Friday, December 18, 2015

Confessions of a Climate Agnostic

There were a lot of pomportant people in Paris and they seemed very self-congratulatory after signing a climate treaty.  Other than the smiles, hand-holding and comments like, "this is historic," it should be noted how little coverage the final agreement actually received.  The day after signing, it wasn't even mentioned on the evening news.  Even NPR had only a tacit story on it.
After learning more about the agreement, the lack of coverage probably makes more sense than should be admitted.  The final agreement has a lot of "shoulds" in place of "shalls" and there are basically no ramifications, other than global shaming, for non-compliance.  No country other than Luxembourg seems to really care about public shaming - there is always someone else to blame.  There is also very little in the way of objective measurements across the globe, making compliance with the suggestion even more doubtful.
The should versus shall should not be downplayed.  I should eat healthier and exercise more.  The law says I shall not walk out of Walmart with Twinkies without paying for them.  The former is a suggestion, the latter has consequences.  While the scale of a global environmental agreement is much bigger, the binding of the language is the same.
Reportedly, some of these "shoulds" were put in place at the urging of the US since the Obama administration was fearful that "shall" would then require Senate approval of the agreement, and this would not be a requirement if the agreement is merely a suggestion.  So rather than face the difficult political work at home, John Kerry pushed for a, largely, vapid agreement.

What the Paris agreement will allow, is for a lot more finger wagging.  Al Gore has been finger wagging for quite some time now.  And, frankly, something does need to be done.  However, even Mr. Gore does not agree that anything drastic needs to be done.  He is quite content living a lavish 1%er lifestyle while earning his living as a professional finger wagger.  He has attempted to address his oppulence, but his response is actually more dangerous than the problem his lifestyle creates.
I could almost admire his honesty if he said some form of, "I'm imperfect, and like everyone else, would like to do better.  But alas, I'm human so do as I say, not as I do."  What his response is really saying is, "I'm very wealthy, so I can live an extravagant lifestyle with only some guilt and an insignificantly small additional expense.  Those of you who are not rich must make real sacrifices."  (and he says this with condescension).  Elsewhere, the referenced "10 geothermal wells" are noted as being under Al Gore's driveway.  Just How friggin' long is his driveway?
I shouldn't pick on Al Gore too much.  It is just too easy to do and if the environmental movement ever does take off for the non-Birkenstock crowd, he would have to find something else to prognosticate on.

Expanding in a minute, I do see climate change as a real and growing threat.  What is almost unbelievable is how little population is discussed as part of the issue and solution.  As soon as procreation is mentioned, eyes get wide and hands are thrown up - having seven children, even if you can't afford three, is a basic human right!  Sadly, in the first world through the third, the people having seven children are too often the ones that can't raise them in a more sustainable manner.  The lack of including population changes as part of any solution, or even any discussion, of the environment in the future is further evidence of the (lack of) real importance of the issue.  As Al Gore has taught us, real sacrifices must always be made by someone else.

The question most of asked around the issue is, "Do you believe in global warming?"  This question itself is wrong and unfortunate.  The branding of the phenomenon as "global warming" was a huge mistake made decades ago.  Branding it as "climate change" allows for more honest discussions without including anecdotal observations of a frigid winter in Dallas.  There should actually be three questions:
So, is the climate changing?
Yes.  This is fact, and there is data to support this.  Denying this is, frankly, wearing blinders.
Is the climate change caused by human activity?
Somewhere between probably and almost for sure.  Scientific fact is hard to come by, but the vast majority of climate scientists are not dumb and while modeling the atmosphere is notoriously difficult, most models together point in generally the same direction.  Even the most conspiracy-minded skeptic must admit that, at best, human activity is not helping since, as above, the increase in carbon dioxide in the atmosphere is fact.
What should be done about it?
AAAHHHHHHHHHH, here is the real question.  The difficult one.  The question even Al Gore doesn't want to live by if he really believes what his prophet persona says.
The question of what to do about it must not be based exclusively on hard climate science, since any changes shall take into account economic theory, social changes, etc.

As much as I've spent much of my adult scientific life poopooing the "social sciences," they play a bigger role here than what anybody wants to admit.  Until the Joe and Jane six-pack crowd sees a short term benefit to changes that might improve the climate situation, it will never take hold.
Witness how when gas was $4/gallon a few years ago, the sale of small cars began to noticeably creep up, while in our current oil-glut environment, larger vehicles are again making a strong comeback.

Great, so the answer is to make not being a granola really, really expensive, right?
Wrong, economic theory must also play a role.  As resilient as the atmosphere may or may not be, the global economy is a fragile glass figurine in comparison.  Any attempt to affect a large change quickly will result in catastrophic consequences, even if the long term result is good (and modeling the economy long term is harder than the environment).  Negative changes in the economy moves people, business, and government into preservation mode and the climate will quickly become an even lower priority.
Similarly, it is ludicrous to expect advanced economies to digress - the economy must grow or die and any politician who suggests a decrease in lifestyle for the next generation will be railroaded out on a log.
We also should not expect developing economies to do anything other than pursue the lifestyle that the developed world has.  Suggesting otherwise is borderline evil.  I do sometimes wonder if the developing world is not in a better position to move ahead of the developed world - without the entrenched infrastructure in places like the United States, France and Germany, is it easier to put a different, more sustainable infrastructure in Subsaharan Africa? If environmentally friendly solutions are such a no-brainer and so much better for the long term economy and technologically advanced to the point everyone should have them, how come they are not becoming the norm in places like China, India or Brazil?  Maybe not quite as much of a no-brainer as the solar crowd would hope.

The difficulty of individuals making changes can be illustrated by what I do to help and hurt the globe.  I do this not to flog myself, or to be self-congratulatory, but to illustrate that almost everyone does things that help and hurt.
I recycle nearly everything I can, but I also realize that much of what is recycled does end up in a landfill.
I have a longer-than-average commute, but I chose my truck as the highest mpg open-bedded 4wd vehicle available at the time.
I drive very little on the average weekend, but pursuing mass transportation is not something I have much interest in.
I could buy a more efficient 4-wheeled vehicle, but then I would have yet another vehicle which is not really helping.
In the summer I do most of my commuting on a motorcycle which uses much less fuel than most cars, but my bikes are not really built for fuel efficiency and, frankly, I ride motorcycles because I like motorcycles, with any environmental benefit a tertiary thought at best - do motives matter?
I heat and cool my house with geothermal and keep it at a cool 64F in the winter, but if the house wouldn't have had geothermal when I bought it, I probably wouldn't have put it in myself.
I've looked into solar panels, and even ran full electric to my pole bard with that in the back of my mind, but any payout for solar panels, using realistic estimates, would be at about the anticipated lifetime of them, so I don't think I'll do it anytime soon.  To be clear, it is getting closer to being cost effective if subsidies are maintained, but looking at the actual cost, it is not.  And I can think of better uses environmental or otherwise for that money.
I see water scarcity as a potentially much larger problem in the future, but water use minimization is almost silly living in the Midwest.
I have planted many trees on my property, but they keep dying.

Everyone of these things has a "but" in it.  Nobody wants to destroy the environment or return to the days of burning rivers.  Everyone could be doing more and probably should (even Al Gore), but...
And that is the real answer, there are no easy answers to this.

Sunday, December 6, 2015

Dad's Christmas Cookies

For at least the last decade, Dad always sent Christmas Cookies.  These were large cookies decorated with copious amounts of frosting to look like Santa Claus, at least mostly like Santa Claus.  While the gesture was nice, most were never eaten - something I always felt a little guilty about.

Dad was diagnosed early in 2015 with pancreatic cancer.  He had some unusual issues, and after a few misdiagnoses, late stage four pancreatic cancer was confirmed.  I knew pancreatic cancer wasn't "a good one" to get, but until doing some reading, I didn't understand the degree of badness to this, especially at the stage he was at.

Dad was always a rock.  He was never flashy, never flamboyant or loud, or boisterous.  There were prayers for the miracle-cure which wasn't to come; my Dad and his wife said those prayers were answered in thousands of small miracles after his diagnosis, which was yet another lesson I needed to learn from that man.
In the classic sense, I guess we weren't close.  Our interests were very different.  I usually (only) saw him once or twice a year.  I communicated with him 10-20 times a year in addition to our visits - yet his diagnosis and the realization that his life would likely end, and soon, from pancreatic cancer hit me like a boulder.
All of my Dad's kids got together about a month after his diagnosis for a rally-around-Dad weekend.  On one evening, Dad showed a slide show of 35mm slides from our youth on his father's very antique slide projector.  Dad assumed this would be, at best, tolerated.  It was probably one of the highlights of my year.  We all really enjoyed watching the pictures and reliving childhood memories - creating new memories in the process.
We all had a great time that entire weekend - and it wasn't until the drive home that I realized why his diagnosis hit so hard.
Time spent thinking and putting thoughts to paper helped me put into words how with a strong foundation, Dad was able to help raise five interesting kids that were able to develop freely into their own very unique and independent selves.  I ultimately sent this to him for Father's Day - almost too late - and read it at his funeral.

I saw Dad a few more times over the spring and summer, watched the ever-healthy man deteriorate.  He never complained, never lost faith.  Just like his whole life, he was accepting and enjoyed every single positive second.  Early on, there was a lot of communication, but that waned as his condition worsened.  Updates, both good and bad, came mostly from his wife - a woman who showed the strength of Samson and compassion of Mother Teresa.

Dad died on Father's Day.  Maybe because I saw him the day before, I see his death on a day to honor dads as inexplicably non-negative.  His funeral really was a celebration of his life, as well as a roller-coaster of emotions since there were many people there who I hadn't seen in years.

Since Dad's death, I miss him in ways I never could have imagined.
I miss how he would read something I would post on Facebook, and then email me about it.  I'm not sure if his lack of Facebook comments was that he didn't totally get it, or his deference to my being a somewhat private person.
I miss how he would always have some reason to email me after I saw him, and asked if I made it home OK.
I miss how he would always send me a really cheesy online birthday card.
I miss realizing that my habits and mannerisms had grown to match his more than I was comfortable with.
I miss just knowing ... he is there.

And I miss those Christmas Cookies I didn't eat.
To be honest, I have a hard time seeing Dad make and decorate cookies; there is a lot I learned about him in his last few months that is difficult to picture.  But the cookies would come every year, very near, sometimes shortly after, Christmas, when my taste for sweets of any kind was diminishing.  There would always be an email preceding the cookies that "something was coming" for me.  A rumpled box would then show up, with cookies wrapped in cellophane and bubble wrap.
It hurts a little knowing that that box will never show up again, and I will still feel guilty about not eating those cookies.  Maybe this year, I will make some cookies, and I will frost them to look like Santa.  But I will not eat them - because whether it is Christmas, or Father's Day or any time in between, when I think about my Dad, I don't ever want it to be without a little bit of ache.

Friday, December 4, 2015

Nostalgia and Old Photos

I bought my first digital camera in 2008.  I actually bought three that year.  This was shortly before the motorcycle trip to Alaska, and I decided a very small digital camera made a lot of sense given the premium that space was going to be on the trip.  I loved my tank-like Pentax K-1000, but carrying it and a couple lenses was out of the question.  The first camera was a very small Leica that in some ways was form over function.  It broke en route to Alaska and was replaced by the much more capable Nikon CoolPix, purchased in Fairbanks.  The screen on the Nikon camera recently quit while going to The Keys this year, but the camera still functioned.  The Leica should have been discarded long ago; both the Leica and the Nikon were disposed of after the Keys trip, replaced with a new Nikon CoolPix that I can only hope will last as long as the 2008 model.
The third digital camera purchased in 2008 was a Kodak P850 and is still functioning well.  While low resolution by 2015 standards, the optics are actually quite good.

Prior to 2008, all my photography was 35mm.  As a result, I, like many others, have several boxes of developed pictures.  Some of these are semi-organised, but there are two boxes that were just a scattering of photos ranging from my infancy (very few) to sometime around the year 2000 when I got much more organized in photo storage.
Earlier in the year, I had uploaded most of my digital pictures to Google Photos.  The ability to have unlimited storage of pictures at a size that is reasonable for all but the most optimistic artistic uses is quite a valuable service.  Yes, I suppose Google can paw through them and they could get hacked resulting in my fishing pictures from 2009 being exploited, but I'll take the minor risk of that in trade for the service.  After loosing many pictures to a hard drive crash several years ago, I believe strongly in redundant storage.
With time available around Thanksgiving, I recently spent a few hours selectively scanning in older pictures to be uploaded, borrowing a very convenient Go Doxie scanner for the task.

Looking through the pictures brought back a lot of memories - which is I suppose why the pictures are taken in the first place.  What I was struck by, was the nostalgia the pictures brought.  Some negative, but most positive.  Even pictures which came from times that in retrospect were difficult, maybe even unhappy, seemed smoothed over in a way I didn't think was possible - especially looking back at that time.
The most evocative pictures were taken of my first two houses.  I only had a very small number of pictures taken of my first house, with slightly more of my second.  Both of those houses were moved into after stints in apartments which I hated, so the positive memories of being on top of the world on moving into my own building on my own piece of the planet is perhaps understandable.  It is easy to look back on the first house and try to construct a memory of how simple things were then.  But in reality, it was far from simple.  I was working two jobs, basically living paycheck to paycheck.  I was in school with very little time for anything else.  The memory of things being simple is just a mental construct.
Similarly, my financial situation on moving into my second house was far from rosie.  I was unsure of my job choice and there was a general, but intense, unease for the future.
Despite (seemingly) significant financial, work, and personal issues, I remember the energy available to clean, repair, improve, rebuild the first house as something special.  I see that occasionally in other people moving into their first house.  Over the last 25 years, that energy is easy to replace with contentment (not complacency).

There were also several pictures of various vehicles I owned that brought on nostalgic memories.  Digitizing the few pictures of my first car, I know the rose colored glasses were on as I thought about life at the age of 16.  I had to try to put it in a more realistic perspective; I'm somewhat surprised that the pictures are tinted in a red hue, given how awful the mid-teens were.  But I guess that first car was a bright spot, and even quite important to my eventual future.
I was also surprised about some of the things that I could not find any pictures of.  In 2015, there are multiple digital pictures of just about everything, no matter how trivial.  I could not find any pictures of my first motorcycle, something I see as quite depressing now.  I could only find a few images of my favorite truck, a 1994 Ford F-150 purchased as a graduation present to myself after college.  But these images are just in the margins of pictures of other subjects.  Several other vehicles are completely non-existent, seemingly erased forever from photographic memories.

There is probably a genetic reason for the more generally positive view of the more distant past, but I'm not sure why that would be.  It is likely quite dangerous, as it could easily lead to discomfort or discontent with the present.  The Germans have a word for this, weltschmerz:  World weariness or discomfort with the present, especially in relation to an ideal state.

This nostalgic view of the past could also lead to dire atavistic behaviors.  Quitting the job and trading everything for the relive of the college lifestyle would appear, and be, quite reckless.
"Degeneracy can be fun but it’s hard to keep up as a serious lifetime occupation."  -Robert Pirsig
Still, there is that ever present current...

I have the pictures to temporarily relive events like my first house, first car, first deer, but while the pictures are real, the memories will be somewhere between distorted and created.  The rosie nostalgia is evidence of this.
And that ends up being the real reality of the pictures.  The pictures, like the memories, like nostalgia, only show a single snapshot in time.  This snapshot, whether in silver halide/gel form, ink on paper, digital, or grey matter, is edited by the brilliantly feeble brain to be something that never was, even though it seems so real.  The shutter of a camera lasts a fraction of a second and the reality captured is just that brief.


It is easy to look at pictures an assume, maybe even hope, that the memories are just as real, but they are a modern personal mythology.  They are reality completely assimilated with Aesop's Fables, Zeus and Apollo and Harold and the Purple Crayon all combined into one narrative.

“It is difficult to live in the present, ridiculous to live in the future, and impossible to live in the past." — Jim Bishop