This week, I've been at a conference sponsored by the Foundation for Research on Economics and the Environment (FREE). Looking at "Boom and Bust in America," we visited Butte, Montana--"The Richest Hill on Earth." Butte is built over what may have been the world's biggest deposit of copper ore. Over the years 500 mines operated in Butte beginning in the late 19th century.
While mining in Butte peaked in 1917, in 1956, there were still miners putting on their headlamps and hardhats do travel up to 5,700 feet down into the mine shafts. That's when Ed Drabant began his career as a miner.
Ed was our guide at The World Museum of Mining on Montana Tech's campus in Butte. Born in Minnesota, Ed traveled west because the mining work was steady at the time and, due to it's inherent danger and the strength of the miner's unions, it paid very, very well.
Ed worked in six different Butte copper mines till the last one closed. Then he mined in Arizona until mining there closed down. Finally he mined till the bitter end in New Mexico after which he moved back to Butte to retire. He had "been underground" thirty-six years.
Now, in his eighties, he leads tours at the museum. When he guides groups around, yelling, "Fire in the hole!" just as he did in his youth. He waxed rhapsodic about seeing rock that was azure blue with copper ("It was so beautiful!") and told us about knocking down a wall of rock that revealed a stable for the mining mules thousands of feet below the surface.
"Do you miss mining?" I asked. No, he told me, but, he said, he got "all worked up" telling the old stories about drills and picks and dynamite and old friends.
Ed appears proud of what he did for a living, proud of his place in Butte history, enthusiastic about his job, and contented with his life. It was a privilege to meet him.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Backpackin' Baby
Living 1300 miles from the grandbaby, I don't get to see many firsts. Lucky for me that I'm here in Wyoming and got to participate in one. Matthias went on his first backpacking trip.
He rode the four miles to our camping site on his mom's back. That is, he was more of a backpack than a backpacker, but nonetheless he was a trooper. He seemed to adapt seemlessly to living outdoors and in a tent (though he's delighted to be back home and crawling among familiar objects). The campfire held a great fascination needless to say and he tried to climb every boulder in the rather boulder strewn area where we camped. Sleeping was no problem though he didn't stay in his "sleeping bag," a down vest with the neck and arm holes duct taped together.
My son and I left camp in the morning and went further up and further in, all the way to Thumb Lake at 11,000 feet. The sky was bright blue and the lake was crystal clear and surrounded by cliffs at the end of a cirque. Magnificant! Then we went down to Island Lake for a bit of fishing.
It won't be long before Matthias, now age 14 months, is boulder hopping up to Thumb Lake with us. Soon he'll outpace us and wonder why we're so slow. And I fully expect that he will catch the most and the biggest fish on any expedition we take together.
Someone said that grandchildren are the reward for old age, kind of a consolation prize. They're also one more reason to stay in shape, remain active, and look for ways to enjoy more firsts together.
He rode the four miles to our camping site on his mom's back. That is, he was more of a backpack than a backpacker, but nonetheless he was a trooper. He seemed to adapt seemlessly to living outdoors and in a tent (though he's delighted to be back home and crawling among familiar objects). The campfire held a great fascination needless to say and he tried to climb every boulder in the rather boulder strewn area where we camped. Sleeping was no problem though he didn't stay in his "sleeping bag," a down vest with the neck and arm holes duct taped together.
My son and I left camp in the morning and went further up and further in, all the way to Thumb Lake at 11,000 feet. The sky was bright blue and the lake was crystal clear and surrounded by cliffs at the end of a cirque. Magnificant! Then we went down to Island Lake for a bit of fishing.
It won't be long before Matthias, now age 14 months, is boulder hopping up to Thumb Lake with us. Soon he'll outpace us and wonder why we're so slow. And I fully expect that he will catch the most and the biggest fish on any expedition we take together.
Someone said that grandchildren are the reward for old age, kind of a consolation prize. They're also one more reason to stay in shape, remain active, and look for ways to enjoy more firsts together.
Monday, August 12, 2013
Sit Back and Relax
When I sat down in my window seat on the Frontier flight from Washington to Denver I commented to the woman in the middle, "Every time I get on a flight, I think they've shrunk the seating room by another inch." She agreed. It was very tight.
The plane filled--and I mean it filled--and off we went.
As we took off the fellow in the aisle seat, a man of about 70, was reading the paper. Once in the air, the guy in front of him reclined his seat. And that's were the trouble started.
As I said, the seats were tight and reading was difficult. With the seat in front reclined, it was even worse. The paper reader in the aisle retaliated by repeatedly brushing his paper against the head of the reclining passenger in front of him. He turned around asking that the paper reader cease and desist--assuming, I think, it was happening by accident.
"I'm reading my paper! If you don't like it, get your head out of my lap." Now reading the Washington Post can ruin anyone's day, and, as I said, it was tight, but the guy was over the top. He was caustic, nasty, self-rightous, and, in the final analysis, central casting's idea of a cranky old fart.
I had three responses. First, I was nervous that the altercation would escalate and we'd head back to DC. Second, I started laughing. The poor fellow became a caracature and it was a bit funny. No one would write such lame dialogue. Third, I prayed for him and for myself. I want to be that cheerful, gracious old person. Don't you?
The plane filled--and I mean it filled--and off we went.
As we took off the fellow in the aisle seat, a man of about 70, was reading the paper. Once in the air, the guy in front of him reclined his seat. And that's were the trouble started.
As I said, the seats were tight and reading was difficult. With the seat in front reclined, it was even worse. The paper reader in the aisle retaliated by repeatedly brushing his paper against the head of the reclining passenger in front of him. He turned around asking that the paper reader cease and desist--assuming, I think, it was happening by accident.
"I'm reading my paper! If you don't like it, get your head out of my lap." Now reading the Washington Post can ruin anyone's day, and, as I said, it was tight, but the guy was over the top. He was caustic, nasty, self-rightous, and, in the final analysis, central casting's idea of a cranky old fart.
I had three responses. First, I was nervous that the altercation would escalate and we'd head back to DC. Second, I started laughing. The poor fellow became a caracature and it was a bit funny. No one would write such lame dialogue. Third, I prayed for him and for myself. I want to be that cheerful, gracious old person. Don't you?
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Tech Overload
Yesterday I attended a conference called "Shaping the Industrial Internet." The "industrial internet"--aka: the internet of things, the cloud of things, the smart planet, and a few others--is the networking of everything. Sensors in the road, in your car, and in everyone else's car to ensure a safe trip. Refrigerators that know when the milk has expired and order a replacement bottle. Home thermostats controlled by your smart phone. WiFi cameras that post your snapshots to Facebook automatically. And tens of thousands of other industrial, business, and personal applications.
We talked a lot about privacy that in the European Union is considered a fundamental human right and in China is considered something of a problem. Technical, ethical, political, and policy problems abound, but don't expect any of that to stop it. Mountains of data already exist about you including that you're reading this blog and, if you're reading on a smart phone or tablet, where you're located while your reading. It's astounding.
More than once during the conference, I peeked at my email on the iPhone. Others did the same thing. In fact, the fellow sitting next to me, a journalist, had two phones going and a number of participants were blogging.
That's when the tech overload set in. I am deeply grateful for my devices. Facetime with distant grandchildren is the greatest invention ever. And yet, well, I'll just admit it: I miss card catalogues. I know that library collections on computer are faster and more efficient, but flipping through cards, I found out all sorts of things I never even heard of. And flipping cards was and is much more pleasant than typing. I still like books and if I wasn't frankly a bit lazy about it, I'd still write letters in script with a fountain pen.
I don't think I'm becoming an old fogie Luddite. It's just that there's something very human about books and pens and paper and card catalogues that digital media simply don't share. There's an acknowledgment of our embodiment. We can't be everywhere all at once even if that's the promise of the wired world. We can only be here, now, with our hands on one thing--even if that one thing pretends to be everything.
Calvin College Professor Quentin Schultz wrote in his book Habits of the High-Tech Heart:
We talked a lot about privacy that in the European Union is considered a fundamental human right and in China is considered something of a problem. Technical, ethical, political, and policy problems abound, but don't expect any of that to stop it. Mountains of data already exist about you including that you're reading this blog and, if you're reading on a smart phone or tablet, where you're located while your reading. It's astounding.
More than once during the conference, I peeked at my email on the iPhone. Others did the same thing. In fact, the fellow sitting next to me, a journalist, had two phones going and a number of participants were blogging.
That's when the tech overload set in. I am deeply grateful for my devices. Facetime with distant grandchildren is the greatest invention ever. And yet, well, I'll just admit it: I miss card catalogues. I know that library collections on computer are faster and more efficient, but flipping through cards, I found out all sorts of things I never even heard of. And flipping cards was and is much more pleasant than typing. I still like books and if I wasn't frankly a bit lazy about it, I'd still write letters in script with a fountain pen.
I don't think I'm becoming an old fogie Luddite. It's just that there's something very human about books and pens and paper and card catalogues that digital media simply don't share. There's an acknowledgment of our embodiment. We can't be everywhere all at once even if that's the promise of the wired world. We can only be here, now, with our hands on one thing--even if that one thing pretends to be everything.
Calvin College Professor Quentin Schultz wrote in his book Habits of the High-Tech Heart:
We love to presume that our newest contraptions will equip us to engineer a better world. We thereby display an enormous capacity for collective self delusion, because the same machines that appear to give us a greater command of life are harder and harder for us to control. [Vaclav] Havel writes that "as soon as man began considering himself the source of the highest meaning in the world and the measure of everything, the world began to lose its human dimension, and man began to lose control of it."Quentin Schultz argues that in order to live, as he says, "virtuously in the Information Age," we need to carefully assess the technologies around us to use them wisely without losing our humanness in the process.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Gone Fishin'
I'm late with my blog today because I had a project to finish in the morning and then I went fishing. The tidal Potomac River as it runs through Washington, DC is an excellent fishery. Check out the video by Urban Anglers.
The weather report in the morning said thunder showers and, like most sentient creatures, I'd rather not be in a thunderstorm while waving a 9' fly rod over my head. Then I checked the weather again at noon. They had changed their tune. No thundershowers until evening and so I rushed down.
A friend told me about Four Mile Run and I thought I understood where to park. The river was there emptying into the Potomac as he described, but I couldn't get down to it so I moved on to Gravelly Point, a spot I knew for sure.
While it's on the river, Gravelly Point is better known as the best place in the country to watch airplanes takeoff and land. It's border is about four hundred feet from one of Reagan National Airport's major runways. Whether taking off or landing, the planes come in very low. It's exciting and, needless to say, very noisy.
Yet once I began fishing, I didn't hear a single jet even though they were just a couple of hundred feet over my head coming in one after another. I was completely absorbed in watching, wading, casting, and water. I'd like to say that it was also absorbed in landing fish, but they, alas, didn't get the memo. And besides, once I arrived we were nearing slack tide, the great fishing slowdown.
That I've lived within ten minutes of the Potomac for fourteen years and have been fishing so rarely is embarrassing and just a little crazy. It's so relaxing whether I catch fish or not and it refreshes my whole outlook. Writing is easier now than it was this morning.
Next week I'll be in Wyoming fishing the high country streams and lakes with my son and then on my own in Yellowstone on my way to a conference in Montana. Yes, that's fishing heaven, but when I get home, I need to make more trips to my local river, enjoying the beauty, serenity, and thrills just down the street.
The weather report in the morning said thunder showers and, like most sentient creatures, I'd rather not be in a thunderstorm while waving a 9' fly rod over my head. Then I checked the weather again at noon. They had changed their tune. No thundershowers until evening and so I rushed down.
A friend told me about Four Mile Run and I thought I understood where to park. The river was there emptying into the Potomac as he described, but I couldn't get down to it so I moved on to Gravelly Point, a spot I knew for sure.
While it's on the river, Gravelly Point is better known as the best place in the country to watch airplanes takeoff and land. It's border is about four hundred feet from one of Reagan National Airport's major runways. Whether taking off or landing, the planes come in very low. It's exciting and, needless to say, very noisy.
Yet once I began fishing, I didn't hear a single jet even though they were just a couple of hundred feet over my head coming in one after another. I was completely absorbed in watching, wading, casting, and water. I'd like to say that it was also absorbed in landing fish, but they, alas, didn't get the memo. And besides, once I arrived we were nearing slack tide, the great fishing slowdown.
That I've lived within ten minutes of the Potomac for fourteen years and have been fishing so rarely is embarrassing and just a little crazy. It's so relaxing whether I catch fish or not and it refreshes my whole outlook. Writing is easier now than it was this morning.
Next week I'll be in Wyoming fishing the high country streams and lakes with my son and then on my own in Yellowstone on my way to a conference in Montana. Yes, that's fishing heaven, but when I get home, I need to make more trips to my local river, enjoying the beauty, serenity, and thrills just down the street.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Is That Too Much To Ask?
According to "America's Finest News Source", Pew Research just released a study that found:
We saw it in the Occupy movement: I got my college degree, many of the protesters lamented, now where's my great, high paying job? We also see it in the after mid-life set: We worked hard all these years and thus deserve a good retirement with government benefits, great free medical care, luxury on the cheap, and our senior citizen discounts at Denny's.
As one respondent "told" the Onion:
It's called a sense of entitlement, that feeling that we are owed all of the good things in this life and none of the bad things. Feeling entitled is part of our human nature. When bad things happen we immediately ask, "Why me?" When good things don't happen on schedule, we become cranky and look for someone to blame. When good things happen on schedule, well... that's the way it's supposed to be.
As a result thankfulness and joy go right out the window. And God help us if we're trying to live a good life after mid-life without thankfulness and joy.
...Americans indicated that when it comes to what they expect from their country, all they really want is to be safe, happy, rich, comfortable, and entertained at absolutely all times.In addition, the U.S. populace reportedly wondered whether it was too much to ask that they always be healthy, fulfilled, successful, safe, loved, relaxed, inspired, motivated, worry-free, and content every second of their lives from birth until death “given that this is America, after all.”Now, given that "America's Finest News Source" is the Onion, there is, of course, no such Pew study, however, I wonder how different the real results would be if Pew asked the questions invented by the Onion.
We saw it in the Occupy movement: I got my college degree, many of the protesters lamented, now where's my great, high paying job? We also see it in the after mid-life set: We worked hard all these years and thus deserve a good retirement with government benefits, great free medical care, luxury on the cheap, and our senior citizen discounts at Denny's.
As one respondent "told" the Onion:
Can’t the government just hurry up and solve the student debt crisis, make colleges lower their tuition, make them do a Friends reunion, ensure that everyone finds their soulmate, and then guarantees that the spark lasts? We’re talking about our inalienable rights as Americans here.And of course we want "our inalienable rights" with "low taxes or no taxes" and free wifi.
It's called a sense of entitlement, that feeling that we are owed all of the good things in this life and none of the bad things. Feeling entitled is part of our human nature. When bad things happen we immediately ask, "Why me?" When good things don't happen on schedule, we become cranky and look for someone to blame. When good things happen on schedule, well... that's the way it's supposed to be.
As a result thankfulness and joy go right out the window. And God help us if we're trying to live a good life after mid-life without thankfulness and joy.
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