Just because we like something, doesn't mean it's a good idea.

An ad for one of those NFL 'best-of' DVD's shows ex-Falcons' coach Jerry Glanville telling a referee that his current bad call just trumped some other ref's previous bad call.  It's a funny moment, and one that plays into the current situation that Louisiana is facing.

It's 8:50 pm CST on the Saturday before Labor Day.  As I type, Hurricane Gustav is churning out in the Atlantic Ocean, having just pounded Cuba and sadly making a beeline toward the Louisiana coast.  All of the models currently have the storm making landfall west of New Orleans, which is bad because it puts NOLA in the worst of it.  As the storm moves north, we here in Ouachita Parish will get a good deal of rain and wind and likely some tornados.  We'll be fine, but let's look at New Orleans.

It's almost three years to the day when Hurricane Katrina brought some of the worst images of damage and despair to our televisions and burned them into our consciousness.  Three years later much has been done, and much progress has been made, but much remains unsettled.  People still live in FEMA trailers, neighborhoods are still decimated, evacuees still have not come home.  And now, here we go again.  A million people hit the roads this afternoon and evening to evacuate.  Mandatory evacuations are soon to be announced, contraflow starts in the morning, and states of emergency have been declared.  We appear to be better prepared, and we pray that even if damage is done, that lives won't be lost, both in actuality and in spirit.

But here's the rub, and let me explain where I'm coming from.  First, I'm not a southerner.  I was born and reared (you raise vegetables, you rear children) in Wisconsin.  Our weather disasters consist of feet of snow over hours of time.  Yes, you may be without power for a day or two, you may not be able to get out of your house, but in a day or two you plow and shovel out and carry on.  This year, historical rains flooded a bunch of the midwest; my parents' house almost got washed away.  But we know nothing like a hurricane.  Second, I was taught to learn from my mistakes.  You touch the stove burner when it's hot once.  You tell a lie once.  Basically, if there is going to be a punishment or something bad is going to happen then second time you do something, don't do it.  Third, much to the occassional chagrin of my family and friends, I am a pragmatist.  I can be an emotional person at times, but I tend to lean toward the practical instead of following my feelings.

This translates into a mild disgust with the whole concept of a rebuilt New Orleans.  NOLA continues to persist based on emotion...

The death of summer

Today at 7:30 am another school year started on the campus of the University of Louisiana at Monroe.  Parking sucked, the bookstore was packed, the new on-line learning system has been down since Saturday, and it's hot out.  And yet, hope springs eternal.  Students donned their cleanest pajamas and Hollister wear as they learned ad nauseum about syllabi, attendance policies, and why cell phones are the devil.

There's something exciting about the first day of school, even for us professors.  Mostly for us it's a return to a schedule, and a return to doing what we love.  To see an urban campus like ours teaming with life and activity is really fun.  Yes, fun.  Of course the days will be long, and the work will pile up, and we'll get grumpy and stodgy come November, but for now, we can look with anticipation to a great academic year.  Reality will rear its ugly head soon enough.

I dedicate this blog to my mom, who is convinced that summer starts ending on July 4th, and is officially over on the first day of school.  Even now, some 30 years since I was walked into my kindergarten class, she gets melancholy about the first day of school.  Well mom, it's not a sad event anymore.  And it's Louisiana, it'll be hot until October.  So here's to the transition from summer to school.  I plan to raise a glass of cold vinho verde and toast new beginnings.

Adaptive plasticity, or why I can't find anyone.

Phenotypic plasticity is a common occurrence in biological systems, and can be defined as a single genetic "type" (population, species) exhibiting an array of phenotypes (physical forms), often in response to their environment.  Examples abound - grow Daphnia (water flea) in the presence of predators, and they develop a pronounced head spike.  Maples turn color in the fall as the colder temperatures trigger them to break down their chlorophyll, leaving other pigments to become visible.  And so on.

I have an interest in phenotypic plasticity, using snails as my model system.  One question that remains unanswered in snails and other mollusks is "why do shells have colors and patterns?"  There are two easily understood explanations.  One is camouflage; the color pattern allows the shell to blend into its environment, thus protecting it from attack or predation.  The other is the breaking of a search pattern.  Predators learn what prey/food looks and acts like.  So, if every individual prey item looks different, the predator can't key in on what is edible and moves on.  Sort of anti-camouflage.

I bring this up because I recently went to the casino in Milwaukee with my parents.  We had been there a few hours, and I went looking for them because I was ready to go and needed to see what they were up to.   My dad wears clothes that accentuate his Japanese eggplant shape, my mom loves her pull-on knits; both of them wobble when they walk after the accident.  I mention this not to criticize my parents, but to point out that they have an obvious phenotype.  When we are walking around the casinos in Vicksburg and Shreveport, they are easy to spot.  However, on their home turf, they blended right in.

 Another form of plasticity is mimicry, where one organism models their appearance after another.  This is meant to confuse predators by tricking them into thinking a harmless individual is actually very dangerous.  As I wandered around the casino, I fell for no fewer than 10 "parent mimics" - similar clothes, similar gaits, etc.  Luckily I didn't actually interact with any of them, but it was a little more than frustrating to wade through a sea of elderly smoking women precariously hooked to oxygen tanks just to find that the person you thought was your mom is actually someone else's mom who looks scornfully at you for potentially breaking their mojo on a slot machine.

This continued for over an hour; at least I got some exercise that day.  Just as I rounded a corner for the last time, I heard my name being paged.  I met my parents at the valet area.  Supposedly they had been sitting in spot X for most of the afternoon, and I of course just walked by them 4 bazillion times.  Adaptation at it's finest - we will only be found when we want to be.  And all other times, we will fade into our surroundings like so many peppered moths.

Next time I will plan ahead, ether by attaching a bell to their waists, or by implanting small GPS antennas in their shoes or something.  I will not again be foiled by two sixty-year old adults confusing me like a robin is fooled by the lovely viceroy.  Well, at least I hope my parents don't want me to think they are trying to poison me.

Being Badgered

I'm in the middle of a 10 day trip back home to Wisconsin, and this weekend I had the joy of driving out to La Crosse to visit a friend who has taken a job at UWLax.  Talk about stranger in strange land: she's originally from west Texas, then went to Alabama, North Carolina, and now to Wisconsin.  She really has no idea what she's in for come winter, and she's only been there for under two weeks, so she has time.  However, I took the opportunity to go out there and teach her the ways of the badger state.  So, if you ever find yourself in La Crosse, here's some things to do and some skills to have.

1. When it's Friday night, drive a little way south of town to Stoddard and visit Rocky's, home of the best fish fry in the area according to the La Crosse Tribune.  For $10.99, you can get all-you-can-eat fried cod, fries or baked potatoes, slaw, and dinner rolls.  It's a little heavy (as fish fries tend to be) but it's really really good.  There's a minimum half-hour wait on Fridays, so sit down at the bar and chat with the locals.  If you find the couple that owns the D&D candy outlet, even better.

2. If you want sausages and smoked meats, cross the river to Minnesota then drive south to New Albin, Iowa and visit the City Meat Market downtown.  All of the meat products are made on-site and smoked right behind the store.  We grabbed some bulk Italian sausage, hot snack sticks (think tasty pepperoni-like thing), and chorizo (pronounced shore-eye-zoh by the lady at the counter).  Apparently the smoked pork chops are fantastic, since we were the only ones not buying any.

3. A pretty trip up highway 35 takes you north along the Mississippi to Nelson, Wisconsin and the Nelson Creamery.  Basically it's an excuse to take a ride and get ice cream, but the store sells local cheese and has wine tasting and other gourmet items.

4. On the way back from Nelson, stop at Buena Vista city park in Alma, Wisconsin.  You'll drive what seems like straight up the bluff and find a beautiful park with an even better view of the town and river.  Keep your eyes out for indigo buntings if it's summertime.

5. On Saturday, walk down 3rd and 4th streets in La Crosse to the farmer's market.  Most of the stalls are manned by Hmong, chinese refugees that were displaced from Laos because we wanted them fight with us against the communists in the Vietnam War.  Seems the communist regimes didn't like that, so once we left, they targeted the Hmong for retribution.  Take a Wiki trip for the Hmong and see their interesting and unfortunate past.  The produce and flowers are wonderful.

6. Once August hits, keep an eye out for bicolor super sweet corn.  It's only in season for a month or so, and it has yellow and white kernels and is almost like eating corn candy.  To pick out good ears, peel back the first inch of the husk and silks and look at the corn.  You want kernels to go up the entire cob; if there is bare cob, move on.  Kernels should be medium-sized and tight-looking.  Small kernels mean the corn was picked too early, large kernels can indicate a starchier ear.  If the kernels look mushy, move on.  No bugs are allowed in the ear either.  Don't worry about offending the merchant by doing this; if you look around, most people will be doing it.  Those that don't risk icky corn, and why waste money?

7. Finally, take a trip east past Westby into Amish country.  Start at the Old Country Dairy on Highway D south of Highway 33.  Pick up some cheese and cashew crunch, and ask for a map of the locals.  You will hopefully get a piece of paper with a hand-drawn map of the area on one side, and a typed list of the families on the other indicating who they are, where they live, and what they sell.  Don't expect stores when you visit them; you will likely do business in a reclaimed barn, in their workshop, or on a wooden stand filled with bakery.  Bring cash; no electricity means no credit card machines.  If you want furniture made, plan on a six month wait, and be ready to put down 20% at the time of the order.

So there you go.  La Crosse is a beautiful town on the Mississippi River, so if you end up there, have a great time.