By Jodi Rae Ingstad 

I suppose a woman I know named Ruth said it best.  “Jodi Rae, you think too much.”  It’s innate in me to defend myself but to that statement there was none.  I think too much.  
I was taking my early evening walk up our long, country driveway.  My Siberian husky dog walks with too much power and pull. The damage done to my arm socket got me to thinking of ways I could more comfortably walk this powerful pulling dog.
I realized that the pain in my arm comes at the point where the dog runs out of leash but keeps running anyway. The dog weighs approximately 75 percent of my own body weight. That equated with the force of his pull has me flying with my feet behind me which sounds comfortable in theory.  In actuality all of the pull is excruciating on my arm socket. It was because I think too much that I came up with “The Happy Dog-Dog Leash.”    
Together Husband and I dreamt it up in an attempt to alleviate the abuse inflicted when walking the dog. We took a 20 foot cable leash and affixed a 12 inch rubber bungee cord to the end. Now when the dog runs and the slack is used up the shock to my arm socket is absorbed in the bungee cord. This makes it more comfortable for me and for my dog.
All of this thinking got me to thinking, “Why don’t I just put my dog through obedience training so he won’t pull in the first place?” Ah well.  The leash is already invented and it works.
Thinking too much can surely conjure up your creative side.  But can it conjure up things even deeper?
Just this week, I was walking up our long, country driveway on my evening walk. I was walking west and towards the horizon with the most awesome, autumn sunset.  On that horizon I could see round hay bales highlighted by the setting sun.
More than that I not only noticed but acknowledged the smell of the autumn air. I was very aware of all the sounds around me. I could hear the dry leaves blowing across the driveway and I could hear a combine across the valley from our hill.  I heard bugs flying and the wind whispering as I walked. The dimension created by the evening light and the long, narrowing driveway in front of me made me think about the very moment I was in.  
I wondered if I would one day remember this exact moment in time. I was aware of my age as I walked and I was aware of my strength. It got me to thinking that I want to remember the steps I take – every one of them.  I want to know my life has purpose if even that purpose is to simply be aware and cognizant of the nature that nurtures me on my walks.
Which got me to thinking about how elderly people must feel? Surely they remember some of the steps they took in their past and how they looked as they took them. They looked young and their legs worked strong as they heard dry leaves blowing in front of them. I wonder if they wondered if some day they’d remember the sight of the horizon in front of them with hay bales glistening in the dusk of the early evening sky? It got me to thinking that maybe they’re wishing for one more chance to hear the leaves blowing and see the sun going down near the horizon of their past life.   
Which got me to thinking?  Could I do more to make someone feel like they matter? The sun goes down and the day will disappear but I will remember you. One day you’ll be the thought on my horizon as I walk up my long, country driveway. Try thinking.  It feels so good!

By Carla Kelly 

Every Friday, Sandy Hansen and I have lunch together in the Viking Room. We always order seafood chowder, a bowl of crackers and a pitcher of water. Over chowder, we try to solve the world’s problems, but haven’t had too much success lately. Maybe we’re not trying hard enough. Maybe the problems are too big.
Topic of conversation on Sept. 26 was the – then – upcoming first presidential debate, after a nail-biting, cliff-hanging week with banks failing, politicians and columnists bloviating and posturing, and the average voter getting more angry by the nanosecond.
It was a harmless question, but I had to ask it: “Sandy, seems like I always end up voting for the candidate I hate the least. When was the last time you voted for a president because you liked him?”
She thought, but couldn’t come up with anyone. Halfway joking, I told her that when I was five, my mother held me up to the ballot and let me ink and stamp a vote for Dwight Eisenhower. I remember that; it might still be my favorite vote. I liked Ike, as millions did, and I still like Ike. He brought us the Interstate Highway system and showed the world what a genial leader looked like. He wasn’t afraid of decisions, and he made some good ones.
My least favorite election happened when we lived in Louisiana, and Edwin Edwards, Cajun ne’er-do-well, and David Duke, Klansman, were running for governor. That’s where I saw my favorite bumper sticker: “Vote for the crook. It matters.”  We voted for the crook, because it did matter, and Duke stayed out of the governor’s mansion in Baton Rouge.
But other than that Eisenhower vote, I can’t really think of a presidential candidate I ever voted for because I really liked him. Sandy couldn’t, either. All this is a sad reflection on our national politics. This time, I’ve changed my mind over and over. My dad was a naval officer, so I have a strong leaning toward John McCain. I know what those decisive guys are like. On the other hand, I like Barack Obama’s cerebral qualities, and his ability to galvanize an audience (i.e. us). After eight years of “nu-cu-ler,” I’m looking forward to a president who might be eligible for a coveted guest membership to Planet Grammaria. (I haven’t informed Sen. Obama of this possible guest membership; I don’t want to get his hopes up.)
I told Sandy I would have happily voted for Theodore Roosevelt because of his commitment to conservation and his Pied Piper kind of personality. Only trouble was, women didn’t have the vote then, so I never would have had the chance. By the same token, I’d have happily voted George Washington to high office; ditto Abraham Lincoln.
Part of my problem with voting for a president is that I have to suspend considerable amazement that anyone in his (or her) right mind would want the job. Ergo, anyone we elect has to be crazy. Just in the small sphere I operate in, it’s awfully hard to please everyone. How could a sane person manage?
My husband had a thankless task once. He accepted a job as director of theatre at Northeast Louisiana University in Monroe, La. It was a small school (around 12,000) with a small theatre department which had been languishing for a while. His mandate was to change things.
What he wasn’t told was the subtext: “Change things, but don’t change anything while you change things.” It was the impossible task and we were very glad to leave Louisiana a few years later.
Change we need: It’s a good slogan, but we really have to believe in it. My son pointed out that after the horrors of Sept. 11, Americans were ready for big changes, big sacrifices. We’ve been there before, and sacrificed for the good of the nation. Trouble was, this time we were told to spend money and live life as usual, while others sacrificed for us.
What a crock that was. There’s a line in a hymn in my church: “Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven.” I believe that. We on the homefront need to deprive ourselves of some comforts, whatever they might be, to create a safer, more equitable world.
I am Carla Kelly, and I approve this message.

By Katie Hajicek
Nutrition Education Agent 

A panel of experts may not be tossing out its plastic water and baby bottles, but many people are because of concerns over the safety of those bottles.
Bisphenol A, a chemical used in manufacturing the bottles, is the cause of that concern. This chemical is produced worldwide primarily to make polycarbonate, which is found in a wide range of consumer products: baby bottles, water bottles, food can linings, toys, dental sealants, medical equipment and digital media (CDs, DVDs). Polycarbonate is a plastic known for its durability, heat resistance and clarity.
Consumers are becoming increasingly concerned that the effects of bisphenol A, also known as BPA, may be harmful to human health, especially pregnant women, fetuses, infants and children. Bisphenol A leaches from products into foods and beverages and may interfere with hormone activity.
Effects of bisphenol A have been studied in rodents. According to a recent article in Reproductive Toxicology, some of the adverse health outcomes associated with this chemical in animals are early puberty, cancer, prostate enlargement and genital malformations.
Most humans in the developed world have been exposed to bisphenol A and this chemical has been found in human fluids and tissues. However, few studies have been done to explore the effects of BPA on human health and more are needed, health experts say.
Recently, a panel the National Toxicology Program’s Center for the Evaluation of Risks to Human Reproduction formed concluded bisphenol A is safe, although the panel did have “some concern” for the risks to fetuses and children. The bottom line is that the research is too limited and scattered to draw conclusions about the health risks of bisphenol A in humans, health experts warn.
The decision to use plastic bottles made of polycarbonate is yours. A product that contains polycarbonate (bisphenol A) is generally clear and rigid and may have a recycling number of 7 on the bottom. Products containing polycarbonate may use the trade names Lexan, Makrolon or Nalgene.
Alternatives are glass or plastic bottles made from polyethylene (PE), polypropylene (PP) or polyethylene terephthalate (PET). The recycling numbers for these types of plastics are 1, 2 or 5.

http://www.ext.nodak.eduSources:
* L.N. Vandenber, R. Hauser, M. Marcus, N. Olea, W.V. Welshons (2007). Human exposure to bisphenol A (BPA). Reproductive Toxicology, 2007, 24; 139-177.
* J. Kaiser. Controversy continues after panel rules on bisphenol A. Science, 2007,317, 884-885.
* Brian Tande, Ph.D., University of North Dakota, Department of Chemical Engineering
* Desiree Tande, interim NDSU Extension nutrition and health specialist

By Joe Bessie

Once a professor is granted tenure, he/she typically receives a promotion in academic rank. There are four academic ranks at a university: Instructor, Assistant Professor, Associate Professor, and Full Professor. Outside of academia, these titles are often not understood. For example, I recently spoke with a faculty member here who noted that when she tells people she is an assistant professor, they often reply, “Oh, really? When will you become a real professor?”  But the academic titles really don’t have to do with a faculty member’s level of responsibility; rather, they signal things about work and status already achieved.
The title instructor almost always implies that the faculty member has not completed a doctorate (such as a Ph.D. or Ed.D.). Most universities require completed doctorates for tenure. At well-funded schools, new positions are usually advertised as “doctorate required at the time of application”—or at least “ABD” (“All But Dissertation,” the final stage before the doctorate is granted).
Smaller universities—or universities, like Valley City State University, whose budgets don’t allow hiring at nationally or even regionally competitive wages—typically hire new faculty members who are ABD or who have completed a master’s degree, with completion of the doctorate required for tenure eligibility.  
The rank of assistant professor does not mean that the faculty member is merely an assistant; rather, it ordinarily signals that the faculty member has a doctorate, but has not yet received tenure. On this point, however, requirements for academic advancement become somewhat more complicated, and differences among universities become more prominent: some universities (like VCSU) place the greatest emphasis on undergraduate teaching and service to the university and community—and at such schools the rank of Assistant Professor might be granted to someone who does not have a completed doctorate. Universities with a stronger research emphasis—like the University of North Dakota or North Dakota State University in our system—almost always require the completed credential for placement at that rank.
The rank of associate professor ordinarily means both that a faculty member has a completed doctorate and has been granted tenure. At universities where faculty members are initially hired as assistant professors, obtaining tenure in the seventh year is usually accompanied by promotion to associate professor (plus a raise—the size of which, again, depends upon the resources of the organization). At a school like VCSU—where faculty are often initially hired as instructors—tenure might be granted to a faculty member who has just completed a doctorate, in which case he or she would be granted the rank of assistant professor, even though he/he is tenured and has a completed credential. Additional teaching, scholarship and service would be required for advancement to associate.
The highest academic rank is that of full professor.  This rank implies that the faculty member has achieved a certain elevated academic status in the judgment of his or her peers deserving of this special recognition. Longevity isn’t enough to gain the rank of full professor. It is typically expected that a faculty member who has achieved this rank has distinguished himself or herself by significant high quality teaching, by service to the university, community involvement, and a substantial amount of original scholarship (such as publications and presentations at professional conferences). Again, the exact requirements differ in emphasis depending upon the type of institution (i.e., teaching-oriented, research-oriented, or somewhere in between).
When I was a professor at the University of Central Oklahoma in the 1990s (a school of over 15,000 students), it was typical to advertise for a new faculty member as follows: “Ph.D. in hand by time of appointment,” or “ABD acceptable, Ph.D. required for tenure.” We would receive fifty to one hundred fifty applications, depending on the discipline.
In North Dakota today, especially at schools like VCSU, it is increasingly difficult to attract faculty members with completed doctorates for junior level positions.  And the cost of hiring junior level faculty members without completed doctorates is rising rapidly, creating significant salary compression.  Grappling with these issues is one of the high-priority items for the North Dakota University System today, including right here in Valley City.

Dr. Joe Bessie is vice president of academic affairs at Valley City State University.