We discovered this stone thing buried in our back yard. There are straight grooves on three sides.
The best guess so far is from Phil Harris,
The Thing
nature
Whale Walk
The first North Atlantic right whale mother and calf pair has arrived in Cape Cod Bay. The Right Whale Ecology Program team from the Center for Coastal Studies (CCS) sighted the pair on March 18––Porcia, a 21-year-old right whale, and her newborn calf. They were first seen in late December off the coast of Georgia.
Yesterday, Susan and I were fortunate go on a Whale Walk sponsored by the Center. It turned out to not much of a walk because whales came close to shore next to the pavilion where we were supposed to start. They were relatively easy to see as they fed at the surface, so we had a sort of stationary walk.
We learned a useful tip from Jesse Mechling who led the group: If you see a large black rock moving across the water, it’s probably a right whale. There’s no evidence for black rocks off Cape Cod moving in that way.
The North Atlantic right whales are critically endangered. There are fewer than 340 individuals left and only 80 breeding females. The principal factors in their decline are shipping and entanglement from fishing gear. They’re called “urban whales” because they’re trying to survive off the shore of dense human populations with some of the most active shipping and fishing in the world.
They’re also affected by global warming, which results in warming of the oceans, shifts in the populations of copepods, alterations of the feeding patterns of the whales, coming into the way of new harms, etc. These issues are discussed at our annual Wellfleet harbor conference.
I have very mixed feelings right now. On the one hand I feel incredibly fortunate to benefit from organizations such as the CCS and their public engagement programs. I love being able to go a short distance to see relatively unpolluted beaches and magnificent creatures such as the right whales, directly from shore.
But on the other hand, I feel shame knowing that my generation is responsible for the destruction of these whales and other wildlife, and the habitats that they need to survive.
Nuthatch ducks
Our rain chain goes through beautiful transformations as the water freezes or thaws, with differences for flash freezing versus slow, and with varying amounts of snow on the ice.
As the ice melts it makes tinkling sounds like a tiny wind chime.
I just watched a couple of nuthatches swimming in the barrel at the bottom. They took to the (freezing) water like tiny ducks.
DNA ancestry
Like many others I’ve been curious about DNA matching, especially with regards to my own ancestry. Could a simple swab tell me where my ancestors lived?
Where am I from?
I asked this question of FamilyTreeDNA, one of many such services. Using a 12 marker test, it turns out that I’m 4.6% Irish and 2.5% New Zealander. But I’m also 2.4% from Trinidad and Tobago and, surprise… 12.5 % Faroe Islands. All of these numbers are higher than for the US (1.1%), even when including Native American (.6%).
If I wanted to have a simple narrative of my ancestry, these numbers don’t seem to help. I suppose I could say that my main origin is Faroese, with a little Irish, but my ancestors must have cavorted in New Zealand and the Caribbean as well.
The situation worsens when I use a different number of markers, Y-DNA, mitochondrial DNA, haplotrees, or other measures. It’s messy.
The jigsaw puzzle of ancestry
It may be disappointing to hear, but for anyone who has similar questions, the underlying science is deeply flawed. That’s true even for someone whose data seems more definitive than mine.
These tests are interpreted to fill in a jigsaw puzzle of who we are; 12.5 % Faroe Islands would be a big chunk of mine. I’d be a little bit of this and a little bit of that, an admixture. This is a term used to describe the process of gene flow between distinct populations. It can be fun to see the scores, but as applied to human populations, the whole idea is wrong.
It relies on assumptions of homogeneity among people living within national boundaries, mapping of ethnicities onto countries and of races onto continents, and racialist assumptions about pure categories. The idea that we can just fill in the jigsaw puzzle of our ancestry doesn’t work.
We’re not admixtures
Kostas Kampourakis and Erik Peterson discuss the science of this in a recent article published in Genetics: The racist origins, racialist connotations, and purity assumptions of the concept of ‘admixture’ in human evolutionary genetics (2023).
The article shows how admixture of the kind an ancestry detective would like requires the existence of pure or unadmixed categories.
There are two big assumptions:
(1) particular populations existed before the colonization era, have not undergone significant admixture, and have maintained their genetic variation.
(2) the people included in the reference datasets have four grandparents all born in the same country, implying they are somehow pure representatives of that country.
But these assumptions are ahistorical and regularly violated. They don’t account for migrations due to colonization, wars, or plagues. And archeological evidence shows that humans were migrating around the globe long before the age of colonization.
In addition to being a problem in the field of genetics, admixture leads to people saying things like “I just learned that I’m a big part Faroese, with a little Irish and Caribbean thrown in!” which is nonsense scientifically.
Basal slippage
Yesterday we walked part of the way on the trail around Sutherland Pond in the Ooms Conservation Area in Old Chatham, NY, The path was treacherous because of the melting ice, so we didn’t make it the whole way. But we were mesmerized by the patterns of water flowing under the ice,
I assume this process is similar to the basal slippage seen for glaciers in temperate zones. Because of human-caused global warming, the ice melts underneath. Then the remaining ice slides on the water layer, leading to more rapid loss of the glacier.
Gerbert de Aurillac, a lesson for today?
Gerbert de Aurillac, later known as Pope Sylvester II, was a talented French mathematics teacher who played an important role in bringing mathematics, science, medicine, and new technologies into Europe in the 10th century. These contributions were accompanied by efforts at social advancement, but in both arenas de Aurillac’s ultimate failure offers an important lesson for all of us today.
De Aurillac’s most important contribution was the decimal system, including the Hindu-Arabic numeral system we use today, but he also (re-)introduced the abacus, study of Arab and Greco-Roman arithmetic, astronomical studies, and the armillary sphere (a physical model of objects in the sky). Some credit him with the invention of the first mechanical clock (at least in Europe), one that used a pendulum to keep track of the time.
These ideas were not created de novo, but developed within a rich cultural milieu. A vibrant culture, nurtured by Islam, flourished in Spain, especially in Andalusia, from the coming of the Arabs in 711 until their expulsion in 1492. Spain was a home for Christians, Jews, and Muslims who interacted peacefully and learned from one another.
De Aurillac most likely studied at the abbey of Santa Maria de Ripoll, in the mountains of northeastern Spain. While there, he encountered texts from the Greek and Roman times, as well as Arabic texts, Visigoth texts, and many others. He recognized the vital role played by the world of Islam and would support what we would call multiculturalism today, as well as the development of a scientific community.
But this was not to last.
De Aurillac, as Sylvester II, was the first Frenchman to become pope. As such, he was deemed a “foreigner,” who did not deserve that position. His celebration of ancient and foreign ideas was no doubt a further obstacle to his acceptance.
But the larger problem he faced was age-old greed and the desire for power. His opponents sought to demonize him.
While he was studying mathematics and astrology in Córdoba and Seville, he was accused of learning sorcery. He supposedly stole a book of spells from an Arab philosopher. The demonization of Sylvester the individual drew from and reinforced the general fear of Islam.
Along with the rejection of “foreigners” and “foreign” culture, there was a rejection of mathematics, science, and new technologies. The magnificent bounty that the Islamic world offered to Europe was largely rejected.
By the end of the 11th century, the new powers within the church and European society enforced a theocracy, instituted the crusades, and before long, the Inquisition. Although the term “dark ages” is not appropriate, there was definitely a loss. Science was retarded, and the rich interchange of ideas diminished. This period lasted half a millennium, until the time of Galileo and Copernicus.
It was no outside force, but Europe itself that brought that on.
What about today? We see a similar xenophobia, the demonization of others, insatiable greed, violent efforts to obtain power, a rejection of science and mathematics, indeed of all forms of learning, and a subordination of civil society to particular religious doctrines.
Gerbert de Aurillac would recognize this pattern well. He failed against the onslaught of forces that cared little about learning, about other cultures, or peaceful, associated life. Will we do the same?
Origin stories
Recent conversations
I’ve had recent conversations with two friends my age. These have led me back to the big 5W’s: Who are we? What is our purpose? Where did we come from? When did the universe, life, and consciousness arise? Why are we here?
One writes
One of my more embarrassing memories from high school was a discussion in which two friends revealed that they were atheists. I was beyond shocked. I had never met an atheist before. I was made to go to church every Sunday. I couldn’t believe that these excellent friends had gone to the dark side and emphatically told them that the fact that we exist PROVED that there was a god. I remember one just smiling tolerantly.
Halfway through my freshman year I had an epiphany while reading John Bailey’s Gods and Men: Myths and Legends from the World’s Religions. All that religious nonsense just collapsed in my mind. What a relief! I still have the book.
Both of these friends had expressed concern for my recent cancer. But the second one took that concern in an opposite direction. He recommended Sickness, by J. C. Ryle. It answers the question, “How can there be sickness in a world with an omniscient and omnipotent God,” by saying that all sickness arises from sin, a turning away from God.
The friend also recommended re-reading the Gospel of John as a source of solace and inspiration. He suggested that I ask “Is it possible that Jesus is who He said He was?”
I like and respect both of these friends, especially when they let me express my own muddled views.
Asking important questions
I think of philosophy as the process of asking the important questions in life. In that sense, the scientist fascinated by cosmology, but seeking an explanation other than its divine origin, or the evangelical seeking to understand Jesus through studying the Bible are each practicing philosophy in their own way. The same is true of the Daoist trying to understand the nature of reality or to find a moral order to life, the Hindu seeing God in every aspect of life, the follower of Madhyamaka Buddhism focusing on the “middle way,” and the evolutionist exploring Darwin’s “tangled bank.”
When these paths become dogmatic, their value for philosophical inquiry is diminished. This is essentially the argument of James Carse in The Religious Case Against Belief. Carse is a religion professor at NYU who argues that religion’s greatest value is exactly in those areas where we are uncertain. When it degenerates into fixed beliefs it loses precisely what makes it essential.
On the other hand, when religion stays open to questions, calls forth awe about life and the universe, and helps us understand our common humanity, it becomes our way of making sense of a complex, ever-changing world. Both militant atheism and dogmatic religious beliefs fall short. John Dewey lays out this argument well in A Common Faith.
Seeking new ways of understanding
I may ask each of my conversants to read Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer. As a botanist, she has a beautiful way of integrating scientific and indigenous ways of knowing. That integration goes a step beyond Stephen Jay Gould’s idea of religion and science as “non-overlapping magisteria” (in Rocks of Ages: Science and Religion in the Fullness of Life.)
Another source of insight could come from the Confucius-Mozi debates in early China. Confucius laid out a case for starting with what’s close at hand, e.g., “honor thy father and thy mother.” He imagined ever expanding circles of love. Mozi and his followers challenged the Confucian view. They saw that adherence to family, village, local beliefs, and so on could lead to misunderstanding and disrespecting the cultures of others, and ultimately, violence and war.
Mozi taught that everyone is equal in the eyes of heaven. Mohists questioned Confucianism’s over-attachment to family and clan structures, arguing instead for the concept of “universal love.” That implies acceptance and valuing of others’ belief systems, and not placing one’s own beliefs above those of others. That could be extended to love of all things in nature.
Confucianists thought that Mozi overestimated what was humanly possible. They said that we always put our own families and culture first. The debate continues today and can unfortunately recurs in endless strife between Christians and Muslims, Protestants and Catholics, Hindus and Buddhists, atheists and believers.
The answer
So, I’m not sure how to answer the 5W’s. Spinoza said it was “God or Nature” in his Tractatus Theologico-Politicus. He was condemned by many for this work, but it made a lot of sense to me when I first encountered it in Humanities 100 at Rice.
In favor of Spinoza’s formula is the fact that nature is all around us inviting engagement, astonishment, and enlightenment. There is meaning in the journey. We need but open ourselves to its wonders and accept that our understanding can never be more than partial.
Herring on the run
The lilacs are blooming and the buttercups brighten the river banks, so the blueback herring are swimming upstream to spawn. We counted 89 in one ten-minute stretch this week, thus honoring World Fish Migration Day.
The herring do surprisingly well, despite the constricted tidal flow in the river. Their biggest problem comes at the culverts. Fortunately for them, the one near our count site did not have a snapping turtle, raccoon, or crow waiting on the upstream side.
We love seeing the herring. They tell us that the river, although damaged, is not dead.
A friend and neighbor says that she loves the herring, too, especially when they’re pickled with peppercorns and bay leaves, then served with onions. That was possible in the days when the river flowed freely. Our hope is that fishing, shellfishing, birdwatching, boating, and more can return when the river is restored.
How quickly do cells grow?
I don’t ordinarily spend a lot of time thinking about how quickly the cells in my body grow. But one of the many benefits of cancer Is that it’s giving me an insight into that question. I’m now learning a bit about this and particularly about how it affects every aspect of the cancer and chemo treatment.
Detection
Many cancers are detected in the first place because the cancer cells grow so much faster than the surrounding cells. For example, a skin cancer might show up as a spot or lesion on the skin that enlarges much faster. Other cancers show up as launch center of the skin or processes that interfere with normal body function.
In my case (ALCL) I did not detect cancer in this way. The cancer cells were in fact growing much more quickly than ordinary cells but that was all happening internally, in the abdominal lymph nodes.
Diagnosis
A key part of my cancer diagnosis was a PET scan. This is an imaging test done using hybrid PET/CT cameras. It uses 18F-sodium fluoride as a marker. This radioactive substance lights up the most quickly growing cells. In my case this showed brightly lit abdominal lymph nodes. There was also some involvement of bone marrow and spleen, indicating possible cancer cells growing quickly, but not as quickly as in the lymph nodes.
Treatment
The actual chemo treatment also depends on differential cell growth rates. The cytotoxins kill the most actively growing cells (the cancer), but fewer of the regular body cells. The theory is that one can keep zapping the cancer without doing irreparable harm to the rest of the body.
Side Effects
The most obvious effect of differential cell growth rates is in the side effects of the chemo therapy. For example, I lost the dark hair on my head but not the white hairs. This is good in the sense that I’m not completely bald, but it also shows that the cells that generate the dark hairs on my head are more alive (growing faster) than the cells that generate the white hairs.
I’ve also lost some of the hair under my arms but very little of the hair growing on the tops of my arms. One of the worst effects is in my mouth. The cells in the lips, gums, tongue, and interior of the mouth are rapidly growing cells that are affected more severely by the chemotherapy than are other cells in the body.
More
A good, accessible resource on cell growth is Cell Biology by the Numbers by Ron Milo and Rob Phillips. Their chart makes clear why chemo affects the digestive system, blood cells, and mouth cells more than say, fat or skeletal cells.
They point out that hair grows at about 1 cm per month, while fingernails grow at about 0.3 cm per month. Coincidentally, that is about the same speed as the continental spreading in plate tectonics that increases the distance between North America and Europe.
That last factoid should come in handy someday; I’m just not sure when.
Coming back to Texas
Days 11-17: Leander, Texas, 2856 miles, 13 states
There’s a land I know where the bluebonnets grow that is paradise to me,
From Amarillo skies down to Mexico, from the Pecos to the sea
Kenneth Threadgill, “Coming back to Texas”
Fifty years ago, I heard Kenneth Threadgill and the Hootenanny Hoots perform “Coming back to Texas” at the Split Rail in South Austin. This was in the “land that gave me birth.”
I went with good friends to share pitchers of beer, enjoy fried onion rings, and listen to great music performed by Threadgill, George McLean, and other notables. I should retract that. The music wasn’t always “great,” especially when folks like me chose to sing along.
“Fraulein” was a favorite and we weren’t awake enough to see that the term might be sexist. We were transported by lines like
Far across deep blue waters, lives an old German’s daughter
By the banks of the old river Rhine.
It was easy to ignore the fact that the actual subject of the song was a German-American living in Houston. If the singer had really meant
By the same stars above you, I swear that I love you
You are my pretty fraulein
he might have put more effort into just making the relationship work, not dreaming about the old river Rhine.
The Lone Star and Pearl longneck beers were cheap, there was no cover charge, no dress code, and no paving in the parking area. Hippies, cowboys, and graduate students mingled with little concern for status or political beliefs.
This was the Old Austin, near its end. Today, the streets around the Capitol and the University are just a tiny eye of calm in the middle of the hurricane of highways, suburban developments, and booming tech industry that characterize the New Austin.
But the real purpose of our stop in Austin was not to reminisce, but to see family, just a few of whom are shown here in a photo from dining out. The family time has been far more precious than even the memories of the Split Rail.
Chip's journey 