Death and Motivation

In an odd coincidence, I watched episode 2 of "Band of Brothers" the HBO series with my two sons and talked with my daughter about her recent visit to a charter school in Harlem.  My boys are (almost) 11 and (just) 12.  Even though they don't have video games in our house, they play them with their friends.  In video games you die regularly and come back to life.  In the "Band of Brothers" they make painfully clear death has no re-dos.

The boys really like the series.  We will watch the whole thing together over the next two weeks.

On the same evening, I spoke to my daughter Lisa, a sophomore at the U. of Richmond about her Fall Break trip to NYC to see schools in Harlem.  One of these amazing schools she visited was located in the worst area of Harlem.  The school starts at 730 in the morning and goes to 430 in the afternoon, but the kids stay later if they need to finish their work.  They go six days per week, 11 months of the year.  More than 90% of the kids they graduate go to college.

The schedule is rigorous.  The work is hard.  So what is the biggest motivational problem for the school?

The student death toll.

Of the 1200 kids in that school, two to five die every month.  That's right, 2 to 5.  By the end of the year, that adds up to about 5% of the student body.

More than a million soldiers have served in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.  To date, about 6,000 soldiers have lost their lives in these wars or 0.6% of all soldiers.  If these wars had the same death rate as this relatively small school in Harlem, the death toll in these wars would already be worse than Viet Nam.

The unit I served with brought everyone home from Iraq--more than 2000 soldiers flying thousands of missions in helicopters.

Lisa said the teachers she met in these schools are amazing.  That is very easy to believe.  For all the problems with education, the best teachers really are miracle workers.

Lauren is Back in the Goal--and Whacked Again

Lauren called me Saturday evening to let me know she played the 2nd Half of the game between Juniata College and Drew College.  She didn't know she would be playing, but the doctor cleared her to play so she was happy to get back in the goal.

When she started in goal Juniata was down 2-0.  By the end of the game they lost 3-1, but Lauren felt she played well and made good saves--with her hands.

Then she told me she took a ball to her face.  She was seeing a black shadow in her eye.  Her mom and I worried about serious injury, but it turned out she just had some blood in her eye from the hit.  No bad problem, just a swollen eye with a red patch.

We had a chance to talk about her future.  In the short term, graduate school, in the longer term all the different ways she could do social work.  She hasn't yet decided which kind of social work she will do--adoption counseling, veterans assistance, probation, and others.  But she was clear that her career intent is to help people. so that is the important thing.

My Latest Book Review

I reviewed another book for "Books and Culture" magazine.  It is a history of science book.  It's most interesting chapter is an aside on the author's debate with Henry M. Morris, one of the founders of the modern version of Young Earth Creationism.
The book is titled Much Ado About (Practically) Nothing: A history of the Noble Gases.

I have another review coming out in the print edition next week, but it won't be on line for a month or two.

Staying as Long as I Can

Before and during the last drill weekend, I decided to stay in the Guard till they throw me out which likely will mean going to Afghanistan in two years or so.  Our unit should be getting new aircraft at the beginning of next year.  If all goes well, I hope to go with them.

When I started working full time in Iraq writing about soldiers, it became clear that in an ideal world I would have been in public affairs all the way through the training to get ready to go to Iraq.  That way I could have gotten information about every soldier before we went on active duty and written about the whole process--civilian, to soldier in training, to the desert and back again.

So I will write about all the training we do until plans for the unit become more clear.  Then I will have to get waivers both to stay in the Army past 60 and to deploy.  Our sergeant major thinks both waivers are possible, but nothing is ever a sure thing with waivers and exceptions.

On Monday when we were at the Corn Maze, PA State Senator Mike Brubaker was welcoming the veterans as we went in.  Later when we were eating he came over to our table and asked if there was anything he could do for us.  My wife said, "Neil wants to stay in the Guard and go to Afghanistan.  Can you help him with that?"  Sen. Brubaker called his aide over.  It turns out we live in a different senatorial district, but he said Senator Smucker would certainly be willing to help.  My commander in Iraq, Scott Perry, is the representative for the PA 92nd district, so maybe I will have other help getting a waiver.

At least now I can stop thinking about what to do next.  I will try to stay in as long as I can.  If I can't stay, at least I tried.  Next drill I will take an eight-hour ride in a Chinook and take pictures of aerial gunnery.  No matter how long I get to stay, I will get to do a lot of fun stuff while I am in.

Three-Day Drill Weekend

This drill weekend was a three-day Friday to Sunday weekend.  I will be posting pictures from the weekend.  I also shot video with a camera loaned to me by the WHYY Radio TV Learning Lab also known The Dorrance H. Hamilton Public Media Commons.

I shold be posting pictures in the next few days of pistol, rifle and machine gun ranges.  I should be able post video once Craig Santoro and the other folks at the WHYY Learning Lab help me figure out how to edit.

More posts in the next few days.

Today, my family got a free day at the Cherry Crest Adventure Farm in Strasburg, Pa.  They had free admission and free food for veterans today.

Another Half Marathon

Last Saturday I ran another half marathon--the Hands on House Half Marathon in Lancaster.  I ran it partly because it was close, partly because it was hilly, and because several friends from Church were in the race. It was a beautiful Saturday morning.  The race started at 9 am.  Just 1,200 people started the race, compared more than 15,000 at the Philadelphia event two weeks before.  Before the race started I hoped I could finish under two hours, but wasn't sure.  I felt better as the race went on and my pace was staying close to nine minutes per mile, so I thought I was going fast enough.

At mile nine, my left calf started to hurt and my legs started to feel heavy.  I thought I was keeping the pace up, but at the finish line the clock said 2 hours, 1 minute, 58 seconds.

Oh well.

I can try again soon.  There are several events reasonably close in the next two months.  My leg is recovering.  I ran three miles each of the last two days.  The winner in my age category finished almost 20 minutes ahead of me, so that goal is a long way off.

Go? Stay? Retire?

Lately I have been thinking a lot about whether I should stay in the Army National Guard.  On one level, I did more than I set out to do.  At first, I did not think I would go to Iraq.  That turned out different than I planned.

I would like to retire, but I have only a small chance of actually meeting the requirement for retirement.  In fact, I have a very good chance of ending my Army career just as my father did--months short of a retirement.  Dad served almost 19 years and was mustered out due to the Age in Grade act.  It was passed in Congress and supported by then representative John F. Kennedy.  Dad never voted for a Democrat and hated the Kennedys for that one.

To the best of my knowledge, when I turn 60 years of old, the Army National Guard will end my service.  At that point I will have 17 years of active, reserve and guard service.  I can get a waiver from the Adjutant General of PA if he or she is willing.  The waiver is good for one year.  I can get another year too, but age 62 is the upper limit.  At that point I will have just over 19 years which should be enough to get me the retirement.

To seal the deal, I would very likely deploy to Afghanistan or some other war zone by 2013.  But I could spend another year at one of our wars and still not get the retirement.

My current enlistment ends the month of my 60th birthday in May of 2013.

Actually writing this down makes it look less likely I can actually retire than when the words were just floating in my head.

PA’s Top Enlisted Man Started His National Guard Career in 104th Aviation

Command Sergeant Major Nicholas S. “Chip” Gilliland

His career in CH-47 Chinook helicopters spans three decades, but it took about three seconds for Command Sergeant Major Nicholas S. “Chip” Gilliland to decide on his most memorable mission in a Chinook. One long night in late January 1996 four Chinook helicopters from G Company, 104th Aviation Battalion flew to Williamsport to rescue residents from raging flood waters. In nearly ten hours using every rescue technique they knew, the G Company Chinooks rescued a total of 65 flood victims.

“We set the back end of the bird down on buildings and pulled people up the ramp,” Gilliland said. “We pulled people up with the winch. We set down wherever we could to save flood victims.”

Gilliland operated the winch. For most of the night he and the other members of the crew used night vision goggles and struggled against the rapidly changing weather that caused terrible floods. The temperature was almost 60 degrees during the day, then dropped to below freezing at nightfall and was ten degrees below zero in the middle of the night. Snow squalls hampered both rescue and refueling operations throughout the night.

The floods swept rivers across Pennsylvania causing 14 deaths, damaging 30,000 homes, closing 570 roads and destroying 8 bridges. But the act of rescuing residents altered the life of one of the rescuers

Gilliland is currently serving as Senior State Enlisted Leader for the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. At the time of the flood, he had served for almost ten years, that included three years on active duty, two stints in the Individual Ready Reserve (IRR), a ten-month recall to active duty during Operation Desert Storm, finally joining the Army National Guard in 1994.

Then in January of 1996, the rescue operation showed Gilliland the importance of well-trained aircrews ready to respond in hours to a statewide emergency. Ten years after his initial enlistment in 1986, Gilliland knew what his life’s work should be.

He served in Company G until May of 1996 when he was hired as a CH-47 instructor at the Eastern Army National Guard Aviation Training Site. Since May of 1996 he has been fully committed to aviation maintenance. At the Eastern AATS he has served as an Instructor, Enlisted Standardization Flight Instructor, Senior Instructor, Section Sergeant, Platoon Sergeant, First Sergeant, culminating in his assignment as Commandant/Command Sergeant Major.

Command Sergeant Major Dell Christine, 2-104th Aviation, credits Gilliland’s leadership at EAATS with creating a culture of safety and thorough maintenance procedures that contributed to the enviable safety record the Pennsylvania National Guard Aviation has had on major deployments to Afghanistan, Kosovo, and Iraq. “The record speaks for itself,” Christine said. “We deployed an aviation brigade to Iraq 2009 and brought all the aircraft and personnel home without a major incident.”

Gilliland says the mechanics and flight engineers who were his first mentors taught him correct procedures. “They were careful, they went by the book. They taught me to do things right.”

From overseeing flight training Gilliland took a big step up in becoming the senior enlisted leader of 17,000 Pennsylvania National Guard soldiers and airmen. “We have 750 men and women deployed at any given time. Thousands in the last two years,” he said.

Maj. Gen. Jessica Wright selected Gilliland from many accomplished Command Sergeant Majors and Command Chief Master Sergeants in the Pennsylvania Nation Guard. She said, “Selecting CSM Gilliland as the State Command Sergeant Major was a clear choice. Though he was surrounded by several highly qualified peers, he stood out as the person for the job.  He is a technical and tactical expert.   Chip is also a Soldier's Soldier; he serves under the mentality that he works for them, the Soldiers do not work for him."

Gilliland’s office in the headquarters building at Fort Indiantown Gap shows at a glance the care and attention to detail that mark his long career. The plaques, certificates, flags and rack of coins that mark milestones in his career are carefully arranged. His desk is organized and clear of stray paper.

When his three-year tour as Pennsylvania’s Senior Enlisted Leader ends, Gilliland said he will retire. He plans to return to work in aviation.

Update on Lauren's Broken Finger

Lauren is back at practice and in physical therapy to get complete her healing process. She said it was definitely painful when the doctor and the therapist started bending her finger, but she hopes to be back in the goal before the end of the season.

She also hope to keep her bones inside her body from now on!

Speaking at the Mount Joy Rotary Club

Last Tuesday I was the guest speaker at the Mount Joy Rotary Club.  I had never been to a Rotary meeting before.  I was not surprised the chicken was on the menu or that I could have three desserts if I wanted them.  I was surprised at the opening of the meeting when we sang a song together.  Service clubs like Rotary have existed long enough that singing together is one of their traditions.

We pledged allegiance to the flag, sang the national anthem and sang "Roll, Rotary, Roll."

The audience numbered about 30, mostly men and three women.  I wore my uniform since I was speaking about serving in Iraq.  After I was finished speaking one of the women said, "I saw you come in the building in uniform.  I thought you were too old to be a soldier, but you explained how you got in."

Randy Wolgemuth, the president of the Mount Joy chapter gave me my opening joke.  He asked how long I lived in Lancaster County.  When I said 30 years, he said, "You're a native."  I said, "No way!"  When I got up to speak I told the audience what Randy said, then told them about about something I heard from a Mount Joy resident 30 years before.  In 1980, I met Harold and Helen Keller.  They were in their mid 50s at the time.  They had lived in Mount Joy in the same house since they got married 30 years before.  They raised eight kids and were active in their Church and the community.  But Harold told me there was a group of women in their 70s and 80s who lived on their street who still referred to them as "The Kellers from Manheim."  Manheim is the next town to the northeast, five miles away.

I spoke mostly about the men and women I wrote about while I was in Iraq.  As I flashed their pictures up on the screen, I was wondering how they were doing now.  Telling some of those stories again reminded me that I met some of the best people I have ever known in that miserable country.

Article from Tactics about Iraq--from my Day Job

If you want to read it, send me an email and I will send a copy. ngussman@gmail.com 

Ran Half Marathon Sunday

On Sunday I ran the ING Philadelphia Half Marathon.  It was great.  I have never run in such a big event. More than 19,000 runners started the 13.1 mile race.  They filled the Ben Franklin Parkway lining up for the start.  I started in group 20 out of 22 groups.  There were roughly 900 runners in each group so I started with 18,000 runners in front of me and about one thousand behind me.

We ran from the the parkway through Center City to the Liberty Bell then looped back to the parkway past Chinatown and the Convention Center.  We then ran down Kelley Drive to the city line, crossed the bridge and ran back on West River Drive, finishing in front of the "Rocky" steps at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

I ran with my friend and former editor Kristine Chin.  She brought her family to the race, so we had a four-person cheering section at the start, 5-mile mark and the finish.  This year and last year, Kristine and her husband Rick rode the RAGBRAI on a tandem.  Kristine did the 400-mile+ ride across Iowa without training.  She did train a little--riding about 100 miles (total) in the months before the ride each year.  So she convinced me I could do a half-marathon with minimal training.

She was right.  I finished!!!!  Not fast, 2 hours 23 minutes, 33 seconds.  But I moved up from 18,000th at the start to 11,208th at the finish.  And I improved by 45 minutes over my time doing the half-marathon on Tallil in Iraq last year (3:08).  It was so much fun to run in a crowd with thousands of people.  I was in lot of pain on Sunday and Monday, but I hope to do another one this year.

Echo Company Back to Fueling

On Saturday of this weekend's drill, while the country remembered 9-11, Echo Company was training for the next mission.  The Echo fuelers set a a fueling point on Medina Ridge at Fort Indiantown Gap.  Fox Company set up communications for the operation.  Three Blackhawks came in for fuel just after lunch.  I was waiting for a ride to the military-vehicles-only training area and missed the Blackhawks.

I did have a chance to watch a pair of Chinooks fly in from the east and head southwest into the sun after practicing flying into the refuel point.  They did not refuel for reasons they never tell the guy with the camera.  But it was fun to get another chance to get near the rotor blast of a Chinook and get pictures of the big birds flying off into the sun.

Milestone in Context

Today this blog passed 100,000 page views since June of 2008 when I started keeping track.  It's a big milestone for a small subject, what it's like to go back in the Army when you are older than dirt.  Just to put in context, I checked the traffic on one of my favorite blogs, pharyngula.  This very entertaining blog by PZ Myers has had 88 million page views in the last several years.  I suppose Justin Bieber has 88 million page views on a good day.

Citizen Soldiers are not Entirely Civilians

I got a google alert on Sunday that my battalion commander was in a picture posted on the Penn Live blog, the on-line section of the Harrisburg Patriot-News.  When I went to the page all of the pictures were of the 2-104th homecoming--both soldiers and families.  Since the eight images pictured soldiers in our unit, I called the current battalion commander, the former battalion commander, my company commander (all of whom were in photos) and the battalion Command Sergeant Major.

If a civilian communications manager calls a civilian executive during a holiday weekend, that executive will hope the news is good and be ready for something bad, but will call back because his or her phone/blackberry is always on.  None of my leaders called back until this morning.  My current battalion commander, Maj. Joel Allmandinger, said he saw the photos.  Since it was good news, no reason to call during the weekend.

Since I am the kind of workaholic who brings his laptop and cell phone on EVERY vacation or day off, I admire people who really shut off their cell phones/laptops etc and actually go on vacation.  My disconnected time is on the bike.  If I don't hear from the others by this weekend, I will try to call them again on Friday.

I admire them, but won't emulate them.  I was asking for my cell phone in the hospital after I broke my neck.  It would take some kind of psychic surgery to get me away from digital communications for more than a day.

Digital Barbarism

After my latest on-line argument earlier this week, I decided to see what my favorite living writer, Mark Helprin.  His book Digital Barbarism: A Writer's Manifesto paints a beautiful picture of all that was marvelous without digital communications.  Helprin is a writer of tall tales.  His main characters are marvelous man and women who perform unbelievable feats--an old man who walk effortlessly on mountain trails, an out-of-shape young man who goes from fat boy to climbing alpine ice cliffs in a year.

Helprin says digital communication needs rules.  He is right, but it does make me wonder how that can happen.  I never make anonymous comments, but what does that mean in a world where many people do?  Facebook is somewhat better because you deal with people you know personally--unless you have "friended" strangers.  If you are interested in the topic, Helprin entertains, not just complains.

Reading this book reminded me that many of my favorite writers are political Conservatives--CS Lewis, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn and Helprin are soldiers and men who want to preserve high culture: literature, the arts and everything that makes life worth living.

Here is Helprin on the 2008 election:

By MARK HELPRIN

What a kerfuffle! Half a dozen talk-radio hosts whose major talent is that, like hairdressers, they can talk all day long to one client after another as they snip, have decided that the presumptive Republican nominee does not hew sufficiently close to their gospel.

As anyone who has listened to them knows, the depth of their thought is truly Oprah-like. And if a great institution of the left can weigh-in as it does in the choice of a nominee, why not its fraternal twins on the right? It doesn't matter that Mitt Romney, suddenly their Reagan, became a conservative in a flash of light sometime last year, or that their other champion, a populist theocrat, is in many ways as conservative as Vladimir Lenin. The task is to stop the devil McCain.

As a mere print person whose words are not electrified and shot through walls, automobiles, pine trees, and brains, I realize that what I write in the bloody ink of a dying industry may be irrelevant. But from my antiquated perspective, something is very wrong.

Ostracism following tests of "right thinking" is a specialty of the left. Not that it doesn't exist on the right, blooming with great malice especially on the radio. But in light of their prospects, conservatives have no room for it. For by their neglectful forfeit they have lost the battles of culture and education, and to remain other than an occult force they must express their beliefs through politics, from which, after November, they may be for a time excluded.

Why? To begin with, American columns should have cut through Baghdad after three days and exited three weeks later, leaving Saddam dead and a pliant Iraqi strongman to keep the country harmless or suffer the same quick take-down. Rather than being broken on the wheel of irreconcilable Muslim factions, a supple and intact American power would have shattered Arab elation following Sept. 11, and then by threatening their rule been able to discipline the various police states of the region into eliminating their terrorists. Far more efficient that way, without six and more murderous and unavailing years in which neither a single democracy has appeared nor will one. The surge is merely coincident with a change in Sunni strategy. Instead of watching the U.S. and Iran arm the Shiites for a major sectarian war, the Sunni choose to avail themselves of American arms while simultaneously removing the lunatic jihadists nipping at their heels.

The Democrats' advantage in 2008 is that the costs of the war in Iraq have been highly disproportionate to its effects, not least in the decline of the American military, when it could have been otherwise. Conservatism has been dehorsed, because though conservatives rightly seek victory, it has not appeared except in the minds of those suffering from cognitive dissonance.

This and the economy threaten to throw the conservative enterprise back to where it was before Ronald Reagan or even William F. Buckley. Along comes John McCain, who has an 80% positive rating from the American Conservative Union but who as a truly independent soul does not fit, at the margins, some of the transient notions of what makes a conservative. Because of his independence and flexibility, he is the only Republican candidate who has a chance of winning, and thus preserving the core principles of conservatism, in relation to which he is unimpeachable. They are national security (in particular the strength of the military after Iraq and vis-à-vis China and a resurgent Russia), Constitutionalism (as in individual vs. collective rights), and the economy (free markets vs. government industrial policy).

One can agree or disagree with his peripheral positions, but political orthodoxy is political death. If those who are in a hissy fit about Sen. McCain would rather have Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton, they will get Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton -- how delightful to go to jail for building your house on land once visited by an exotic moth -- and they will wake up to a great regret, as if in their drunkenness they had taken Shrek to bed.

But, guess what? Even if, as the country veers left, living conservatives gnash their teeth and dead ones spin in their graves, a small class of conservatives will benefit. And who might they be? They might be those whose influence and coffers swell on discontent, and who find attacking a president easier and more sensational than the dreary business of defending one. They rose during the Clinton years. Perhaps they are nostalgic. It isn't worth it, however, for the rest of us.

So, rather than playing recklessly with electoral politics by sabotaging their own party ostensibly for its impurity but equally for the sake of their self-indulgent pique, each of these compulsive talkers might be a tad less self-righteous, look to the long run, discipline himself, suck it up, and be a man. And that would apply equally as well to the gorgeous Laura Ingraham and the relentlessly crocodilian Ann Coulter.

Transformed in a Moment

One morning in Iraq, I left battalion headquarters to ride across the base and go to a meeting with the Command Sergeant Major of the Garrison.  We were meeting about the 9/11 Commemoration Ceremony.  We had much of the program in place, but we needed a chaplain for the invocation.  When I told the commander's assistant where I was going, two or three people in the office right away said, "Sergeant Major F*&K This!"  And smiled.  The garrison CSM had a reputation for swearing that was noticeable in an Army unit in Iraq.  I had not heard a sentence from him without an F-bomb.

The chaplain everyone assumed would give the invocation had just been transferred to the north.  Chaplain Valentine, the post Catholic chaplain, taught philosophy at Fordham University in New York City.  After 9/11 he decided to volunteer for the chaplaincy.  He was on his third tour.  From our base, he rode convoys and flew to every outpost in the south of Iraq.  The north was short of chaplains, so he went off to minister at the small outposts north of Baghdad.

My pick for the invocation was Chaplain Eugen Henke of the Wisconson National Guard.  He is an inspiring speaker and left his post as top chaplain in the state to volunteer for deployment.  

I knew as Chaplain Henke and I walked toward the CSM's office that the meeting would go well, but I was a little uncomfortable at the prospect of talking about a prayer sitting between a chaplain and the CSM.  I could hear the CSM talking as we neared his office.  "Get this F--ing request to headquarters. . ."

When we walked into the office, I introduced the two men.  We sat down and talked about the ceremony, the invocation and the flow of the event.  We spoke for almost 15 minutes.  Not ONE use of the F-bomb.  It was an incredible performance.  In fact, no one believed me when I got back to our headquarters.

As I walked down the hallway with Chaplain Henke after the meeting I made small talk, but in my head I kept thinking "Un-f*&king-believeable!!!!"

Surgery Went Well for My Oldest Daughter Lauren

Good News from the hospital.  Plates and screws will fix the compound open fracture and dislocation of her left index finger.  Lauren called me an hour after the surgery, groggy but in good spirits.  Her mom sent me a text right after the surgery to say the procedure went well.  Lauren should get most of the range of motion back in her finger.

Her big concern was whether she could play this season.  She is a senior so it's her last year playing college soccer.  She thinks if the recovery goes well she will be able to play at the end of the season.  She was doing some aerobic training during the three days she was waiting for the surgery and plans to practice as much as possible as she recovers (without using her left hand of course).

She asked the doctor if she could work out while she waited for the surgery.  The doctor said, "Yes Miss Type A. . ." and told her the exercises she was allowed to do.

Two Great Saves Become a Broken and Dislocated Finger in Pre-Season

Three days ago my oldest daughter Lauren made a spectacular save in a pre-season game.  She is a senior and plays goalkeeper for Juniata College.  She made the diving save with her left hand hitting the ball away just before she hit the ground, left hand first.  Lauren felt  a momentary sharp pain in the first finger of her left hand.  Her training overrode her feelings.  She snapped to her feet knowing that a loose ball of the net meant another shot.  She made another save.

When the ball was clear of the goal she yelled to the coach that her first finger was out of her glove.  She took the glove off then yelled to the coach that she needed a substitute.  Part of the first bone of her first finger was sticking through the skin.  At that point the game stopped and she walked off the field to get ice, ibuprofen and a ride to the hospital.

Lauren called me on the way to the hospital telling me what happened.  She was clearly on the edge of tears, but being brave.  she said she hoped for pins instead of plates and screws because she could play sooner.  It turned out she needs plates and screws and will have the surgery on Tuesday.  Later that evening after she had the X-rays she said, "It's two breaks.  My broken bone count is Seven."

I am very proud of her.  If there is any way she can play at the end of the season, I am sure she will.

The drawbacks of Army life and having a family are obvious, but on the other side of the ledger, my kids grew up (and are growing up) with Army stories as part of their lives.  They all lived with my deployment last year.  They want to be brave like their Dad and like all the soldiers I tell them about. CS Lewis said what you pretend to be, you will eventually become.

Lewis is right.

K-Oz Gets a Home!!

While i was in Boston on a business trip, Annalisa found a dog at the Humane League.  The newest member of our family is 6-year-old K-Oz (My wife studies Chaos aka Dynamical Systems in math).  He is a very sweet tempered German Shepherd.

K-Oz is helping Jacari wash his face!!!

Nigel with K-Oz.  K-Oz is happy but needs a nap.

From My Day Job--Book Review Published on booksandculture.com

My friend John Wilson just posted this review on his Web site at www.booksandculture.com.  Good book.  Congratulations to John on the 15th anniversary of his magazine:  Books and Culture.


The following article is located at: http://www.booksandculture.com/articles/webexclusives/2010/august/disappearingspoon.html

The Disappearing Spoon

Tales of chemistry, from the heroic to the absurd.

Neil Gussman | posted 8/26/2010

If you have never balanced a chemical equation, if you think chemical bonds are long-term investments in a maker of turpentine or Teflon®, then you may have missed the flurry of books based on the periodic table published in the last several years. You could be excused for thinking Sam Kean has chosen an arcane subject—the map of the chemical elements—for his 400-page book.

The title and cover art are suitably retro. In fact, the old-style title and subtitle—The Disappearing Spoon: And Other True Tales of Madness, Love, and the History of the World from the Periodic Table of the Elements—have almost as many letters (106) as the periodic table has named elements (112 and counting).

For those of us inside the world of chemistry, the first reaction to Kean's book (if you'll pardon the pun) is "another one?" But this young, gifted storyteller has written a book that shares only a chemical icon with other recent volumes on this theme. Kean presents the stories of the elements in all their human drama. The result is a delightful book of interwoven tales that will give even the most highly trained chemist some of the real breadth, history, and drama of the "Central Science." It is also a book that can be read on Southwest Flight 469 from Las Vegas to Baltimore to help pass five hours in an aluminum (Element 13) cylinder with 141 other carbon-based (Element 6) life forms.

Kean weaves together the lives and times of notable savants and scoundrels of chemistry to tell the stories of elements. Chapter 8 opens with fifteen scientists on the cover of Time magazine—the "Men of the Year" for 1960. In the first four decades of the 20th century, Americans earned 20 Nobel prizes in science. In the 1940s and '50s, more than twice that number, 42, earned the coveted prize in half the time.

Then Kean dives into the search for Technetium, the 43rd element and the most difficult to discover of the 92 elements that exist outside nuclear reactors. In the decade before World War II, a couple who were German scientists and Nazi sympathizers, Walter and Ida Noddack, claimed to have discovered Element 43 but were proved wrong. Others tried and failed. Then Emilio Segre, an Italian Jew who escaped the Holocaust by emigrating to America, pinned down the elusive element. Two decades later Segre was on the cover of Time.

After lauding Segre and recounting some of the details of his escape from the fate of Jews under Mussolini, Kean takes Segre down a peg. Explaining how the impetuous chemist missed discovering another element, Kean ties that mistake to the great blunder that led the great American chemist Linus Pauling to miss the structure of DNA. Pauling went on to become the only recipient of two individual Nobel prizes—for Chemistry and Peace—but James Watson and Francis Crick beat Pauling to the discovery of the structure of DNA. In a delightful (and disgusting) aside, Kean says DNA was first discovered almost a century earlier, in 1869, by a Swiss chemist who "poured alcohol and the stomach juice of pigs onto pus-soaked bandages until only a sticky, goopy grayish substance remained." The goop leads to stories about Phosphorus (Element 15) and on through the periodic table. Writing about Pauling, Kean says:

He was the Leonardo of chemistry—the one who, as Leonardo did drawing humans, got the anatomical details right for the first time. And since chemistry is basically the study of the forming and breaking of bonds, Pauling single-handedly modernized the sleepy field. He absolutely deserved one of the greatest scientific compliments ever paid, when a colleague said Pauling proved "that chemistry could be understood rather than being memorized" (emphasis added).

Kean merits the same compliment. The Disappearing Spoon shows that chemistry can be understood in all its rich history of competition, discovery, achievement, and tragedy. In an ideal world where science was central to high school and college learning for all students, Kean's book would be required reading before all the dreary daily details create a lasting, dull impression of chemistry.

And if this delightful book leaves you wanting to know more about how the periodic table works, pick up a copy of The Periodic Kingdom by Peter Atkins. The two books complement each other very well.

Neil Gussman is communications manager at the Chemical Heritage Foundation.

Copyright © 2010 Books & Culture. Click for reprint information.

Party at Work--September 30 Simulcast of Ig Nobel Prizes at CHF

I had lunch in near Harvard Square today at Rafiki Bistro with Marc Abrahams, creator and host of the annual Ig Nobel Prizes.  Great hamburger.  And a lot of fun talking to Marc about life in Iraq, and back home.  But the real subject of our lunch conversation was the 20th Annual Ig Nobel Prize Ceremony on September 30 which will be simulcast at Chemical Heritage Foundation where I work.  We are hoping to have a big crowd and several special guests in Philadelphia.

Tickets are almost sold out for the 1200 seats of Harvard's Sanders Theater, where the Ig ceremony is held every year, so Philadelphia may be the best place to eccentric published science get the recognition it deserves.

After leaving Harvard Square, I got stuck in traffic jams on Mass. Ave., Mystic Parkway, and five miles of Route 93 including the Big Dig.  In the rain.  It's nice to be home.

Numbers Update

Early this morning my blog got visit number 75,000.

A few hours later, somewhere in Medford, Mass., I went over 5,000 miles on my bike for the year.
I rode those miles and the last 10 miles of this morning's 30-mile ride in cold rain.  The weather has been bad in Boston for this whole trip.

Looking Up--My View of Sling Load Training

Six huge rotor blades whipped the humid August air, lifting and holding the Chinook helicopter just a few feet off the ground.  Inside the cargo-carrying giant, the pilots waited for the signal to move forward. 

Fifty feet in front of the hovering helicopter sat a Humvee with thick cables attached to its frame at the front and rear.  A soldier crouched on top of the Humvee at either end, holding a four-foot long metal rod with a circular eyelet at the end—looking like the loop end of a huge sewing needle.  The eye is made to fit hooks attached to the belly of Chinook helicopters.

With a thumbs up signal from the flight engineer working with the ground teams, the Chinook tips its plexiglass nose slightly down and rose to 20 feet of altitude as it flew toward the Humvee.  As the big bird approached, the soldiers holding the big cabled hooks begin to get blown around by the front rotor.  A flight engineer, hanging his head and shoulders out of the “Hell Hole” in the belly of the Chinook between the cargo hooks, guides the aircraft slowly down to a hover six feet above the Humvee.

Like rodeo cowboys trying to lasso a longhorn in a hurricane, the soldiers on the Humvee stood up in the swirling air under the Chinook and swung their metal “lassos” toward the hooks on the belly of the Chinook.  When the hook set, the ground crew jumped down from the Humvee and ran 100 meters away through the full Chinook wind blast. As they ran, the pilots slowly lifted the aircraft until the cables are stretched tight.  When the flight engineer signaled that the load was set, the Chinook flew up and away with the 3-ton Humvee swinging gently beneath. 

At that point, the Humvee circled the airfield underneath the Chinook, or the pilots simply went up 50 feet then lowered their cargo back to the ground.  The up and down flight is known among air crews as an elevator drill.  As soon as the cables were slack underneath the Chinook, the crew released the electric hooks.  The cables dropped to the ground as the Chinook flew away.  The air blast from the rotors is so loud that the hooks and cables fall without a sound.

Depending on the preference of the aircrew, the pilots made a slow circle back to their hover point, or they slid the 16-ton aircraft sideways 20 feet above the ground and flew backward before spinning the olive-drab behemoth in its own length, like a Smart car making a u-turn on a narrow street, making it look like some a mythic creature let loose in the middle of Pennsylvania.

The air crews and ground instructors for the all-day exercise were from Bravo Company, 2-104^th General Support Aviation Battalion which returned from a one-year deployment to Iraq in January of 2010.  They trained more than 100 soldiers from 2-28^th Combat (Heavy) Support Battalion.

On Vacation

For the past week I was on vacation in Utah with my family.  I have a lot more pictures to post from the sling load.  But in the meantime, I have 1,000 pictures on a public FLICKR page here.

I plan to transfer most of the photos from Iraq to this page eventually.

Today through Wednesday I am at a chemistry conference in Boston.  It is raining and will be raining through Wednesday.  I rode in the rain yesterday to see my best friend from High School, but will be in meetings all day today.

I'll try to post more pictures in the next few days.

Two of My Favorite People Get Promoted

At first formation on Saturday morning two of the best soldiers in Echo Company got promoted.  Sgt. Jeremy Houck got promoted to Staff Sgt. and Spc. Daniel Lake to Sgt.  In Iraq, Houck was one of leaders on the team that re-built and rewired many buildings all over Tallil Ali Air Base.  We were sent at the last minute to a base that was not ready for a Combat Aviation Brigade and Houck helped to change that--in a big hurry.  Lake is a smart experienced mechanic who spent a very long year doing whatever was required on maintenance teams. He had a sergeant's responsibilities during most of the tour.  His promotion was slowed by several paperwork hassles and long overdue.

Because they are in Echo Company, the ceremony ended with a splash!!!

More Sling Load Shots

How close does the Chinook get to the soldiers hooking the payload?

Chinook Sling Load Training

Today I got a call at 11 am from our Command Sgt. Maj. saying I needed to get to the south side of the airstrip as soon as possible.  Our Bravo Company set up sling load training for the 2-28th Brigade Support Battalion, the soldiers who support the 55th (Heavy) Combat Brigade.

Sling loads are anything that can be carried underneath a Chinook helicopter by hooking heavy cables and lifting.  In the morning, it was a Humvee.  In the afternoon pallets so large they could not fit inside the Chinook.

Restrepo

Yesterday I watched Restrepo, the movie about the worst corner of the war in Afghanistan.

Here's the trailer:


Both the movie and the book War both by Sebastian Junger, are about a year in Afghanistan with an infantry company assigned to the Korengal Valley.  Although based on the same year, the book and movie are very different, even focusing on different soldiers.

The movie is a documentary, but faster.  It doesn't explain, but shows what life is like.  And the soldiers on camera are more candid than I ever would have expected.  The commander of the unit busts on his predecessor so much I hope those two are never assigned to the same unit in the future.

I watch so few movies--this is my first in 2010--that I can't compare Restrepo to other films.  But I can tell you that I find many war movies silly or funny or both.  I wasn't laughing during Restrepo.  I was leaned forward in my theater seat and stayed all the way through the final credits.

More from Jim Dao, NY Times about Afghanistan

Jim Dao of the NY Times is following a combat unit on their entire deployment to Afghanistan from pre-deployment through the getting back home.  Here's the latest installment.

There's some funny stuff about all the things that go wrong with a  new unit on its first mission.  It's front-page of the print edition today for those who read the old fashioned way.

Talking About Dante Again

Followers of this blog know I had a "Dead Poets Society" book group in Iraq beginning last July.  The first book we read was Inferno by Dante Aligheri, translated by Tony Esolen.  Yesterday I was talking to the editor of the magazine at my day job about science education and Dante came up.  Our magazine is Chemical Heritage.

We were talking about the construction and location of Hell--Inferno is a guided tour of Hell down to the center of the earth and out the other side.

By the way, for any of you who had a bad education or read Thomas Friedman, Dante wrote 200 years before Columbus sailed and knew the size of the earth within about 10% of its actual size--as did everyone in the Church at the time Columbus sailed.   All that Flat Earth stuff connected to Columbus is bullsh#t.

The whole conversation was fun, but the most interesting thing to me was the vote at the end of the reading Inferno.  The group decided by a small majority to reading Aeneid next, not Purgatorio, the second volume in Dante's trilogy of eternity.  The group came to admire Virgil and wanted to know why he was Dante's guide through Hell.  Several of the soldiers were also upset with Dante for sending Virgil back to Hell when he (Dante) went to Heaven.

Unfriending on Facebook

Unfriending is an ugly word.  But in the virtual world it is very easy to make a friend you know very little about.  Most of the friends I have on Facebook are people I know in real life.  By category most are

• Riding buddies
• Army buddies
• High school classmates
• College friends

But there are some people whom I have never actually met.  Some of them follow my blog, some were on online discussion groups I participated in.

Last week, I unfriended a guy I have never met in person, but we have traded opinions for a few years.  He is a very smart guy who fires back hard whenever he thinks he is right or the other person is wrong--which is mostly all the time in my experience.  His Facebook comments can go to hundreds of words.  Anyway, I never minded his dismissive comments because I asked for them by being equally dismissive of him.  But last week I posted something that got positive comments from two "live" friends and scorn from the other guy.  Rather than confine his scorn to me, he lit into my college friend and my former co-worker.  

At that point all the protective instincts in me said this is wrong.  I should not allow my facebook page to be a WWE event.  I also sent my former Facebook friend a message saying why I hit the unfriend button.

There are many things I like about the virtual world.  But if a man is on your turf and insults your friends, it is clear that the relationship is in serious trouble.  In the virtual world, physical presence cannot put a brake on bad manners.  

Back to Riding for the Team

Today was a small but important milestone on my road back to racing.  And I am not talking about contending for wins.  At its best, my ability to sprint is about equal to the acceleration of a fully loaded tanker truck going uphill. 

But bicycling really is a team sport and my place on the BiKyle/Mazur Coaching Main Line Cycling team is helping the riders who can climb/sprint to win races.  Today’s race for the 55+ riders was 20 laps of a one-mile serpentine loop at the Rodale Fitness Park in Trexlertown PA.  The twisting circle is wide, smooth and has a flat, straight run to the finish.  Perfect for sprinters.

Only 18 riders started our race and three of them were in the 65+ category.  Three members of my team, Dave Nesler, David Frankford and I, were on the start line.  Nesler is a good sprinter, but there were a few very good sprinters in the so Dave would need to go before a pack sprint and stay away to win the race. 

The race started off slow with a few attacks that raised the pace.  When the speed dropped below 23mph, someone would occasionally attack.  Above 23mph the pack stayed in a line and rode wheel of the guy out front.  Riding out front of a pack means working about 30% harder than everyone else.  The guy out front is giving up energy.  The sweet spot is to be in the middle of the pack, surrounded by other riders who block the wind.

With six laps to go, I rode from the back (where I was resting from the last attack) and asked Dave if he would be better off with the pack going faster or slower.  He said slower.  Less than a minute later, Barry Free took off at the front and I followed him.  Once I was on his wheel Barry sat up and the pack was on us in a few seconds.  Rather than drop back, I stayed on the front of the pack, keeping my average speed as close to 23mph as I could--fast enough that no one wanted to raise the pace.

About 1/4 of the way around the final lap, the pack went around me to the left.  I started to swing to the right to get out of the way, but Dave decided to attack down the right.  He yelled, I inched left and he took off.

His move didn't last the whole way around.  I did not see the end of the race, because as soon as the pack went around me, I rode at half speed for the rest of the final lap.

Dave didn't win, Chip Berezny sprinted to the take top prize.  But at least I am back enough to contribute to the team.   

Piss Bottles

In writing about daily life in Iraq, I neglected to write about Gatorade bottles.  Specifically, empty Gatorade bottles.  I never went anywhere without one.  I never had to use the one I kept in my backpack whenever I boarded a helicopter flight, but I always had one.

Neither Blackhawks nor Chinooks have latrines.  And as some of their crew like to say, "We can stay up for hours."  In any case, I made sure to hit the latrine before boarding every flight and had that bottle just in case the Blackhawk had to stay up longer than I could wait.

In all the convoy training we did at Fort Sill and in Kuwait, I had that same empty bottle just in case that convoy kept moving.

And I kept an empty bottle in my CHU, just in case. . .

My commander once announced that he only relieves himself three times a day.  Any more than that is a waste of time.  I agreed with him in principle, but in actual fact, I am 57 years old and that kind of schedule is a long way in my past.

Writing for the blog Periodic Tabloid: gravity and Pseudoscience

July 30, 2010 | Neil Gussman

Recently the lead article in the Science Times profiled a string theorist who claims gravity does not exist.  

Instead, physicist Erik Verlinde says “gravity is a consequence of the venerable laws of thermodynamics, which describe the behavior of heat and gases.” Verlinde is not denying the phenomenon nor expecting pigs to fly, he just wants to describe why gravity keeps us firmly on Earth.

Theories do have a history of falling out of favor. In the late 1600s, both Christiaan Huygens and Isaac Newton developed useful and mutually exclusive theories of how light travels. For Huygens, light was waves. For Newton, particles. Huygens got a big boost from Augustin-Jean Fresnel in the early 1800s when the French scientist described light as waves in the omnipresent ether.

Almost a century later, the ether theory was found to be false. And in the 20th century both the wave and particle theories of light turned out to be true at the same time.

As a history of science organization, CHF follows the fortunes of theories from their inception through their ascendance and acceptance, and on to their demise. We may one day see the demise of the theory of universal gravitation. Theories, as a rule, rise slowly and fitfully and fall like a rock tossed off a building—gravity accepted as true for now. In all science, minority positions like Verlinde’s are part of every discipline. But sometimes these minority positions leave science and go another way.

As such CHF also tracks the history of pseudoscience. For us, the rise of a theory that never gains scientific acceptance is as interesting as one that wins acceptance as a way of understanding material reality. For example, why did creation science evolve and thrive in the United States, just as this country became the world leader in science? In the middle of a country that boasts Caltech, MIT, Harvard, Stanford, Apple, Intel, and Genentech sits the Creation Museum near Louisville, Kentucky. Inside Cain and Abel play with pet dinosaurs and the speed of light is considered variable.

Scientific theories are some of the most ingenious products of the human mind when based in fact. But even when they are not, the history of science in all of its forms is fascinating.

Published here.

Visiting Pittsburgh--Nigel's First Foster Family

Today we got up at 3:45 am to drive to Pittsburgh for a math conference where my wife is a presenter.  Our girls are working, traveling and otherwise occupied so only Nigel and Jacari came on the trip.  Annalisa had meetings from 10am till 230pm then she and the boys drove to Dormont, 9 miles south of Pittsburgh to visit Nigel's first foster family.  I rode there and got a chance to ride over Pittsburgh's Mount Washington, while they drove through the same mountain in the Liberty Tunnel.

The Sharbaugh family cared for Nigel for the first six weeks of his life--from when he left the hospital the day after he was born until six weeks later when we picked Nigel up and brought him to our home from their home.

The Sharbaughs cared for Nigel and 11 other newborn children in the first weeks of their lives, then turned them over to other families.  Wow!

I admire them very much in the same way I admire running backs who can smash though hulking linemen or hockey players who can speed skate and shoot a blazing slap shot all in one motion.  The Sharbaughs, the running back and the hockey player all can do something I can't do.

Imagine taking care of a newborn for weeks and weeks and then handing that little baby over to strangers--not once, but a dozen times.  I can't.  They are one amazing family.  I'm glad we had a chance to visit them and get reacquainted ten years after they cared for baby Nigel.

[In case you were wondering, we are Nigel's second foster family.  It was almost a year before all the paperwork was approved for the adoption.]

Some of my Favorite Quotes from Women in Iraq

"The biggest stress for me is calling home"--female soldier in Iraq whose family expressed their fear & anger to her, not to her Sergeant brother.


"I wanna light some mutha fu*ka's up"--20-year-old woman I served with disappointed when we did not pull convoy security.

"This place is all drama and no action."--SFC Melanie McCracken, Chinook Maintenance Platoon Sergeant, Tallil Ali Air Base, Iraq.

And the one that applies to every place from the beginning of time:

Stupid Should Hurt!

SFC Pam Bleuel, Drill Sergeant and convoy training NCOIC

Quote for Today

In times of war, you often hear leaders--Christian, Jewish, and Muslim--saying, "God is on our side."  But that isn't true.  In war, God is on the side of refugees, widows, and orphans.

Greg Mortenson, as quoted in "Three Cups of Tea: One Man's Mission to Promote Peace . . . One School at a Time", Penguin Books (2007) p. 239

Porthos Dies in the Night

When Annalisa and I were married 13 years ago yesterday, she had three cats--Athos, Porthos and Aramis.  They are the Three Musketeers if you ready old books or watch bad movies.  Of course the main Musketeer is D'Artagnan, and that is one criticism of the story for most of the past two centuries.

Actually, Aramis, who spent way too much time sitting in the middle of streets, died just before we were married.  Athos, the more adventurous of the two remaining brothers, lived several years longer, but also succumbed to injuries from spending just that extra moment in the road.

Porthos lived a fairly long life for a cat.  He and his brother Athos were excellent hunters.  They left the remains of mice and baby bunnies near the back door so we could see how proficient they were in small furry animal population control.  After the demise of Athos, Porthos was less inclined to hunt and, like many older carnivores, put on a lot of weight.  At his weight peak, his hind feet would disappear under his fat when he sat down.

But like some obese people, he managed to remain healthy despite a sedentary lifestyle.  In the last year he rapidly lost weight.  Last night when I switched the laundry at midnight, Porthos was asleep on a small rug.  He didn't move when I turned the light on, but I thought I saw him breathing.  The next morning he had not moved.  I checked.  He was not breathing.

Porthos is buried in the flower garden near our garage between Athos and our dog Lucky.

We will be getting a dog in September after we return from vacation.  We had been planning to get a dog for a while and now we won't have to worry that a new and energetic dog will torment our geriatric feline.

Flat Out of Luck

This morning I woke up at 0430 to drive 2 1/2 hours to a time trial race.  The 20km race was the Master State Championship.  It's not my favorite kind of race but I need the practice for the qualifying races for the National Senior Games.  I also volunteered to help clean up after the race since it was jointly sponsored by my race team, BiKyle/Mazur Coaching, and the Quaker City Wheelmen.

My start time was 0835:30.  I started warming up at eight.  I felt really good after the warmup.  The course was out and back beside a lake.  It started gently uphill then rolled through a series of rolling up and hills and flats.  I started fast and felt good, 26mph on the initial, hill 29mph on the flat.  I was flying, probably too fast.  But it didn't matter because 1/2 mile inI hit one of the little rocks on the edge of the road and heard--hissssssssssssssssss.

And my race was over.