grown and working, one at St. Matthew's in Cranston and the youngest, 8, at Providence's Wheeler School. They've received some scholarship help, but it is still expensive. It is why Phaly works 12 hours a day and six days a week.

She says it is worth it. She says there is no better place than America.

She was only 8 when the Khmer Rouge took over Cambodia in 1975. I had read about how children were separated from their parents, but Phaly was the first to relate it to me personally. She was made to work in rice fields, apart from her family, who were in forced labor a mile or more away.

"No school," Phaly told me, "not enough food, work in the rain." On rare occasions, she would spot her mother at a nearby field. She remembers waving, and weeping.

She lived like that for four years until the Khmer Rouge were driven off in 1979.

She was reunited with her mom, her sister, and two older brothers, but their father had been taken elsewhere.

Afraid the Khmer might come back, they joined a group who knew the way through jungle to a refugee camp in Thailand. It took them three days and nights to walk there.

The camp, mostly tents, was crowded with thousands of Cambodians. After a few months, they were bused to an even bigger camp, where they lived in cramped shelters along with displaced Vietnamese, Hmong and others.

Everyone's hope was to find a host country, America being the ideal, but it was impossible to just go. They needed to find a sponsoring family, and agencies willing to help.

It took four years. Throughout, the camp was their home.

I asked Phaly if she would have sneaked into a country like the U.S. had she had the chance.

"I want to do it the right way," she said.

Finally, friends from the camp made it to a place called Rhode Island, and agreed to sponsor the family. Relief workers helped with paperwork. A local church stepped up to find them housing.

By way of Alaska and Chicago, they flew to Rhode Island and moved into half of a small house in South Providence. Her brothers shared one bedroom, she and her mom shared another and her sister, who by then had a baby, got the third.

At 16, Phaly entered 10th grade at Central High School. She had to struggle with English.

Her eldest brother, who was 21, got a factory job to support the family. But there wasn't enough money, so soon, her other brother left school to get a factory job himself.

Then, to help make ends meet, Phaly did the same. In time, she took a vocational class to learn word-processing. It got her a teller's job at a bank.

It took years to become a U.S. citizen. Today, she is proud to say she is American.

Four years ago, Phaly left her teller's job to open Citi Nails.

"To take a chance," she explained. "To do better for your family."

I asked what she likes to do in her spare time.

"I don't do much for myself," she said. She works from 8 a.m. to 8 at night, every day but Tuesday. When she does have free hours, she simply likes to be with her family.

Your children are important to you?

"I would do anything in the world for my children," Phaly said.

In all her time here, she has not been able to afford a real vacation. She hopes some day to make it to Disney World, but she doesn't know when that might be.

Phaly Chhay has now been in America 24 years. She has never gone back to Cambodia.

"This is home," she said.

I noticed her glancing at the clock. Politely, she told me she needed to go back to work.

It may well be true that we need to give more understanding to those who came to this country illegally.

But I thought, just for these few moments, you'd want to hear the story of one woman who has followed the rules.

By SHARON RANDALL
Scripps Howard News Service
Tuesday, May 08, 2007

I should've known something was up. Any fool could've seen it. Fool that I am, I told myself folks were just glad to see me.

When the invitation arrived for my niece's wedding shower, I wanted very much to attend.

Having lived half my life 3,000 miles from the town where I grew up, I have missed too many family gatherings.

So I booked a flight, packed a bag and arrived just in time to start nagging my sister.

"Hurry up," I said, "so we can park in the driveway instead of two blocks away at the Bi-Lo."

My sister will be late for her own funeral someday. Not that it will matter to me, as I will have already claimed my reward. That's what I told her. She is older than I am (much, much older) but when it's time for us to leave this world, I will insist on going first. God forbid that I should stay behind and have to clean out her pantry.

The shower was a barbecue hosted by my brother and his wife at their home, an old turn-of-the-century, farm-style house that our family bought when I was in high school.

After our mother died, my stepfather couldn't keep the place up. So my baby brother, Monkey Boy, a broomstick cowboy turned master builder (not to be confused with our brother Joe, who is blind) restored it to make it his home.

I wish you could see it.

When my sister and I pulled into the driveway (on time, yes, thanks to my nagging) Monkey Boy was waiting.

"Hey, girl, how you doin'?"

When my brother hugs you, you know you've been hugged.

"Better now," I said, burying my face in his barrel chest.

My niece looked lovely, all grown up. I remember the first time I saw her. She was two years old, took me by the hand, pointed to a video and asked, "You wanna see me on TV?"

The barbecue was just getting started. Small towns make for big parties, especially when the food is good. Guests were arriving in droves _ some I knew, some I didn't, some I'd not seen in years.

Here's the thing: They all seemed to know who I was, whether we had met or not.

"I know you!" they'd say. "You live in Las Vegas!"

"Well, uh, yes," I'd say. "We moved there a year ago when my husband changed jobs."

Then they'd smile and wink real big. Especially the men. I spoke, for example, with Jimbo and Cotton and Crip (his mama called him that) and several others, all of whom seemed unusually attentive.

I do not, as a rule, attract that kind of interest, and I have to say I rather enjoyed it.

"Having fun?" said my sister.

"Yes," I said, "aren't you glad I made you get here early?"

We watched for an hour as my niece and her fiance opened gift after gift _ the same kinds of things I'd gotten rid of a year ago when I packed up a house where I'd spent most of my life, and moved off to Las Vegas.

I didn't envy my niece. It is a lovely, liberating feeling to be on the downsizing side of life.

After the last gift was opened, I had another piece of cake, just for the flavor, then went to fetch my purse from a bedroom that had once belonged to me.

Nothing is forever, only love.

While saying my goodbyes, I learned to my horror the source of my newfound notoriety.

Seems my sister had told everyone, young and old, near and far, that I had in fact moved to Las Vegas to start a lucrative career as an exotic dancer in a gambling establishment for senior citizens.

"Serves you right," she snickered, "for nagging."

Perhaps I'll not be the first to leave this world after all.

(Sharon Randall can be contacted at P.O. Box 777394, Henderson NV 89077, or at randallbay(at)earthlink.net)

By DAN WALTERS
Sacramento Bee
Monday, May 07, 2007

While Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger and legislative leaders chew over whether _ and how _ to bring health insurance to millions of working poor families, medical care providers are refighting long-running turf battles over who can perform which specific medical procedure of which part of the human body.

The public may assume that such matters are highly technical training and licensing issues. In fact, medically ignorant politicians determine "scope of practice" as practitioners flex political muscle to move up in the medical pecking order while fending off those lower on the scale _ with big money at stake for all.

The prototype was the epic battle between podiatrists and orthopedic surgeons over the legal right to perform ankle surgery, which the foot doctors eventually won nearly a quarter-century ago. Countless replays have ensued _ doctors vs. nurses, dentists vs. dental hygienists, plastic surgeons vs. dental surgeons, psychiatrists vs. psychologists _ even veterinarians vs. dog groomers (over the legal right to brush dogs' teeth).

This year's hottest clash has been a renewal of the years-long conflict between psychiatrists and psychologists over legal authority to prescribe psychotropic drugs. This year's version of the psychologists' perennial bid for drug-prescribing power was Senate Bill 993, carried by Sen. Sam Aanestad, R-Penn Valley. It didn't get very far, attracting just a single vote in the Senate Business, Professions and Economic Development Committee. The psychiatrists joined forces with other drug-prescribing medical specialists to administer a fatal dose of political medicine to the psychologists' bill.

Other scope-of-practice battles, however, are still simmering. In no particular order of importance:

_ Dental hygienists, who now must work under supervision of dentists, have renewed their years-long push for professional independence through a bill (Senate Bill 534) by Senate President Pro Tem Don Perata, D-Oakland, which would create a separate state licensing board for the hygienists.

_ Nurse practitioners and physicians' assistants have been waging a similar battle with physicians over independent operation. This year's version is a measure (Assembly Bill 1436) by Assemblyman Ed Hernandez, D-West Covina, which, among other things, would give physicians' assistants the authority to prescribe drugs.

_ Physical therapists also want to practice without direct referral from physicians. A bill (Assembly Bill 1444) by Assemblyman Bill Emmerson, R-Redlands, would grant that authority _ opposed, of course, by chiropractors and orthopedists. But when "massage therapists" sought licensure in a bill (Senate Bill 731) by Sen. Jenny Oropeza, D-Long Beach, chiropractors and physical therapists joined forces in opposition.

_ Speaking of bodily manipulation, Senate Bill 136 by Sen. Gil Cedillo, D-Los Angeles, would authorize acupuncturists to perform "tui na," described as "a hands-on body treatment that uses pressure techniques including myofascial release and manual therapy." Another measure (Assembly Bill 636) by Assemblyman Lloyd Levine, D-Van Nuys, would allow acupuncturists to use "light" as a therapeutic technique.

_ While one measure (Assembly Bill 1367) by Assemblyman Mark De Saulnier, D-Concord, would elevate drug and alcohol counselors into a state-licensed profession, another (Assembly Bill 1486) by Assemblyman Charles Calderon, D-Whittier, would create the same status for "professional counselors."

Psychologists, who want to expand their practices vis-a-vis psychiatrists, are opposing counselors' infringing on their professional turf _ thus underscoring the tribal nature of scope-of-practice battles.

(Contact Dan Walters at dwalters(at)sacbee.com. Back columns: www.sacbee.com/walters.)

By L.A. JOHNSON
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Thursday, May 03, 2007

Heather Vaill had 1,500 of her mother's most delectable homemade cookies set out at her wedding reception several years ago.

"Thumbprints, pizzelles, ladylocks _ all the good stuff," she recalls.

Even with more than 200 guests, the bride still was surprised the sweet treats went so quickly.

"I was disappointed when (a few hours into the reception) I went to get a cookie _ one stinking cookie _ and the trays held nothing but crumbs," says Vaill, 36, of Plum, Pa.

She later learned that a cousin had brought Tupperware containers to the reception and absconded with a sizable amount of her wedding cookies.

"A few months later, this same tacky cousin served the cookies she stole at her mother's wedding reception!"

Now, that's tacky with a capital TACK!

Has society lost all civility? Where have all the manners gone? Whatever happened to "ma'am" and "sir," "please" and "thank you"?

Jeanne Hamilton, who catalogs thousands of tacky tales spanning the depth and breadth of human rudeness on her Web site, www.etiquettehell.com, says America's self-centered, me-me-me culture is to blame for the erosion of class.

"When you become very self-focused like that, it removes barriers in your brain," says Hamilton, a wedding consultant and author of "Wedding Etiquette Hell: The Bride's Bible to Avoiding Everlasting Damnation."

American society is a morally relativistic culture with most people thinking that everything and anything is all right as long as it makes them happy, she says.

"The reason why people behave themselves is because there's a social stigma _ or used to be _ to behaving like an idiot," she says.

The brilliant-but-hotheaded actor Alec Baldwin leaves a screed on his 11-year-old daughter's cell-phone voicemail calling her, among other things, "a rude, thoughtless little pig."

Tacky.

His former wife, actress Kim Basinger _ with whom he's embroiled in a vicious and bitter custody battle _ says she didn't make the message public. Hmmm? OK. Whoever released the voicemail or allowed it to be released, and thus opened up the child to public ridicule, is even tackier.

Pam Welsh and nine or so of her co-workers pitched in to buy a trendy portable playpen/crib as a baby-shower gift for one of their colleagues. Two weeks after the shower, Welsh received a thank-you note on her desk at work with a routing slip attached.

"It turns out the guest of honor at the shower had sent separate thank-you notes to everyone at the shower, but the 10 people that bought the expensive gift got one thank-you note with a routing slip to be routed around the office," says Welsh, 50, of Swissvale, Pa.

The routing slip was neatly stapled to the thank-you card and included the names of the people to whom it was to be sent.

"You check off your name (on the routing slip) and send it to the next person on the list," she says. "I couldn't believe that this girl couldn't write an extra 10 thank-you notes. That was the tackiest thank-you I ever got in my life."

Etiquette really got thrown out during the anti-establishment, anti-authority '60s and '70s, Hamilton says.

"But I think people are realizing it's good to have a code of conduct in society," she says. "Frankly, that is what (www.etiquettehell.com) is designed to do; it's thousands of people saying, 'We think that behavior is tacky.' "

Other behaviors Pittsburgh Post-Gazette readers offered up as classless included: people who talk loudly on their cell phones in public; people who never respond to e-mails; people who allow their pets to relieve themselves in other people's yards; and people who dress sports casual for everything from theater performances to wakes.

Is the milk of human kindness hopelessly curdled?

Robert Biller fears that it is.

Not long ago, he offered his assistance to a middle-aged woman he saw "staring at a flat, front-passenger-side tire on her late-model Cadillac" in a cold, rainy Cranberry, Pa., department-store parking lot.

He used a T-bar wrench to loosen her wheel lug nuts. When he discovered her spare was almost flat, he inflated it with his 12-volt compressor and told her to stay dry in her car.

Drenched and covered with dirt, he changed the woman's flat tire and returned the car jack and wrench to the trunk.

"Immediately after I slammed the lid shut, she hit her accelerator and sped out of the parking lot without even a nod," says Biller, 58, of Franklin Township, Pa.

In her haste, she ran over his air compressor, too.

"I didn't help her because I wanted her gratitude, but a 'thank you' would have been appropriate," he says. "It's a lot easier than changing a tire."

(L.A. Johnson can be reached at ljohnson(at)post-gazette.com.)