Friendships. The foundation of human interaction. The fusion of two individuals who share with each other secrets, desires, and passions. The term is loosely defined at best, and can never be given a particular set of attributes or requirements in order to qualify as a bona fide friendship. The variations are numerous, and can range from surface conversation to deep neuro-connections and, ultimately, love. In the case of Amir and Hassan in Khalid Hosseni's novel The Kite Runner, the connection between a Pashtun and Hazara is described from both sides, and shows how the perception of a friendship varies from each pole. Hosseni hides and reveals information to the reader until the very end, when we learn that Amir and Hassan connect on a much deeper level than initially implied, as the two boys were born from the same father, and were half-brothers. Many conditions limited how far the socially legitimate half, as stated by Amir upon his realization of his connection to Hassan in reference to himself, could take this relationship, and the death grip of social division prevented Amir, a Pashtun, from even referring to Hassan, a Hazara, as a friend.

In the end, I was a Pashtun and he was a Hazara. I was Sunni and he was Shi'a, and nothing was ever going to change that. Nothing. A fact stated by Amir at the start of the Novel. Despite the fact that Amir and Hassan played together, ate together, and even experienced family events, social prejudiced once again demonstrated that it had the power to influence even the most intimate decisions - even if the effected is a young Afghani child. However, Amir does demonstrate some courage in the face of intense racial diversity as he continued But we were kids, who had learned to crawl together. And no history, ethnicity, society, or religion was going to change that either.. Amir knew that he was socially superior to his servant, but he also recognized his presence as a faithful companion - a release for interaction - normal that he could count on. However, racial separation is racial separation, Amir could never refer to a Hazara as a 'friend'. He would always be a servant to his family - a social inferior. Association to a Hazara could be compared to the adversity a Hispanic would face interacting with an African American in the 1960s.

Hassan's view is written by a different author, however. One who faces direct racial discrimination and has nothing to lose. Hassan's only friend in the world is Amir. The only one who he can talk to consistently and sees on a regular basis. This dependence leads Hassan's interpretation of the friendship in another direction. He demonstrates his faithfulness to Amir on several occasions - the first example being verbal and only one page into the novel. When asked What if I told you to eat dirt by Amir, Hassan's face hardens and he responds resolutely For you, a thousand times over. This quote develops into a recurring theme utilized as an illustration of Hassan's commitment to the friendship. Later in the novel, we are told by Baba I see them. When I look out the window I see them taking Amir's toys. He just takes it. Then Hassan will come and fight them off for him. Not only does this reveal something about Hassan in that he is a very good friend to Amir, but it also foreshadows the true relationship between Amir and Hassan, as Baba shows concern for his two boys, and his fear that the socially legitimate half will develop into a coward.

The turning point in the novel shows the convergence of 3 fronts Amir's need to impress his father, Hassan's need to fulfill his responsibility to Amir as friend and servant, and Baba's need to see his socially legitimate child succeed. This event is the kite flying tournament. As Amir states as narrator He does not appreciate the world of literature, and I can't appreciate the world of soccer, therefore it was very difficult for us to find common ground. The annual kite flying tournament among the boys of the neighborhood was an opportunity for Amir to make his father finally proud of him. Tens of children would gather in the streets and fly their kites, hoping to sever the strings of their competition and bask in the attention of their friends and families. This was Amir's best chance at winning something for his father, and he would not let anything get in the way of that attention, not even the potential of losing his closest companion.

After several hours and most of the day went by, Amir and Hassan's kite was in the final two remaining competitors. The other was a fierce blue kite, who had already claimed more than 10 victims to this point in the competition. Ultimately Amir succeeded, slicing the opposition, and sending the kite whirling into the sky. Hassan immediately fled to run down the kite, so Amir could take the head of his game home to Baba. The eerie melody of for you, a thousand times over seems to reverberate off the pages of the book, as Hassan's loyalty in comparison to Amir's is shown in stark contrast as the sun began to descend in the Afghani sky, and Hassan had yet to return with the kite. Amir finally leaves to hunt down his companion.

Amir finds Hassan cornered in an alley, the same alley he had reflected on at the beginning of the book with his father's friend Rahim Kahn on the phone I have been peeking into that deserted alley for the last twenty-six years. Surrounding Hassan were two thugs and the feared Assef and his two companions. Assef was infamous among the boys in the city for his brutality with his set of brass knuckles, as well as his unbending racial discrimination against Hazaras. Earlier in the book Amir and Hassan were confronted by Assef, who was planning on beating Amir senseless for even socializing with a Hazara Babalu as stated by Assef. Quick to action, Hassan siezed his slingshot and aimed it at Assef's eye saying If you don't leave us alone, they will know you for a new title one eyed Assef. Assef and his thugs backed down, vowing that they would get their revenge in one fashion or another. Now, here in this alley, was the fulfillment of that unholy prophecy.

Hassan stood resolutely between Assef and the blue kite he had just ran down for Amir. Assef casually offered a proposition Today is your lucky day, babalu, because all it's going to take for you to get out of here without a scratch is that blue kite. In an ordinary relationship or friendship, I'm sure most people would sacrifice the kite and returned to the safety of home. Unfortunately for Hassan, he was not in a normal friendship. Amir was Hassan's only friend in the world, and that blue kite acted as a physical representation of his commitment to the friendship. If he gave up the kite, in Hassan's eyes, he was giving up his only friendship.

So instead of submitting to Assef and his cronies, he acted as the sacrificial lamb necessary to tightening the bond between his half-brother and his father. Assef used tactics even more sinister and unholy than his traditional style of beating the hell out of whomever he was intimidating - he anally raped Hassan. And Amir ran away. He turned his back on his closest companion - his half brother - and, whether, he wanted to admit it or not - his friend. After all of the times Hassan had stood up for Amir in the past, all they had been through, Amir could not stand up in the face of injustice and at the very least suffer with his friend. The scars engraved on this day would not recover.

Skipping ahead in the book, we find Amir a college graduate in America, where he had fled to after the invasion of Afghanistan had made the country too dangerous to inhabit. Hassan and he had not talked more than two sentences at a time, and Amir had staged the theft of some of his birthday presents, to make it appear that Hassan had stole them. Amir was incapable of looking Hassan in the eye any longer, and had to push him away. Although Baba responded to this incident with forgiveness Hassan, I forgive you, Ali and Hassan recognized that they could no longer live under that roof. Baba had to watch his son leave. Walk out the door and never return. As Amir stated Then I saw Baba do something I had never seen him do in his life he cried. Amir had, intentionally or not, caused a division between a father and his son. His half-brother and his father. This was a bond that would not be repaired after being severed.

Amir and Baba were living in a shoddy apartment in San Francisco in an area where many Afghans had fled. Baba would shortly contract cancer and die, seeing that his son married a beautiful and faithful woman just before leaving. His wife Soraya and he were finally able to settle down, and Amir was able to begin his career as a professional writer. The pieces were all coming together when the phone rang, and Rahim Kahn's voice came through the receiver. This is where we started the book. Rahim Kahn was dying, and wanted to see Amir before he left. As Rahim Kahn was one of the closest people to Amir, he made that trip to his old country, convinced that There is a way to be good again..

Rahim Kahn instructed Amir upon his arrival that he needs to find a small Hazara child, who was Hassan's son, and save him from the violence which now enveloped Afghanistan. He proceeded to explain how the child, Sohrab, was the son of Hassan, and how Hassan was in fact Amir's half-brother. Amir's search eventually leads him to a soccer game.

At the soccer game, a man in white comes out during halftime to stone a couple to death for committing adultery. This is apparently the man who was currently in custody of Sohrab. Hassan and Amir's friendship was now engrained so deep, that Amir was no longer able to forget the past and move on. He had to rescue the living embodiment of Hassan, and in doing so recover his tainted past.

The two meet, and the man in white immediately recognizes Amir, who in turn realizes that the man in white, a leader of the Taliban, was his old childhood enemy Assef. The realization set in as soon as Assef referred to Hassan's child as a Slant-eyed babalu. Sohrab is presented to them in vibrant clothing, and is made to dance. The reader can infer that terrible things had happened to this boy during his stay with Assef, whether that be rape, or blunt physical attack ,or psychological trauma, or all of these. Amir manages to secure the child, but only after getting beat to a pulp by Assef. In fact, the only way he made it out alive was via Sohrab's crafty use of his slingshot, as he put out Assef's eye with a brass ball. Life would be difficult for Sohrab, Amir, and Soraya, but ultimately Amir was able to put to rest his horrible past, and make things good again among Baba, Hassan, and himself. Friendship always manages to shine through, regardless of how long it may take.

2005 has been an incredible year for robotics, with the iRobot going public and the use of surveillance robots in the War on Terror. Indeed we have seen in 2005 a car drive fully autonomously thru the desert over 200 miles with no driver or remote control in the Famous DARPA Grand Challenge Part II. In 2005 robots assisted in the Pakistan Earthquake to search for survivors and also after Hurricanes Katrina and Rita when there was no way for anyone to get thru. Still we see robotics in that region monitoring lake water quality and assisting in environmental controls.

Will 2006 be a repeat in the robotics industry as these trends continue. Yes, this will be the case but there will be a quickening of the pace. Not only here on Earth but also in another race, that is to say the race for space. Robotics will become the tool of choice for monitoring our Space Assets, Repairs and building of the Lunar Colony. Robots will become smarter using the latest artificial intelligence, thus be much more suited to serve us as a helping hand. Not only at home entertaining our pets and vacuuming the house, mowing the lawn or fetching us a cold one from the fridge, but also assisting us in driving our cars, running our railroads and flying our planes.

Luckily for us we are already bringing up the next generation of robotic scientists to assist us in our robotic future. There are contests going on all over the United States in Grade School, High School and Colleges to build better, more capable and smarter robotic systems. This will help us with new innovations in every human endeavor from healthcare to public safety and to new Worlds as mankind reaches out to boldly go. Think on this.

The familiar whirl of the auto-advancer told me that my 35th frame captured the intricate hand-wrought iron handle I had been focusing on in black and white. It's shape, the circle, was simple yet powerful. It was attached to a gothic door made of dark and weathered wood. The door was interspersed with iron rivets and had two sets of hand-wrought hinges extending around to the outside, each ending in a long and tightly swirling fleur d' leis.

I was peaceful and centered in this cathedral courtyard, but my fingers were stinging and starting to feel numb. The weather report called for morning fog warnings on this gray and cold day. However, behind this gray veil, I saw an inspirational glow, the kind of light that called me to take photographs, the kind of photographs that Sam takes. His words echoed in my head, Bad weather makes for good photographs.

I moved around to the west wing of the cathedral studying the religious inscriptions, looking up toward the high bell towers and the flying buttresses. As I rounded the corner, I noticed an open door that led off into a walkway with a green courtyard beyond. In front of the door was a thick and heavy light fixture, the likes of which are seen in European Castles. I put my camera with its zoom lens over my right shoulder, and climbed up onto the wall that was on the other side of a small patio in front of this scene.

I inched ever closer for the best possible view. For safety, I gripped the top of the stone wall with my left hand. The tips of my shoes held me in place below. This meant that I had to take my 36th picture with my right hand only. I tried my best to steady myself while worrying about the potential headlines of unconscious photographer revived by priest, or pigeon found crushed under photographer. I was careful to keep the light fixture in the upper left of the picture, the doorway in the center, and then the green courtyard with its decorative fountain in the lower right of the picture. Sam's advice reassured me, remember the 'S' curve. Another click and I had captured that one too.

I waited to hear the automatic mechanism rewind all of the pictures that I had taken over the past hour. As small flocks of gray birds swirled overhead, their color matching the stone of the cathedral, I heard only silence from my camera. I still had one more picture to take. Sometimes I get lucky and get to shoot this extra frame, number 37. Perhaps this last one might be the contest winner. It was another reason why I woke up so early.

I turned my black and worn National Geographic ball cap backwards on my head as I sat down on the damp and cold mulch next to a small dogwood tree. I could feel the moisture on the ground soak into my clothing. I looked up to see an extra-long aluminum ladder positioned near my feet and extending skyward. It seemed as if the faithful could climb on it and ascend into Heaven. Sam had said, look for strong diagonals. This angled ladder coupled with the hard edges of the cathedral's blocks of stone extending both horizontally and vertically fit well into his advice.

I was ready to click the last frame, but I decided to lie on the ground instead. Sam had also said, low angle, full impact. I knew that as soon as my back hit the ground, I would need a complete change of clothing. I held my breath as my heart beat rapidly. I captured this last image, not sure if it was centered properly. All at once my camera whined and whirled giving away my position, the frames retreating back into their metal canister. A few surprised tourists glanced over in my direction. As I walked back to my car, it started to rain. The drops stayed in place on my windshield as the sun failed to make its exact presence known. Otherwise, I would have been able to use Sam's last piece of advice, always keep the sun at your back. But, I couldn't tell for the life of me where the light came from, the fog was so heavy.

Sam's father told him that, no matter what profession you pick, you always need to do better than good. It seems that Sam has been doing better than good ever since he took his first picture at age eight. Sam's father was also a photographer and they would often go on father and son outings, sometimes without a camera. Sam's father taught him what Dorothea Lange espoused, the camera teaches people to see without a camera. This was easy for him to say as I kept admiring yet another picture in this Master's of Photography Lecture at the National Geographic Society on November 12th. I was captivated by his rich storytelling, his keen sense of humor and his amazing images.

Sam Abell said that the first picture that mattered to somebody else other than himself was of his father at a train station on a cold and snowy morning in 1960. It won an honorable mention in a Kodak National Photography Contest. That same year, Sam heard Albert Moldvay speak. Albert was a staff photographer for the National Geographic Society. The only thing Sam seemed to remember from the lecture was the Society's apparent irrelevance, but Sam knew that the Society did matter. He knew that, the rainforests matter, the deserts matter, and the poles matter.

The influence of that 1960 National Geographic lecture never left him and he was determined to secure a summer internship with the National Geographic Society upon his graduation from college. Sam's persistence, his outstanding work on his college yearbook, and a part-time photography job for the Rural Electric Administration studying the extreme poverty of eastern Kentucky, landed him a summer internship at the Society in the Summer of 1966.

On his way to Washington, DC, a slight detour to the Museum of Modern Art in New York forever changed his view of the National Geographic. He met with the assistant curator of Photography, Peter Bavel. Sam said that they spoke about photography and it was one of the most seminal conversations in his entire life. Sam was led into a back office where he asked Peter, What do you think of Life Magazine, Look Magazine and National Geographic There was an uncomfortable pause and Peter said, Oh, you want to be one of 'those' photographers. It was if those magazines didn't employ 'real' photographers. In an attempt to steer Sam towards 'real' photography, Peter gave Sam a book called, American Photographs by Walker Evans.

Now, Sam was more determined than ever to prove that being a photographer for the National Geographic Society was more than anyone could imagine. And he had a solid base on which to build his desires. His parents were both teachers and while his mother gave him an appreciation for languages and culture, his father continued to instill in him a sense of place through geography and a continuing instruction in photography. In addition, he was surrounded by his parent's extensive library and a large world map feeding his expanding appetite for knowledge and a desire to see the world.

As more impressive images flashed on the screen, Sam conveyed to everyone in the audience that he always feels a simple eloquence each and every day. Perhaps that is why to this day that he keeps a photographic diary of his life. He carries a personal camera loaded with black and white film at all times. He said that he never wants to lose this way of seeing the world (this beauty), especially since he takes most of his professional pictures in color. For him photography is direct and simple and these themes keep recurring like waves on the shoreline, appearing and then receding, only to reappear again.

This simplicity was put to the test on his first assignment in Newfoundland during 1970. He was a new staff photographer at the Geographic and felt that he was sent there because, 'nothing ever happens.' Perhaps it was a test by Robert Gilka, the only man to ever hire him at the Geographic, to see if Sam could find something simple, yet powerful, in a winter wilderness that seemed to go on forever. Sam slept in his car most days and drove all night to be at the right place and at the right time to capture 'the picture.' On this assignment, he met with Christopher Pratt, now Canada's most famous painter. Pratt chastised the magazine for being too soft on the environment. Since Sam holds the Geographic in such high regard, this criticism bounced off of him like rain on a car windshield.

Once Sam told Pratt that he had purchased one of his paintings, Pratt opened up like a jar of potpourri and showed him his true love of art. In Pratt's studio, Sam was able to 'breathe' the pure art all around him. He held in-depth discussions with Pratt on the subjects of color, shape, light and form, which only added to his understanding of photography. Sam said that in Newfoundland, he learned to think and to see, and he continued to keep his diary of black and white photos. But a constant battle was going on inside of him between color and black and white photography, which one was the more meaningful, truthful and revealing It is a struggle that continues to this day.

After Sam finished his first assignment, he received a cable from Albert Moldvay that read, Good sharp shooting. A tip of the hat. Perhaps it was Sam's confidence that his wife was getting better from a bout with cancer that propelled him to take on one of his last National Geographic assignments with the Executive Editor of the magazine, Robert Poole. They were assigned to the Japanese Imperial Palace and spent the better part of a year there without ever seeing the Emperor, a main part of the story. They saw his footprints, where he might have stood or even what he might have touched, but they kept coming up empty.

Since he had plenty of free time, he went to speak with the Palace Zen Archery Master. Sam said it was impressive to watch the Zen Master hit the target. He was intrigued and asked what the essence of Zen really is With a delightful smile on his face, the Zen Master responded, Don't aim, forget the target and concentrate on form. Forget the target, if the form is correct, then the arrow will find its' target. This is the essence of Zen. As Sam spoke these words, tears began to flow as if the arrow of his conversation found the core meaning of life for me. And isn't this what Sam's father had been teaching him all along, to see without the camera, to concentrate on form, only to be rewarded by incredible photographs.

In the same assignment, he also decided to cover the Master Royal Cormorant Fisherman. This is a man who together with his team catches fresh cormorants, a type of fish, and puts them on a speed train to the Emperor, arriving within hours. Sam befriended the Master and was invited to go fishing. It is entirely possible that no one from outside the Imperial Palace had ever been invited to do something this unique and so closed to the public. Before Sam was ready to step into the boat, the Master was approached by two Imperial Policeman in plain clothes suits looking more like FBI agents than royal dignitaries. They tried to cancel Sam's trip, but a strange thing happened. After a brief conversation, the Imperial Policemen left. When Sam asked the Master why this was so, he said, I told them that I had invited you to fish, and when they said that wasn't possible, I reminded them that I gave you my word. This touched Sam deeply since he operates in much the same fashion, 'by your word and on your honor.'

Sam's simplicity over the year taught him much about Japanese Imperial Life, but still he hadn't seen the main attraction, the Emperor himself. Toward the end of the year and nearly burned out with waiting in his room of rice paper panels and tatami mats, he was told to come at once. He was led to a garden path where the Emperor had just walked in the opposite direction. Sam was intrigued and decided to follow at a safe distance.

Suddenly, the Emperor of Japan appeared out of nowhere right in front of him. The Emperor came closer and said, Mr. Sam Abell is everything all right Sam wishes he could have said, Nothing has been right for the entire year, but he exchanged pleasantries and shook the extended hand of the Emperor. Sam said that if he ever had a single meaningful moment in his life, he would retire. Shaking hands with the Emperor of Japan certainly qualifies! Even though Sam never got a picture of the Emperor, he was able to capture timeless images of the Imperial Palace for the Geographic article, Life Inside the Imperial Palace in 2000.

His timeless images are achieved without filters because he always wants to do straightforward and simple photography. As Sam puts it, It's the what you see is what you get photo without special effects. He feels that if photographers are faithful to photography, they will take the picture, but not force it. He said, Certain things matter every day, the paramount of which is light, but light isn't the most important part. The most important thing is to grow as a photographer.This desire to grow, the feeling that I need to always be better than the day before, inspired me to head back to the cathedral to take four more rolls of color film just as the autumn sun was setting. It had been a brilliant blue day with only a hint of cloud cover in the sky. As the sun began to ride the tops of the apartment buildings across the street, the gray stone of the cathedral took on a pinkish hue that caused the building to leap from its gothic black and white roots to the 21st century in dazzling color. I quickly parked my car before I lost the moment.

I took pictures with angles, I lay on the ground for maximum impact, and I made sure that I had the sun at my back the entire time. The only thing that mattered to me was my creativity and my desire to express the beauty of the cathedral in a unique way. I thought about my form and didn't think of the contest or of the final photographs. I felt settled, and this is the same feeling that Sam said that he felt when he took on an assignment to photograph cyclones. The two times that he tried to capture images of cyclones were the scariest moments of his life. Being in the simultaneous presence of beauty and danger held him in silence and in reverence. He said that the only thing that allowed him to maintain his composure was his desire to take pictures, a trained habit that has settled him ever since he was eight years old. This was the feeling that I had at the cathedral. It was the feeling that I was doing the right thing too by taking pictures. I was in a peaceful place where time stopped.

Sam's latest book is called, The Photographic Life which takes the reader from life, to work, to art. His book has themes of duality, of color as time passes, of truth, fiction and honesty, and in the interest of the life behind things. It is a way to show that the things he took pictures of had a life worth seeing. On the cover of the book, there is an early self-portrait of Sam and his father. His father taught him quite a bit about photography.

Sam has been a National Geographic photographer for 32 years and in that time he must have accumulated hundreds of thousands of images. One year Sam said that he took 25,000 images and the Society only used eight photographs! As I flip through my 136 photographs of the Cathedral with the intention of picking only three, my job of trying to convey simplicity and grandeur doesn't seem that difficult in comparison. However, Sam said that the only unfortunate thing about capturing an image is, when a photograph is published, it gains a life but it loses the life of where it came from.

Sam and his wife are going to be traveling throughout America trying to preserve the life of where American photographs come from in a book called, Re-imaging America. They had originally collaborated on an earlier book called, Seeing Gardens. Sam said his new book will not only be a dedication to his friend, Stephen Ambrose, but it will be a book in response to Peter Banelle from 1967 and to the Walker Evans book American Photographs. It seems that Sam never forgot that original challenge, so he is releasing this book showing what magnificence a simple and honest photographer can create.

Sam ended the lecture with a photograph taken in Newfoundland on his first assignment of a road going off into the distance, perhaps into infinity. He said, what endless options there are out there, the open road, the photographic life. As Sam finished his lecture, I walked out into the hallway, thinking about one of the pieces of advice that Sam mentioned, when you walk toward a situation, the potential is there. Photographs come from contemplation. Photographs sort it out and they have meaning. Even in the gray light, everything can be seen. As I go through my images of the cathedral, preparing my contest entries, I think of this advice. I know that I had been pulled to take pictures of the cathedral. The evening setting sun at the cathedral allowed the potential to be there. I just concentrated on my form and let it happen.

A copy of the book, The Photographic Life was for sale after the lecture and Sam Abell and his co-author, Leah Bendavid-Val, were going to be there to sign the book. At first I didn't want to stay and I motioned to my wife that we ought to be leaving. After taking two steps toward the exit, I turned suddenly and said to my wife, I need to buy his book and get him to sign it. Besides, it is my birthday! I knew I didn't just want to say hello and only get his signature, so I tried to think of something clever to say. The line moved slowly and before I had formed an intelligent response, I was right in front of him. He smiled at me, and his eyes conveyed a calmness and the depth of an artist. I blurted out, which photograph in your book would help make me a better photographer Sam looked over at Leah as he flipped the pages. He said to Leah, well this is my favorite one, right She quickly nodded in agreement.

Sam had turned to page 106 that showed four slides from July 1970 of two fisherman at work in Newfoundland. He wrote, For Mark - Nearby are timeless scenes; may you see them. Sam Abell, November 12, 2002. According to the inscription in the book, they are from Sam's seventeenth roll on his first extended assignment for the Geographic. They are of a father and son fishing team. Sam felt that there was no place for a photographer that day, but the fishermen somehow understood that he was working as hard as they were. Sam said, we were both seeking something. And so am I.

Mark Sincevich works with individuals and organizations to increase their communication power so that they gain a fresh perspective, generate new ideas, sharpen the focus and create more business. He uses a unique photography angle in his creative keynotes, meeting facilitation and powerful presentation skills programs. Mark is the Founder and Chief Perspective Officer of Staash Press, a member of the National Speakers Association and the Executive Director of the Digital Photography Institute. In between assignments, Mark can be found spending time with his family or writing in cafés with character. He can be contacted at 301-654-3010 or httpwww.staashpress.com

The beautiful and mythical South American city of gold sought after for nearly a century by Conquistadors from Pizzaro to Cortez. That name is uniquely apropos for the Club now known as the Eldorado Polo Club. Located in the warm, flat desert of the Coachella Valley it lies between the small cities of La Quinta and Indio, California snuggled against the San Jacinto Mountains. Some call it a tropical paradise. Others an oasis in the desert.

Polo came to America at the turn of the 20th century and the sport a millennia years old took root in America. In the west it first became popular in the San Diego area where it was played on Coronado Island. The desert became a popular destination for many famous Hollywood celebrities and others beginning 20 years earlier when known to only a few that La Quinta had become popular in it's own right.

By the early 1950's Polo in Palm Springs had begun to attract the interest of Polo players from around the country. President Dwight D. Eisenhower, with whom my mother and I had the honor and pleasure of sharing a moment with him and Mrs. Eisenhower in his limousine, truly brought fame and attention to the desert.

The original fields were located much closer to Palm Springs near the location of today's Palm Springs International Airport. Then, because of urban sprawl and rising property values the Club was forced to move and the next stop was Palm Desert and from there to it's third and present location in La Quinta where I visited for the second time. Once again because of the hunger for development and the same rising property values surrounding the Palm Desert location, now the Vintage Club, had happened twice before as is typical for any activity which requires a large amount of land and attracts a lot of people and interest.

The occasion of my visit was the 1986 U.S. Open Polo Tournament hosted by the Prince of Wales, Prince Charles who attended the festivities, played valiantly and hosted a magnificent gala as a tribute to the progress of the Eldorado Polo Club as well as the U.S. Open as he did several times thereafter. More recently Prince Harry, Harry Wales as he's known to his Special Forces comrades in the Royal Maines and third in line to the throne of England, hosted and played in a charity tournament at the Club. The Club plays host to many additional charities not the least of which is the College of the Desert located in Palm Desert for which the Club raises tens of thousands of dollars annually. Perhaps the most well know of these charities is the Barbara Sinatra Skins Polo Game which supports charities for neglected and abused children.

My most recent visit to the polo fields, which incidentally is a mere two hour drive from Los Angeles and a half hour from Palm Springs, was an eye opener. On my first visit to the Club as a child there were only two playing fields and a few players. Now, as the nations winter capital of polo, due significantly to the weather there are twelve fields, ten owned by the Club and two leased from the nearby Empire Polo Club, and during my visit there were twenty-nine teams playing consecutively in three formats, low score, medium and high scoring events with an eclectic groups of players, it's truly a players club, as it was from the beginning and includes all members of the family including children. All in all my recent visit to the California desert reinforced my interest, appreciation and love of the paradise in the desert and I know you will as well whether playing or watching.

Mitchell Sussman has been a television producer for the past twenty five years. In that time he has produced adventure travel programming for such networks as Travel Channel, PBS, Fox Sports Net, Star TV and many others.

Scientists believe that succulents developed millions of years ago, before the continents drifted apart. Hoodia gordinii is a succulent, but it is commonly referred to as a cactus. Nobody knows exactly how long hoodia gordinii existed. It is one of many plants referred to as food for Bush, which means that the San or Bushmen of South Africa met for lunch. The Superior Council of Scientific and Industrial Research of South Africa studied many indigenous species and noted an interesting fact about the hoodia gordonii cactus. When fed to animals lost weight, but not due to any toxic effects can be detected. Natives reported that it is used to treat many common ailments. Most indigenous peoples used the roots and herbs for medicinal purposes. After all, there is no pharmacy.

Most people are interested in the hoodia gordonii cactus for one reason. The Bushmen of South Africa reported that hoodia gordinii or xshoba as it is called by the natives, was used by hunters to stave off hunger and thirst during times when other food was unavailable. They were not trying to lose weight. They did not have weight problems. Anyone who spends most of the day searching for food is not going to be overweight. However, overweight people have clung to the idea that the hoodia gordonii cactus can help you lose those extra kilos.

News reports about hoodia gordinii have made public the possibility that a natural appetite suppressant that does not seem to be a stimulant that has been discovered. Most research has been conducted by a British pharmaceutical company Phytopharm call. Phytopharm is not particularly happy to share their research information at this time, because the supplement industry health is capitalizing on it. While Phytopharm extract, hoodia gordonii cactus is not expected that the version to quit sometime. Many health supplement companies are selling hoodia gordinii dust and seems to be working best. Dr. Joseph Varallo, a member of the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, recently shared their experiences with Desert Burn ®, a health supplement company that sells a tablet of 750 mg of Hoodia gordonii powder, and were quite positive. His full report is available on the Desert Burn ® website.

There is no doubt that hoodia gordinii continue to make headlines. At some point in the future partner Phytopharm and Unilever (maker of Slim Fast products) will release its product or products that contain hoodia gordonii cactus extract. Some health care companies are being investigated for making false statements about the actual content of their products. At least one class action lawsuit that a health supplement company and the company made claims about their product. No reputable company will advise the customer that hoodia gordinii only be responsible for their weight problems. Reasonable diet and regular exercise program are necessary to maintain weight loss. Supplement health claims about hoodia gordonii cactus should never be too good too true. Companies that make such claims should be avoided. If they are honest about making statements effective appetite suppressants, you can not make honest statements about the content of their products. Search CITES certification on websites of companies that rely on the product you're buying is authentic hoodia gordinii.