Utopia Planitia

Blog

  • Using My Whole Disc Golf Bag

    I played disc golf in Dallas/Fort Worth for nearly 20 years and became very good at using my whole bag. I used drivers, fairway drivers, midrange discs, and putters all across the state of Texas. My home courses here in Oxford—Hueston Woods and Miami University—don’t force me to use my full repertoire. I can pretty much play those courses with a TL3, Teebird, Roc, Mako3, and a putter.

    Today, I played Mt. Airy with a good friend, and using almost every disc in my bag was so refreshing. Only the Eagle stayed in my bag. Reaching for a Wraith or using my new It to shape shots was fun. I’ll be back for sure!

  • Here’s to My Health

    ‘Just a quick reflection on health.

    I went to my doctor for a yearly checkup today, and everything was better than last year. All the bloodwork that needed to go up went up. All the bloodwork that went down went down.

    Diet and exercise work. Now, I need to keep it rolling!

  • Deadpool & Wolverine: Besties

    My son and I saw Deadpool & Wolverine last night, and it was a riot. But the best part was knowing how Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman are friends off-screen. The chemistry showed. The whole time I watched it, I could imagine how much fun they had making the film together.

  • Starting August

    August.

    I worked in the design field for about fifteen years before becoming a professor; during that time, August was just another month. Yes, it was a hotter month, but just another month. Now, August is the end of summer, and I have a flexible schedule. It marks the beginning of meetings, classes, and structure. Now hear me out; I am not complaining about August—my work is rewarding! But I will miss the summer days when nothing was scheduled except writing my book, reading current research articles, building a website network, or sometimes, watching mountain meadows.

    August makes me thankful for June and July. There it is—August is gratitude month! I think I’m onto something!

  • Dementia Note: Loving with Humor

    I’m at our Utah cabin now, and there is no wireless signal, so I’m typing this at the dining table and will post when I get down the mountain. The lake in front of our cabin is dotted with duck families, pocked with fish plucking flies from the water’s surface, and on the horizon, the top of the mountain at 11,000+ feet. Our other family left yesterday, so now it’s only Amy, Isaac, Hazel, and me. We have the place to ourselves.

    My father-in-law is living with dementia, and that means over the last week, in some small way, I have lived with it, too. Working with researchers at Scripps Gerontology Center has taught me much about aging and dementia. One of my most profound takeaways is the importance of patience and a sense of humor. I practiced both the best I could during my father-in-law’s time here. 

    My father-in-law sometimes did not know who I was during his visit. Sometimes, he did not know where he was (even though he helped construct this cabin that sleeps 13 and has four stories). But every morning, I was usually up early and had coffee ready, so he and I could have a cup and chat about anything from his love of flying to the sheep grazing on the meadows in front of us. We laughed at nonsensical things. He shared stories I’d heard many times, but I cherished hearing him tell them again. I adapted when he was worried about what tasks he had to complete next—all his life, he has been a productive and brilliant attorney and enjoys fixing things.

    When he asked me things multiple times, I answered as if it was the first time. I never showed frustration when he repeated himself or could not remember. I joked with him, and we laughed. Last week at Bryce Canyon National Park, he stood confused, looking at people filling up their water bottles at a water station. I walked up to him, and he said

    ”I have no idea who those people are.”

    And I answered,

    ”I don’t know them either!”

    Then, I invited him to come with me, and our family loaded into cars to travel to the next stop in the park.

    If I ever have dementia or live long enough to experience cognitive decline, I hope folks around me are patient and will laugh with me.

  • A Meow Wolf Field Trip

    Yesterday, I took my kids and nephews from my wife’s family to Meow Wolf: Omega Mart in Las Vegas for a little civilization break after living off the grid at the cabin for almost a week. Meow Wolf always has the same effect on me—it makes me want to create. We spent three hours working together, climbing, discovering, and deciphering the mysteries of Omega Mart. Everyone was blown away. I experienced Omega Mart once before—in 2023 with students in Miami University’s MFA in Experience Design—so I knew what to expect. However, experiencing it with my kids and nephews made the experience new because I got to see it through their eyes.

    My oldest nephew in the group had a flight back to Fort Worth at the end of the day, which is the real reason why we needed to make the trip to Vegas. But I decided to make it a fun field trip for all who wanted an escape to reality below the mountain. My favorite takeaway from the trip is a group text I created with the five of us. It came out of necessity—Omega Mart is huge, and finding your people is no easy task. But the group text messages continue. Even after our excursion, someone will post a discovery or note to the group. I cherish that connection with all of them.

  • Regrouping and Renewal

    We leave for Utah tomorrow. My wife’s family built a cabin there in the mid-1970s, and we try to get back there once a year. I haven’t been since 2022 and am looking forward to the retreat. The cabin has no cell signal and no Wi-Fi, but it has a full connection with nature at a 10,000-foot elevation. While everyone below will be sweltering in 100-degree heat, it will be in the 60s on the mountain.

    It’s one of my favorite places in the universe. I regroup there. I write in my journal, take in the silence, ponder reality, and take stock of who I am and what I need to change about myself. It seems that every time I leave the cabin, my phone has fewer apps, my journal pages are filled with ideas, and I have a renewed commitment to healthier attitudes. Retreats do that—they reset parts of our lives and change others. I’m ready for the refurbishment.

  • Patriotism Is Getting More Complicated

    What a strange Independence Day. When I was a kid, my room featured three bold, 7-inch tall red, white, and blue stripes that encircled the room, only broken by my name, “Dennis,” in some kind of italic, bold typeface (I need to look up what that was!). I loved the United States. I loved being a citizen. I wept at the American Adventure at EPCOT Center and was a proud Boy Scout, ready to serve fellow Americans and anyone in need. I had such hope in democracy and freedom for all people.

    Today, my “all” people includes even more people than when I was seven. I’m concerned, though, that not all people are listening to all the other people. People with different ideologies and positions too often refuse to listen to others—to consider different viewpoints and respect others even though they disagree. I still believe in the hope of our country, but I don’t think it can last if we keep calling one another names, blaming each other, and refusing to listen. Rhetoric like “fight for America” requires an enemy. To fight, you must have someone or something to fight against. In today’s social climate, opposition, not collaboration, is the default.

    I love(d?) the United States because it is a partnership of states that symbolizes working together despite our differences. We’ll all look up at the same fireworks tonight. I wish we could look at one another as co-builders of a place where everyone is free and has what they need. I’m working toward that goal. I hope you will, too.

  • 49, And I Still Haven’t Figured Work Out

    I turned 49 years old today—one event in a packed week in which I facilitated a reading group, gave a talk for UX Akron, participated in a grant review, and am oh-so-close to finishing work on the Design Workbench website network rebuild. All these activities make me feel simultaneously grateful and concerned. Am I doing too much? Am I neglecting relationships? Am I overworking and neglecting crucial rest that, if ignored, can cause some serious health problems?

    Yes.

    Am I energized by building things, writing, and learning new concepts that remind me why living is so rewarding? Am I humbled that folks are interested in the work I am doing? Do I look forward to reading more, making connections, and working to help others have more useful, usable, desirable, and memorable experiences?

    Yes.

    Growing older is a strange thing.

  • The Next Game is Not Guaranteed

    “…if needed.”

    It’s another softball weekend—my daughter plays on a travel team, and we just finished a full day of games. Tournament weekend usually follows the format where the first day is pool play—when teams play to establish where they will be placed in bracket play—and bracket play, where if you win, you continue. If you lose, you’re out (in a single elimination format).

    The bracket format of “win and see when we play next” means I enter all possible times my daughter’s team will play next if they win into our digital calendar. I added a lot of “Game if needed” entries to the calendar.

    There’s something profound about “…if needed.” I mean, isn’t most of living “…if needed”? Things happen—a car breaks down, a wedding, food poisoning, good news about a raise, finding peace about a health diagnosis, and everything after these events is “…if needed.”

    It seems the takeaway here is, don’t plan on all of the “…if needed’s” happening. There’s no guarantee. Play the game you’re in right now. Field the grounder, make the throw, celebrate the stolen base. The “…if needed’s” will be waiting when you get there.

    That is, if you get there.