Can You Explain This To Me?

A few days ago I was cycling southbound on the Chehalis Western Trail (CWT), a gem of Thurston County public infrastructure. And thanks to attentive parents, I successfully dodged a few 3 year-oldish riders on those amazingly small bikes that darn near enable babies to ride home from the hospital under their own power.

And I wondered what would it be like to be three years-old, to live through the 21st Century and check out sometime in the 2100’s? On the surface, probably pretty great since technology and medical advances continue to amaze and you don’t have to go the Department of Motor Vehicles in person anymore. And some of us don’t have to go to gas stations. And global poverty is way down. And despite Fox News propaganda, crime is down. And despite serious income inequality and low savings rates, people can find jobs and the economy is resilient.

And yet.

I wouldn’t want to be my tiny CWT cycling friends because if I had to capture the current zeitgeist in one word it’s “sad”. Despite continuing substantive improvements to our quality of life, a critical mass of people in the (dis)United States seem, for lack of a better term, sad. Why is that?

And why don’t I know the answers to that. Does my multi-layered privilege blind me? Short answer, of course.

I don’t think I’ll beat myself up for not knowing, because as I tell my students, “It’s okay to not be okay. And it’s okay to be okay.” Still, I would like to better understand why you are sad or why people you know well are sad. Is it as simple as the rent is too damn high or is it climate anxiety or is the answer more abstract, philosophical, even spiritual?

If you accept my premise, that we’re in the grips of a wave of sadness that shows no signs of abating, please enlighten me as to why. Thank you in advance.

Booster Postscript

I knew there was real downside wading into the vax debate, but I didn’t expect a PressingPauser to spring into action with a reasoned rebuttal.

A decidedly non-knuckle head Pressing Pauser wrote to me, “This material cut and pasted below is from NPR on how long the protection lasts.  You seem to have addressed only the mild symptom category,  not the risk of severe responses.  I see no suggestion that anyone should or would get this shot ‘every 2 months.’  As a renowned blogger with tremendous influence over many many readers (well, maybe a few), you should consider the fact that you and your ‘non-knucklehead recently retired doctor friend’ may have cherry picked a bit.

From NPR—How long will protection last?

“You’ll get a boost in immunity within about two weeks after getting the shot that could reduce your risk of coming down with COVID – and that protection will likely last for a few months. It should also make you more likely to get a more mild case if you do get sick.

The boost in protection against severe disease – the kind of scary symptoms that can send you to the hospital – should last a lot longer. Exactly how long depends on a variety of factors including your immune system, your health, your age and your prior exposures to both the vaccines and infections. But for many people, the hope is the COVID shots can be annual, like flu shots.

“It will markedly increase your protection against getting very sick for about a year or so,” says Dr. Robert Wachter, professor and chair of the Department of Medicine at the University of California San Francisco.”

The point is so well taken, I will in all likelihood get the new jab. Thanks to the reader for taking the time to deepen the discussion. That said, comparing me to Kyrie Irving was totally uncalled for. Except for the ball handling skills.

  

To Boost or Not To Boost?

Some of my knucklehead friends think they’re world renowned epidemiologists. I’m going to continue to ignore their opposing theories and advice in favor of my non-knucklehead, recently retired doctor friend, who recently texted me this:

“The original vaccine was extremely effective. It prevented infection 94% of the time. However, the virus mutated, and it no longer prevents infection, and only mildly effective at preventing severe illness , and then for only a short time.

I believe in vaccines. I have gotten all my covid vaccines early, if anything, but the data no longer supports the vaccine.

Many colds are caused by different coronaviruses, and we’ve tried for years to make a cold vaccine. It’s never worked. The coronavirus mutates too quickly. Even the newest booster is outdated before it is being released. That strain disappeared months ago. We are 2 to 3 versions past that strain. One of the new strains has over 30 new mutations. It is unlikely to respond well to the new booster for the few 2 months you get mild protection against severe illness. Are you going to get a new booster every 2 months for minimal protection?”

I am not.

The Missing Submersible

It’s not looking good, but I hope the submersible is found and the five people in it are rescued in time. The lost are wired very differently than me. They paid $250,000/person to descend for hours in a vessel the size of a minivan. The required release references possible “death” three times.

No doubt there is recency bias at work, and maybe I’m claustrophobic, but If OceanGatesExpedition offered me $250,000 to take the plunge, I’d pass.

Postscript: Tragic ending.

Siddhartha Mukherjee Writes In Bed

I sang his praises here. He won a well-deserved Pulitzer for general nonfiction for Empire of All Maladies. And he deserves a Nobel Prize for science writing for helping a knucklehead like me (mostly) understand cellular biology.

I’m just settling in with The Song of the Cell: An Exploration of Medicine and the New Human.

Here’s the backstory to the book and his writing process.

Wednesday Required Reading

Thinking Slow Together

That’s how an excellent colleague of mine describes her teaching philosophy. It perfectly encapsulates what I strive to do with my students as well.

The phrase “thinking slow together” echoed in my mind while reading David Sims’s review of Dave Chappelle’s SNL appearance. 

When watching Chappelle, I vacillated from unconsciously laughing at many of his punch lines to consciously questioning how he set up a few others. A singular talent, I thought he was very funny, but I also experienced some uneasiness and couldn’t give completely in to him.

I didn’t understand why until thinking slowly about it with Sims’s help. And there is the power of the printed word. In a world where faster is always seen as better, writing and reading force us to take time to ponder things, to consider others’ viewpoints, to formulate tentative ideas, and to clearly communicate them.

And as in the case of Sims’s review, that slowing down results in more profound, longer lasting insights than live audio or television generate by themselves.