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Dr. Pepperberg relates this experience:

There are some things that the birds do that, colloquially speaking, "just blow us away." We were training Alex to sound out phonemes, not because we want him to read as humans do, but we want to see if he understands that his labels are made up of sounds that can be combined in different ways to make up new words; that is, to demonstrate evidence for segmentation. He babbles at dusk, producing strings like "green, cheen, bean, keen", so we have some evidence for this behavior, but we need more solid data.

Thus we are trying to get him to sound out refrigerator letters, the same way one would train children on phonics. We were doing demos at the Media Lab for our corporate sponsors; we had a very small amount of time scheduled and the visitors wanted to see Alex work. So we put a number of differently colored letters on the tray that we use, put the tray in front of Alex, and asked, "Alex, what sound is blue?" He answers, "Ssss." It was an "s", so we say "Good birdie" and he replies, "Want a nut."

Well, I don't want him sitting there using our limited amount of time to eat a nut, so I tell him to wait, and I ask, "What sound is green?" Alex answers,"Ssshh." He's right, it's "sh," and we go through the routine again: "Good parrot." "Want a nut." "Alex, wait. What sound is orange?" "ch." "Good bird!""Want a nut." We're going on and on and Alex is clearly getting more and more frustrated. He finally gets very slitty-eyed and he looks at me and states, "Want a nut. Nnn, uh, tuh."

Not only could you imagine him thinking, "Hey, stupid, do I have to spell it for you?" but the point was that he had leaped over where we were and had begun sounding out the letters of the words for us. This was in a sense his way of saying to us, "I know where you're headed! Let's get on with it," which gave us the feeling that we were on the right track with what we were doing.

These kinds of things don't happen in the lab on a daily basis, but when they do, they make you realize there's a lot more going on inside these little walnut-sized brains than you might at first imagine.

If you wish to see the first seven stations, as well as other information about the Stations of the Cross at Pleasant Hills Community Presbyterian Church, see the first post, "Stations of the Cross: Stations 1-7." As before, the title for each photograph is a link taking you to the meditation on that photograph. The photographs can be clicked to get a larger version of the image.

Eighth Station

Ninth Station

Tenth Station

[Note: To avoid interrupting worshipers, I took these photographs while the stations were still being set up. Yes, there is a sign at the base of Station 10 that says IX. The sign was placed there while someone went to look for something to hang it with at the 9th Station. As I said, these are preliminary photos. I did get more today, but they're not processed — or even downloaded from the camera.]

Eleventh Station

Twelfth Station

Thirteenth Station

Fourteenth Station

The Artists

Last night, as a part of Lent, the youth group ministry (CrossOver) of Pleasant Hills Community Presbyterian Church set up 14 stations of the cross for meditation before or after the Ash Wednesday service. They chose 14 stations from the gospel accounts of Christ's last hours.

Here are the preliminary photographs of the stations. The title of each photograph is a link that will take you to a meditation that accompanies the following photograph. If you click on a photograph, you will be taken to a larger version of the photograph, sometimes necessary to read text on the artwork or to get a better view. Please note that the photographs are crude approximations of experiencing the art live.

Program cover
History of the stations of the cross
Practice of the stations of the cross

The First Station

The Second Station

Third Station of the Cross

Fourth Station

Fifth Station

Sixth Station

Seventh Station

Stations 8-14 can be found at "Stations of the Cross: Stations 8-14."

Only I'm not so sure he's playing. He wants to give the Bush administration a free pass on the Katrina response.

I'd thought that Joe Lieberman was someone I disagreed with but with principles. Apparently I was wrong about the "principle" part.

I'm sorry I ever defended the man.

Change comes to Pittsburgh?

I was reading "Overheard in Pittsburgh" and got to wondering… After more than a year of incessant photo shooting, I've got a very useful library of images.

Do I need to mention that this photo has been severely edited?

Click on the image for the large version.

The East Hills High Rise Stands Defiant!

Today, Titan Construction attempted to implode the East Hills High Rise in Pittsburgh. Unfortunately, only part of the building came down.

As a paramedic for the City of Pittsburgh, I had been to the East Hills High Rise many times to treat patients. Back then, the High Rise was one of Pittsburgh's nicest high rises for the elderly. The people in the building took care of both their building and of each other. Many were the times when a neighbor's concern got us there in time to save a life. Crime was low. There was a shopping center near by with a Zayres and other stores. The view from the 14th floor (the top floor) was fantastic. When we'd get a "check the well being" call that turned out to be someone sleeping in instead of attending church, we'd get a chance to admire the sight from the top of the building that was itself on a hill.

Most important to a paramedic, the elevators (though small) worked. Trust me, no one wants to carry someone down the stairwell from the 14th floor!

When I was promoted to crew chief in 1992, I moved to a different EMS unit and didn't see the East Hills High Rise as often. Apparently crime invaded the building, too many tenants no longer cared about their home, and the elevators were broken too often. Three years ago, the last occupants were moved out. Today was to be the last step in eliminating this high rise in favor of better non-high rise housing for the elderly.

The Implosion Ceremony begins.

A. Fulton Meachem Jr., Executive Director of the Housing Authority of the City of Pittsburgh

The Housing Authority of the City of Pittsburgh had a brief ceremony before the explosion. Mr. Meachem began the festivities. He made sure everyone had masks — NIOSH N95s, for which my lungs would later be very grateful!

Luke Ravenstahl, Mayor of Pittsburgh

Pittsburgh's mayor, Luke Ravenstahl, spoke next. He looks smaller (and yes, younger) in person. Still, he projected an aura of maturity and statesmanship as he spoke, though there was a tinge of "Mythbusters" glee in his voice at the anticipated mayhem.

Twanda Carlisle, Pittsburgh City Councilwoman

Twanda Carlisle, the Pittsburgh district's councilwoman, spoke next. She remembered to thank the church, PETRA, that hosted the ceremony and viewing. What had been the old Zayre's had become a church and a school. The buildings across the way were long gone, leaving a perfect view of the high rise. The church also hosted the people of the neighborhood who had to be evacuated from the area until the blast was over.

Herman Ward, former East Hills High Rise Resident

I don't know if I ever met Herman Ward. He used to live in the East Hills High Rise. He participated in the ribbon-cutting ceremony at his new home, and he seemed rather eager to see the old one destroyed. Apparently he was no happier with failing elevators than the paramedics were!

Anthony Bodami of Titan Construction spoke last. As the implosion would occur shortly, I did not manage to get a photograph of him.

East Hills High Rise before implosion attempt.

From the PETRA parking lot, we could see the back of the apartment building. We were amazingly close, something that would be brought home to us soon.

First explosions.

At the end of a countdown from 10, the button was pushed. We heard the explosions almost as soon as we saw them.

The near wing of the high rise crumbles.

I set my Nikon D50 to multi-image mode and let it fire away. All I had to do was hold my finger on the button. A separate camera recorded the image that's on the YouTube video. I was next to someone filming for KDKA. A radio reporter for KQV was covering the implosion for the radio station and taking pictures as well. On the other side, WPXI's cameraman was filming. A little to my right was a 5 or 6 year old boy with a camera who was having a ball!

Smoke from the explosives in the far wing is visible.

Did the explosives go off in the far wing? Later, that was a big debate. My photos don't show the flash, although you can see it in the video. The situation would have been better if the explosives hadn't gone off in that wing. That's the conventional wisdom. Would you rather go into a building that was almost brought down by explosives, knowing your footfalls might be the only thing it takes to finish the job? Or would you rather have to go into a building where the explosives are live…and might finally decide to engage in their exothermic chemical reactions? It's not a job I'd want, either way.

Pittsburgh, we have a problem!

The collapse happened very quickly, but there was still time for my mind to register that something had gone seriously wrong.

After the smoke clears…

This photo was not taken from exactly the same position as the others. When the brown billowing dust covered the view of the building and I stopped both photography and video, we all noticed that the cloud was heading directly toward us.

Before the cloud hit, there came a smell of explosives. There was the acrid smell of black powder. A second smell followed rapidly after that — I can't identify the explosive that produced it. Either I'm getting rusty in my old age or it's an explosive I've not encountered before. I quickly put the lens cap on the Nikon, turned off both cameras, and headed toward the shelter of the car. The dust rained down on me, visible like tiny raindrops.

I'll post the video link as soon as it becomes available on YouTube.

Avast ye! Some (mostly) silly thoughts for "Talk Like a Pirate Day" tomorrow:

• Do not, under any circumstances, put a live parrot larger than a parakeet or cockatiel on your shoulder. Have you ever noticed that pirates have a parrot and an eye patch? Those two are related. Parrots are flock animals, and often the "pecking order" is determined by eye height. The bird whose eye is higher is at a distinct advantage. If you put the parrot on your shoulder, the parrot is now in charge, as its eye is above yours.

  Parrots also have rapid reflexes. They feint at one another, expecting the other bird to move out of the way. Humans don't have these reflexes in comparison, which might lead you to learn such medical terms as "exopthalmia." It's not the bird's fault — you should have moved quicker.

• "15 men on a dead man's chest" was created by Robert Louis Stephenson, and refers to a legend of Blackbeard marooning 15 men on an island called "Dead Man's Chest" that had steep cliffs, no trees, and no shelter. He left the men with one bottle of rum each and a sword. When he came back, all 15 men were alive. Of course, this may have been a legend started by Robert Louis Stephenson, which he then referred to in "Treasure Island."
• Speaking of parrots, the idea of pirates having parrots is based on Robert Louis Stephenson's "Treasure Island." He based his description of pirates and parrots on legends of pirates. Of course, these may have been legends started by Robert Louis Stephenson.
• I'm beginning to wonder if pirates ever existed, or if they were simply a legend started by Robert Louis Stephenson. Boy, talk about viral marketing!
• The Watchmen comic book series takes place in a world with real superheroes. There are no superhero comics. In that universe, comic books are about pirates. To escape, one pirate lashes together the bloated corpses of 15 dead men. Do I really need to spell out the joke?
• Ozymandius, the "I don't mind being the smartest man in the world, I just wish it wasn't this world" superhero of the Watchmen comic book series, is based on a legend that was started by Robert Louis Stephenson. No, not really, but if Robet Louis Stephenson can do it, why can't I?
• I expected the two Pirates of the Carribean movies to be rated "Arrrh!"
• What I know about talking like a pirate is pathetic. Let's face it, I wouldn't be the pirate, I'd be the poor schlub that gets robbed and killed by the pirates.
• The most successful pirate ever was a woman named Ching Shih. At her peak, she commanded 2,000 ships. Bartholomew "Black Bart" Roberts was a piker in comparison.

The data center at the temporary morgue was at the left end of the room as you entered the door. The FBI had the middle section and United Airlines the far end. Assembling the computer network and loading the machines with the software took the first day. On the second, I attempted to enter the first data files into the computer myself for the program's creator. Apparently, I'm good at breaking software; the third day involved getting the software engine's creators to help with software repair and testing new versions of the software. Members of the DMORT (Disaster Mortuary) and DMAT (Disaster Medical) teams set up and prepared for work.

It was the fourth or fifth day when the data entry people, mostly secretaries for local mortuaries (chosen for their previous experience dealing with the sorts of data that would confront them) were due in. On that day, there was something new on the wall: Forty-four names, with spaces beside them. The names were written in hand in black marker on the white poster board. I spent that day teaching the people how to use the software, establishing security procedures, making sure each of the secretaries got their morgue identification, and occasionally trying to figure out the handwriting on the documents from the morgue.

The names on the poster board were a constant reminder that we were dealing with the remains of real people. Occasionally, I and my boss had the duty to inventory a brown paper bag, filled with things like used hair brushes, used toothbrushes, shirts pulled from the laundry; anything that might have a passenger's or flight crew's DNA on it. During these times, I realized how easy we had it. Somewhere else, another group had the job of interviewing family members of the dead of Flight 93, asking detailed, obnoxious, but necessary questions about things like tatoos, surgeries, and such. We had it easy.

I came in early every day. I despise being late, and it was my job to have the computers up, running, and backups made of the data. At all times, we had at least three backups of the data, two of which were always off-site. We were considered a potential target. If something happened to us, at least the data we we were working to gather would survive. Besides, hard drives can crash.

One day, very early in the process, there was a change to the cardboard names. One of the names had been cut out and moved to the opposite end of the room, where the United personnel worked. I think it was one; it might have been two. That particular detail is lost to me. But the meaning was extraordinarily clear. This name had been conclusively linked to the terrorist actions. He did not deserve to be listed with the others.

Someone in the FBI arranged for cable to be installed and a TV brought in. CNN Headline News played constantly. On that day, I arrived to find three names at the other end of the hall. One of the FBI agents, an older, hardened man, came in shortly after I did, pointed to the last Arabic name on the data end of the room, and said "I hope to God he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that he fought the terrorists, too." I'd been thinking the same thing, but hadn't been able to verbalize it the way the FBI agent did.

CNN's Headline News was, of course, on. We watched the efforts at Ground Zero, the Pentagon, and the FBI agents in white hazmat suits in a field near us. When reports of another person cell phoning from Flight 93 to a loved one were made, we would look up at the list of names and see that person's name staring back at us.

Somewhere during the half hour, there was an interview with the parents of the last Arabic name on the passenger list. They were explaining how their son could not have been a terrorist. He wasn't that devout a Muslim, he'd come to America to learn and he had a girlfriend he loved. This last name was a human being, a mother's son. Everyone spent the day hoping he was not part of the terrorist plot.

When I came in the next day, his name was gone from our end of the room. Down in United's section, there were four names.

A different FBI agent walked in that morning, looked up at the names, and said "Shit." The data entry people were not the only ones who had been rooting for the young man to be innocent. In a half-ditch attempt to salvage some hope, I asked the FBI agent "Are you sure it's him and not someone who killed him and assumed his identity?" The FBI agent brightened for an instant, and then realized how desperate this hope was. "That's something we should check out." He made a phone call to someone. Near the end of the morgue operations he came in and handed out FBI hats to those of us he'd worked with. When he handed me mine, he leaned over and whispered, "It needed to be checked out." He shook my hand and moved on.

In many airplane accidents, the airplane does not strike the ground nearly perpendicular. Bodies can be identified as bodies are normally identified. Like U.S. Air's Flight 427 before it (about the same time of year, which caused some emotional problems for some), United Flight 93 went in almost perpendicular. Several conspiracy web sites report that there were no bodies in the United Flight 93 crash. In a technical sense, they were correct. There were not bodies, but fragments.

For United Flight 93, DNA would become the gold standard for identification. But the first person identified positively on the flight was not identified by DNA. In the family interviews, questions were asked about tattoos. One of the tattoos stuck out in people's minds, and so when it was found, it was noted and rushed through the morgue process. When the file came in, it went to one of the secretaries doing data entry. She opened it up, saw the photograph, and in a voice barely holding back the tears, called us all over. The Superman tattoo was intact. Our first hero had been identified positively. His name was marked on the posterboard as "Identified." Several of the data entry people cried; everyone was stunned. The first identification was traumatic.

That day, we took extra-long breaks at the Red Cross food station. Tents had been set up outside the National Guard Armory where workers could get away, enjoy meals or snacks, and breathe fresh air. In what had started out as a joke but wound up working so well it will probably be standard procedure for mass casualty incidents from now on, a massage therapy team came and offered chair massages to any who wanted them.

Under one of the Red Cross tent, on one wall, was pasted the letters school children sent us to encourage us. Well, most of the kids wanted to cheer us up. There was one little boy of…shall we say "uncertain parentage"?…who seemed intent on inflicting as much psychological damage on us that he could. When people read the letters, you could tell when they got to this child's letter — they broke out laughing! This was the first laughter I'd heard at the morgue the entire time I was there, and this was obviously a group that knew dark humor intimately.

After that, the workers at the morgue loosened up a bit. Between the identification and the one boy's "encouraging" letter, some invisible dark weight was lifted. We were still solemn in our duties. We called ourselves the "Caretakers of Heroes." This was, to a person, the last gift we could give to those who sacrificed their lives for their fellow Americans. But there was hope for the future. This would not be the end of the world.

CNN's Headline News continued to tell us about the World Trade Center recovery effort and the Pentagon. There were stories about the people of Flight 93, family members relating the lives of these individuals and sometimes playing recordings of their last, desperate phone calls. The media began to report what we'd known for quite a while: The passengers and crew of United Flight 93 were heroes who attempted to take the jet back and died as a result.

More and more people were identified. DNA analysis came back, and more of the names of the heroes of Flight 93 on the posterboard had notations beside them.

Not only were we the "Caretakers of Heroes" but we were the caretakers of the remains of four terrorist murderers. Even I, the liberal Christian, wanted to gather up the identified remains of the terrorists and desecrate them in ways I am ashamed to recount. But that retaliation never came from anyone. We were civilized, and civilized people do not desecrate the corspes of their enemies. The remains of the terrorists, where known, were treated properly. They were not honored and respected, but they were not abused, either. Even in our deepest grief, we would not stoop to barbarism.

On the second Sunday after 9/11, there was a worship service held in the shadow of the crash site. The morgue shut down for a few hours. Those who wished to attend were driven to the service. Anyone who wanted one was given a Gideon's Bible, with the New Testament, Proverbs and Psalms. A copy of the Torah, Proverbs and Psalms was available for those wishing it instead.

Work continued. What had appeared to be a month-long detail went quickly and efficiently. Instead of thirty odd days, we finished up two weeks after the 9/11 attacks. We had cared for the people of United Flight 93.

On the last day, the task was cleanup of the facilities. The Armory gymnasium was sterilized and returned to being a gymnasim; for most of us, it was the first time we'd seen it without the morgue work stations. The computer network was taken down, the files counted and boxed up. Of the 11,000+ files, only one was missing. At times, when several tests were being run on the same remains, duplicate files would be created. I thought the one file was a duplicate and tried to run it through the shredder. We didn't want any inappropriate "souveniers" leaving the operation. The shredder jammed. I worked very hard to make that mistake, taking several tries. Fortunately, the people involved with that file were still there and the file was able to be recreated quickly using the computerized backups. Normally, in such operations, about 10% of the files are lost and the remains must be re-examined. My error was the only file we lost. According to published reports, the teams in New York had about as many files.

Everyone drove out to the crash site and performed a grid search for remains. The FBI agents who had been working in the white hazmat suits were trained to look for evidence of how the plane came down, not what body fragments looked like. A few small pieces were bagged and taken for analysis; in the spring, after the winter freeze-thaw cycle would cause non-soil items to work their way to the surface, another search would be held.

We walked the grounds, including the impact hole. Little bits of blue or white wire were everywhere. There was so much of this thin wire in the airplane that no attempt was made to recover the smaller fragments. A cleanup crew would be brought in to make sure it would be collected.

I stood at the impact crater and prayed to God for the 40 people, the crew and passengers of United Flight 93, for their families, and for our country and the world.

We all drove back to the Armory for one last time. The State Trooper that guarded the entrance to the parking lot was gone. The refrigeration trucks were gone. The Red Cross tents were gone. The orange fencing, with flowers tied on, remained. Inside, we did one last sweep to make sure nothing remained. We shook hands and drove off in our vehicles.

On the way home, I played "God Save the People" on the car CD:

When wilt thou save the people?
Oh God of mercy when?
The people, Lord, the people
Not thrones and crowns,
But men
Flowers of thy heart
O God are they
Let them not pass like weeds away
Their heritage, a sunless day
God save the people

Shall crime bring crime forever
Strength aiding still as strong?
Is it thy will, O Father
That men shall toil
For wrong?
Oh, no, say thy mountains
No, say thy skies
Man's clouded sun shall brightly rise
And songs be heard, instead of sighs
God save the people!

When wilt thou save the people?
Oh God of mercy when?
The people, Lord! The people!
Not thrones and crowns,
But men!
God save the people
For thine they are
Thy children as thy angels fair
God save the people
From despair
God save the people!

As a teenager, I always got a kick out of that hymn being in our hymnal and on the Godspell soundtrack. Forever more, it would be linked with 9/11. Many the times I'd driven to or from the morgue on the empty PA Turnpike, volume cranked on the stereo, almost screaming the words to God, tears freely cascading down my face. I would play the song again and again, attempting to exorcise the pain in my heart. This last trip home, I only played it once. There were no tears, but I sang along.

Note: The events of 9/11/2001 are now 5 years in the past. These are my recollections of one aspect of my work at the temporary morgue for United Flight 93 set up at the National Guard Armory.

Had there been a conspiracy, I'd either be very famous, very dead, or both. I know that doesn't prove anything to the conspiracy fans. But those who know me know that I cannot stand by while injustice is perpetrated.

The United Flight 93 crash site, as seen from the overlook.

September 11th, 2001 was a beautiful day in Shanksville. The sky was a solid end-of-summer blue. The temperature was perfect. Asters, goldenrod, and chickweed bloomed. As long as you didn't go to the overlook to see the smoldering trees or the upturned earth, you could pretend you weren't a witness to history. Every once in a while, each of the people would wander to the overlook, check to see the crash site, and then hurry away again. No one stayed at the overlook very long. Being a witness did not take much time.

Except when the busses brought in the news people for their ten minute view of the United Flight 93 crash site, no one there was supposed to be a witness. The assembled Public Safety personnel were there to respond. There was nothing to respond to. The fire was out; no one on the plane survived the impact. What work there would be would wait on the arrival of the FBI, the lead organization. The FBI were mostly in New York or Washington D.C.; others would be flown in by the next day.

No one knew who was behind the attacks. Speculation on this matter was a frequent topic of quiet discussion. United Flight 93 was an anomaly among the attacks on September 11th. Speculation that the passengers fought back began almost immediately.

There were still things to do: set up command posts, organize responders for what would clearly be a multi-day response, and arrange for infrastructure to be brought in — electricity, phone, and most importantly, Porta-Potties. The Red Cross and Salvation Army were already providing food and drinks, as they did so often. A few Porta-Potties were already in place.

The Search and Rescue dogs and their handlers had it the worst. There was nothing for them to do. There wouldn't be. Even the dogs seemed to know that, but even the dogs, anxiety leaking through their rigorous training, would have objected to being sent home.

With the exception of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms men, who were joking and laughing obnoxiously loud, everyone else spoke in whispers. Bits of information would trickle in from the outside world: information about the response to the World Trade Towers, which had become a secondary disaster itself, the Pentagon, and rumors of trucks with bombs in Washington D.C. and elsewhere.

One woman received a phonecall. A loved one had made it out of the WTC before the collapse and was alive. She found a place to sit, out of the way, and broke down and cried. Just then, a busload of reporters pulled in for their most recent time at the overlook. Quickly, a wall of people, just talking among themselves, formed in front of her to act as a screen from the cameras. The reporters knew something was going on, but for whatever reason, they decided to leave it alone.

This was the worst day to have a reunion, and yet there were many. Repeatedly, people who hadn't seen each other for months or years spotted one another. They would have been glad to see each other on any other day than this. Hands would shake, shoulders patted, grim smiles exchanged, hushed words offered, and then they would move on, trying vainly to protect friendships from the memory of this day.

All planes were grounded. When a large jet flew over the crash site, the ominous feeling was palpable among the responders. Airplanes would never appear benign again. Someone important was surveying the crash site; even the FBI and United Airlines personnel would never figure out who.

There was no infrastructure, and thus no lights. As the sun set, it became time for everyone to leave. Some would never return. Some would be back for a few more days. A few would be there to walk the overturned earth one last time two weeks from September 11th.

People went to their vehicles in the dark, three and four D-cell Mag-lites showing the way. As they drove home, they would pass through the cordon of State troopers they had passed on the way in. Within eyesight of each other, the troopers circled the area, stationed beyond the furthest possible extent of the crash site. Their job was to prevent anyone not authorized from entering, whether they be souvenier hunters or someone with even more evil intent. Throughout the night, those troopers (or their replacements) would maintain watch.

No one asked "Will we remember this day five years from now?" Only later, when the events of September 11th, 2001 would come together in a semblance of coherence, would anyone dare think of the distant future.

I was sitting here with Cirrus the African Grey Parrot, and thought it might be cute to let her walk on the keyboard. The phone rang, I became distracted, and when I turned back to the computer, the "Cirrus Blogging" post, the post I had just written, and the post before that were all gone.

I'm not sure how she did it. I doubt any claims were made for WordPress being parrot proof. Nothing short of titanium is parrot proof.

Nancy regularly does Pysanky eggs with Holmes sitting on her knee. Of course, she never attempted to have Holmes decorate Pysanky eggs. I don't think I'm going to mention to her the result of Cirrus' blogging attempt. She'll merely point out how stupid that was, and she'd be right.

July 20th, 1969.

We came in peace for all mankind.

The Moon landing was not faked. But you know that famous photo of the first footprint on the Moon? It's Buzz Aldrin's footprint. Read the caption carefully on the photograph. Armstrong had too much to do when he first stepped out onto the Moon. The photo was never taken and the footprint obscured by further steps.

Oops. The things one learns at 4 a.m.

On the Discovery Channel, there are TV shows with titles that start out "Walking With…" You have "Walking With Dinosaurs," "Walking With Prehistoric Beasts," Walking With Cavemen," etc.

Here's my take on what this show will be like:

Meet Lt. Col. Ed White II. Chosen for the space program, he flies on Gemini 4, becoming the first American to walk in space outside a spacecraft. See some video clips of Astronaut White with his wife and two children. Astronaut White, along with astronauts Grissom and Chaffee, burns to death in the Apollo 1 fire on January 27th, 1967. The astronauts were trapped inside the capsule, unable to open the hatch. One astronaut burned off his hand attempting to turn off the oxygen. The Apollo 1 fire was caused by a combination of horrendous wiring by a contractor trying to cut corners and the insistence of using pure oxygen at atmospheric pressure when the vehicle is on the ground.

During World War II, there was a significant debate as to whether "negroes" could fly an airplane. The Tuskegee Airmen put an end to that lie, but still, when the Mercury 7 astronauts and the secong group of astronauts were chosen during, African-Americans were second-class citizens in the military. In June, 1967, with the Civil Rights battle looming nationally, Robert Lawrence Jr. was chosen as the first African-American astronaut, as a part of the Air Force Manned Orbiting Laboratory program. He was an ideal astronaut candidate, a fantastic test pilot with a Ph.D. in chemistry, but because he was selected for his race, the public suspected he was not a "true" astronaut. While flying in the co-pilot seat of an F-104 Starfighter jet trainer, his plane crashed and he died.

Cosmonauts Dobrovolskiy, Volkov, and Patsayev were the backup crew for Soyuz 11. They trained along with the primary crew, hoping that, by doing their duty, they might get chosen for a launch in the future. The primary crew is removed, four days before launch, and our friendly, good-natured trio winds up the crew for Soyuz 11. They go into space in a flawless launch on June 29th, 1971 for a 25 day mission. When they returned, a valve (designed to vent cabin air into outer space) remained open. The capsule recovered, but the cosmonauts were inside, asphyxiated.

There are any number of additional biographies that could be used, including moonwalkers that later died of cancer (possibly induced by the excess radiation they were exposed to), the Challenger and Columbia incidents, and numerous other incidents in the Russian space program.

I so hope I'm wrong.

The Declaration of Independence of the Thirteen Colonies
In CONGRESS, July 4, 1776

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America,

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. –That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, –That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. —Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain [George III] is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

• He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.
• He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.
• He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.
• He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.
• He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.
• He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the Legislative powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.
• He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.
• He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary powers.
• He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.
• He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people, and eat out their substance.
• He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the consent of our legislatures.
• He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power.
• He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:
• For Quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:
• For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:
• For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:
• For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:
• For depriving us, in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury:
• For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences:
• For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies:
• For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:
• For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.
• He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.
• He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.
• He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty and perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.
• He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.
• He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by the Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.

MSNBC has a test to see if you know what you'd need to become a naturalized citizen. Thanks to my wonderful high school teachers and some general inquisitiveness, I got a 95%, which MSNBC says means:

Are they serious? Most Americans have trouble with this test? I always want to believe that people on Jay Leno's "Jaywalking" are either a) severely drunk, b) suffering from hero worship, c) suffering from stage fright, or d) deliberately acting stupid to get on TV.

Nancy would remind me that the average IQ is 100. They're not "acting" stupid.

I found every question trivial, except for the one I missed. Ok, someone who wishes to become a naturalized citizen needs to know the answer to that one, but I'll only know it now because trivia like that tends to stay with me after it causes me to miss a perfect on a quiz like this.

I'll give you a clue — it is the more logical answer, if you know how to play "multiple question game theory." I should have gotten it.

I still think I would have passed with an 80% if it had not been multiple choice: I'm not sure I'd have remembered the full name of the Chief Justice because I'm bad on names. The date of the Constitution might have given me trouble although I'd have been within about 2 years. I probably would have blanked on an original 13 colony name, although maybe not. Still, I'd have gotten 80%, which is Boris.¹

Go see how you do on the quiz!

1. Gudenov [back]

Jerusalem, 44 C.E. — Members of "The Way" in Jerusalem are protesting a new "apostle" named Paul. Formerly known as "Saul," this so-called "apostle" was responsible for the deaths of many followers of The Way. Whineyus, an elder in the Jerusalem Church, says "He may have had a "Damascus Road Conversion," but if you ask me, he's still persecuting the faithful.

Whineyus has asked the apostles in Jerusalem to take action against Paul. "He teaches that worshiping demons is acceptable! How can this man be said to follow God? To eat meat sacrificed to idols clearly violates the 10 Commandments! James is freshly martyred and this heretic is out there perverting the Gospel of Jesus."

Before his death last month, James was a frequent critic of Paul. James believed that to be a Christian, one must keep all the laws of the Scriptures.

Kvetchius, another elder, has a different problem with Paul. "Look at the people he has tending churches! They're all Greeks — uncircumcized Greeks at that. A Greek cannot represent Jesus in communion. Jesus was circumcized. All the apostles were circumcized. They were all Jews. A Greek, and especially an uncircumcized Greek, cannot represent Jesus to the people. Jesus chose only Jewish men to be apostles — and they were all circumcized. And don't get me started about that bitch, Junia. Thank God we were able to handle the "Mary" problems we had here in Jerusalem."

By "Mary" problems, Kvetchius is referring to Mary the Mother of Jesus and Mary Magdalene, the apostle to the apostles. According to Ornerie, leader of the Third Jerusalem Church of Lukewarm Water Baptism, Peter assigned these two women important kitchen duties to support the church, helping out Martha. "I'm not sure what Jesus was thinking when he involved those two women," stated Ornerie. "Jesus may have been God, but sometimes, you have to wonder if He was really thinking things through." There are some who claim the ending of the Gospel of Mark was deleted to reduce Mary's role. "No truth to that rumor," said Ornerie. "We've just decided to do some simple editing to 'punch up' the ending and make this wonderful Gospel more popular. "The Magdalene's scenes just slowed the pace and made it too 'wordy.' It reads much better now, and it's not like they were important."

"By the way," said Ornerie, "for background information, I think you ought to check up on that Mary Magdalene — I heard from a friend of a friend who knew one of the Seventy's brother-in-laws that she was a demon-posessed prostitute. I'm not gossiping. People ought to know these things so they can make an informed decision."

Many in the Jerusalem church feel that Paul's claimed status as an "apostle" will disrupt the church. "I don't see how the church can tolerate these divisions," said Straczynskius, who holds a house church Friday nights on Mainus Street called "Babylon 2." "It's all going straight to Hell."

My parents took me to my Uncle's house to see the eclipse. I wasn't permitted to look at the eclipse, although I could steal a quick peak. Years later, I still remember the dimmed light while I stood at the front door of the house and later, sneaking a glance from the gameroom window. As I remembered this eclipse last night, I wondered: Could I figure out which eclipse it was?

Very few of the memories from my childhood have a date attached. Christmases were obvious in some ways, but often there's no year. What year did I wake up late at night, finding my father hard at work assembling the train set? I have no way to tell. When did I get the scooter? I don't know. What year did I play with the fire in the fireplace at my Uncle's? That's easy: every year!

One exception is October 13th, 1960. I remember standing at the top of the stairs yelling "Come on Maz, get a hit!" That was the day of the 7th game of the World Series which the Pirates won thanks to a home run from Bill Mazeroski. With a little bit of research, I might be able to time that memory down to within a couple minutes. The other memory involves standing in the living room, realizing with some shock that I would never be 3 years old again. Obviously, that was my birthday in 1962. Those memories are the exceptions.

There's no date attached to the eclipse I remember. Is there enough astronomical information in the memory for me to determine when the eclipse was? Is the memory accurate enough for me to determine when the eclipse was?

I remember being young, but I'm not sure about how young. I apparently obeyed my parents fairly well, despite science being involved. That indicates I was young. I felt like I was hiding from the eclipse, although I knew it was far away. I could only glance at the