Gold Pattern


November 2011 Writing 

     Cold facts are easy to find. Thousands throng to the Grey Cup Parade. Millions seek Tahrir Square. Seven billion and counting.
     There are numbers everywhere in our environment. Scores are regular mantras, especially now that number 87 has glided onto the ice.  And then there’s the ½ price realm. Or we count how many days till the big one.
     But where does all this numeralia come from? Since we could scratch on cave walls we’ve been keeping track of things and events. But there’s a great leap from a line in the sand to the mathematical equation. I began my search and after a little visit to Google the Great, I found a math man of the millennium.
     For almost 800 years folks have called Fibonacci the "greatest European mathematician of the middle ages." Fibonacci’s full Italian name was Leonardo Pisano, indicating that he was born in Pisa. He called himself Fibonacci which was short for Filius Bonacci, "son of Bonacci", which was his father's name.
     Fibonacci grew up in the North African town of Bugia and travelled around the Mediterranean where he learned the Hindu-Arabic system of arithmetic. He was one of the first to introduce this numbering system into Europe.  Using the base of ten digits, a decimal point and a symbol for zero, it is the same system we use today. His 1202 book on the decimal system, Liber abbaci, details all those rules for adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing.
     Fibonacci was born in 1175 and lived until the 1240's. Today one can see a statue of him at the Leaning Tower end of the cemetery next to the Cathedral in Pisa.  Fibonacci discovered a unique phenomenon. He was trying to solve a theoretical problem about the growth of a rabbit population. He arranged a sequence wherein each number (rabbit) was the sum (offspring) of the previous two. This pattern became the Fibonacci series: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610, 987, 1597, 2584, 4181 and so on. Then he calculated the ratio between the numbers. Since this turned out to be the same answer each time, mathematicians called it the golden ratio. It exists everywhere. For every ¼ turn, a natural spiral widens by a factor of this golden ratio. We can see it in sunflowers, a single cell, a beehive, a grain of wheat or the scales on a pineapple. How about a galaxy? Artists, musicians and philosophers also adhere to the mathematical axiom. Some even claim parallels to the stock market!
     Looking for Fibonacci sequences in nature can refresh a late fall hike. Those brown crinkly ferns waiting for the weight of the snow, the swirls in the sand after storm wave patterns leave their mark or the twists in old cedars as they reach for the light could all fall under the influence of Fibonacci’s find.
     One element that I do know will adhere to the golden ratio is the cone of the spruce, balsam and pine trees. And this year there are THOUSANDS of them. Too many to resist, we’ve been adding them to our basket of seasonal greenery. When they fall from the tree, the cones are sticky and tight. But after a few days they widen into their fragile, spiralled selves. We like to admire their possibilities. Fibonacci’s golden ratio exists in their curly shape but the real glow is in their holiday shine.

   As we move towards this month of lights within the darkness, the alchemy of numbers is tempting. Adding, subtracting, multiplying then dividing is a logical diversion considering how math seems to rule the world. But we’ve got to be careful. There could be traps. Unless you’re listening to “Comfortably Numb”, you don’t want to get caught up by the Numb Brrs. 



Bathtub, Beach and Bocce Balls

     Some people say Lake Superior is a fountain of youth. The lake awakens creativity. The light acknowledges forgotten corners. A walk to the shore makes the world appear fresh.
     Every time our family visits this part of Lake Superior we laugh, make up plays, tell stories, look at the lake and, of course, trek to the beach. One annual pilgrimage is the journey to the Sand River beach which also is the portal to one of Superior’s finest treasure houses—Bathtub Island. I have written about Bathtub Island many times before but, since it renews each year, I must write about it again.
     For our trip there, we load up our bags and packs with blankets, towels, sandwiches and various versions of toys and games. Small purple and yellow plastic pails for building sand castles, a set of bocce balls, big and little Frisbees and a nerf football are part of the paraphernalia which we haul along the sandy pathway down the dunes and along the beach until we get to our chosen spot.      This year the wind was cool, so after dragging over extra logs to sit on, we erected a wind break with blankets draped over driftwood walls. But we needed some ties to attach the blanket to the driftwood. The island gods must have heard us talking because one of us went swimming and discovered a bundle of short blue ropes in the water!
     Once we had our space figured out, each one of us established his/her own way on the beach. Bocce balls clunked together and debate ensued as to whose ball was closest to the bellini. Little fingers dug deep holes in the sand and the fire keeper kept flames going so smoke didn’t fill the eyes of the person who was sitting downwind of the pit. Then the food came out and we tried to keep sand out of the sandwiches. There were races up and down the water’s edge but all the while that glorious place offshore beckoned.
     There is something magical about Bathtub Island as hundreds of people now know. At one time, about 20 years ago, the tiny rock and three treed place felt the feet of few folks. Today streams of pilgrims venture to its shore and become renewed. In the middle of the island is a shallow sandy pool where young children can splash to contentment while adults can dive off the far side into crystal clear freezing water. The day we were there a couple of brave souls swam to the large whale-like rock off the west side of the island, but most ran around to enjoy the expansive view from all sides. And those who couldn’t stand the cold 50 meter wade to the island stayed on the shore and took it all in with a smile and awe.

     The island is a funny place. It reminds you of being on another planet, of being removed from stresses of life and organized leisure. Yet the rocky outcrop is so small and so close to the shore. Perhaps because the island is devoid of colourful plastic (no one takes or needs a toy out there) or maybe it is the challenge of the cold, suck- in- your- stomach walk out there that creates the special feeling. However, there’s one thing with no debate. Bathtub Island is a magnet. Add to that the presence of the children, with their laughter and sheer joy as they make their long run down the beach and the spell is cast. So thanks Kids for making us feel like kids again.