The Wonderful World of Oz…and Science

Dorothy_and_the_Scarecrow_1900Lately I’ve been reading my way through the series of Oz books. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is only the first in a series of 14 books, and it’s not remotely the best.

It’s fascinating to reread books I loved as a child. Some are still great. Others have inexplicably morphed into poorly-written, preachy duds. Fortunately, the Oz books are the former type. They were published between 1900 to 1920 and vary in quality, but the made-up world is fun and Baum’s sense of humor holds up well.

In The Patchwork Girl of Oz, the seventh book in the series, I was surprised—and pleased—to encounter a bit of science. Even better, it’s totally outdated science. Continue reading

The Rime of the Ancient Astronomers

hedI received an email the other day from Nicholas Suntzeff, the director of the Astronomy Program at Texas A&M as well as a friend. (Readers might remember that he has published two guest posts with LWON.) His email was in fact a series of emails that he thought I might enjoy. It started with a link to an article that Nick sent to a colleague at Texas A&M, and then one thing led to another, and before long they were trading stories about odd, weird, you-couldn’t-make-this-stuff-up historical details from their adventures in astronomy over the past three decades. At one point in their reminiscences, Suntzeff sighed (if only virtually), “Becoming interested in history is a disease many astronomers get as they age.”

That statement in particular got me thinking. From interviewing Suntzeff for a book, I knew that he enjoyed the living history of astronomy. He had spoken fondly of cloudy nights he’d spent as a young astronomer at an observatory in Chile; the telescope out of commission, he would retire to the library and explore the archives or, better yet, sit and listen to stories from Allan Sandage, who had long ago been Edwin Hubble’s assistant, and who was a formidable astronomer in his own right, as well as a raconteur par excellence. I myself once spent a couple of days with Sandage for a magazine profile, after he had retired from astronomy but while he still regularly went into his office at the Carnegie Observatories headquarters in Pasadena. He’d come down with the history disease, too. He talked about salvaging old books that young colleagues would leave in the office’s discard pile; he walked me through cabinets full of fifty- or sixty-year-old photographic plates and daily observing logs. “The library is my telescope now,” he said.

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The Last Word

Like for real25- 29 November
This week, we gave thanks.

Ann pointed out that sexual harrassment may be a subset of a deeper inability to keep other people from suffering the consequences of your own inner demons. Kant is involved.

Jessa identifies a central mechanism keeping us from flying off into virtual existences — that pesky inner ear that insists we keep both feet on the solid ground of reality.

Richard tells a charming story of science’s version of ad-libbing.

Two years ago Cassie told us about her aunt Cee’s road to recovery after a stroke. Here’s the update.

As Ends in Themselves

satyrAbout a month ago, the science writing community found out that one of its leaders was sexually harassing his younger female colleagues.  The young women, especially those looking for networks and jobs, took to the internet and named him in front of his own community.  The internet got its shorts in an uproar which eventually focused on the ubiquity of sexual suggestions and behaviors coming from male professionals, especially senior ones, to women professionals, especially junior ones. Some of the male professionals were surprised, none of the women were – as I said, ubiquitous.

I didn’t have anything to contribute because any such shenanigans aimed in my direction have come not from people in power over me – editors, say, or agents — but from sources, from scientists I’m interviewing. So they’re inconsequential to smack down and fundamentally ridiculous besides.  The one exception, an editor, makes me think this problem is less hormonal, less social, and mostly moral. Continue reading

Thanksgiving at LWON: Recalibration, Standard Candles, and Teammates For Life

An estimated 73 percent of the People of LWON will be in a country that celebrates Thanksgiving today, and the remaining 27 percent are good-natured sorts, so we decided to dedicate today’s post to giving thanks. We’re writing about what we’re thankful for—and what gratitude says about us, about life on earth, about what we expect or about what we hope will be.

We’d love to hear if there’s someone or something you’re thinking about today, or your take on gratitude and its place in a complicated world.  But first, we wanted to give a shout-out to someone we’re all grateful to—thank you, dear reader, to you. Continue reading

The future is vomitous

pukeIf anything bolsters our instinctive revulsion to game-changing technology, it’s that so much of it makes us physically queasy. Much of our experienced technology involves sensory conflicts that inadvertently activate an ancient digestive reflex. Since the first mariner failed to find his sea legs, the story of human limit-pushing has been one big barf-fest. There’s illness in response to inertial motion: carsickness, plane sickness, space sickness and roller coaster sickness. Riding on camels and elephants will do it, with the low-frequency oscillation of their gait. But the word ‘nausea’ shares its Greek roots with ‘nautical’, and originally referred to seasickness. An urge to hurl may even await someone travelling only slightly faster than nature intended.

All I wanted to do this weekend was to slide down a stupid mountain in Davos, Switzerland. Many possibilities occurred to me on the lift train to the top of the ski hill – that I would crash and find out whether I had any kind of health coverage here, that I would be shown up by my client’s expert skier of a nine-year-old daughter, that I would make a wrong turn and have to bust out my horrendous German. What I did not expect was to be heaving Bircher muesli into the snow on the second run.

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Tale of the Tape

Icecube01-630The news this past week that the IceCube Neutrino Observatory has fulfilled its mission by detecting neutrinos originating beyond the solar system reminds me of a story I once heard. I can’t reveal the source, though not out of a sense of journalistic responsibility. If anything, my discretion is due to journalistic irresponsibility: I don’t remember his name, and I wasn’t taking notes at the time. I have a good excuse, though: I was loopy.

The IceCube experiment is part of the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station, the United States’s scientific research outpost at the South Pole, which I visited in late December 2008 on a grant from the National Science Foundation’s Antarctic Artists and Writers program. On the day of my stop at IceCube, I was fresh off a sea-level-to-9000-foot-elevation-in-three-hours plane ride. Almost immediately upon my arrival at the Pole I had met someone working on IceCube who offered to give me a tour, and not knowing if I’d have another chance, I accepted, albeit hypoxically.

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Redux: Long, Tough Road to Stroke Recovery

This post originally appeared back in February 2011. If you’ve already read it, we apologize. Cassie is frantically packing in preparation for a cross-country move. 

brainlith2-322x430January 3rd was a bad day for Cee. That morning she had a colonoscopy. The procedure went smoothly. But afterward, Cee felt ill. Something wasn’t right. She had a bite to eat, poured a glass of milk, and told her husband she was going to lie down. She set the milk on her nightstand. Then she collapsed.

At the hospital, doctors determined Cee was having a stroke. They found a clot blocking a major artery in the left side of her brain, so they gave her a clot-busting drug called tPA and airlifted her to the stroke center at Swedish Medical Center in Denver. By the time she arrived at Swedish, the clot was gone — a good sign, the doctors said.

The left side of the brain controls the right side of the body. Cee was awake, but her entire right side was paralyzed. She couldn’t speak, nor was she responding to simple commands. But when she saw her husband and daughter, she smiled and started to cry. Continue reading