We found Teddy in the oven

Cat-proofing: It's a major effort in this household. Teddy, who is now between 9 and 10 months old, has grown into a sometime holy terror of teenage-ness. He loves attention of any kind, typical adolescent that he is, whether it's positive or negative. The evidence suggests he doesn't cut up much when no one is watching, but when there's a witness, well, look out!

My electric oven has a fan that continues to run after then oven is turned off, presumably to cool it faster. Since the noise of the fan is annoying, I often leave the door ajar to speed the temperature drop. It has a stop at about 35 or 40o, and fortunately, when the door is open the light inside is on. The other night, about an hour after dinner, KLK called me frantically to the kitchen. There, resting happily on the top rack of the oven, was Teddy. When we yanked him out, our hearts in our throats, he was nice and toasty and quite puzzled as to what all the fuss was about. [I did not want to wait the 25 seconds it would have taken to grab the camera. Teddy's ability to get himself into potentially fatal situations is beyond my limited human imagination.  I was very upset.]

Ever since Winston was this age, we've kept the toilet lids down. That's because little Winston so much loved to play in the toilet that he would squeeze himself between the seat and the closed lid so he could reach inside to splash. After a few years we could leave the telephone books off the toilet lids because he finally learned not to even try to lift the weighted lid. We've not abandoned the habit of putting the lids down on the toilets in both bathrooms (his and ours) however, and it's a good thing, because Teddy likes to drop his toys into water too.

Now, you may notice something else a little odd about the bathroom view above. Yes, the tissue box is upside down. That's because it's so much fun to extend your claws into it and dig up the nice, soft, shreddy tissues!

Batting the mini-blind cords is also extremely entertaining. At all windows but one, we've installed, at great price, very nice cord cleats. Of course they're a pain in the buttinsky because the cords are so long (my windows are very tall) that every time I want to lift or lower the blinds it's long, winding chore...

Apparently, used q-tips are temptingly reminiscent of mice and other furry little prey. So to keep Teddy from helping himself in the bathroom waste can, I had to invest in this nice stainless steel lidded version: 

Note that the toilet paper roll above the can is intact. Be assured, that's just a fluke. He has noticed the appeal of the spinning, rocking paper, but for whatever reason, hasn't pursued pulling it all off the roller. Ssssshhhhhh! Don't even suggest it!
But what he does like is clawing certain upholstered furniture pieces. I have heard from several sources that cats don't like to get their paws sticky, so I invested in wide, double-sided tape sold for the express purpose of cat repulsion (note, by the way, what the model cat is doing in the catalog listing of the sticky tape. See how discouraged from clawing the furniture he is?). You will note that, a) there's at least one claw-dislodged thread sticking up over the sticky tape, and b) the tape has been slightly lifted off the fabric. That's because, it turns out, it's fun to chew!

 

And finally, there's my wonderful, reliable clock-radio with all the buttons on the top. Can you guess why it lives in a cage these days? Suffice it to say, if an 8 lb cat sits on the volume button for a minute or two, then steps on the on button in the middle of the night...and it really happened, more than once. 

Boys and their big toys

I took this quick photo of an impressively fast-moving snowplow through the windshield of my car when in Yellowstone this winter. I liked the sunlight on the snow-laden trees and the contrast of the big-mouthed yellow machinery against the white snow. It's been posted on my Flickr site in a set called Yellowstone, Winter 2010 where it's sat, more or less unnoticed, until suddenly today, when I got the two "invites" comments above, one from someone known as PublicServiceEquipmentFan, to add the photo to a group called SnowPlows and Snow Removal Equipment, and another from zamboni-man to join the Snow Plows group! Click on any of the links to see what makes some people so happy. I was truly flattered, and humored, to be asked to add my snowplow photo to what I suspect are overwhelmingly boys' (mens') clubs .  And who knows what further fame and fortune it might lead me to?

Help me out here

Am I the only one who had to look at this two or three times to get it? Does that make it good, or bad advertising?

I must be too old to know what A Bare-Knuckled Bucket of Does is. I read it, A Bare-Knuckled Bucket of Doze. Female deer. 

I think it's supposed to be Does, as in Duz, and perhaps the hint is that it is more nimble and useful than an I-phone. Or something. I dunno.

Life in the City That Works. Or maybe not.

A couple of weeks ago I took my VW Jetta (born in 2003, but with fewer than 26,000 miles on it still) to the dealer for a oil change. For only $100 more than the cost of an oil change, the service rep pointed out, I could have my "34,000 mile check-up" and since that timely offering included checking transmission fluid (mine's a stick) I said, yeah, okay, what's another hundred bucks..."

So along with topping off the fluids, they pulled off my tires (new less than a month ago) to check the brakes, and lo! I got the news that BOTH FRONT STRUT MOUNTS/BEARINGS COLLAPSED (in capital letters, just like that, on my service statement).

So why would that happen in such a low-mileage car, you ask?

Check out these photos of the street where my office is, for example. Chicago, the City That Works, the City of Big Shoulders. No, wait, that would be, City of Potholes on a scale that would trip Godzilla. In fact I almost always ride the bus. Along this stretch (60th Street, as it happens) the ride is like something you would otherwise pay a lot of money for at Disney World.

 

Spying on the Past, from the Future

The 2010, and every, decennial census is extremely important. Period. Apparently, some people are tempted––or even compelled––to ignore it as a little act of rebellion against what, Authority? Government Intrusiveness? But heavens, if you got the standard form, as I did, please enlighten me as to what information is being requested of you that is not already readily accessible to the government, and a whole lot of other people. Every year you give more intimate information to the government in your tax return than you will in the 2010 census. The fact is, at least in the context of the census, the government has little interest in its citizens as individuals, given that there are approximately 308,910,559 of us as of this writing. Yet every individual has to be accounted for, and the only way for the ever-changing data to be usable is to collect them as a “snapshot in time,” in this case, between March and the beginning of April, 2010.

Commonly made, and valid, civic arguments to encourage participation include things you may not personally care about: accurate populations counts are necessary to determine the number of delegates to the House of Representatives; the number and ages of children in a household help local governments anticipate what school resources will be needed in years to come; the age structure of a population in any given locale allows projections for allocating services for seniors, for instance. How about roads and access? That may not matter much to you either.

But there are other good reasons to answer the census. Academic researchers, such as demographers, sociologists, historians and economic historians, scholars of social service administration, political scientists, and many others, will soon have access to aggregate, de-identified data to examine myriad scientific questions. Here’s a partial list of area studies that depend on good census data: age and gender structures; aging; business demography; ethnicity/race and cultural pluralism; emigration/immigration; economic mobility; geographic mobility; poverty/welfare; labor force participation and employment; marriage, divorce and family; ecology and environmental studies. The list goes on. Without accurate information, inquiries into current and historical human processes can’t be accurately conducted. Since science informs (or should inform) public policy, why would anyone want to intentionally subvert the census?

But finally, there are highly gratifying personal reasons for responding promptly and truthfully to the census. Although the privacy of individual respondents is guaranteed now, in 72 years, by law, all information from the 2010 census will be made publicly available. I personally am not worried that 72 years from now it will be possible to look back and see that as of the date of the 2010 census, I was 59 years old. What in fact disconcerts me is that in the 2010 standard form, which appears obsessed with race/ethnic self-identification and little else, that information of great potential value to our heirs as well as to scientists, and in turn to policy-makers, is not being universally collected.

After my mother died and, coincidentally a few years later after reconnecting with some members of my father’s family, I became much more curious about my parents’ personal histories. I delved into the historic U.S. censuses meticulously digitized by Ancestry.com, a for-profit business rooted in the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (the Mormons) that makes genealogy and other historic research extremely easy.

What I found was a treasure trove for verifying what my mother had told me about her life––at least through 1930, the most recently-released historic census––and in documenting things she herself did not know about her own parents and grandparents. Since my father and his father, about whom I am especially curious, did not arrive in the U.S. until 1936, I have to wait until 2012 to spy on their lives. Where did they live at the time? Who did they live with? Was my paternal grandfather, who divorced my father’s mother, remarried already, or will I have to wait until 2022 to answer that question?

So what else did and will these late-19th and early 20th century people-counts reveal to me? I have been able to pin down much more detail about Eliette Adonicam, the beloved cook in my grandparents’ home in Puerto Rico. I have been able to narrow down the years during which my mother’s little sister, Louise Edwina, must have died, something my mother had not been able to recall, a child herself when it happened. Louise was there, with the rest of the family, in 1920. In 1930, the little girl was missing from the list of household residents. I learned who my mother’s maternal great-grandfather was, and confirmed he was born in England. In 1900, my mother’s paternal grandfather, at the age of only 48, was “invalid” or disabled for work.*  The list of details in the 1880–1930 censuses that are greatly revealing goes on and on. Here they are, in 1930; of course the form was in Spanish as they were living in Puerto Rico at the time:

It turns out that many of the things of personal interest to me are also of importance, in far larger samples,  of course,  to scientists. For example, censuses of the past recorded the occupation of each resident in a home. This year’s does not do that. So how will economists of the future reconstruct relationships between household composition, geographical location, and employment, for example? Of course the developers of the census are not oblivious to the need for this kind of data, and have developed a more complex and broadly meaningful set of questions to be administered in separate waves of questionnaires, the American Community Survey (that will also have a version for Puerto Rico, incidentally). But these questions are being asked of a much smaller, and a selected, sample of the population, and thus will omit millions of important answers. Here’s an example: The work of the Center for Population Economics, under direction of Nobel-laureate Robert Fogel, involves linking individual Union Army veterans to their particular records in the U.S. census from 1840 through 1930 (except for 1890, the paper schedules of which went up in flames in 1921), to answer questions such as how does the environment, (easy to characterize even historically), in which one spends various stages of life, impact later-life health? (Read more about the project here.) What about occupations, from which we can ask, what long-term impacts on health, labor force participation, and longevity, did categories like "laborer" versus "banker" have? How about home value, as a proxy for household wealth? Without being able to access such information, collected in censuses of the past, for the 40-thousand-plus individual Union Army veterans in the CPE's sample, these questions and many more couldn’t even be asked.

*Here are the details from my mother's mother's natal household in 1900:

My grandmother is identified as "Mamie C" (Mary Christine) with her father John Cullin and her sisters, Anne, Elizabeth, and Catharine.  So now I know mother's grandmother was deceased by that time. And here are the sisters in more corporal form, at just about that same time. My grandmother, who remained close to her sisters throughout their lives, is on the left:

The perils of "responsibility"

When I returned from Yellowstone a few weeks ago, I posted a short summary of my trip on a chat page, (hosted by John Uhler of Rexburg, ID), where virtual friends waited for stories and photos from those of us lucky enough to visit the park. One of my comments was: “[I am] majorly bummed by the condition of the Druids…mange is killing them slowly and painfully.” The Druids, named for Druid Peak that overlooks their territory, were at one time the largest and most robust of wolf pack following very successful restoration in 1995. Many interesting phenomena, some beneficial, others controversial, but always complicated and thought-provoking, have resulted from the return of wolves to Yellowstone, and the mange story is one of them. Watching these once robustly healthy animals in the distance, visibly stressed and debilitated, in some cases almost hairless, unable to lie down on the cold winter ground and trying to sleep standing up, was excruciating. As of this writing, only one wolf of Druid heritage remains alive. And the Druids are not the only pack suffering this winter.

Another chatter responded to my comment thus:  Mange killing them? Any talk about possible treatment?  Yes, effective treatment for sarcoptic mange is available, so yes, fellow chatter, while there is plenty of talk about possible treatment, talk is cheap.

Although wildlife management policies have continually evolved throughout the history of Yellowstone and our other national parks, it is not the policy to render aid or take measures to salvage sick, injured, or dying animals, but rather, to let Nature take its course.  Exceptions are made when human welfare is threatened, as when a grizzly bear sow,  known as “264”, lay paralyzed by the roadside after being struck by a truck. The bear was quickly removed while still alive to obviate the huge crowds and traffic issues that would have ensued, then euthanized after determining that there was no hope of recovery.

It happens a lot. I have stood at a bridge at Cache Creek in Grand Teton National Park in early summer, when the creek was a cold, full onrush of snowmelt, watching a mother moose across the river, impatiently expecting her very tiny calf to follow. But the calf was too little, too undeveloped, up to its belly in the water, to be willing to step into the deepness ahead, resisting the force threatening to sweep it away, too afraid to turn back to the near shore. Its trembling legs were on the verge of buckling. It would have been so easy for humans to rescue it; we could have put a rope around someone’s waist, he or she could have waded into the foot-and-a-half deep water, scooped up the calf, wrapped it in blankets, and perhaps left it safely on the near shore for its inexperienced mother to come back to nurse and nurture. But we did not, we honored the Laws of Nature, which say: baby animals shall not — cannot —all survive. I left, I could not be an observer any longer.

Now please consider this. What is the observer’s responsibility when the suffering is human, and it is within their power to do something? Please watch this entire discussion, and give it some serious thought. Not considered in this piece: What are the social implications of removing this woman from her home, taking her to a place where she has no family to assure her welfare, no way to pay for her care, and perhaps little chance of survival or rehabilitation?

Is this sufficient food for thought for you today?

Department of Self-Evident Labeling

Call me "irresponsible"

I'd love to be blogging, but I'm processing, (still) processing, photos from my winter Yellowstone sojourn that I returned from on February 2. That's the good news: lots of interesting photos evocative of the exquisite experience. For now, will you settle for a couple of teasers, beyond those of Mr. Elk, who got the last laugh on the photographer? 
I promise to post more, with commentary, sometime soon. (The hinge of course, is how you define soon. I leave that to you.)

 

 

Mother Nature, always full of surprises

Vote for your favorite (as always, CLICK to appreciate the subtle difference).

Version A:

Or Version B: 

Teddy updates

Can't help myself, Teddy kitty is so photogenic, and growing so fast now. The trick is in convincing him to stop moving for at least 1/125 of a second so the results are reasonably sharp. 

Sox and Sex

What they sell at my local Dominick's (aka, Safeway) grocery store.

SOX. AND SEX.

One thing (among many) I like about my new job

We have a kitchenette/coffee room that has a huge bank of mail slots that no one ever pays much attention to (because we have a kind staffer who makes it her business to bring our mail to us at our desks), but sometimes professional journals do get delivered there. That means while waiting for lunch (nearly inevitably Lean Cuisine, in my case) to go 'round and 'round until cooked in the microwave, we can borrow very high quality material to read. In this scene, for your delectation: Social Psychology Quarterly, and what I found to be an exceptionally lively and transparent discussion in favor of universal health care by economist Jonathan Gruber. I recommend it for a good, enlightening read. You may not agree with his policy recommendations, but by the time you're done you'll have a far better grasp of the concepts and issues than you'll ever get from CNN or Fox News.

(Click on No. 41/2009) 

Still watching those web cams!

Still catching some great sights on the Web cams around the greater Yellowstone/Grand Teton area from the confines of my desk in Chicago. This one's pointed along the Henry's Fork of the Snake River near Island Park, Idaho (Thanks, Kennewicksheri!!). 

Got swans today!

I don't know what kind they are: could be trumpeters, could be tundras, the images aren't quite clear enough. Let's hope I see them again on a clear, sunny day.

Click on the Web cam capture to get a good look at them, there's a whole flock. Or bevy. Not a wedge, though, at least not in this shot. 

Bozeman touchdown:

12 days, 15 hours, 36 minutes and 49 seconds as of this post.

I won't get near Island Park this time (though I love that area, a little to the west of Yellowstone), this time it's all about the Northern Range, with a day-trip by snow coach to the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, where I've never been in winter.

The Sound and the Glory

I’ve been at the University of Chicago so long that I don’t give much thought to the John D. Rockefeller, Sr., behind the eponymous Chapel, pictured below (taken on December 29, the last bright sunny day this winter…) The great paterfamilias may have been a robber baron (indeed, see Troutbirder’s comment) but he also founded what was to become one of the great institutions of higher learning in America.His son, John D. Jr., will live on in my memory for, if nothing else, his extraordinary leadership and contributions of land and money to the founding and (not uncontroversial) expansion of Grand Teton National Park, which I so cherish. The highway connecting Yellowstone’s south gate and Grand Teton is named for him.

But there was yet another Rockefeller legacy celebrated there not too long ago with the opening of the Laurance S. Rockefeller Preserve. Laurance was the son of John D., Jr.


Here is the story according to a National Park Service Trail Guide I picked up last May:

“In the 1920s, John D. Rockefeller, Jr. visited Jackson Hole with his sons and was deeply moved by the beauty and vulnerability of this scenic valley. The Rockefellers met with Yellowstone Superintendent Horace Albright, who advocated protection of the valley from development. John D. Rockefeller agreed and in 1927, began to purchase ranches in the area with the goal of donating the land to the National Park Service. Despite decades of local opposition to expansion…Rockefeller persevered and donated 33,000 acres to the park in 1949.

Rockefeller…retained over 3,100 acres…as a family retreat. This land, known as the JY Ranch, was passed down to Laurance S. Rockefeller…who eventually arranged for the transfer of 2,000 acres to the park. In 2001, he announced the gift of the remaining 1,106 acres…"

The preserve, opened in 2008, is located along Moose-Wilson Road, between park headquarters (where there is another new, quite spectacular building housing the park’s main visitor center) and Teton Village, an unfortunately burgeoning ski resort on Forest Service land just to the south of the park.

I stopped at the Preserve visitor center for the first time last summer. The building has LEED (Leadership in Environmental Design) platinum certification for its extraordinary green construction and function. Its exterior façades are bit mysterious and mostly not very welcoming, but within this paean are a very few extraordinary exhibits and a reference library with a wonderfully inviting sitting area.

Far and away my favorite feature is the collage of natural sounds from all seasons in the Tetons. My name for the tall, cylindrically confined acoustic space is "sounditorium." I sit there with my eyes closed and all my other senses follow. Detailed visions fill my head, I inhale the smell of warm pine in the sun, the breeze touches my cheeks, my heart beats with exertion at 6,000, 8,000, 10,000 feet.  It makes me insanely happy.

Separate your speakers well to either side of your monitor and turn your sound up. Click, wait a minute or two for it to start, close your eyes, and be transported.

PS Beware, it might drive your cat nuts. Or scare the bejeebers out of him. But you, I promise, will love it.

This is a wall-sized photo-mosaic in the Center, a view of Phelps Lake, reached by  hike from there. Click on each photo to get a sense of the wonderful details:

And last, but not least, a parking spot that remained empty the whole time I was there:

There's a slice of the roof of the main building in the background. Better pictures can be found at the sound link, above. Enjoy!

Rockefeller Memorial Chapel on the campus of the University of Chicago, celebrating the many gifts and legacies of John D. Rockefeller (Senior) to the University.

I work on a beautiful campus

I've several times blogged about the beauty of the University of Chicago campus. For an urban place, it's remarkably green, conscientiously a botanical garden, in fact. It also has some striking architecture, new and old, or old designed to look even older than it is.

This is a photo of the cathedral-sized Rockefeller Chapel, iconic landmark of the campus, from my office window in the cold evening light. Zoomed all the way out to 4X optical,  whatever that is, on my handy new Canon point-n-shoot.

 This morning's vision of the rising sun viewed through the steam plant effluvia also caught my eye.