Early in September I heard one of the evangelical leaders suggest that Katrina was retribution for the godlessness of the big easy (there had been a large gay meeting planned for the near future).

Then W proclaimed September the 14th as a national day of prayer and remembrance.

Soon after that the gulf coast was blessed with Rita!

This caused me to wonder if there was a possible alternative explanation.


At this point, one might have to entertain the notion that if a diety is behind the storms, it might be Allah.

On the other hand, I'm not such a great fan of intelligent design so perhaps Blofeld has finally perfected SPECTRE's weather machine and we should soon expect a ransom note.

Or maybe it's just a co-incidence. After all, if we are to believe the Bush administration, and heaven knows they rarely get things wrong, the evidence is still out on global warming, so a rise in ocean temperatures can't possibly be affecting the weather, right?

Science and Spirits
Yikes. I didn't realize how long it had been. I know that I said I was working on a couple of things that I'd try to post soon, but soon has clearly come and gone and I still haven?t finished either of them. Still, it has been too long an interlude so I?ve thrown something together to show you what?s been keeping me busy.



This is an old photo but still one of my favourites.

I guess the fact that family time takes precedence over blogging is a given, but for the last few years I?ve been able to work in the alumni web stuff without too much difficulty. However, since early December something in the lab has been sopping up every millisecond of my "free" time, (I hope you'll excuse a bit of personal horn tooting.)






You now can count yourself among the handful of people who have ever seen data such as the squiggle to the left. In case it wasn't immediately obvious, the trace is a recording of the force generated by thin strands of muscle surrounding some rather small bronchioles. It may not seem impressive, but it truly is. For one thing, the spikes represent changes in tension of approximately 10 microNewtons (1 ?N = 0.001 milligram). Furthermore, the contractions were initiated in muscles that envelop the tiniest air passages deep within the lung by triggering the release of intrinsic chemicals.

Yawn, so what's the big deal, and why should anyone care? Well, up until now, every investigator who has performed experiments of this nature has initiated contractions by hosing down a chunk of lung tissue with copious quantities of fluid, containing industrial strength concentrations of the naturally-occurring activators (or their man-made equivalents), and/or whatever drugs they happen to be testing. The relevance of their studies to the events that actually occur in the body was uncertain, at best. Using a novel approach we've been able to more closely approximate physiologically natural conditions because, as I note above, we are using the lung's built-in activating mechanisms. Given the unique possibilities this approach provides for examining the factors that regulate airway caliber in normal and diseased lungs, we are now putting in 12 - 16 hour days exploiting the heck out of the preparation before we tell other labs about it. As a consequence, as you?ve seen, the posts here may not be frequent, and when they do come, it will likely be in spurts, in the downtime when we pause to analyze the data.

That was the science, now for the spirits (ethereal rather than alcoholic).

To keep things crawling along (and to perhaps relieve the creeping malaise of boredom that exists on the other public sites) I've resurrected and reworked something out of my files.

I believe that there is a difference between religion and spirituality. I'm not particularly religious but I do acknowledge that there are some apparently supernatural phenomena that I can't readily explain. So, although my beliefs have been shaped by my daily use of the scientific method, I am forced to keep an open mind.

Recently, a couple of things had me thinking about spirits. The first is the oft-shown ad for The Village, which contains scenes from The Sixth Sense. The second is the new TV show Medium, which I've watched a couple of times with my wife and found to be somewhat intriguing science fiction/fantasy. The common thread is that the protagonist sees ghosts. Now I don't exactly believe in ghosts, on the other hand, I find that I'm not able to completely disbelieve in them. Anyway, I was reminded of several anecdotes I'd previously written up but never quite finished and I present them below.

In college, I knew someone who claimed to live in a haunted house, and described numerous encounters with a particularly grumpy old specter. Of course that was the late sixties, so if you are thinking hallucinogens, and want to take his tales with a grain of salt, I won't be offended.

In my own experience I've only seen one phantom and I'm not sure that it counts. It was the ghost of a beloved 18-year-old cat we?d had to put down to end the suffering caused by intestinal cancer. If pressed, I would have to admit that, although I saw the apparition several times during the 18 months we lived in the house subsequent to his death, it was also true that I had held him in my arms while the vet euthanized him, so the specter was quite possibly a guilt-driven interpretation of shadows at the edge of my peripheral vision. However, deep down I'm not able to completely convince myself of that.

I currently know someone who seems to have "the sight". Several times he has matter-of-factly come out with, well, not exactly predictions, but statements of fact, that have come true soon afterward, e.g., there's going to be a car accident. And, at least on some level, he appears to have an awareness of what can best be described as ghosts, or perhaps spirits. He?s doesn't appear to be using these "powers" to serve any ulterior purpose. His pronouncements are too ingenuous and matter-of-fact and he seems to believe what he says. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that his predictions are just coincidence and his visions the products of an over-active imagination, again there's still a tiny part of me that's not certain. As they say, once is an accident, twice is co-incidence but three times is a trend. With this guy, we?re somewhat beyond the trend phase and edging into the realm of a phenomenon.

Perhaps the most disconcerting experiences I've had along these lines had to do with a brief flirtation with Ouija boards.

A couple of people in the crowd I hung out with in college got interested in these things and had a few "seances". If you're not familiar with Ouija boards, the one we used was hand made from a rectangular piece of hardwood that had been sanded so the surface was smooth and even. On the surface of the board, our hosts had inscribed a YES on one end and a NO on the other. The alphabet was displayed as two rows of 13 letters and the numbers 1 - 0 were below the alphabet. At the bottom of the board was the word GOODBYE. To "receive" a message from the beyond, an upturned, porcelain saucer with an arrow painted at the edge was used as a pointer. Two people sat on opposite sides of the board and placed their fingers lightly on the edge of the saucer. During the session the saucer moved around answering yes our no, or spelling out messages.

For me, and I expect for most of the rest of the people involved, it began as a lark. My first and only visit, I stood to one side as the hosts sat at the board and linked up with the spirit world (they'd read how in a book). The saucer skittered around, answering yes or no in response to people's increasingly silly questions. The yes or no stuff soon became a bit boring (to me the whole rigmarole seemed to be an elaborate production roughly equivalent to answering questions with a magic eight ball). I guess my hosts agreed because they called up a new spirit and invited it to speak freely.

The "visitor" spelled out a message in which it claimed to be a young girl named Sally, who was 9 years old, and had lived in the house. The conversation was rather disjointed because the words hot, burning, so hot, and other semi-coherent things along these lines, were repeated over and over. Some of the less skeptical members of the circle speculated that the girl had lived in the house and had died in a fire. Since I'd spent a lot of time in the sturdy brick Victorian house and had seen no obvious signs that there had ever been a fire, I remained unconvinced.

After a while, Sally's repetitiveness became frustrating and the hosts dismissed her. They asked if anyone else wanted to be a "medium". The prettiest girl in the room said yes, and for reasons other than a strong belief in the paranormal, I immediately volunteered to be her partner. After we had placed our hands on the inert saucer, they again dialed up the spirit world. Immediately, there was a change in the feel of the saucer. It seemed to take on an energy of its own and I was quite surprised by its apparently spontaneous movements. My arms and hands were completely relaxed and it really felt as if it were hovering slightly above the board's surface and tugging my hands with it as it moved around. In response to a question about who the message was for, the saucer spelled out tanya, the name of one of the girls in the room. It then moved laboriously from letter to letter spitting out gibberish which someone copied down. After a couple of minutes, Tanya sighed and grabbed my arm to break off "contact". She then took the pencil and used hash marks to split the gibberish up into "words". She claimed that the message was in Russian, her native tongue, and although she refused to tell us what the message said, she did indicate that it was from her brother, Aleksy, who had died several years before. None of us knew she had a brother, let alone one named Aleksy, which, in fact, was one of the words in the message, so I was rather unnerved and immediately gave up my spot.

The festivities continued with someone asking who in the group would be the first to die and the saucer literally flew off the table. We thought that to be interesting but inconclusive so the question was asked again and after moving around frantically the saucer spelled out Ana, which was, in fact, the name of a girl standing close to the spot at which the saucer had flown off the table a few moments earlier. Very twilight zone stuff, isn?t it? Someone pursued this by asking when (74) and then how (gibberish, later someone quietly pointed out to me that within the nonsense letters was the name of Ana?s fiance). In response to the follow up question of who would be the last to die, the spirit spelled out my name (I grudgingly have to admit that, despite my initial skepticism, this was something of a relief). I do remember thinking to myself that I'd have to keep in touch with Ana to see if she survived past 1974 which would mean I was in good shape since there would be 50+ years left until she would be 74. She did indeed make it all the way through 1974, but she and her husband left Kingston about the same time I did (August 1975). At that point, I lost track of them and also of most of the other participants, so I have no way of knowing whether the prediction is still a possibility. I?m still sputtering along, so here's hoping. Most of the group kept at it for a while, but I was unsettled by what had happened and I'd had enough, so I left. I didn't have any great urge to communicate with anyone, and I was just superstitious enough that I didn't want to risk having any spirits delving into the recesses of my mind and revealing my deep dark secrets to the rest of the group.

What I've described would have been creepy enough, but a few days later I bumped into one of the hosts in the Student Union. He told me that the day after our session they had gone up and down the street asking about fires and met an old man 90+ years old, who had lived on the street his whole life. My friend reported that the old man had told them that he couldn?t remember any fire, but that one of his playmates, a little girl named Sally, lived in that house and she had died of scarlet fever in 1905. After that I?d truly had more than enough. Although they had several other sessions, I never participated.

As I write about these events over 30 years later, I have realized that there are several plausible alternate explanations that I didn't consider at the time. It's entirely possible that the old man was a fabrication and since none of us spoke Russian it's also possible that Tanya was pulling our legs, with my partner as her accomplice.

On the other hand, that saucer really hovered and I did not detect any obvious tension in my counterpart's fingers so I still retain this tiny shred of uncertainty?

May 25, 2002

Visitors to our National parks are hereby advised that the number of encounters between hikers and bears has increased in recent years.

When traveling to more remote areas, hikers are encouraged to attach noisemaking devices such as small bells to their clothing to alert bears to their presence, thereby avoiding confrontations between humans and startled bears. Hikers are also encouraged to carry pepper spray to act as a deterrent in the event of an unavoidable encounter with a bear.

Visitors are further encouraged to stay alert for fresh signs indicating the presence of bears in the area in which they are hiking. Hikers are especially encouraged to ensure that they can distinguish between the spoor of the common black bear and that of grizzlies. Black bear droppings are slightly larger than those of humans and frequently contain berries and squirrel fur. Grizzly droppings are much larger, often contain small bells and may have a faint odour of cayenne.




There?s a back story to this.

The e-mail I originally received had a version of this joke that was written in French. I wracked my brain and was able to piece together the meaning. Because it was a bit of a struggle, it took a while to get to the last sentence, but when I did, I just about fell off my chair. I was so amused by it that I spent the better part of half an hour in stitches putting together most of what you read above. Then I spent the rest of the day spluttering and giggling uncontrollably whenever I remembered the punch line. It doesn?t seem as funny to me as I read it now, but then I guess the last line no longer has the element of surprise.

That evening, for accuracy?s sake, I went on-line to get some idea about the relative sizes of black bear and grizzly spoor. After all, I wouldn?t want to be posting a joke about, for example, a certain type of train service and include a picture of the wrong style of engine. My google search did not provide me with that information on any of the first 3 or 4 pages of hits, but what it did lead me to were no fewer than a dozen English language websites that had variations on the joke that I had painstakingly translated. I like my version better, but it did provide a lesson in how pervasive the internet is, among other things?

Well that was a wonderful holiday.

Christmas morning was a lot of fun. My son got enough of what he wanted to shore up his faith in Santa, as well as a few inexpensive gifts that he really loved. He was exuberantly and sincerely grateful which helped to counteract my vague feelings that he was being spoiled. My wife and I got eachother several things that we wanted. Hers were mostly what she expected, but mine were unexpected and wonderfully appropriate. Either she?s a better hinter than I am, or she?s more imaginative. Probably a bit of both.

I've been picking away on a couple of new posts but wasn't able to make much headway over the break. Perhaps now that I'm back in my routine, I'll find some time to finish them.

In the meantime, someone passed this joke along to me from The Really Old Guy's Not So Funny Jokes collection.



What's the difference between the Vietnam War and the war in Iraq?

George W. Bush had a strategy for getting out of the Vietnam War.

Yesterday, I took my son Kenny, who was 8 in September, to a party where someone we didn?t know was dressed up as Santa Claus.

This year he?s been struggling to hold on to his belief in the existence of Santa Claus. I know this because one day a couple of months ago he asked some questions about whether Santa Claus was real and from the way he asked, it was apparent that some of the older kids at school had been messing with his mind. [Was I as open a book to my parents as he is to me? Probably I was, and if so, they were a lot more clever, and tolerant, than I gave them credit for. This is not the first time I?ve been obliged to confront this reality.]

We fended off the questions as best we could, which I thought was rather lamely considering how clever Kenny is, and the matter lay there poorly-resolved. He never sought a better explanation, which was somewhat surprising given how tenaciously he usually pursues a fuzzy answer (I wonder where he got that from?). I?m assuming he decided to let well-enough alone and as December 25th approaches he is clearly back in the believer column. He showed absolutely no doubts when sitting on Santa?s lap at the party asking him for all manner of Yu Gi Oh cards and video games (all of which we already had, so thankfully we don?t have to rush out in a mad frenzy and try to find them on shelves that have been stripped bare by the hordes of shoppers who preceded us). Sadly, this is likely the last year we will see Christmas through a believer?s eyes, so I plan to intensely enjoy every millisecond of Saturday morning. I believe that I felt this way last year, but I'm thankful I was granted a year's reprieve from reality.

While writing this I?ve been reflecting on my own experiences with Santa Clause. Kenny?s been doing a pretty good job of suspending disbelief, but I really had to work at it. When we lived in Montreal, my father played Santa at 3 or 4 church and community gatherings every year. I willingly accepted the story my parents concocted; something along the lines of "Santa can't be everywhere at once, so he has a lot of helpers". I vaguely remember believing that this festively-uniformed army of foot soldiers kept track of every kid?s wish and passed it on to Santa. I must have been a very willing co-conspirator to overlook the blatant inconsistencies of the tale. I don?t think I ever questioned why I had to tell my father's Santa persona what I wanted several times AND write a letter to Santa AND tell the 'real' Santa (the one at Eaton?s St. Catherine?s Street store) what I wanted. I don?t believe that I was that credulous, rather I would like to think I was just clever enough to understand that some legends will not stand up to much probing. I do sort of remember trying to be on my best behaviour in light of the naive belief that dad had a direct line to Santa.

I was able to steadfastly maintain my gullibility in this matter until a few weeks before the Christmas when I was Kenny?s age. My friend's mother overheard me gushing about what I had asked Santa for, and took it upon herself to bring me back to reality by asking me flat out if I still really believed in Santa Claus. This was followed by a longish pause while I got over being taken aback and finally stammered out "uhh no?". Not satisfied with this stifling of my imagination she pursued the matter by asking me who I thought actually brought the gifts that allegedly came from Santa. Less of a pause as I quietly admitted that I knew it was my parents. I don?t know why she thought that she had any right to impose her standards of the appropriate age for a child to give up on believing in a harmless myth on me, but clearly she did. I?ve always been a bit annoyed when recalling this incident, and I?ve obviously not completely forgiven her for interfering, even after the better part of 50 years. I suppose I just would have preferred to not have such an important defining moment unnecessarily thrust upon me.

We usually don't get a chance to revisit such unresolved issues, but, believe it, or not, there?s an outside chance that the lady in question is reading this. In case you are, what were you thinking?

A few months ago, Rick Elger made me aware indirectly that he had posted Mrs. Brouillet?s diary on his public web site. My reaction was instantaneous, but I did not respond publicly, because I wasn?t sure that it was any of my business. I?ve really given this a lot of thought and have finally decided to stop holding my peace. A recent comment on this blog alluded to information that could only have come from the diary. Rather than expunge the comment, I?m taking this stand.

My parents taught me that there are some actions that are absolutely wrong, and that I should protest when I witness one. I believe that the posting of Mrs. Brouillet?s diary without her permission is such an action. Whether anyone reads the diary is between them and their conscience, however, in the future, I will delete from this site, any comment that makes reference to the diary or information obtained from it.

I feel much better. If I ever am fortunate enough to meet up with my parents again, that?s one less thing of which I have to be ashamed.

FYI

I've commented on Rick's and MIchel's recent comments. I felt that in this case it was more appropriate to associate my response with the actual comment so I would reduce the risk of quoting something out of context.

Only 17.5 shopping days 'till Christmas.

I?m going to respond to Murray?s comment (appended to 11/18/04 message) out here on the main page otherwise I fear we?ll end up like a dog chasing its own tail.

Murray,

Thanks for your comment. By nature I like experimenting and pushing back the frontiers, but I must admit that this blogging venture still feels a bit egotistical. I suppose I?m mostly trying to stem the onset old fogeyism and demonstrate to all and sundry that I?m a man of the 21st century.

Strictly speaking, despite the title, the blog will not be exclusively about Feller, but more how I feel about current events as seen through the filter of my Feller experiences. After all, I do value the past, but I?m trying not to be obsessed with it. Anyway, it?s not really by design that I?ve started by reacting to the public statements of other alumni; but so far that?s what I feel like doing. I?m finding that I kind of like the fact that I can express my personal opinions and not worry about offending anyone. No one has to come here unless they want to, so anyone who doesn?t care for my opinions can choose not to read them. Of course, that?s their loss.

I?m mildly concerned that you would again suggest that I would cut off your access to a discussion here because I might disagree with it (you must be confusing me with other web site czars). I?ve always tried to answer thoughtful comments with the same amount of honesty with which they seemed to be offered. I believe that I only get truly obnoxious when faced with willful ignorance and what I perceive to be intentional deceitfulness.

As to your defense of your response to Todore?s question, I was not suggesting that you shouldn?t jump in if you felt like it, rather I was subtly (obviously a bit too subtly) indicating that your butting in had deflected and diminished the full impact of a rather clever rhetorical question. Anyone who had really been paying attention to the group dynamic for the last 4 years, and likely even those who had only been following the exchanges between Todore and thirdmain for the last 6 months, probably should have realized that it would have been much more fun for the rest of us if you had stayed out of the discussion. Perhaps the time you were offline did not allow you to grasp the true intent of Todore?s comment. Or is it just that I?ve been the target of such a riposte enough times to recognize Mike?s tactics? In any case, no major harm done, and we likely all need to get a life.

As for your exchange with K?bug; I understand the value of blowing off steam; on the other hand, really smug, self-satisfied people, usually don?t ?get? the humour in the most pointed barbs that others aim at them. I guess we all have problems seeing something as funny when it is directed at ourselves; but clearly there exist people who are so filled with self-importance that they really can?t laugh at themselves. You apparently stumbled across one, but in your defense, as we have seen recently, you are in fairly lofty company when it comes to not recognizing that some off-the-cuff ?jokes? may be not so funny.

In any case, it probably wasn?t fair to go after her like a pit bull. Some of us are, with varying degrees of success, able to mount attempts to defend ourselves, but she was so obviously out of her league, your post was sort of like going after a very slow mosquito with sledgehammer.

As you accurately point out, due to past history the above commentary is clearly a case of the pot calling the kettle black, but I?m by temperament and profession a teacher, so I can?t help lecturing from time to time. As I said, it?s my site, so you?ll have to deal with it.

A casual reading of the religion section of my website and my more recent comments here on the blog should provide a fairly accurate reading about my opinions on the religious hypocrisy to which we were exposed. It should come as no shock to learn that I largely agree with the rest of the sentiments expressed in your comment.

In Jay Leno's monologue last night there was a joke that should strike a responsive chord. "The Pope recently expressed concern about the declining numbers of priests in the US. But on the bright side, it does show that the American justice system is working."

This is still a learning exercise.

It turns out that you can post a comment about any message. If you look at the bottom right just under each message there is a post your comment feature. Anyone can attach a comment to a message. The comment does not show up as part of the blog, but if there is a number in brackets to the right of the "post your comment" link, this indicates that comments have been made and how many there are. You can view the comment(s) by clicking on the bracketed number.

Isn't this fun boys and girls?

How refreshing. Someone in the MSN alumni family fielded a mildly confrontational "insult" post without going berserk. I hereby award Anne the Alastair P. Goodguy Award for her obvious serenity and self confidence in the face of uncivil discourse.

It's hard to judge whether a jibe is good-natured without the benefit of tone of voice, and, as others noted, there was perhaps more going on than met the eye, but still, it was the most effectively disarming, adult response I've seen in a while (perhaps ever). No insecurity issues for that grown up; all of us who seem trapped in adolescence could take a lesson in maintaining our composure from her.

On a tangentially related note, I've observed that some people exhibit consistently poor judgement when faced with personal privacy issues. Even after a lengthy period of empirical study, I can't decide whether it's an hereditary or an environmentally-induced personality disorder.