Prairie

A week ago last Wednesday we started to cross the American prairie from Limon, CO. We drove out of the Colorado mountains the evening before. Limon is just a bit too far from Pike's Peak to see the mountain. We had crossed about 75 miles of the treeless great plains before stopping at dark.

From Limon it is almost 100 miles on I-70 to the Kansas border. We pulled into the Kansas welcome center about 9:00 am. The wind off the mountains was so strong it nearly swept us off our feet. Little sand grains got in my eyes and my cap blew off. A genuine tumbleweed got stuck under the driver's door. The rolling land is farmed as far as the eye can see. We collected a bag of brochures about the wonders of Kansas and our free Kansas sunflower seeds and set off again. The wind blew hard all day.

We were resigned to crossing most of Kansas on I-70. The distances are just too great to use the back roads. Three hours of non-stop driving brought us to Hays. This little city of about 20,000 appears to be the business center of northwestern Kansas. Off I-70 strip malls stretch toward the town center for a mile or so. We headed for the downtown in hopes of finding some regional cuisine. I couldn't help but notice the German heritage of the place: street names, brick architecture and a big sign announcing “the German Capital of Kansas.” Main Street downtown was mostly deserted. We pulled up to a department store that has been converted into a number of small shops. Inside the old-fashioned Soda Shop offered a daily special soup, green bean with dumplings. The special sandwich was blue cheese sliders. Just what we needed.

An hour more on I-70 and we were getting pretty tired of the interstate driving. Merry was leafing through the literature we got at the welcome station looking for an alternative. At Wilson we got off and started to follow the “Post Rock” Scenic By-way.

When white settlers arrived on the prairies in the mid-nineteenth century they wanted to put fences around their farms, something that never occurred to indigenous people. The problem with this plan was that there's a lot of space to fence and virtually no trees for fence posts. All of Kansas, however has vast deposits of limestone just under the surface. Some of this stone was found to be quite soft and workable when quarried, but then hardens when exposed to the air. Thus there are now large areas of farmland encircled by wire fences with stone fence posts that have been there for a long time.

Traveling north from Wilson we not only saw thousands of stone fence posts but signs for “The Garden of Eden.” When we turned toward Lucas, we had no idea of what we would find. On a back street of the little town that calls itself the “Grassroots Arts Capital” we found the amazing homestead of civil war veteran, S.P. Dinsmoor. This concrete jungle gym completed in 1907 can't be described in a few words, but take a look at Merry's picture for an idea. www.lucaskansas.com

We decided to head for Manhattan, KS on a back road. KS 18 is an arrow leading from one set of grain elevators to the next, each eight to ten miles off. For many miles out of Lucas we were surprised by occasional large metal creatures along the roadside sculpted from scrap. When these ran out I was ready for some new amusement. Shortly after a county line I noticed that every crossing road was named with single syllable four letter word. “Barn” was the first one I saw. A little later I glimpsed “Deer'” then “Gate.” I mentioned this to Merry and we started to pay attention. “Hail” road was followed by “Iris.” We now surmised that the county had named each road in alphabetical order. We made a game of trying to guess the next road name, then at the letter Y we reached the county line.

We finally pulled into Manhattan bone tired. The wind was still blowing.

Fairly early the next morning we drove to the 3500 acre Konza Prairie Biological Station on the outskirts of Manhattan. http://kpbs.konza.ksu.edu/ This area of Kansas is called the Flint Hills because the limestone contains outcroppings of harder stone that made the area very difficult to plow and which eroded into unique bluff-like hills. The Flint Hills stretch from Nebraska to Oklahoma and contain the largest expanse of unplowed tallgrass prairie. We walked a six mile trail at Konza and saw many unique wildflowers, bison, school kids, a short horned lizard, and prairie birds including a strikingly red summer tanager. We met a woman who helped do a controlled burn of the grass just a few weeks earlier. “That all went up in a whirlwind of fire in four minutes,” she said gesturing at about 200 acres. Already the grass and flowers were six inches high where the prairie had been burned. Standing on a ridge here, surrounded by open prairie, it's easy to imagine what this country looked like 200 or 2000 years ago. Only 4% of the estimated 140 million acres of original prairie survive.

To get a better feel for the Flint Hills and to get some lunch we drove south on a back road to Council Grove. The Santa Fe Trail passed through this archetypal midwestern small town. We had a good lunch at the Hays House on Main Street. Build in 1857 the Hays House doesn't exactly line up with the modern street. When built it was oriented to the Santa Fe Trail.

Twenty miles on south through grasslands, and more grasslands, with virtually no other traffic, we came to the Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve. This is the heart of Chase County, the center of the center of the country, all prairie except for two small towns, immortalized by William Least Heat-Moon's PrairyErth.

There is little wind today. Standing on the prairie the sun and sky totally surrounds us. As dusk approaches small birds appear. The air smells of grass and dust.

Taos Pueblo

I first visited Taos Pueblo in 1971. I was captivated by the feeling of the place and by the people who have roots there. When Merry and I visited last Sunday I expected the passage of 38 years to have effected major changes in the place. I was wrong. There is a new road to serve the modest new casino and a new community office at the entrance to the village. The ancient pueblo buildings are in slightly better condition than I remembered. Otherwise the place seems unchanged.

To reach Taos Pueblo you drive a few miles north of the artsy village of Taos then a few miles back the road that leads to Taos Mountain. Last weekend this road through dusty sage brush was partly lined by blooming sand plum and choke cherry trees nearer the creek banks. A few miles after passing the casino the road comes to the traditional village where all cars are directed to a small dirt parking lot. All visitors pay a $10 fee to enter and an additional $5 fee for a camera. http://www.taospueblo.com/

The entire village is made of adobe, surrounded by an adobe wall. Red Willow Creek cuts through the middle of the village which is arranged around a large packed earth plaza the same color as the buildings. Multiple story ancient buildings lie on both the north and south sides of the creek. These older buildings have been continuously occupied for more than 1000 years. Every year the adobe has been renewed. Numerous small adobe houses are scattered about. Some seem occupied, some not. The west side of the plaza is dominated by a beautiful church. Tours are offered, but we decided to explore on our own. Tourists are pretty much restricted to the immediate area of the plaza, and no climbing to the upper levels of the pueblo is allowed. The doors to about a dozen houses with items to sell are open to visitors, some in the main structures, some in small outlying buildings.

We were attracted to a one room house with a covered porch. This is the house of Kalbatu White Wolff, a jeweler. He has two tables of nicely made necklaces composed of hishi and silver beads. Hishi are small beads of stone, shell or coral. As soon as we approached he began a fast patter of stories about the pueblo and his family history. He invited us into the 10' x 10' house. He told us his grandfather had owned the house, but that it was much older. His grandfather put in the door and a very small window. Before those modern renovations the house could only be entered by ladder through a hole in the roof. A small cone shaped adobe fireplace was fit into the east corner, made by molding adobe around a tree trunk then removing the tree. He told us he inherited the house, but because the deed was lost he had to petition the tribe for a new one. His case was unusual since he claimed ownership not only to the house but the open porch area that normally would be tribal land, as was all unenclosed land. He was lucky. We purchased one of his necklaces. A few new people approached. He started his patter over at the beginning. We walked on.

The day was clear and just starting to heat up. We walked the length of the north building then crossed the spring full creek on a log bridge. There seem to be more detached houses on the south side, arranged around narrow alleys. At the back of one of these alleys a door was open. I glanced in but saw no one. I called out “hello.” A voice behind a curtained door invited us in. This two room house is the shop and studio of Meko Concha, a potter. A few shelves held some bowls and a half dozen small bear sculptures. I was immediately attracted to the bears. He explained his process of finely screening the micaceous clay he works with. I picked up one of the bears. “Is that one speaking to you?” An 8x10 black and white photo on the wall that looked exactly like Mr. Concha turned out to be his grandfather. The three of us talked for a long time about the politics of native culture. Events from the past two hundred years seem totally present to him. He explained that some of the proceeds from the casino were being used to repurchase the 5 miles in every direction, centered on the Pueblo church, that the Spanish granted to his people. They now own about 100,000 acres including Taos Mountain and the entire Red Willow Creek watershed. “Land and water are politics in New Mexico.”

Outside again the day was heating up. We walked past a line of traditional beehive shaped bread ovens called “hornos.” Dogs slowly shifted from one shadowy spot to a cooler one. We crossed the creek again and entered the 1850 churchyard of San Geronomo. Small bouquets of fresh flowers graced each windowsill inside the cool dark church. The altar is crowded with very old wooden statuary called “santos,” the largest of which represents the Virgin Mary. On this day the santos were each carefully wrapped in pink organza, except for the statue of Jesus. On one side of the altar sits an empty casket, also draped in pink. Native american Catholic churches contain these caskets as a reminder of how the Spanish converted them to christian funeral practices. By the altar rail commemorative candles flickered. We sat in a front pew of the empty church to take it all in. Without saying anything to me Merry got up, went to the rail, lit a candle then came back and took my hand with tears in her eyes. I was overcome with grief. The night before I learned that my mother had died. Here on Mother's Day in a church of a religion that I do not follow the reality of the situation crashed on me and I cried.

We sat there in memory a little while. A man from the village came in to replenish the supply of candles. The spell was broken. Outside again the clear light was blinding. We smiled at a tour guide gathering her charges. Taos is timeless in a way you can only know by standing in its plaza. I smiled. I was glad I had returned. The bear now standing on our mantle in St. Louis reminds us of the day.

Jane

Hello from Albuquerque, NM. Yesterday afternoon I rendezvoused with Merry at the airport and now we're sitting at Fred & Mary Upshall's dining room table. Fred's an ALJ here who I met at training last summer. We've been sharing stories about our first year as judges. One odd thing we both noticed was how little our new colleagues seemed to care about our social adjustment to a new city. Had we joined a new law firm we would have been shown around and invited to social events. At ODAR there is almost none of this.

My experience in St. Louis was a little different than Fred's here, because of Jane Lanser.

Every Social Security hearing is electronically recorded. The recording itself is performed by independent contractors called “hearing monitors” who are paid a set amount per hearing. Many of the hearing monitors are retired Social Security clerks who are very familiar with the process. The ALJs have no say in who is scheduled as their monitor, but the cadre is small, so it's easy to become familiar with the unique personalities of every monitor.

I met Jane during my first week at St. Louis ODAR. Jane worked at SSA for many years before retiring and taking up the hearing monitor job. She has a government pension but does the monitor job part-time as a source of “mad money.” Jane has lived a long time in St. Louis. She really, really loves the place and seems determined for me to see it through her eyes.

I have Jane as my monitor about once a week. Every time she's in my court she brings me guidebooks, magazines, flyers, newspaper clippings, handouts, and books that she believed will help me understand all that St. Louis has to offer. If I should happen to express an interest in any particular subject she will search her vast archives and produce relevant material for my review. Her archives are impressive. For example when I was writing the entry on Bevo, Jane showed up with a book on the Busch family and even old newspapers related to the family.

Over time Jane has become my principal guide to all things St. Louis. Jane has informed me in detail on every St. Louis cultural institution. She consistently provides me with insider information on how to get the most out of the many free concerts, Shakespeare in the Park and the free seats at the Muny (a summer outdoor professional theatre in Forest Park). When I was seeking a good restaurant she provided a recent list of the 30 best. One day she brought a magazine article with the 100 things ever St. Louis citizen should see or do. She is an awesome history buff but she loves two things above all else: the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and the Cardinals.

This last Thursday there was an afternoon home game against the Pittsburgh Pirates. The game started at 1:00, my hearings ended at 12:30. Busch Stadium is only four blocks from the hearing office. Jane was my monitor. I immediately knew she was planning to attend the game. She showed up for work in a “Cardinal” red dress with matching red blazer. Each lapel sported an enameled Cardinals pin. She wore earrings shaped like small baseballs with Cardinals in the center. Her tote sported the Cardinals logo done in cross stitch. Her handbag looked like a zippered fuzzy baseball about the size of a basketball. When I left work at about 3:30 the game was just getting out. The Cards won. I spotted Jane, her gray hair hidden under a Cardinals cap, in the celebrating crowd streaming out of the park. Her dress was distinctive, but every fan had their own bright red outfit. Downtown was awash in a sea of red. I waved to Jane across the street.

Jane also reports to me on every Symphony concert. She was particularly enraptured by the recent appearance of Nadia Solerno-Sonenberg. She also introduced us to the fine community orchestra at Webster University in which her daughter-in-law has played for many years.

Thanks to Jane our move has been enriched and we feel more at home.

On another note, I'd like to thank everyone who responded to last week's posting on cognitive surplus. I must have accidently hit on a topic with resonance. To clarify, I did not mean to suggest that TV never be used for entertainment, nor did I mean to suggest that if everyone turned off the TV that there would be a huge increase in Wikipedia entries. Thanks to everyone who wrote back. I plan to do more with that piece when I get the chance.

Now, off on our drive back to St. Louis.

Cognitive surplus

At every Social Security hearing I typically ask the claimant to tell me how he or she spends the majority of their waking hours. The point is to discover what activities the person actually does and match that, if possible, to the objective evidence of their impairments. In the vast majority of cases the person reports they spend anywhere from 6 to 15 hours per day in front of the television. I sometimes ask what shows they watch, but most cannot recall. I follow up by asking if they “do” something else during the day, but most seem too believe watching TV qualifies as doing something. I don't agree.

Since I don't believe that passive, mindless TV viewing constitutes doing anything, I persist in asking about other activities like house cleaning, pets, hobbies and such. Second and third on the list of activities these questions solicit are reading (usually the Bible) and playing on my computer (almost always games). In time spent per day nothing comes close to the time spent before the TV set.

I'm horrified that someone would come to the belief that watching TV constitutes an activity and that it's acceptable to “do” it for hours on hours daily. The sad fact is that even non-disabled people in America watch a lot of TV every day. According to the 2006 Nielson survey the average American watches 4 hours and 35 minutes of television each day.
 99% of all American homes have at least one TV, in fact, only 19% have just one. 50% of American homes have three working televisions or more. In 1975 only 11% had more than three TVs and 57% had only one.

So it's socially acceptable to watch a lot of TV. I'm convinced that many people also use TV as a sort of sedative, essentially a pain medication akin to hypnotism. TV by design distracts people from their everyday existence. For a person with problems, distraction is not only good, but necessary. Don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to entertainment. I know that there are at least a few good shows on TV that provide quality entertainment. What I'm puzzling about here is not the person who turns on the TV with a specific goal, say to watch a sports event or a favorite show.

What would happen, I have to wonder, if people did not have the ability to use TV as a mindless time waster? I assume they would do something else to distract themselves. Some would read, some would find a hobby within their capacity, some go for a walk.

This leads me to the conclusion that TV is actually increasing the amount of physical and mental disability in America. People in general don't enjoy suffering and will do what they can to avoid thinking about their problems and pains. If there were no TV at least some substantial number of people would do something else with their time. I believe at least some percentage of this time would be used productively.

As proof of this assertion I offer Wikipedia. http://www.wikipedia.org/ It has been calculated that the current state of Wikipedia took a collective 100 Million hours to create. No one paid for any of this work or even solicited people to do the work except in the most general way. Yet there it is, a 21^st Century electronic encyclopedia that is actually pretty reliable, created by folks in their spare time.

Some have dubbed this internet phenomenon “cognitive surplus.” The concept is that people as a whole have a lot of time in the day where they are not actively using their minds to do anything remotely productive. For example this weekend Americans will spend 100 Million hours watching TV ads alone. If we all gave up watching just the ads we could create 50 Wikipedias or their equivalent a year.

I admit to being prejudiced in this area. When we moved to St. Louis I completely gave up TV. I don't miss it much. I admit my use of the internet has increased for things like checking the weather and to watch selected parts of the Daily Show. Even when I do have the chance to watch, I generally choose not to do so. Recently we did retrieve our TV from Syracuse, but only so we could watch movies.

So join me and kill your TV, or at least strangle it a little.

http://www.tvturnoff.org/ and http://www.turnoffyourtv.com/

Metro

We recently discovered that Merry's much beloved Subaru station wagon, the workhorse of our fleet, had a fatal leak in the head gasket. Repair cost would exceed the residual value of the car. Since moving to St. Louis we have rarely used both cars at the same time because I regularly take public transportation to work. We decided we would reduce the fleet to one and donate the Subaru to the local NPR station. They picked it up last Thursday.

Last Saturday Merry departed for her river trip down the mighty Colorado through the Grand Canyon. Logistics required she drive out. Merry's trip will take about three weeks. This left me without a car for the first extended period in my adult life. The situation has forced me to reflect on just how dependent I am on having a car at my disposal at all times.

In preparation I stocked up at the grocery store. I knew I could get to a near by supermarket by bus, but I wanted to avoid hauling heavy groceries on the bus if possible. Therefore I laid in a three week supply of dog food, canned goods, juice, spaghetti sauce and so on. I have adequate supplies to cook supper every night for myself and Merry also filled the freezer with several goodies – her famous macs & cheese, salmon loaf, chili. I have the choice of several good restaurants I can walk to if I want something fancier. I am set.

But what if we didn't have a car at all, could we get along? The answer to that question depends entirely on whether there is good, reliable public transportation.

At the beginning of this month St. Louis drastically reduced its public transportation system. Back in November there was a ballot item in St. Louis county encompassing the city's suburban area in Missouri that would have raised the county transit subsidy by a few cents per person. The timing was bad. Voters rejected the item, refusing to pay even a small amount in new taxes during a recession. The management of the transit system clearly believed that a small tax increase would pass without a problem so they did virtually nothing to sell the idea or plan for what would happen if the tax increase failed.

The regional transit system here consists of four parts: city buses, express buses from the suburbs, call-a-ride for disabled and the “MetroLink” light rail. MetroLink is a single long line stretching from Scott Air Force Base far out in Illinois on the eastern end through downtown to Lambert Airport well west of the city with a spur line to the near southwest suburbs. It runs pretty frequently and is on time almost all the time. It's dependable and quite easy to use, once you get to a station. The express buses connect further out communities to MetroLink stations and also directly to downtown. Metro has a contract with the Illinois county adjoining the city to provide express bus service, but no similar contract with St. Louis county in Missouri, the transit tax is supposed to cover that.

After the voters in St. Louis county rejected the transit tax increase, the whole thing unraveled. Metro officials announced that they would suspend all express bus service to St. Louis county, forcing thousands of those folks to drive to work. They also reduced the frequency of all city buses by one half. Every other bus driver was laid off as well as all express bus drivers, more that 500 in all. All bus routes within the central city were completely discontinued, meaning all downtown commuters like me would have to transfer to the MetroLink somewhere on the journey. Call-a-ride service was also reduced. The only services left intact are MetroLink light rail and the contract express buses from Illinois. For me the change adds ten minutes to my daily commute in both directions. For many others it's made commuting by public transit simply impossible or so onerous that they chose to drive instead.

Merry & I contacted numerous public officials quite awhile back to voice our concern over this turn of events. We received exactly two responses. One was from Russ Carnahan, our Democratic Congressman, who assured us he shared our concern and was doing all he could to help. The other was from W. Todd Akins, a Republican Congressman from a wealthy part of St. Louis county, who suggested that private enterprise would be the best way to solve the problem. Huh? I very much doubt Akins has ever felt the need to use public transportation. Since the meltdown the Missouri state legislature considered a supplemental appropriation but now has taken it off the table. No one appears to know what to do or where to get the money.

People simply won't think about a life without cars until they don't have one. Despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary we all assume we will always use personal automobiles. We assume we will always have the gas to run our cars. We assume gas will always be available and affordable. We neglect thinking about alternatives until it's late in the game. There's never any problem getting massive public money for highways, but public transit is always viewed as a mostly unnecessary frill. The reality is that we need to be dramatically expanding public transportation now. Instead, we go on blindly letting it shrink.

Human beings generally do a lousy job of planning for the future.

Dwarfs

I never seriously considered dwarfs until I heard a case this week involving a 25-year-old African-American homeless man who is 4 feet 2 inches tall. In childhood he had operations on both legs to straighten them. The operations made it easier for him to walk, but left him with chronic leg pain and swelling. He has a high school diploma with an IQ of about 75. My job was to decide if he is employable.

The medical definition of dwarfism is a person of short stature with an adult height of less than 4 feet 10 inches (147 cm). Dwarfism is fairly rare occurring in about 1 in 10,000 births. While there are many causes of dwarfism, about 70% are the result of a genetic disorder called achondroplasia which results in limbs that are disproportionally short compared to the trunk. These people often also have a larger head with a large prominent forehead.

Like most people I first encountered dwarfism in literature. The use of the term "dwarf" was popularized by the Brothers Grimm in their fairy tale Little Snow White (1812), but had been used much earlier by Jonathan Swift in Gulliver's Travels (1726). I remember reading these and many later literary examples where dwarfs play a leading role including The Tin-Drum and A Prayer for Owen Meany. The term “midget” came into use after Harriet Beecher Stowe used it in her novels in the mid-1800, but the term is now generally considered offensive because of it's link to use of dwarfs in freak shows. Midget is still sometimes used by some to refer to a person of very short stature whose body parts are proportional.

The accepted plural of "dwarf" is "dwarfs", while "dwarves" is usually reserved for mythical creatures. Although the term “dwarf” is widely used and generally accepted, some advocates object to the term because of its mythical and fairy tale origins and argue that “little person” or “person of short stature” is more appropriate. The largest national advocacy group is called “Little People of America, Inc.” http://www.lpaonline.org/mc/page.do

Most of the dwarfs I've ever seen have been in movies: The Wizard of Oz, of course, but also Time Bandits, Willie Wonka, and ET where a dwarf in costume played the title role. Warwick Davis, a popular actor with dwarfism, plays Prof. Flitwick in the Harry Potter films. I've used photos of him to illustrate this story.

How was I to decide whether the little person scheduled to appear in my court was employable? First, I looked at the law. I found the Social Security Law and Regulations contain no specific reference to dwarfism except for a rule that told me I was prohibited from considering “body habitus” in reaching a decision. I initially concluded, therefore, that I had to assume body size is irrelevant and I needed to ignore it as much as possible. Accordingly, I arranged for a vocational expert to be present at the hearing as I would with anyone under the age of 50. My plan was to get a list of functional limits, then ask the vocational expert if such a person is employable and see what would happen.

As chance would have it, just after I prepared for this case Merry & I took a jaunt across the river to southern Illinois to see spring wild flowers on the Trillium Trail at Giant City State Park just south of Carbondale. The day was perfect and our timing was impeccable. We saw dozens of varieties of blooming wild flowers, many of them new to us. The setting in and among towering sandstone cliffs was worth the trip in itself. To find the trail we first stopped at the park visitor's center. I went to get a map while Merry headed to the restroom. The information clerk turned out to be a surly dwarf; a dwarf with a regular job. I was struck hard by the irony of a dwarf giving out information about Giant City.

I heard the case on Monday. The claimant was sharply dressed in a black tee shirt, black jeans, white shoes and a black ball cap with wrap-around shades pushed onto the brim. He was smaller than I expected with extremely shortened arms that did not reach above his head. He had not done too badly in high school but had to drop out of technical college because he couldn't master the necessary math. He tried to work as a bookstore clerk but the walking was too much for him. As we talked I started to get a detailed impression of all the accommodations necessary not only for work but just for everyday life. He was even unable to sit in the witness chair because it was too large, so he had to stand. He said he couldn't reach to stop cord on the bus, so he always needed to sit near the driver. All his clothing and especially his shoes had to be custom made or altered.

In the end I asked the vocational expert whether he was employable. The VE noted that were it not for the multiple accommodations needed, he was. I asked him to tell me realistically whether this person could be successfully placed in a job and he said it would be a challenge. The only hope would be if the person acquired a specialized skill or talent. I actually asked the vocational expert about a park information clerk job, but he said that job generally requires a college education.

I decided a person of abnormally small stature who requires multiple accommodations and special equipment with a high school education and with legs that did not allow standing or walking for more than a hour at a time is disabled.

As I reflect on this experience I have a new appreciation of all the dwarfs in show business who have turned their size into an asset. People are fascinated by difference. We stare and point. We laugh. I still can't stop smiling at the irony of the dwarf clerk at Giant City. In my opinion this cruel fascination can't be avoided. Like other prejudices, it can be blunted by coming to realize just what people need to do to live their everyday lives.

Everest Cafe

Wednesday evening we wandered up and down Manchester Ave. in an area of St. Louis known as “The Grove” seeking the Everest Cafe and Bar. The sun was in our eyes westbound so it was hard to read the signs on storefronts. This five block long area is in the midst of redevelopment. Most storefronts are still vacant but here and there a business, office, nice restaurant or bar has sprung up. I had foolishly neglected to write down the address.

I was attracted by the claim the Everest Cafe serves “quality authentic Nepalese, Indian & Koren cuisine.” More curious is the following teaser from the restaurant web site, http://everestcafeandbar.com/index.html:

“Now open Sundays! Come and enjoy our fresh heart healthy nutritious lunch buffet and receive free screenings for blood pressure, cholesterol, and blood sugar levels conducted by our Executive Chef/Owner, Dr. Devi States, MSW, MPH, DHSc.”

I found it difficult to believe that the owner would actually conduct health screenings during the Sunday lunch buffet, but who knows? It was equally difficult to believe the chef/owner would hold a doctorate in public health and two other advanced degrees. Their web site offers this thumbnail history:

“Our Chef/Owner, Devi Gurung States grew up in an economically depressed and deprived area of Nepal (Manang, Tilche Village). After both his parents became deceased, he moved to Kathmandu for a dream of better life. In Kathmandu, Devi became homeless, because he was too young and could not find a job. After spending several months in the street of Kathmandu, he finally found a job at the KC restaurant.

Devi’s dream of owning a restaurant started at the age of sixteen while working at the KC restaurant as a dishwasher and bus boy. He met his dear father, Dr. James H. States, M.D., at the KC restaurant, who brought him to the United States following his successful ascent of Mt. Everest in 1983.”

Now that really got my attention.

We turned the car around having completed a traverse of the relevant area of Manchester Ave. without success. Heading east now, the setting sun at our backs, we were about to abandon the search when we spotted the discrete sign and fluttering prayer flags on a building right across the street from the Atomic Cowboy Bar. Bingo.

We were warmly welcomed by a smiling asian woman I correctly assumed to be Connie States, wife of the chef/owner. The restaurant consists of two rooms, a bar in the front room. Prayer flags hang around the door and surround all walls. Tanka paintings, photos of the Dali Lama and various Buddhas are everywhere. The windows even have beaded curtains with the image of the Buddha. Near where we sat in the second room was a small buddhist alter topped with a drawing of the Dali Lama over an image of Llasa backed by a rainbow.

The restaurant was modestly busy for a week night. One table seemed to be young Indian men. Another near us had an older professional caucasian couple with a young man who looked Tibetan. After a few minutes Dr. Devi himself took our order. He suggested we try two Nepalese dishes. I ordered a complete meal of chicken cooked in authentic Nepal-style sauce called Tarkari Ra Saag, lentil soup, vegetables and very spicy pickled vegetables with lotus root called mango achars. Merry ordered Everest Sizzling Shrimp Tarkari.

The food took a while to arrive. I assume this was because each dish was being prepared individually. The atmosphere was so peaceful we really didn't mind the wait. I noticed white silk scarfs draped over the alter and a Tanka. I asked Connie States whether these were the traditional scarves received from the Dali Lama and she said they were. Seventeen years ago her husband served as guide and driver for the Dali Lama when he visited Tibetan refugees in St. Louis. She thought he got them then.

The food arrived. Mine was a single large round silver dish with small vegetable items including soup, pickles, chick peas, spiced spinach and the chicken around a central mound of basmanti rice. Merry's dish turned out to be quite a few spiced shrimp grilled with onions, bell peppers, lemons and tomatoes served on sizzling hot plate with a side of daal (lentil) soup. Every bite was delicious. The spices are similar to northern Indian food, but subtly different.

Everything is reasonably priced. Our two full dinners with drinks totaled a little over $30; quite a bargain.

We exchanged a traditional Himalayan bow with Dr. Devi States as we left. He showed us a picture of himself getting a white scarf from the Dali Lama. We told him a little about our hearing the Dali Lama speak in Ithaca, NY last year. We promised to come back.

In an attempt to learn a bit more about Devi States I did a internet search for James States, his adoptive father, physician and world-class mountain climber. It appears he still has a practice in adolescent medicine in Washington state. I also found he was a star swimmer for Bucknell University, graduating three years before me. I didn't meet him there. Small world, though.