Tuesday, January 30, 2007

The Helpful Soul

For single female readers, the Helpful Soul offers the following information, gleaned from Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies by Jared Diamond. The author observes that of the world's 148 "big wild terrestrial herbivorous mammals" that could possibly be domesticated, only 14 were so domesticated by humans. Curious, we think--only 14?

The author lists six reasons that the majority of species failed domestic duties, which, it strikes the Helpful Soul, are directly applicable to the failure of male homo sapiens to achieve similar domestication in relationship to female members of the species. So, readers of the female persuasion, take note of why many mammals, and perhaps men, failed to be usefully domesticated:

Diet--when an animal eats another animal or plant, the conversion of food to body mass is less than 100% efficient, usually around 10%. This efficiency curve, therefore, rules out many potential domestication candidates. Male humans, however, are the inverse to this rule, being 150% efficient in the conversion of food to bio-mass, by means of Lazyboy, couch, and TV remote, thereby rendering them mostly stationary domestic objects.

Growth rate--the best candidates for domestication need to grow quickly. Among animals, this rules out elephants and gorillas as good food sources. In humans, it also rules out most men, since their growth rate, emotionally at least, is measured quite often in multiple decades. As medical science increases life spans, the growth rate to maturity may also increase to centuries.

Problems of captive breeding--many animals, due to complex, if not bizarre, matings behaviors will not reproduce in captivity, thus ruling them out of the domestication race. Surprisingly, many male homo sapiens show a persistent avoidance behavior to captivity, but not to breeding. This renders them less reliable as partners in the nurturing of young humans and in "calling you later."

Nasty disposition--large mammals that might otherwise be good candidates for domestication fail due to the fact that they are rather nasty, such zebras who bite viciously; or that they tend to eat humans, such as grizzly bears; or that they have personal hygiene and anger management issues, such as male humans.

Tendency to panic--large mammalian herbivores that tend to group together in the face of danger are easier to domesticate. Those that are nervous, flighty, and tend to run, such as deer, antelope, and single males homo sapiens, are not.

Social structure--mammalian herd animals, such as horses, that have dominance hierarchies, imprint on a leader, have overlapping territories, and tend to bunch up will survive well in pens and will imprint on a human leader in the process of domestication. Herd animals that are territorial, that feature competition between males for breeding, and lack the ability to submit to dominance do poorly in domestication. Bighorn sheep, rhinos, and male homo sapiens tend to be the later.

Sunday, January 28, 2007

Hula Skirts Are Flammable

Unlikely to hit the news, but there was a fire on the USS OHIO on Saturday. Sailor Boy called at 1:00 a.m. Sunday to tell me he was OK--and that woke me up immediately since any late night call from SB saying he's "OK" means there's a much bigger back story.

Seems a motor caught fire in the ventilation system, highly ironically, during a fire drill; so they had to cancel the drill and have the real thing. Fortunately, they were at dockside and not underwater.

Of course, it could be a cover story for someone accidently setting their hula skirt on fire. Or maybe not.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Sailor Boy is now Hula Boy

SB/HB has landed in Honolulu, staying at a "luxury" Navy housing high-rise, affording a 15-story view from the top floor of Pearl Harbor and Wakiki. It's luxury because each man has a private room with cable TV and a queen bed. But it won't last long--for the next several months, the sub will have 260 people on board instead of 150, which means alternating a bunk with someone (and he didn't get to choose the someone).

So far he tried to get caught up on sleep, visited the Arizona memorial, and went to the beach. Today (Wed) the sub arrives, and they do a crew change. From then on it's mostly work and no shore leave. They will, however, get to do some live fire practice with various guns and torpedos. The bright spot is a lay-over in San Diego on the way home to Bremerton in May--something to look forward to. As Grandpa Squire always said, "Stay out of Balboa Park!" Of course that advice stems from 1944.

SB/HB sends his love to all.
The Ladies, God Bless'em


"The Woman’s Missionary Union president, Mrs. W. J. Cox, was invited to give the report for 1929. A number of men objected and introduced a resolution that 'we earnestly protest the president of the W.M.U. or any other woman addressing this Convention.' It appeared Mrs. Cox might not be allowed to speak, but the convention president, George W. Truett, said firmly, 'Brethren, let us hear the gentlewoman.' Truett’s powerful personality carried the day, but even so some men walked out. In addition to her report, Mrs. Cox could not refrain from ad-libbing, 'No woman went to sleep in the garden. No woman denied Him. No woman betrayed Him. But it was a woman, acting in intuition, who tried to save Him.'"

From Women in Baptist Life by Leon McBeth (Nashville: Broadman Press, 1979, p. 120).

Sunday, January 21, 2007

Musing by Fake Fire

Sitting on the comfy leather furniture at Panera Bread and wondering if one can find the same degree of familiarity and inspiration in front of a ceramic firelog and gas flame as an honest-to-goodness wood-fed hearth.

True story: once I visited Uncle Pike and Aunt O at their home on East Paris, not long after they moved there. It was in the winter with about four feet of snow in the yard. Pike had a car that was buried under a snow bank. It was that deep.

For some reason (which violated all reasonableness), we decided to have a fire in the fireplace after the kiddies had gone to bed. O wisely decided to leave the boys with their project and retired as well. This required an Artic trek to the barn, approximately fifty yards behind the house and across an ice-filled ravine to fetch firewood. Through the hip-deep snow. Green firewood and possibly wet as well.

Using paper, cardboard, and maybe a small coffee table, we succeeded in starting a sputtering, smoky fire. After forgetting to open the damper, we also accidently fumigated the house. Finally, enjoying our small triumph, we lounged in front of the hearth and waxed philosophical. Or waxed something. Maybe shoes.

After enjoying the toasty coziness, it was time for bed. The fire was slowly dying, ("and my dear, we're still goodbying. . . ."--that has nothing to do with the story. I just like the clever lyrics of "Let It Snow"--until it becomes predictable sentimental twaddle.) But I digress. . . .

There was no fire screen and the carpet was too close to the fireplace. So the fire had to be put out, and we had a smoldering, ember studded log to deal with. Put the fire out? Why not "out" as in the "out the front door"? Why not indeed?

Opening the front door, Pike and I use various tools--fireplace tongs, pokers, meat forks, maybe a cookie sheet--to heave the log into a snow bank in front of the house, where it angrily hissed its displeasure at us for some minutes. No, wait--we should have used a cookie sheet because we still scattered ashes and fire specks across the living room carpet.

No problem. Out came the vacuum and in a few minutes, we had cleaned up the ashes and bits of ember. They were now deposited in a paper sack under high air pressure. Shortly the vacuum began to smoke as the bag caught fire. Thinking quickly, we yanked the cover off the vac, dismounted the bag, and heaved it into the snow bank, where it expired with demure sigh.

Boys and fire . . . the Stone Age's gift to the modern world.

Sunday, January 14, 2007

A Little Bit of Chaim

"Will you come back to America?"

"I do not know. It would be pleasant. But I have never done the pleasant things. Still, it would be very pleasant to return to America. This is a great land. But Americans do not know what to do with its greatness. It will be wasted."

Jakob Daw in Davita's Harp by Chaim Potok

The More Things Change

Sunday morning at Mars Hill, rocking with the David Crowder Band. I was thinking of all the similarities to the church of my childhood:

1957: Elvis wears a white belt.
2007: Rob Bell wears a white belt.

1957: Neighbor named Jack Daniels has a goat.
2007: David Crowder has a Jack Daniels goatee.

1957: All the boys are wearing Keds.
2007: All the boys in the band are wearing Keds.

1957: One square dude on the platform.
2007: One dude of a square platform.

1957: Singing ". . . like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to Thee" and thinking, "What's a fetter???"
2007: Singing ". . . like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to Thee" and thinking, "What's a fetter???"

1957: Standing room only for all services.
2007: Standing in the room for all of the service.

1957: Greatest desire: to be right.
2007: Greatest desire: to be N.T. Wright.

1957: Don't forget the offering.
2007: Don't forget the "joy boxes."

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Truer Words Seldom Spoken

"Well, I'll tell you, Dubin. Why we need God. Why I need God. To forgive us," he said then, and with the words his anger almost instantly subsided to sadness. . . . "Because when this is all over, this war, that's what we'll need, all of us who have done what war requires and, worse, what war permits, that's what we'll need, in order to be able to live the rest of our lives."

General Roland Teedle in Ordinary Heros by Scott Turow

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Make Mine with Cream Cheese

"I read such an interesting article on Gnosticism the other day," chips in Mr. Local Parson, . . . It referred to that splendidly readable book by--" He says a name that sounds like Inane Bagels, but I realise it's probably Elanie Bagels--or maybe Elaine Pagels, since the "b" sound was more of a pop than a blast--but Mr. Local Doctor, not listening, says irritably: "I don't understand this Gnostic stuff. What's the core premise?"

From The Heartbreaker by Susan Howatch

Monday, January 01, 2007

New Year's Restitutions

To M and J: sorry for all the craziness in 2006. My new word for 2007: mental health (technically two words). You bring me joy, even when the toast lands honey-side-down in the yard.

To J and R: thanks for blessing us with a part in the process of forming little humans. Sign me up for another "Night with Grandpa" (see new word above).

To D and E: thanks for sharing your first night in your own home with me. Don't know how to make up for that but will try.

To A: wish you were with us more but someone has to do what you do (except Quakers, Mennonites, Amish, and Jehovahs Witnesses). Stay safe.

To family and friends: I can't ever repay your kindness and love this past year. But I'd like to try.

To V: You would be so proud of them all. Thinking of you, this week of our 33rd anniversary.