COGITO!

Last Saturday my spouse and I had the pleasure of listening to another excellent concert by the Bay Choral Guild at the Campbell United Methodist Church.  The name of the program was “A World of Song”, a title which does not really do proper justice to the program.

One of the great lessons of anthropology, art history, and other fields dedicated to studying the varieties of human expression is that there are many, many ways that people to think about things. The full range of that diversity can be almost shocking when you run into it; shocking, exhilerating, and enlightening.  This program encompassed a remarkable array of cultures and traditions.

I was also impressed that those songs that were not from English-speaking traditions were sung in their respective languages.  Languages such as Mongolian, Latvian, Japanese, Senegalese, and others.  I also have it on good authority that Artistic Director Sanford Dole brought in language coaches to ensure proper pronunciation by the singers.  This is pretty typical of the level of detail I have come to expect from this group, and it showed in the performances.  Even when one could not understand the language, the words were crisp and clear.

The program began with a stirring and technically daunting piece in Mongolian by Se Enkhbayar, followed by a “Dravidian Dithyramb” by Victor Pranjoti.  That should give you some idea of the level of material that was performed, and performed very well.  A few other highlights for me were a delightful rendition of Ralph Vaughan William’s arrangement of “Just As the Tide Was Flowing”, a piece I performed with a choir at some point in my youth, and then forgot amidst the fog of middle age.  This performance brought it all surging delightfully back.

Where the first half of the program covered traditions rooted in the Eastern Hemisphere, the second half was devoted to the West.  This included some beautiful pieces in Portuguese and Spanish, along with a sublime performance of James Erb’s “Shenandoah” as well as an original composition by Sanford Dole, “Girls of the Old West”.

It’s easy to conjecture that such a wide range of music types and traditions would feel like a rollerskate tour through a museum of fine art, and there might be some truth to it.  But it didn’t feel that way.  Bay Choral Guild is a highly talented and artistically competent group of performers that conveys a lot about  about a given piece of music by dint of their excellent preparation and performance skills.  This was an evening of small tastes, but highly satisfying nonetheless.

A recent article in the Washington Post reports growing confidence in the US economy even though it will probably be some time before we see a real, live “recovery”.  Call me cynical, but I don’t really think we’ve hit bottom yet.  There are still a few big, snarling economic nasties out there, and some problems of apocalyptic proportions that many in the seats of power aren’t even able or willing to acknowledge.  You might have heard that things are looking up, and perhaps they are for some people.  But this post on the US economy and the online job post market has some cautionary news for those prone to wax optimistic too soon.  The bottom line is that the job market is likely to suck for some time yet.

About two and a half months ago I was “downsized” from one of the best and longest-lasting jobs I’ve ever had.  Those who have known me for a long time know that my career history is littered with jobs that tend not to last long, mostly because the companies I’ve worked for ceased to exist or were pummeled to the point that they couldn’t afford me, so my lifetime career description could be “job seeker” and, in the spirit of putting a good face on trouble, I’d like to thank my erstwhile employers for arranging a very nice sabbatical from my usual “career.”

That said, age and repeated bludgeoning in the work-a-day world made me realize that a good thing couldn’t last, especially given the economic signs and portents that started showing up about four years ago.  I am fortunately to have some very astute observers of the economy as friends, and thanks to the advice of one in particular I tried to prepare for harder times, even though I really didn’t expect to be laid off.

While conversing with some friends of mine I’ve realized that the preparations I’ve been making over the last couple of years might be helpful for people who are facing layoff, or are already there.  I offer the following hints and suggestions as just that, with no guarantee, express or implied, that they will see you through completely or even work at all.  In times like these, anyone who makes a guarantee like that is (a) selling something and/or (b) lying.

Financial Preparations

I have stated in the past that I think personal finance should be considered a martial art.   This is because most of the time it is naive to think of major banks, insurance agencies (especially health insurance), and credit card companies as your friends.  They exist to separate you from as much of your money as possible, period.  They will shaft you at every opportunity.  This does not mean you should be brusque or rude when you deal with them, but keep your eyes open, and always, always assume that they are trying screw you in some way.   More often than not, they probably are.

Here are some things to consider.  Find some ways to reduce your overhead.  I’m not talking about little things where pennies add up to saving the cost of a Happy Meal each month, but big things.  Look for ways to save more money.  One way is to re-examine your insurance (auto, life, health, mortgage, etc.) and see if you can get a plan that costs less while offering comparable coverage.  Do the same with your phone plan.  We found ourselves saving not just money, but a lot of time by canceling our cable TV subscription.  Not everyone will want to do this, but so far, no regrets and it’s been nearly two years since we cut that cord.

If you carry a balance on your credit cards, pay them down as much as you can.  Make this a top priority.  Sell your excess stuff (probably a good idea anyway), take another job, but get rid of that debt.  For the debt you can’t get rid of, contact the card company and ask for a lower rate.  You can actually do this.  Here’s a trick: whatever the representative on the phone tells you, ask to speak with a supervisor.  The rep may try to fob you off with a very modest rate reduction, but supervisors can do better.  The better your credit score, the better your chances of getting a better rate.  Then in a month or two, repeat the process.  It’s amazing what can be accomplished with some persistence.  Contact a credit assistance bureau, even if you aren’t in credit trouble.  They can give you some other options for reducing your debt and protecting or improving your credit score.

Finally, if your credit score allows, open a personal line of credit at a nearby bank as a last resort source of money.  Don’t touch it unless you are one payment away from living under a bridge and there’s no other relief in sight.  Insist on a fixed rate.  It will probably be higher than you’d like, but having that extra padding helps. Besides,  having unused credit will improve your credit score.  You may have to open a small account at the bank, which is fine.  Save some money there anyway, if you can.  If you still have a job and have no serious consumer debt, start putting as much money aside as you can.

Finally, get on a first-name basis with a good accountant who can advise you on basic, practical financial matters.

Practical Matters

Try to anticipate the “unexpected” expenses that could bite you if they hit while you’re unemployed.  Get the car tuned and looked over.  If it needs major repairs, try to get them done while you have the money.  Ditto other necessary items that you would not want to break down during hard times.

Streamline your life.  If you have stuff that is just cluttering up your life, get rid of it.  Sell it or donate it and take a tax write-off.  Extra stuff is a distraction anyway.  It can clutter your mind as much as your garage or closets.  If things get really, really bad, you may have to pull up stakes and move elsewhere.  If that happens, do you really want to be debating whether or not to keep the tea cozy you received ten years ago from Aunt Molly?

Embrace the DIY (Do It Yourself) mindset.  If you aren’t handy with tools, start learning how to use them.  Picking up some basic hand tools and related items can be a very good investment.  If you eat out a lot, learn to cook at home.  It doesn’t take that much effort to prepare meals that are as good as what you get in most restaurants (at least the ones I can afford).  A great way to get into the DIY spirit is to plant a vegetable garden. Even a window box with some herbs will do for a start.  Gardening is also a wonderful way to center yourself.  It sounds hokey, I know, but those who have tried it know what I’m talking about.  Speaking of food, shop at places that sell in bulk or offer low-cost groceries and put some non-perishable food by.

What was said before about fixing what might break applies to your body as well.  If you haven’t had a checkup or been to the dentist in a while, go.  Get those things taken care of.  Given the barbaric state of our national health care system, if you’re poor you are very vulnerable.  You may have to content yourself with “Don’t get sick” as a health care plan.  If you have a health plan and might lose it, stock on any perscriptions you might need.  Talk to your doctor and see if he or she has samples available.  Sometimes you can get those for the asking.  While you’re at it, check on state and county programs for people who need essential health, dental, or mental health care just in case.

Friends

It is often said that hard times are times are when you discover who your friends really are.  That is very true.  However, it’s actually a good idea to find that out before the bad times hit.  Take some time to refresh old friendships and, if necessary, mend some fences.  I don’t want this to sound like you’re just buttering up people so you can sponge off them later, because they might end up going bust before you do.  My recent foray among the un- and under-employed has reminded me of the value of relationships not just for mutual help, but as essential components of a contented life.  I’ve heard it said that most people tend not to make close friends after age 25, to which I answer that they probably aren’t doing it right.  Be there for your friends, and they will be there for you.  The “rugged individualist” mythos of solo triumph in the face of impossible odds through nothing but hard work is bullshit.  We really are all in this together.

I have received some truly wonderful support from many good friends, some of them of fairly recent vintage.  Hard times remind us of the inestimable value of community and association.  I am hopeful that this “downturn” revives a sense of community and social cohesion that has lacked in recent years.

The Next Job

In a recent editorial in the Los Angeles Times, Barbara Ehrenreich contended that “Trying to find a job is not a job”.  It’s a thoughtful, provocative read and I recommend it highly.  She points out that the received wisdom of spending all your time looking for your next job may be why “…13 million people have accepted joblessness with nary a peep of protest.”  She argues that the discontent of the unemployed that would usually go into agitation for universal health care or real economic reform or unionizing is frittered away in looking for the next job.

Now I can see the other side of this; not having a regular income is scary as hell.  Existentially so.  But you also have to be realistic and smart about it.  Yes, you brush up your resume, make a few different versions, and you post it in places where it’s likely to be seen.  You can also waste a lot of time on low- or zero-probability longshots when there just aren’t any jobs out there.  Ehrenreich’s article has some sobering things to say about how jobs overall tend to pay less in addition to being scarcer and argues that maybe the growing jobless hordes need to be gunning for bigger things that the next stint as a wage slave.  So without making a pseudo-job of it, do network and be smart in searching for work, but be ready to shift your thinking about what you are willing to do, which leads us to the last item.

Living Deliberately

One of the worst things you can do to someone is give him or her lots of time and nothing to do.  It’s one of the downsides of retirement or prison.  But “time off” also brings with it a freedom, even if it doesn’t always feel that way.  Once you get past some of the fear, not working or having a regular work schedule can be an opportunity for reflecting, for reinventing yourself, for considering your place in the world.  You can read that book you’ve always wanted to read (or write!), brush up on some beloved but neglected activity, and refine your skill of living in the moment.  As Thoreau advises, “Simplify, simplify!” You may find that a different pace of life and living suits you better.

It is also an opportunity for you to be a pain the ass to the powers that created this mess, as Eherenreich correctly points out.  There are movements and changes afoot that need support.  There is a huge “transition industry” of people to help you get the next job for less money, while doing little or nothing to harness the creativity and vigor of so many people who are now free to make things better.  There is some truth to the old bromide that when one door closes another opens, but sometimes you have to kick it down.

As we have come to expect, Maker Faire this past weekend was a feast for the inventive, the curious.  I think we can now say without fear of contradiction that “Makers” are not merely a sub-category of geekdom, but a full-blown movement.  This year’s theme was “Remaking America”, something I have advocated on the pages of this blog for some time.  I have thought for quite a while that the kind of inventiveness and ingenuity found among the Makers is the intellectual grist that and probably will do much to eventually lift us out of a miasma of economic, environmental, and even political backwardness that is now clearly unsustainable.

Ironically, this year I noticed that more major corporations have jumped on the Maker bandwagon, and some of the early corporate bandwagoneers have expanded their presence.  I always enjoy watching a trend take the Captains of Industry by surprise, although it is usually only a matter of time before they manage to co-opt, bottle, and sell the very anti-establishment aura that makes this all so refreshing in the first place.

My wife Denise and a young Maker-in-Training hard at work in the open Lego floor. Photo by the author.

In recent weeks I have had the opportunity to get back to the art of practical making by doing some odd handyman jobs and gardening for friends.  I’ve also begun tinkering with crystal radios (which I intend to write more about soon), of necessity experimenting on the cheap.  The tactile pleasure of coaxing sounds out of wire, one or two components and assorted bits of junk is considerable.  The pleasure is all the more enjoyable because it is personal.  It is my experiment, consisting of my efforts and my mistakes and my skill.  Gradually, I am learning how electronic gadgets work.  Very gradually.  In other words, Making for me is a highly personal thing.  Not that I don’t enjoy sharing my experiences with others and learning about what other Makers do, but for a long time our relationship with technology has been collective, even before the Internet let us all share in what William Gibson referred to as a “consensual hallucination”.

What I mean by technology as a collective experience is that most of the technology we have interfaced with in the last couple of decades has been of the “black box” variety.  You don’t mess with it, poke it, prod it, and you absolutely, positively don’t open it up.  God help you if you try to modify it.  That’s pretty much been the universal experience; the manufacturer told us what to do with something even after we theoretically “owned” it.  The same attitude has informed the sales of movies and music where companies try to dictate what you may or may not do with a piece of music you bought and paid for.

Prototyping, fabricating and even manufacturing capability for the average garage experimenter has been growing rapidly for some time.  Predictions abound that someday products will be distributed as electronic files and fabricated on 3D printers, for instance.  I can see that happening in the not-too-distant future.  The trend that making is driving is for smaller, more local solutions and innovations, and I think this is largely a good thing.  While working with your hands (and back and neck and other vulnerable body parts) has risks, the satisfaction of creating, repairing, or modifying something yourself is profound.  It grounds you somehow, gives you confidence in your ability to adjust and adapt in uncertain times.

Yesterday’s  Editorial Observer column of the New York Times carried an interesting and through-provoking piece by Verlyn Klinkenborg on “Some Thoughts on the Lost Art of Reading Aloud.”  In it Klinkenborg compares the growing popularity of audio books with the practice of reading aloud as was common in the 19th century (and obviously long before that). He points out that reading was a social activity, and compares it unfavorably to the isolated “readers” taking in books through the ear buds of an iPod.  He further points out that by relying on professional readers to experience a book read aloud, an opportunity is lost similar to that of never making our own music but letting recorded professionals do all the work (and, I would add, have most of the fun). The focus strays from the text to the performance:

When people talk about the books they’ve heard, they’re often talking about the quality of the readers, who are usually professional. The way we listen to books has been de-socialized, stripped of context, which has the solitary virtue of being extremely convenient.

Now perhaps this is a quibble, but I will disagree with Prof. Klinkenborg that the art of reading aloud has fallen on hard times. While the audio book is not perfect, it does demand a level of attention from the listener. Further, there is a small but growing resurgence in the practice of reading aloud. This is an excellent opportunity to plug a wonderful organization, Librivox.org, who have made it their mission to make all public domain books available as free audio books.  These dedicated volunteers have created and made available many thousands of such books. In the spirit of full disclosure I have made a few recording for librivox (most recently I am in the process of finishing a recording of Ben Jonson’s The Forest) and hope to do more in the future. Klinkenborg argues, rightly, that to read a book aloud is to demonstrate the degree to which one understands the text.  Reading aloud demands interpretation and comprises its own implicit commentary. Our language retains traces of the practice of reading aloud; consider that a review of a company’s books is still called an “audit”.

But all that being said, I am not sure that the private experience of silent reading is to be dismissed.  Silent reading was considered unusual in the past.  This passage from Augustine’s Confessions describes the reading habits of St. Ambrose, whom Augustine visited in  Milan:

“When he read his eyes scanned the page and his heart sought out the meaning, but his voice was silent and his tongue was still. Anyone could approach him freely and guests were not commonly announced, so that often, when we came to visit him, we found him reading like this in silence, for he never read aloud.”

This is the first known direct reference in  western literature to reading silently, although there are a number of classical sources that infer that silent reading was not unknown in earlier times.  It is also well-known by people who study such things that many of the plays written in ancient Rome were meant to be read, but not performed theatrically as such.  One might assume that such plays could be and often were read and enjoyed in silence.  A wonderful discussion of silent readers throughout history is in Alberto Manguel’s A History of Reading (New York; Viking, 1996), particularly Chapter Two, “Silent Readers”. Manguel also points out that by the Tenth Century, reading silently was known in the west.  Even though reading aloud was still the norm, silent reading was not quite the anomaly that Klinkenborg implies.

One reason why reading aloud is not as common as it once was is that little of what is now written is composed with a live reading in mind.  Even though authors frequently read parts of their books for publicity’s sake, I seldom get the sense that the words were designed from the ground up to be read out loud.  One exception, of course, is poetry, and Klinkenborg also notes this.  Poetry, I submit, is still understood generally as something that is spoken or recited. That said, he laments that reading aloud may be on the way out:

You can easily make the argument that reading silently is an economic artifact, a sign of a new prosperity beginning in the early 19th century and a new cheapness in books. The same argument applies to listening to books on your iPhone. But what I would suggest is that our idea of reading is incomplete, impoverished, unless we are also taking the time to read aloud.

Again, I disagree. It is not just the mass production of books and literature per se. Walter Benjamin famously pointed out that the mass reproduction of art invariably wrenches that art from its original context. The reading literature of today is not written to be read out loud.  To insist that it must be is to ask it to do what it was not meant for.

For my part, I welcome audio books.  Reading silently puts you on very intimate terms with the text.  Your relationship with the book,  Manguel points out, is unrestricted.  You have the freedom in your own mind to engage the author, to savor a book, or dismiss it, play God to it.  Manguel summarizes:

A book that can be read privately, reflected upon as the eye unravels the sense of the words, is no longer subject to immediate clarification or guidance, condemnation or censorship by a listener. Silent reading allows unwitnessed communication between the book and the reader, and the singular “refreshing of the mind”, in Augustine’s happy phrase.

Reading, silently or aloud, is a way of thinking. To that end I cannot complain when I see people reading through their ears or their eyes, in silent solitude or in boisterous groups. My own experience tells me that reading good writing is its own reward, and those works such as the great poets, playwrights, and others who asked listeners to lend their ears, will continue to find audience.

A typical binocular spotting scope, soon to become a nifty telephoto lens.

If you are visiting some open space district or county or state park where public telescopes like the one shown in the photo on the left.  You might be able to use your digital camera to make shots of remarkably distant objects.  I have tried this once before using a binocular spotting scope at a pond long ago, but this time I decided to try and document it.

You can take pictures through one of these things and, while the quality may not be fantastic, the magnification will be remarkable.  You will need a digital camera with an optical zoom lens.  I have not tried this with digital zoom and my guess is that this won’t work if you use digital zoom.  My camera is a trusty old Olympus SP-350.  Mine is equipped with a mount that surrounds the lens, and has threading on the top for a skylight filter.  But I suspect this will work with most smaller digital cameras.  SLR format cameras are probably too large to do this, but

Step One: set the zoom on your camera to maximum magnification.

Step Two: Aim the binoculars at whatever it is you want to photograph.

Step Three: Carefully put your camera up to one of the eyepieces of the binoculars. You should see an image on the LED display on the back of your camera.

Step Four: You should be able move the camera a little bit  to center the image on what you want to shoot.

Step Five: Many digital cameras have an autofocus trigger where you depress the shutter part way and the camera locks the focus and exposure.  Do this, then press the rest of the way to shoot the picture.

How effective is this method?   Here is a shot I took of a duck at the Lucy L. Evans Interpretive Center, Palo Alto Baylands last Sunday:

A picture of a duck taken with my Olympus SP-350 at maximum zoom.

Now compare that shot with this one, taken through one half of the binocular:

A picture of a duck taken with my Olympus SP-350 at maximum zoom.

I’ve cropped the shot a little, but the size of the bird has not been changed other than through the magnification I got through the binocular (monocular?).  The color is a little bit washed over, but it’s still a pretty good shot considering it was held by hand up against a binocular that wasn’t lockable into one position.

I got this idea from something I read many years ago in Colin Fletcher’s The Complete Walker, a classic how-to on backpacking.  In it he described a bracket he had that would allow him to mate one tube of his binoculars with the front of his trusty film camera, allowing him to take telephoto shots without lugging an extra lens around with him.

Next time you are someplace with one of these binoculars and you have your digital camera handy, try this trick.

A couple of weeks ago the New York Times ran an opinion piece by Virginia Heffernan entitled “Let Them Eat Tweets: Why Twitter is a Trap“.  This article was, in turn, a response to a presentation by author and idea man extraordinaire Bruce Sterling at the South by Southwest conference.  In his talk he held forth (some would say “ranted”) on the place of Twitter in our Brave New Internet-saturated World.  Here a quote from Herffernan’s article:

These worries started to surface for me last month, when Bruce Sterling, the cyberpunk writer, proposed at the South by Southwest tech conference in Austin that the clearest symbol of poverty is dependence on “connections” like the Internet, Skype and texting. “Poor folk love their cellphones!” he said.In his speech, Sterling seemed to affect Nietzschean disdain for regular people. If the goal was to provoke, it worked. To a crowd that typically prefers onward-and-upward news about technology, Sterling’s was a sadistically successful rhetorical strategy. “Poor folk love their cellphones!” had the ring of one of those haughty but unforgettable expressions of condescension, like the Middle Eastern gem “The dogs bark, but the caravan moves on.”

Now, in the spirit of full disclosure, I hold Sterling in a certain degree of awe.  He is one of those rare people whose fiction and prose both have more thought-provoking ideas per paragraph than should be allowable by law.  Heffernan cites the summary of Sterling’s remarks made by a friend of hers, namely that “connectivity is poverty.”  To be fair to Sterling, there are other accounts of the talk (the text and/or video does not appear to be available on the web at the moment) that say his point was that connectivity would be an indication of poverty rather than wealth.

Given the direction of the debate over the “digital divide”, i.e., that the rich would have access to this new world of limitless information and connectivity and the poor would not, Sterling makes a good point inasmuch as cheap electronics allow many people from the lower reaches of the food chain to own a cell phone or even a nominal computer.  In fact, this has been the pattern of new technology throughout history; the poor acquire what was normally reserved for the rich.  Music and theater on demand, higher more abundant food, personal transportation, etc.

Another quote from Heffernan’s article touches on this and expands further:

Only the poor — defined broadly as those without better options — are obsessed with their connections. Anyone with a strong soul or a fat wallet turns his ringer off for good and cultivates private gardens that keep the hectic Web far away. The man of leisure, Sterling suggested, savors solitude, or intimacy with friends, presumably surrounded by books and film and paintings and wine and vinyl — original things that stay where they are and cannot be copied and corrupted and shot around the globe with a few clicks of a keyboard.

But at this point I beg to differ both with Sterling just a bit.
The poor do indeed obsess over the quantity of their connections, but the rich go for quality.  It’s as old as the Old Boys’ Network.  The banal Tweets that capture the mundane activities of all your associates who are going nowhere in life give one a sense of community, but little else.  Follow someone with something to say, on the other hand, and Twitter becomes a stream of interesting and provocative ideas.

But by the same token, let us not neglect those idle men of leisure who sever their ties with the mundane, and keep themselves aloof from the web at the cost of living inside a bubble of unreality.  Recall our erstwhile president and many others of his class, rightly ridiculed for living in a fake reality as contemptible as that of any trailer-trash soap opera addict. But at the same time, consider what one could do if one were properly connected with just ten of the more notable persons in their rolodexes.

In my opinion, the “connectivity indicates poverty” dictum applies most in the area of advertising.   Think about it.  The junk mail, spam, broadcast commercials you are bombarded with every day is staggering.  I rather doubt that the truly wealthy are subjected to such messages whose sole purpose is to make you sufficiently discontented with your life that you are compelled to spend money to “fix” it.   They have people to cull their mail, take their calls, and basically screen them from the ravages of Madison Avenue. Case in point: a nearby low-budget restaurant that is part of a national chain just installed large-screen televisions in the dining area.  These TVs spew a constant sludge of programming made especially for this chain.  In other words, some marketing genius decided that one’s dining experience eating cheap food would somehow be enhanced by adding a steady stream of commercials to the ambiance.  That is connectedness I can live without.  Once I find a job, I swear I’m going to invest in a TV-Be-Gone before going back.

Speaking of which, the job hunt also exemplifies the connectivity/poverty paradigm.  The usual strategy is to cultivate as many connections as you can in order to find the one that can get you re-employed, stopping the slide from poverty to destitution. I never make more contacts than when I am job-hunting, and most of them aren’t worth a damn.  In practice, most of my job hunts have ended successfully because of a personal contact, not because someone saw my resume on a generic job site.  The shotgun approach is still very popular among the many who seek jobs; it feeds the illusion that you are doing something useful.  However, among the well-off a few quality connections are all that is required–assuming a job is even necessary in the first place.   When you reach a certain level of wealth a job is either a paid hobby or a live-in fashion accessory.

The new connectivity–Twitter, Facebook, MySpace, LinkedIn and all the rest–and the mess that flows from it is yet another example of how a new technology initially reduces the quality of something it is applied to.  Only later when the technology has matured and the understanding of it becomes common knowledge does it really become useful.  Anyone who was around when desktop publishing was a fresh buzzword will know whereof I speak.

It is with just a little irony that I write this maybe a week after making my first contact as a licensed ham radio operator (KI6YPF).  I do not own a radio, but using a borrowed rig I made contact with “Steve” (KC0ZTC) in Kansas City, KS using a few hundred dollars of gear running off of a couple of car batteries through a portable antenna set up in a nearby park.  No satellites, no cables, and yet with only the wattage of a strong light bulb I could talk to someone across half a continent.  It was a fleeting connection that had the quality and excitement of new enlightenment in spite of its randomness.

Note: I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the role of mentors in one’s educational development and remembered the following essay I wrote for the Virtual Conference in Informal Science Education, sponsored by the Society for Amateur Scientists in May, 2004.  I’m reprinting it here as a way of dusting off my thinking on such things. -sg.

The writing table in my home office is has a clear plastic cover designed to provide a firm writing surface and protect the wood underneath. It is also a convenient place to insert photos and other paper momentos. One such item is an obituary clipped from my hometown newspaper and sent to me by my mother a few years ago. The subject of this obituary is Joseph “Joe” Berchtold, a local engineer who died at the age of 75. I knew him as an enthusiastic merit badge counselor who helped me through the completion of my Geology, Oceanography, and Nature Study merit badges.

One of the perks of earning the necessary merit badges to become an Eagle Scout is that you get to meet a lot of merit badge counselors. My counselors included an attorney, a forest ranger and an active Brigadier General. But I remember Joe for the pure delight he took in introducing young people to the wonders of science and the natural world. Because he was not part of my local Troop leadership, I only worked with him on the above-mentioned merit badges. I only spent a few hours working with him. But clearly, he made an impression.

In the house across the street from us lived the Lorenz family. Their son Todd was one of my boyhood buddies, but his father also held a certain fascination. Bob Lorenz built houses for a living, but his avocations included amateur radio, electronics, and photography. He had converted a basement half-bathroom into a small but well-equipped darkroom. In fact, not only the basement, but much of the outside patio was littered with pieces of electronic equipment scavenged from god-knows-where. Occasionally, late at night while I listened to my clock radio before drifting off to sleep, I would hear a staccato of morse code behind the music, and know that Mr. Lorenz was keying his greetings to some remote short-wave operator. Mr. Lorenz once offered to develop a roll of film I had taken, and together in his darkroom, I was introduced to the remarkable process of turning celluloid and silver nitrate into images.

When I was a fourth-grader at Liberty Elementary School in Salem, Oregon, my teacher that year was Mr. Earl Pearson. A navy veteran with a flat-top haircut and a private pilot, he shared his fascination with technology and nature with the rest of us. I vividly remember two monarch butterfly chrysalises he ordered through the mail and taped to the underside of a shelf near the front of the room. One of them was still viable, and we watched entranced as the insect pulled itself from the chrysalis and slowly expanded it wings. Mr. Pearson introduced us to the metric system, and to basic taxonomy, in which fourth graders had to wrap their tongues around words like “echinoderm” and “coelenterata”. Later, he set up the “Learning Center” in a disused part of the school where kids could come during free time and engage in science play, among other hands-on activities.

When other kids would skip class to go play in the woods nearby the school, I would sneak off to Mr. Pearson’s Learning Center.

However, as pleasant as my memories of these individuals may be, and as much as I enjoyed the activities we did, for the most part, they did not teach me how to be a scientist, or how to do science. But I must also point out that most of the shortfalls were due to what might be called systemic problems.

* * *

None of these men were mentoring me in the traditional sense, nor were they expected to. They were, at best, supervising me while I worked on either a brief, finite assignment, or were just making sure I didn’t break anything or hurt anyone. There was–and remains–the bias among those who do science that science is so intrinsically compelling that after even a tiny taste in the form of doing a merit badge activity or a generic science project in class, the beauty, enjoyment, and thrill of scientific inquiry will propagate itself through a young mind like an intellectual tsunami.

As a result, my understanding of science was strongly colored by the notion that it was some kind of game. The intensity, tenacity, direction, and know-how required to do scientific work were completely left out.

What Was Missing?

Obviously, these well-meaning and public-spirited men would have benefited greatly from having a program that recognized several important scientific values, and sought to teach these values on a sustained basis. After some thought and reading, I have isolated what I consider to be the values most often left out of science education.

•     Studying problems that matter
•     Honesty with respect to your evidence
•     Tenacity
•     Moderating undisciplined accumulation of facts
•     Teaching science as a process

In his masterful little volume, Advice to a Young Scientist, Nobel Prize Winner Peter Medawar discusses how one selects those subjects that are best suited to research. He cites a fictitious example coined by Lord Zuckerman about the young researcher who is trying to find out why only 39% of sea urchin eggs have a spot on them, which is of no interest to anyone except maybe the one researcher who is trying to figure out why 61% of sea urchin eggs do not have spots.

You will notice that I did not include “curiosity” in my list of things left out of science education. This is because in normal people curiosity is a function of perceived relevance. For example, I am not the least bit curious about who will be America’s next “top model”, who was most recently “voted off the island”, nor which gospel/hiphop-style vocalist will be canonized as the next American Idol. To some, this would make me seem very incurious indeed. But I do not perceive these things as relevant to my life. They do not matter to me.

Things that matter generate their own curiosity. People are naturally curious (in every sense of the word), but not everyone can muster curiosity about something for its own sake. There needs to be a compelling, interesting problem to be solved. Just as one’s own execution on the morrow tends to focus the mind, so some problem that is exciting or compelling for whatever reason is needed as a growth medium for a sustained interest in science to develop.

We all know the problem of getting the “right” answer, i.e., the one in the answer book, versus finding out the “truth”. The problem is compounded by curricula that insist on solving the problem in only one way. Richard Feynman’s delightful story of how he suggested several ways to measure the height of a building using a sensitive barometer as answers to a test question highlight how being bound to a fixed set of answers and procedures can inhibit developing minds. In the classroom there is so much pressure to come up with the “right” answer that fudging the data to conform with expectations becomes a survival skill. I remember vividly how in our Jr. High Physical Science course, some of the less conscientious students modified their results because they feared losing points if they didn’t conform to the expected curve. Perhaps they would have, which only makes the problem worse. There aren’t many deadly sins in science, but “adjusting” or fabricating data ranks among the worst.

Nature doesn’t care what is written in the answer section. In fact, the seeds of a new discovery are often imbedded within a set of anomalous results. By the same token, the teaching process as practiced in our schools has no patience for the student who drills a “dry well”. Trial and error, that important but maligned method of discovery, is not given its due. Only through a relatively long process of working with the data, checking and rechecking, repeating the experiments and correcting mistakes under the watchful eye of a wiser and more experienced practitioner of science will the lesson of respect for evidence come clear.

This also leads me to the value of tenacity. Einstein once remarked that it was his tenacity that was largely responsible for his scientific successes. There is truth in this. Thomas Edison is remembered, rightly, for his tenacity that compensated for his less remarkable ability to reason through a problem. Sticking with a problem and intelligently grappling with its vagaries until it finally gives way is an important value in the conduct of science, as well as a crucial life skill.

The general consensus is that most young people do not have the drive or discipline to stick with one problem for a long time. And yet these same young people can spend hundreds of hours, research deeply into the relevant literature, and risk repetitive stress injuries all in order to master a particularly cunning video game. Again, it is a matter of finding the right problem.

Young people with active minds can become voracious readers. In the early years this is a wonderful and important habit. But at some point book learning must be supplemented with what is observed in nature or found by experimentation. A good mentor can be an invaluable guide to helping young scientists by steering their reading in fruitful directions. I know that most of the best books I have ever read, whether fiction or nonfiction, were books I read because someone else recommended them. Very seldom have I discovered a truly excellent book on my own.

Another trap a young science enthusiast is likely to fall into without the help of a more experienced mentor is believing that science is merely the accumulation of facts. Mentally, it can be very heady to have learned and even memorized all sorts of details about the natural world. You can feel positively brilliant, but these “facts” can become a liability if one has not learned the process by which scientists winnow fact from fancy.

Every student of science has heard the term “scientific method” and perhaps can even give a rough definition of it. Science textbooks drone on about a “hypothesis”, doing an experiment designed to test the hypothesis, comparing the results to the hypothesis, and then revising the hypothesis based on the results. But the scientific method and the methods of scientists are not necessarily the same. The truth is, most real scientists don’t do it quite that way. A better definition of the scientific method is, as Shawn has told me repeatedly, “finding answers to questions while taking care that you’re not fooling yourself”.

Much of what scientists do involves looking at the world and asking questions. “How does that work?” “How did it get that way?” “Why did this happen?” Many discoveries happen when a scientist is working along and notices something that looks a little odd. Upon taking a closer look, they realize that they’ve discovered something new. It’s a sort of “hey, try doing this” kind of approach. Sometimes this is seen in the popular imagination as a kind of adult play, and perhaps it is. But it is play with a purpose, and the best scientists do not do this randomly or whimsically as a child might. It takes time to develop this knack. My feeling is that it is not easy to explain or reduce to a rigid set of procedures.

Conclusion

The more I learned about science as an adult, the more I realized that I had only the most superficial idea of what science is and how it is done. Considering that my early education in science took place in the halcyon days following Sputnik, when military-sized quantities of money were directed at the education system specifically to turn out more scientists and engineers, apparently I wasn’t the only one who didn’t understand.

The three men I profiled at the beginning of this essay came the closest to really teaching me what science was about, but still fell short for reasons already stated. An important lesson to be learned–besides the stated values that are integral to a sound scientific education–is that the process of teaching science well is not necessarily obvious, even to those who practice it.

Amazon’s second generation Kindle, the D00511.

Recent months have seen an increase of posts and news items on the coming eBook revolution.  This way of delivering books has been a bit slower to catch on than proponents had hoped.  The Amazon Kindle reader was touted as the solution to the many reasons why readers weren’t taking to eBooks, and it did provides some pretty impressive features.  As new technologies go, this one was an impressive debut.  The inability to read .pdf files struck me as a serious flaw which may or may not be corrected by now.  I nearly gagged, however, at the idiotic business model that had one paying hundreds for the Kindle unit, and buying books at prices comparable to the hard copy versions.  I always thought that if you cut out the cost of typesetting, layout, printing, binding, and shipping, you ought to be able to sell electronic books for roughly the price of a song on iTunes.  Silly me.  The price of the books needs to come down a bit further.  As things stand now, for the several dollars needed to buy a book, I can get the real book second-hand from abebooks.com and enjoy the presence of a hard copy that has heft and can stare out at me from a bookshelf, teasing, inviting, mocking, or daring me.  More on that later.

Where periodicals are concerned, however, I can see the value.  If nothing else it keeps the piles of discarded newspapers and magazines from accumulating, and I like the green aspect of it.

The PRS700 reading device by Sony.

eBooks are also being hailed as a new venue for self-publishing in contrast to the staid, stodgy traditional book publishing industry.  It is true that it takes well over a year to get a book ready for publication, but it need also be said that a lot of that time is unavoidable, painstaking work that makes for high-quality content.  Unless you are Anne Coulter’s publisher, serious editing, fact-checking, etc. takes time.  You can’t rush it.  This is one reason why so many self-published books are just bloody awful.  But I think this will change.  Throughout history, when a new technology is applied to a traditional task, the initial results are always messy and sloppy.  Giving desktop publishing power to ordinary people back in the mid-80’s spawned a flurry of documents that had no sense of design or how to use fonts.  Now most people seem to have acquired that skill or know enough to farm it out to someone who can do the thing right.  So we can expect this newest tool for self-publishing to find it’s equilibrium.  In Japan novels written especially to be read on a cell phone have become very popular.  Some genres of books may lend themselves more to eBook self-publishing than others.

The iRex DR1000 digital reader.

But all these gripes aside, I think it will only be a matter of time before I get myself some kind of mobile eBook reading device.  It may be a Kindle, or something else.  I still have some issues with the whole concept, although I know that most other people won’t share my needs.  For one thing, we have a large print library.  It has a lot of out of print books.  Will I be able somehow to get those books in electronic form?  If they are in the public domain, Google Books might be one way to get them.  But if not, I don’t see how I can do that without paying for the book a second time.  That rankles, especially in hard times.

By training, temperment, and passion, I am a scholar.  A guerrilla scholar, if you please.  So when I have a book I really like, I tend to make notes in the margins, underline things, and put little ticks in pencil beside paragraphs that strike me as particularly noteworthy.  As an old Jewish saying has it, “A virgin book bears no offspring.”  To the best of my knowledge, none of the reading devices have any software that will let you mark passages, add notes, compile bibliographies, and so forth.  Online library services like Questia will let you do this and by all accounts their software for such things is excellent.  For me, an eBook device must be more than a reader, I need to be able to do research with it.  I need to transfer those research notes from my reading device to my working computer.  Paper allows this.  Paper lasts.  Paper still works when batteries die or the power go out.  Paper books can be marked up or, in extreme cases, heaved across the room in indignation at an author’s stupidity–or insufferable brilliance.  They demand physical engagement and interaction.  Paper insists that you take the time to chew something over and explain to yourself why you are writing it down.  Certain older books have a smell that’s been compared to spices from a farway land.  The comparison is apt.

Moreover, in spite of search tools, there is still no real substitute for shelf browsing.  If you have your books arranged by subject (Ours are not so arranged yet, but we’re working on it) you often find material you would have missed if you had not browsed the shelves.  This is why most libraries arrange their collections this way, even though it is definitely the most expensive and time-consuming way to present a collection.

Another problem I have with eBooks, especially if they are sold through a major commercial outlet, is privacy.  What I read is nobody’s business except those with whom I choose to share my reading habits.  The thought of some heuristic algorithm deciding what tsunami of ads Amazon or Barnes and Noble will throw at me is bad enough.  But the notion that some over zealous “patriot” in the government will start passing judgment on my patriotism based on my collection of books is insufferable.  I am not the least bit persuaded by assurances of privacy by Amazon or anyone else when each day’s news brings more stories of private information lost or compromised, let alone more bullshit assurances of how we must sacrifice more privacy for the sake of national security. As more and more people trust their eLibraries to giant commercial servers, the information contained by those servers becomes a greater prize for the unscrupulous.  Used books, especially bought from a local dealer for cash, are private and anonymous.

But one of my biggest objections, ironically,  cannot possibly impact me directly, and that is the question of what happens when more and more of our knowledge is committed to silicon or optical media.  As long-term storage goes, this is about the worst option there is (See my article “Words That Survive” in the 05 January 2007 issue of The Citizen Scientist).  I like to consider myself as someone who thinks long-term.  If you want our descendants centuries hence to know anything about us, some information must be committed to what will survive.  Right now, that means acid-free, high-rag paper, kept at a constant temperature and low humidity.  It’s good for a few centuries at least.

I hope that the eBook “revolution” will address some of these problems soon, because if they do it could do wonders for me personally in my studies and writing.  But until that day, I’m hanging on to my books.

This past weekend, my spouse and I recently had the pleasure of hearing the Bay Choral Guild in a concert of music by French composers.  If you haven’t had the chance to listen to the Bay Choral Guild, you’re missing a real treat.  This 45-voice auditioned choir consistently delivers beautiful renditions of a wide range of choral music backed by a high level of musicianship.

Last Christmas season, for instance, they presented a marvelous program of seasonal music from Russia, Ukraine and Romania.  I have it on good authority that they are preparing some music in Latvian as part of their next round of concerts.  Director  Sanford Dole is to be commended for changing things up musically and not settling for a set repertoire.

Last weekend’s program featured a sublime performance of the Requiem by Maurice Duraflé.  This was followed by a selection of choral works by Lili Boulanger, Gabriel Fauré, Camille Saint-Saëns, Gabriel Fauré, and Claude Debussy.  This was educational for me, for instance, in that my knowledge of Fauré is pretty much limited to his beautiful Requiem. This program included a piece by this composer named “Madrigal” that displayed a different facet of Fauré’s work.  Likewise, I was unaware that Debussy had composed choral music, so it was a pleasure to be introduced to his “Trois Chansons de Charles d’Orléans.”

There was also some music for solo organ; Olivier Messiaen’s “Alléluias sereins d’une âme qui désire le ciel”, from “L’Ascension” and a rendition of “Litanies” by Jehan Alain.

The performances, both vocal and instrumental, were just delightful.  The choir has a wonderful sense of ensemble and blend.  Lyrics come through more clearly than I usually hear in a typical choir; it’s obvious from their performances that a fair chunk of time goes into this, and from the comments overheard from a French-speaking member of the audience after the concert, this effort did not go unnoticed.

Community music-making such as is done by the Bay Choral Guild is part of what makes the San Francisco Bay Area the great cultural center that it is.  I am increasingly convinced that these kinds of creative organizations and and events are essential to fostering not just an interesting and diverse cultural landscape, but contributing directly to a healthy economy.  This idea, most prominently articulated by Robert Florida, maintains that communities who have active cultural lives, and are inclusive, diverse, and tolerant are the best business environments for the industries that rely on creativity to thrive.  The computer industry (to take one example) definitely falls into that category. The Bay Choral Guild is one of the jewels in the area’s cultural crown.  I recommend you check out their web site for upcoming concerts.

On a related note, in these wretched economic times it is a mark of a truly civilized person to nonetheless offer support to worthy projects such as Bay Choral Guild (see my thoughts on this subject: “Immortality on Fifty Bucks a Day”).  Take a look at the various options that are available for  supporting Bay Choral Guild.

[Edited for a few niggling errors 2009.03.28:1235.  Thanks, ER!]

A view from the balcony of the Exploratorium on Pi Day. Photo by the author.

Last Saturday we accompanied some friends of ours on a trip to the Exploratorium in San Francisco.  Many, many years ago the science show Nova featured this marvelous place in one of their programs, and if I recall “The Palace of Delights” was the name of that episode.  In all the intervening years I have heard no better name for this place.  For me it has been over twenty years since my last visit which is, quite frankly, a sin.  Possibly a crime.  This place has the ability to change a person’s life.  In my case this was literally true, for the last time I went there, I found a book titled The Independent Scholar’s Handbook by Ronald Gross about the joys of pursuing a life of the mind outside of academia.  Even though I was firmly ensconced (some might say, “indentured”) into academia, this book provided many priceless lessons that helped see me through my degree program at Berkeley, and shaped my philosophy of learning in a way that influenced much of my life’s work since graduation.

A view of friends, playing (with) one of the exhibits.  Photo by the author.

So, we went again, not just my wife Denise and I, but some other more scientifically literate friends. Here’s a good life tip: if you go someplace or to see something of significance, try to take along someone who can really tell you what it’s all about.

But I digress.  This trip was a good time for contemplating life-changing events because an unexpected layoff has thrust the contemplation of life changes down my throat. On this particular occasion, it was “Pi Day” (March 14… 3.14… get it?).  Yes, pie was served. There was a procession of people each carrying one of the digits of pi and other fun activities (Click here to see the web cast of all the fun).

I found myself thinking about how people learn, since I’ve been in the business of building a university for the last several years, but I also was just basking in the wonderful sense of being among people I understood: science types.  Even the lay people who were there just to play, to my mind they were being scientists in their way.  Actually, most human learning happens in this way.  We play with stuff, poke at it, prod it, ask questions and see what happens when we do… whatever.  A “school” tries to formalize, speed up, and enhance this process by planned methods that bypass all the mucking about and blind alleys, and for the most part it does a reasonably good job.

Denise contemplates an exhibit of comparative pendulums.  Photo by the author..

But the Exploratorium’s exhibits are not just interactive, they can be interacted with at different levels.  in some cases, quite advanced levels.  One of my favorites was an exhibit I had not see before that let you play with pendulums of different lengths and therefore different periods.  You can get a beginner’s buzz out of starting all of them at the same time, then watching how they all synch up again every thirty seconds.  Very cool, but then you can also get into harmonics and resonance, musical instruments, and so forth.  This display could probably demonstrate all kinds of wonderful things if you knew what to do, or managed to discover by playing with it long enough.

So here is a question: The Exploratorium is  considered to be part science museum, part art museum.  But to what extent is it a school?  I’m guessing that for all its ability to inspire curiosity and what they call in the trade “informal learning”, you probably would not be able to use a pile of admission receipts to establish your expertise as a scientist.  What would it take to change that?  How might one go about using the “natural” means of learning to build the kind of expertise one acquires in a school or apprenticeship?  One key might be in that word “museum.” A museum is just what it sounds like, at least originally. It is a place of the Muses, where one goes to become inspired.  But then once the ideas start to flow and curiosity it kindled, the real work begins.

Brine shrimp photographed by setting my digital camera to full macro, pressing it against the wall of the tank, and taking the picture at highest resolution. This allowed for considerable enlargement afterwards. Photo by the author.

I’ve been wondering for some time if there is not a better way to accomplish the goals of higher learning. Perhaps not by making every university in the land into a museum cum playground, but by making the adjustments that would unleash more of the power of informal learning. I think some of the problem lies in how we present one’s education: a major, a degree title, and maybe a cumulative GPA.  This is so inadequate that most people who graduate, especially in “academic” fields find themselves needing to create a Curriculum Vita that adds some detail. This is especially needful if they tend to wander outside their professed field of study, as does your Humble Correspondent.

Eric Hoffer once observed that everything is equidistant from an idea if your mind is keyed up.  Right now, I am relishing the idea of getting back to the sciences, as well as my original intellectual playgrounds in the humanities.  I think there is a way to remake how we learn, how we form learning groups and communities, and how we summarize that learning for the information of others.  With any luck, my next job will give me the opportunity to play in those fields and maybe, just maybe, some new ways to fire the mind.