The lanyard. There is nothing that says "conference attendee" quite like a lanyard.

This past week, as I wandered the hotel hosting our annual clergy conference, I kept an eye out for my fellow lanyards. We moved like schools of fish through the maze of hallways, intermittently veering left or right as our schedules dictated. But all the while, silently attached by our lanyards.

I crafted my very first lanyard while still in the Girl Scouts, weaving long, flat pieces of plastic together until the box-stitch pattern grew long enough to wear. As a teenager, I wore that lanyard while working as a life guard, a silver whistle dangling from its metal claw fastener. So many summer days spent twirling, twirling, twirling....

I have since graduated to my adult lanyard phase, when plastic badges and meal tickets replaced my beloved whistle. But every time I slip a lanyard over my head, I can still smell a hint of zinc oxide.

"A life guard doesn't wait for her ship to come in. She swims to it." - Anonymous

Birds are now using FaceTime. Yes, birds.

While listening to talk radio on my drive to work on Thursday, I heard about a research project developed by Northeastern University designed to alleviate the boredom, loneliness, and lack of something called "species identity," of pet birds.

Isolated from their flock, tame birds are particularly susceptible to such emotional crises. And thus, this unusual experiment was hatched.

Parrots were first trained to ring a bell, summoning a handler carrying an iPad. On the screen, images of various birds appeared. With the tap of a beak, a video call to the chosen fowl was triggered. In an interesting twist, the bird on the other end was given the choice as to whether or not to "answer." With a reciprocal tap, the two birds were connected, free to chat, pose, and preen.

I also learned parrots are neophobic, meaning they are often reluctant to try new things. So while some birds took easily to their new social landscape, others did not.

Sound familiar? Proving, once again, we are all birds of a feather.

"Loneliness is my least favorite thing. I worry about being alone, without anyone to care for or anyone who will care for me." - Anne Hathaway

In 1970, thanks to the vision of a Wisconsin senator, a nationwide demonstration was held calling for more stringent environmental protections. The first ever Earth Day.

Not a day goes by when our newspapers and televisions don't sound the alert regarding the countless ways climate change is wreaking havoc on our globe. If we're not at the tipping point yet, we are frighteningly close.

As a kid, I spent the majority of my time outside. One summer, after pleading endlessly with my Dad, he finally agreed to drive me to the trail made famous by Paul Revere. This 45-mile loop between Concord and Boston's Old North Church has remained largely unchanged since Revere's ride on April 18, 1775.

I walked alone on the shaded dirt path, buoyed by tunafish sandwiches and a small Polaroid camera. It took a number of Saturdays to cover the path in its entirety. But for the first time in my life, I experienced nature through the lens of time. A landscape still unspoiled, I was able to feel our nation's history through the soles of my sneakers.

Prior generations, thankfully, paying it forward.

"The greatest threat to our planet is the belief that someone else will save it." - Robert Swan

I grew up in a house that both revered and weaponized silence.

Half of us were quiet by nature, comfortable without the constant buzz of conversation and unnerved when the pitch of another's voice reached an agitated apex. The others drew energy from boisterous revelry. And when hurt or challenged, responded with more never less.

In 1996, a group of students at the University of Virginia organized a protest now known as the "Day of Silence." Hoping to draw attention to the harassment and bullying experienced by many in the LGBTQ+ community, participants spend the day without voice. This wordless effort "speaks" to the silence so many encounter when targeted. It is a clarion call designed to be deafening.

Today, so many decades later, the "Day of Silence" continues. What will it take, I wonder, for the silence to finally be heard?

"Does not everything depend on our interpretation of the silence around us?" - Lawrence Durrell

True confessions. I’m a bit of a recycling maniac.

I'm not above swiping things out of the kitchen trash that have mistakenly been discarded. I'm perfectly content to wash out even the stickiest of plastic containers in an effort to lessen the landfill. And don't even get me started on drink bottles. My recycling bin runneth over.

As we near the end of Women's History Month, it feels like the right moment to tip my hat to fellow recycling maven Liz Pinfield-Wells. Featured this week in The Washington Post, Pinfield-Wells placed recycling bins at the end of her driveway to collect items refused by her township's curbside pick-up. Over the course of the last four years, two additional tons of material were diverted for reuse. And as if that weren't enough, all of the money she was paid by various recycling centers has been donated to charity.

Here's to you Liz. You've taken the phrase "Mother Earth" to an entirely new level.

"The greatest threat to our planet is the belief that someone else will save it." - Robert Swan

Dead last.

36 of 36 to be exact. My fate in this year's office Academy Awards pool.

Despite loving to go to the movies, I somehow rarely find myself actually in a theater. If it hadn't been for a few recent plane rides, I would have entered the competition not having seen any of the nominees for Best Picture. It's no wonder my batting average is so low.

With little to no experience on which to rely, my ballot choices were both random and sentimental (read here any movie set in Ireland or featuring an Irish actor or theme got my vote...) Perhaps not the most strategic, but a heartfelt effort nonetheless.

So here's to the gowns, the glitz, and the glamour. Here's to Jaime Lee Curtis, arms finally raised in triumph. Here's to Gaga's emotion-packed vocals. Here's to the makers of The Elephant Whisperers, reminding us of the sacredness of our created world. Here's to the jaunty Naatu Naatu, the tenacity of Maya Yeoh, and John Travolta's tearful tribute to former co-star Olivia Newton-John.

Remember, it's an honor just to be nominated...

"Stars are rare creatures and not everyone can be one. But there isn't anyone on earth - not you, not me, not the girl next door - who wouldn't like to be a movie star holding up a golden statuette on Academy Award night." - Sue Mengers

I must have missed the message. Apparently knee socks are back in fashion.

My first pair of knee socks came as part of my Brownie uniform. Monochrome and on the thin side, those socks were the finishing touch of an outfit classic.

As the years went by, countless others followed suit; the argyles I wore underneath my 1970's collection of corduroys, dingy tube socks I donned as part of my gym uniform, and of course, scads of team-colored socks made tight by their shin guard inserts. Thinking back on it, my lower legs barely saw the light of day for the duration of my childhood.

But the tides eventually turned. Socks lost favor with the gods of fashion and bare ankles dominated the new hosiery-free landscape. It was every foot for themselves.

With daylight savings time now on the horizon, it appears the clocks have spun once more, bringing an old fashion favorite back.

Knee socks anyone?

"I am, and ever will be, a white socks, pocket protector, nerdy engineer." - Neil Armstrong

The featured speaker at the conference I attended this week was political commentator, author, activist, and frequent CNN contributor Van Jones.

Of the many offerings listed on the program's schedule, this was the one that held the most appeal for me. His story is a compelling one. Raised in poverty just east of Memphis. A public school kid who didn't speak for much of his time in grade school due to a speech impediment. Both a rebellious teen and self-proclaimed nerd, Jones raced up the educational ladder, eventually receiving his Juris Doctor from Yale Law School. Jones spoke eloquently of the influence his parents had on his trajectory; his mother a high school teacher and his father a middle school principal.

Armed with knowledge and savvy, Jones has made a significant impact on our political landscape, including an unexpected pairing with Jared Kushner to help pass criminal justice reform measures. As he remarked during his speech, "a bird can't fly with only a left wing...."

"Outliers are those who have been given opportunities and who have had the strength and presence of mind to seize them." – Malcolm Gladwell

I don't often find myself inside the four walls of a dance studio. But Tuesday I took a walk on the wild side, lured by a pulsating beat and the chance to experience the highly stylized movements of voguing.

Spins and dips, hand performance, the duckwalk, the catwalk. I lustily breathed it all in.

Voguing requires a sense of swagger and fashion I don't possess. Even more importantly, it demands thighs of steel and youthful knees. Strikes 1, 2, and 3 for this would be dancer.

With roots in the Harlem Renaissance, voguing gained much of its popularity during the 1960's-80's, as drag competitions morphed into "vogue battles," primarily featuring members of black and Latino LGBTQ+ communities.

While I appreciate the athleticism and creativity required by voguing, I am even more grateful for the sense of home and family the "Houses" that host these events provide. A valentine of a different sort during this chocolate and flower-filled month of February.

"Ballroom has something to say to the world, about self-worth, self-expression, gender, sexuality, art, design, performance, healing, and justice." - Twiggy

Big Sky Country. That's what they called it.

Back in my salad days, I spent some time living in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Gazing east, the flat plains of Montana spread out before me, an endless sweep of grass and rutted dirt roads. Squinting into the morning sun, it was difficult to see the horizon. The expanse was so vast it played tricks on the eyes of even the most ardent observer.

This past week I finished reading Dakota, the autobiography of novelist Kathleen Norris. In it she details the impact of countless summers spent on the flat and desolate landscape of South Dakota. The "spiritual geography" of her youth.

Like Norris, the flinty emptiness of the prairie has never left me, still calling to me in haunted whispers.....

"It's a dangerous place, this vast ocean of prairie. Something happens to us here." - Kathleen Norris

The news came via social media. A succinct yet emotional announcement that the greatest quarterback of all time was finally hanging up his cleats.

Love him or hate him, it's hard to argue with the stack of trophies Tom Brady has collected over the course of his fabled career. Sure his longevity played a role in acquiring such a glittering stash. And he didn't do it alone. Only one member of an eleven-player offense, Brady relied on the talents of countless linemen, receivers, running backs, and coaches to hold aloft the Lombardi trophy a record seven times.

Brady held "Father Time" at bay for more years than anyone thought possible. His dedication to fitness, nutrition, and restorative sleep bordered on the obsessive.

But it was his very single-mindedness that allowed me to enjoy watching twenty years of the best to ever play the game.

Thanks Tommy. It was fun while it lasted. #TB12

"I'm retiring....for good." - Tom Brady

In the wee hours of Wednesday morning, I was stirred awake by tremors of an earthquake.

Registering 4.2 on the Richter scale, the rumble's locus was roughly 10 miles off the coast of Malibu, causing much of Southern California to shimmy. It was as if a giant had suddenly shrugged his shoulders.

I was not particularly startled by this modest heaving, an earthen growing pain of sorts. But perhaps creation is sending us a more pointed message. In a week that saw three mass shootings here in "The Golden State," maybe we needed something to literally shake us awake, seemingly deaf to the pain and hatred that surrounds us.

If the sun-kissed beaches of our stunning shoreline are not immune to upheaval, perhaps we are all more fragile than we thought...

"It is the nature of the earth to shift. It is the nature of fragile things to break." - Susan Meissner

The Embrace.

Apparently, not so fast.

This past week a new creation joined the statuary collection of my former hometown. Placed prominently at the top of the Boston Common, "The Embrace" captures the moment when Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., having just learned he had won the Nobel Peace Prize, joyfully flung his arms around his wife Coretta.

The bronze sculpture is decidedly modern in flavor. Indeed the two sets of arms are both headless and without bodies. Their tangled limbs hover above the ground in a perpetual state of euphoria. Perhaps, not surprisingly, not everyone's reaction has been quite so exalted.

Prior to Monday's unveiling, the only official nod to Dr. King's time in Boston was a small plaque that marked his residence at 397 Massachusetts Avenue, a three-story row house deep in the heart of the South End.

Only time will tell if this latest homage will find its way into the hearts and history of the famed "City on a Hill." Only time will tell...

"Art is never finished, only abandoned." - Leonardo da Vinci

This past week I was involved, although admittedly tangentially, in a conversation that pitted the beloved toaster against its upstart and multi-tasking competitor --- the toaster oven.

My favored appliance, the pop-up toaster, was first patented in 1920 after its inventor, Charles Strite, grew frustrated with his cafeteria's penchant for burning the bread. His toast's now perfectly warmed and dually-crisped surface would provide the ideal tableaux for countless smears to follow, including jam, marmite, honey, avocado, lox, Nutella, cream cheese, olive oil, peanut butter, you name it.

But no matter how you slice it, every toaster and toaster oven owes its fame to the real hero of breakfast menus everywhere.

The bread.

"A slice of hot, buttered toast is the perfect meal. It's not too much and not too little, and it gives you just the right buzz." - Naveen Andrews

Earlier this week, I slid into my car's driver's seat for a particularly early departure. The sun had not yet risen. It was dark and surprisingly cold. As I turned the key in the ignition, a single icon began flashing on my dashboard. It was a ... snowflake.

This is a symbol with which I am quite familiar, the signal of a temperature so low that icy roads and snowy conditions are possible. Which is all well and good but --

I LIVE IN LOS ANGELES! Sheesh.

In the mid-1930's, the Hudson Motor Company was the first to include a warning light on its automobile dashboards. These days our car's cockpit is littered with electronic bells and whistles. But all of this gadgetry does little to solve the actual problem.

Paradise? Apparently not.

"Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night, I can see paradise by the dashboard light." - Meat Loaf

Holiday traditions? Here's one for you.

While others are hanging tinsel or wedging chocolate bars into oversized stockings, I am on the prowl for cloves.

For reasons I can't quite remember now, my mother's favorite Christmas preparation involved piercing oranges with cloves. It was all done very methodically of course. The cloves were arranged in tight-knit rows, leaving a small alley of space on the North/South and East/West axis. A strand of sturdy red ribbon was then tied around each piece of citrus, topped off with a loop, and then hung in every closet in the house.

All winter long, this pungent mixture of fragrances would waft out of the darkness holding our coats and gloves. I can still smell it, even now, if only by memory...

"Fair were they also, diffusing the odor of musk as they moved. Like the soft zephyr bringing with it the sent of clove." - Imru' al-Qais

A few days ago I was chatting with a student about a favorite song of hers. It was called "Hey Siri." I didn't recognize the title but she was so effusive I made a point of finding it on YouTube. The catchy melody and animated figures drew me in. But the words. Oh the words...

Hey Siri, what's the meaning of life?

I've been spending all my time

just trying to find

all the answers

to the questions

that you can't look up online.

Hey Siri, could you tell me how to

fix my broken heart?

No one made it stop

I just can't get it to start.

Hey Siri, are you happy?

Do you wish that you could cry?

Are you as lost as me?

Hey Siri, what's the meaning of life?

The ubiquitous presence of cell phones in our lives is touted as the answer to everything; our information portal, our social conduit, even our entertainment. But in the end, our flat screens do just that --- fall flat.

"Hey Siri, what's the meaning of life?" - Salem Ilene

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2OXgMj6NF08