I have to post about one of my greatest accomplishments in higher learning to date. You see, I am a big proponent of having a well-rounded education across disciplines. When I teach zoology I often talk about how things got their scientific and/or common names. This requires some knowledge of Latin language, Greek mythology, History, etc. (an example is the Gordian Worm, which is named after the Gordian Knot. If you don't know about it...Look it up!).
Anyway, recently my knowledge of things outside of biology greatly helped me to learn about the Sweetgum tree. I've known the scientific name of Sweetgum for years (Liquidambar styraciflua). But I did not know that it is in the Witch Hazel family which is called Hamamelidaceae. Well, I had to know that for a quiz. So I wondered how in the world I could easily remember that?! Well, with some help from my good friend Billy Shakespeare, I figured it out. Try to follow me on this:
Hamamelidaceae reminds me of the name Hamlet, a play written by Shakespeare. But that doesn't help me a lot on its own. So, we dig deeper. Hamlet is a play about someone who wants to become king so he kills the king (who happens to be his own brother) and becomes king himself, only to die by the end of the play. Well, Shakespeare wrote a very similar play (though not as good) called MacBeth. In MacBeth, the king is killed because MacBeth wants to become king (actually it's his wife who wants him to become king), but MacBeth is also killed by the end of the play. So Hamamelidaceae reminds me of Hamlet which in turn reminds me of MacBeth, but why is MacBeth important? You probably won't ever go to a play called MacBeth. Actors are very superstitious (hence 'break a leg' instead of 'good luck') and they believe that MacBeth (the play) is cursed. In the play, there are three characters who are witches ('Double, double, toil and trouble' comes from the witches in MacBeth). That reminds me of the Witch Hazel family. Well, the legend says that the witches were based on real witches who got mad at Shakespeare and cursed his play. So anytime it plays someone dies or some other tragedy happens. So they always change the name to something else. But the point is, the witches cursed the play and what do you do if you step on a Sweetgum ball (it has all those stickers on it)? You curse! Actually, I don't curse, but it can be tempting.
So I can remember the family Hamamelidaceae because it reminds me of Hamlet. Hamlet reminds me of MacBeth with has witches in it which, in turn, reminds me of the Witch Hazel family. And the witches supposedly cursed the play which reminds me that you want to curse when you step on Sweetgum balls. So Sweetgum is in the Witch Hazel family which is also called Hamamelidaceae! Isn't that amazing!? None of this would have been possible without Shakespeare! Am I not a genius?!
See, a liberal arts education is important.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Nature
This one was another assignment in high school (9th grade). We had to write about nature. This one sounds best if read out loud and in one breath...
Nature
Birds and trees and bees and flowers,
Grass and leaves and April showers,
Cats and dogs and squirrels and eagles,
Oceans and fish and crabs and seagulls,
Lizards and insects and turtles and snakes,
Rivers and streams and ponds and lakes,
Mice and gophers and big ol’ rats,
Turkeys and groundhogs and flying bats,
Wild fruits and plants and little tomaters,
Bugs and beetles and big ol’ gators,
These things and animals and little creatures,
Put them together and we have Nature.
Nature
Birds and trees and bees and flowers,
Grass and leaves and April showers,
Cats and dogs and squirrels and eagles,
Oceans and fish and crabs and seagulls,
Lizards and insects and turtles and snakes,
Rivers and streams and ponds and lakes,
Mice and gophers and big ol’ rats,
Turkeys and groundhogs and flying bats,
Wild fruits and plants and little tomaters,
Bugs and beetles and big ol’ gators,
These things and animals and little creatures,
Put them together and we have Nature.
Sonnet 1
I wrote this poem as an assignment in Mrs. Becker's 12th grade English Class ('99-'00 school year). We had been studying Shakespearean and Spenserian Sonnets. I was frustrated with the strict rules these types of sonnets employ. So for my sonnet I told Mrs. Becker that rather than write one of those types of sonnets (like I was supposed to), I was instead going to write a Stanleyan sonnet. The only strict rules of a Stanleyan sonnet are that it must contain 14 lines and must rhyme (using a rhyme scheme of the sonnetteers choice); iambic pentameter is optional. Anyway, this is the sonnet I wrote and is the very first of the Stanleyan sonnets. Notice I title my sonnets the same way Shakespeare did by numbering them. I'm still working on Sonnet 2...
Sonnet 1
You cannot escape the changes of time,
However hard you might want to try.
Destined to pass from phase to endless phase.
Changing from the time you’re born ‘til you die,
Trying to find a constant in life.
Realizing everything last but a few days.
Never any time to have some fun,
But just a short while and that phase is done.
To another short-lived phase you must go.
But what will happen God only knows.
So laugh while you can and try very hard
Never to complain or argue,
‘Cause you cannot do it over again,
For the days and seasons are short and few.
Sonnet 1
You cannot escape the changes of time,
However hard you might want to try.
Destined to pass from phase to endless phase.
Changing from the time you’re born ‘til you die,
Trying to find a constant in life.
Realizing everything last but a few days.
Never any time to have some fun,
But just a short while and that phase is done.
To another short-lived phase you must go.
But what will happen God only knows.
So laugh while you can and try very hard
Never to complain or argue,
‘Cause you cannot do it over again,
For the days and seasons are short and few.
Basketball Practice
Wrote this one as an assignment in English class back when I played basketball for Gilmer High in 9th grade ('96-'97 school year). Our assignment was to write a limerick. Only I can make a limerick sound depressing. However, as with all limericks it should be read with an Irish accent. I still don't like Coach Westbrook...
Basketball Practice
Basketball practice is tough,
After a short while I’ve had enough.
I feel like I’m dead,
And I want to go to bed,
But I’ve got to do too much stuff.
Basketball Practice
Basketball practice is tough,
After a short while I’ve had enough.
I feel like I’m dead,
And I want to go to bed,
But I’ve got to do too much stuff.
Serenity
Wrote this one back around 2001. It's the only poem I've ever written that doesn't rhyme. I was walking across campus one Friday afternoon and it was about to rain. Everyone goes home on the weekends so the campus was pretty quiet. These words just popped into my head and it pretty well describes that moment:
Serenity
You know what I love?
The calm before the storm,
When you can smell the rain.
And there's a gentle, cool breeze in the air,
The clouds begin to darken, but not too much,
And for a brief moment, there's a feeling of serenity.
Serenity
You know what I love?
The calm before the storm,
When you can smell the rain.
And there's a gentle, cool breeze in the air,
The clouds begin to darken, but not too much,
And for a brief moment, there's a feeling of serenity.
Epitaph
I figure I should probably get around to uploading some of the poems I have written through the years. This first one is called 'Epitaph'. I wrote it as an assignment in Mrs. Becker's 12th grade English class (circa 1999-2000). We had just read 'Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard' and we were supposed to now write our own poem suitable for an epitaph. I started out thinking I would do something funny, kind of a "ha ha, I'm dead and you're not. I get to rest and you still have to put up with life" kind of poem. But part of the way through I couldn't think of anything funny, so it changed to a more serious tone. Anyway, here it is:
Epitaph
Here I lie pushing up this daisy,
Evermore to be truly lazy.
Nevermore to work and mow,
Nevermore to plow and sow.
Fleshly lying in this cold state,
My soul has passed through Heaven's Gate.
Singing praises to my great God,
Yet, lying 'neath this earthen clod.
Dead on earth yet Quick above,
Singing hymns of Truth and Love.
Walking on this earth no more,
Just in Heaven with my Lord.
Epitaph
Here I lie pushing up this daisy,
Evermore to be truly lazy.
Nevermore to work and mow,
Nevermore to plow and sow.
Fleshly lying in this cold state,
My soul has passed through Heaven's Gate.
Singing praises to my great God,
Yet, lying 'neath this earthen clod.
Dead on earth yet Quick above,
Singing hymns of Truth and Love.
Walking on this earth no more,
Just in Heaven with my Lord.
Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe, part 2: or, I'm Glad there were Other People Around
My advisor called again today; I still didn't answer. Later I received an email today saying there would be cake and drinks in the office as a goodbye gesture for Dr. Romero (which is strange because I dreamed last night that there was a group of us saying goodbye to him...I guess I'm gifted). I decided to go get some free cake, but worried that my advisor might also be there. I figured I would try to avoid him if possible. I walked into the office and spoke with a couple other people for a moment and thought I heard my advisor's voice in the room with the cake. After a couple of minutes I didn't see him or hear his voice and figured I might as well go get some cake regardless.
I walked in and there he was. Well, I'm there for cake, not for him. So I start to get some cake and he says, "Jonathan Stanley." Without looking at him I said, "That would be me." Then he mentions something about my still only being a Master's student and the application form for the GK12 fellowship seems to only apply to Ph.D students. Still without looking at him I told him it didn't matter. He said he needed to know the title of my thesis. I said, "You're my advisor; you should know it." He said, "Well, send it to me so I can put it on the application." I got my plate and walked out back to where there were a couple other grad students.
I was speaking with Dave (who already knew about the situation) when Trauth comes out to where we are and says, "My prediction: that Dirty Jobs will show us setting traps out." I can feel my blood pressure rising since he doesn't even acknowledge that he left early without attempting to introduce me to Mike. I couldn't let it just slide. I tensely said, "Yeah, well thanks for leaving at 8:50 instead of 9:00." He said, "Well, it turns out it wouldn't have worked anyway." I said, "You could have introduced me to him." Then he started talking about when there was a press conference and Tanja didn't even get to be there for that. I said, "I'm not talking about that. You told me to be at the farm at 9:00 and I pulled in at 8:50 to find you leaving early." He said, "What? Did you see me?" I said, "Yes, I saw you pulling out right as I was pulling in." He said, "You're sure you saw me?" I said, "Yes, I saw you." He said there wouldn't be room in the boats anyway. I said, "I knew I couldn't go since there were already three people in each boat, but I could have gotten to shake his hand and maybe get a picture with him." At this point I'm glad there are several people around because neither of us were willing to make a scene in public. Otherwise it may have descended into one of those Trauth/Ben screaming matches. He looks at Dave and says, "He's bitter! He gets to be on TV and he's still bitter!" Dave laughed and said grad students are always bitter. That may be true...at least at ASU. I wonder why that is? (sarcasm intended) I said, "I probably won't even make it on TV and if I do it will be from behind. You won't even be able to see me." I came really close to mentioning how Josh didn't get to meet Attenborough, but I didn't bring it up. Trauth says we need to go fill out the application for me. I guess that was his way of ending it.
So as we head to his office he's talking about things being crazy and mentions the biodiversity building may get built. It's a 50/50 chance. Guess which side my money is on. Well, we get to his office and as soon as we walk in there is a laminated picture of him with Mike holding an AST. He picks it up and shows it to me. I'm thinking it's yet another slap in the face. He said it was for his barber who he had an appointment with this afternoon before things got hectic. He looked at me and said, "I could probably get you a signed copy..." I glared at him. "...but you probably don't want that." I said, "Was that the biggest AST you got?" He said, "No. we got four or five 40 pounders. We got so tired after the first six traps that we had to take a break. We really set those nets well. We probably had 10 or 12 turtles." We go to fill out the application (which I have to help him with...go figure) and then he prints it off and says I need to answer the open ended questions on the application so that he will know how to answer them. Unbelievable.
Then he shows me pictures of the "Mountain Home Bombers"...cause that's what I really care about (more sarcasm). Then he shows me the Dirty Jobs pictures. He just loves slapping me in the face. He gets to the one picture with me and says, "Hey, who's that guy?!" I didn't say anything, though I had a few choice words in mind. He shows the other pictures with Mike, and a picture of the crew with one of the cameramen filming him as he was taking the picture, and of course the picture with Trauth, Ryan, and Mike and talks about how nice Mike was to take a picture with them. Just keep twisting the knife, Dr. Trauth. He finishes showing the pictures and says, "Now, does that make you feel better? Ostracized?..." I glare at him. "No, he's still p***ed." He mentions that I at least got a care package. I said, "I got the leftovers!" He says they are still eating them at his house. So? I start to head toward the door. He says for me to get the answers to those questions to him by the morning and he'll write the letter of support tomorrow. I walk out without saying a word.
I walked in and there he was. Well, I'm there for cake, not for him. So I start to get some cake and he says, "Jonathan Stanley." Without looking at him I said, "That would be me." Then he mentions something about my still only being a Master's student and the application form for the GK12 fellowship seems to only apply to Ph.D students. Still without looking at him I told him it didn't matter. He said he needed to know the title of my thesis. I said, "You're my advisor; you should know it." He said, "Well, send it to me so I can put it on the application." I got my plate and walked out back to where there were a couple other grad students.
I was speaking with Dave (who already knew about the situation) when Trauth comes out to where we are and says, "My prediction: that Dirty Jobs will show us setting traps out." I can feel my blood pressure rising since he doesn't even acknowledge that he left early without attempting to introduce me to Mike. I couldn't let it just slide. I tensely said, "Yeah, well thanks for leaving at 8:50 instead of 9:00." He said, "Well, it turns out it wouldn't have worked anyway." I said, "You could have introduced me to him." Then he started talking about when there was a press conference and Tanja didn't even get to be there for that. I said, "I'm not talking about that. You told me to be at the farm at 9:00 and I pulled in at 8:50 to find you leaving early." He said, "What? Did you see me?" I said, "Yes, I saw you pulling out right as I was pulling in." He said, "You're sure you saw me?" I said, "Yes, I saw you." He said there wouldn't be room in the boats anyway. I said, "I knew I couldn't go since there were already three people in each boat, but I could have gotten to shake his hand and maybe get a picture with him." At this point I'm glad there are several people around because neither of us were willing to make a scene in public. Otherwise it may have descended into one of those Trauth/Ben screaming matches. He looks at Dave and says, "He's bitter! He gets to be on TV and he's still bitter!" Dave laughed and said grad students are always bitter. That may be true...at least at ASU. I wonder why that is? (sarcasm intended) I said, "I probably won't even make it on TV and if I do it will be from behind. You won't even be able to see me." I came really close to mentioning how Josh didn't get to meet Attenborough, but I didn't bring it up. Trauth says we need to go fill out the application for me. I guess that was his way of ending it.
So as we head to his office he's talking about things being crazy and mentions the biodiversity building may get built. It's a 50/50 chance. Guess which side my money is on. Well, we get to his office and as soon as we walk in there is a laminated picture of him with Mike holding an AST. He picks it up and shows it to me. I'm thinking it's yet another slap in the face. He said it was for his barber who he had an appointment with this afternoon before things got hectic. He looked at me and said, "I could probably get you a signed copy..." I glared at him. "...but you probably don't want that." I said, "Was that the biggest AST you got?" He said, "No. we got four or five 40 pounders. We got so tired after the first six traps that we had to take a break. We really set those nets well. We probably had 10 or 12 turtles." We go to fill out the application (which I have to help him with...go figure) and then he prints it off and says I need to answer the open ended questions on the application so that he will know how to answer them. Unbelievable.
Then he shows me pictures of the "Mountain Home Bombers"...cause that's what I really care about (more sarcasm). Then he shows me the Dirty Jobs pictures. He just loves slapping me in the face. He gets to the one picture with me and says, "Hey, who's that guy?!" I didn't say anything, though I had a few choice words in mind. He shows the other pictures with Mike, and a picture of the crew with one of the cameramen filming him as he was taking the picture, and of course the picture with Trauth, Ryan, and Mike and talks about how nice Mike was to take a picture with them. Just keep twisting the knife, Dr. Trauth. He finishes showing the pictures and says, "Now, does that make you feel better? Ostracized?..." I glare at him. "No, he's still p***ed." He mentions that I at least got a care package. I said, "I got the leftovers!" He says they are still eating them at his house. So? I start to head toward the door. He says for me to get the answers to those questions to him by the morning and he'll write the letter of support tomorrow. I walk out without saying a word.
Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe: or Why I've been so Frustrated Lately
First let’s set the stage. Since coming to ASU in the fall of 2005 I have had setback after setback. These setbacks have come from the administration, the department, and, too often, from my own advisor. Early on I was quite naïve, and let things slide without getting too upset. As time went on I realized how I, as well as my fellow grad students, were continuously getting the short end of the stick, and it was not by chance. I can tell you about any number of situations where people who should be looking out for me have acted in completely unethical ways. Again, this is at the level of the administration, department, and faculty; almost everyone is corrupt to some degree and only look out for themselves. Now that I’ve been here as long as I have and grown out of my naïveté, I have become quite bitter and cynical about life as a grad student at ASU.
The story I am about to tell might seem like nothing to some people, but it is something to me. And if nothing else, keep in mind that I have four years worth of stories about how I, and other grad students, have been blatantly mistreated. And in the big picture this story by itself is not that big of a deal, but it’s like that Chinese torture: death by a thousand cuts. Each cut is small, but added up, they will kill you. What’s that about a straw breaking a camel’s back…
The most recent situation began a few months ago. My advisor (Dr. Trauth) told me that the TV show Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe would be coming to ASU to do a segment with him. Before he could even begin to tell me the details, I got excited and told him about how I loved that show and wanted to get Mike to come catch watersnakes with me, but unfortunately, Kristen Stanford beat me to it and had Mike catch Lake Erie watersnakes with her. After I calmed down and I asked why he was coming to ASU, Trauth told me he was coming to catch Alligator Snapping Turtles (AST’s) and since there wasn’t currently a turtler in the lab I may get to be involved. That was great news! However, this is secret and needs to remain quiet. That’s fine with me; I can certainly keep secrets. I didn’t even tell my closest friends for fear of jinxing it.
Later, he tells me he might need my help to get the boats ready and wants to know if I’ll be around during spring break (he assumes I have nothing better to do during spring break!). I mention that I could be around part of the time if he needs me, but that the end of the week would work better for me. He says that wouldn’t work for him and would need me at the beginning of the week. He says he could do it by himself if he needs to, but would rather have some help. I assume he’ll either do it himself or wait until later since our schedules do not match up.
A few weeks later, I was talking with Trauth about something (not important) and conversation turned to Dirty Jobs. Trauth mentions in passing that he has enlisted Ben (a former graduate student who doesn’t even live in Jonesboro) to drive the jet boat. I assumed that meant I would not get to be involved, but Trauth did not mention it one way or the other; he just said Ben would drive the jet boat.
Towards the end of April I go to Trauth’s office and he hands me a piece of paper he has just printed out. It is a copy of an email exchange between Tanja McKay (one of the few uncorrupt professors in the department) and the Dirty Jobs people. Apparently, they are also going to do a segment with dung beetles based on my friend, and fellow grad student, Justin Fiene’s research. Dr. McKay and Justin are nice people. Personally, I am happy for them. But Trauth starts complaining that Tanja was so excited that she emailed them and now they will probably start communicating through her instead of through him. Talk about an ego. I wanted to slap him right then. Later on he says, “You know, if I had broken you in on driving the jet boat, you could have been a part of this.” He said something else, but I don’t remember what it was. I just remember my hopes going down the drain and I said, “Well, that’s just how my luck is.” That’s what loyalty gets you around here.
A few days later, he asks me if I would be out of town any in the next few weeks. I said I wasn’t sure (my birthday was the next week and I wasn’t certain of my plans at the time). He said to let him know if I planned to leave for a few days because he needed my help to get the boat out and get it ready for Dirty Jobs. I said I had thought about leaving for a few days, but I hadn't decided yet. He said if I did decide to leave to send him an email otherwise he’d be upset. He said it jokingly, but it still bothered me. He needed my help for a show which I can't be a part of and he'd be upset if I leave town for a few days without telling him! Gimme a break!
A day or two later, Trauth tells me that I may have to be involved with Dirty jobs after all. He seemed to be getting upset with Ben. Ben has a history of dragging his feet, being late, and generally being unreliable at times. So I became the back up. The more Ben gets on Trauth’s nerves, the better I look and the more likely he will choose me instead of Ben. It’s a good thing I had been patient through this thing; it might work out for me yet!
Trauth finally decides to get his boats ready and schedules a day to do that and get my help. I spend an entire day helping him. This involves holding a makeshift funnel while Trauth pours in some gas and gets it all over my hands and having me hold in a pin in the fuel hose while he pumps gas through it to clear up a blockage and I get more gas spewed on my hands. Since I spent the day helping him when I could be working on my research, he begrudgingly buys my lunch…from McDonalds. But, the whole day, he talks about how Ben is unreliable and always late. The one thing he can’t have on this project is someone who is going to be late. I’m looking better all the time.
One of his boats never got fixed by the boat mechanics, so I had to spend a second day helping him. He says, “I guess I have to buy your lunch again.” Glad I could be of service. After we get the boat back, he takes me to Lake Frierson to practice driving the boat and tells me to make sure I’m around the first week of June just in case. This is really looking good now! He’s still worried about Ben being unreliable, and his original reason for bumping me was because I had never driven the jet boat. Now I’ve driven the boat and there’s no reason I can’t help out! This is great! As long as Trauth can’t trust Ben then I’m a shoe in! He asks if I have a hitch on my truck and I said I didn’t but I could buy one for $20 or $30 dollars so it’s not a problem. He mentions the electrical hook-ups. Not a problem, Dr. Trauth, I have that part already.
The last week of May, Trauth makes sure he has my cell phone number in case he needs me. Things are still looking great. I’m certainly glad I didn’t burn the bridge with Trauth when he first bumped me for Ben, because now it’s looking like there’s a good chance I will get to be involved. But Trauth is still worried and he tells me he is getting as many contingency plans as possible and his son is coming from Waco, Texas. Trauth tells me, “You’re not my right hand man, even though you should be. Ben is still that.” Then he says if Ben can’t help him then his son is going to help. I got bumped again! I’m now his third choice! He tells me I’ll still be involved somehow, and I’m thinking “Yeah, I’ll be answering your phone saying, ‘Sorry, Dr. Trauth can’t come to phone right now, he’s out filming Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe. Can I take a message?” Then Trauth tells me, “If you had a hitch on your truck you would be in like flint.” Are you kidding me!? I told you I could buy one!
A couple days later, he calls me and says he needs some more DI water (DI = deionized). I said, “Yeah, the DI machine is on the 5th floor.” And he said, “Yeah”. And I said, “So that's where you can go to get it.” He kind of laughed and said they had turned the water off and the pump that circulates the water to keep the transmission electron microscope cool had overheated and now he needed some more water to refill the tank and see if it would still work. I said, “So you need me to come down and help.” And he said, “Yeah.” So, I helped him and Sarah clean things up down there and get some more water. And during this time, he mentions again that he may need me the next week to set traps for Dirty Jobs. He said, “I hate to keep telling you yes and then no, but I still haven't heard from Ben, yet.” Somewhat sarcastically (but not enough for him to realize) I said, “What about your son?” He said, “Oh, he's still coming, but I still need someone else to help me set out traps.” He mentioned a day or two before that Mike Rowe might help with the traps, but I doubted it. He said, "You know I used to have students who were dying to go out like this, but not anymore. Uh, not that you don't want to. I just don't have any turtlers, although those other students weren't necessarily turtlers. But I'm not even a turtle biologist." Keep backpedalling, Dr. Trauth. I said (jokingly, but truthfully), "Is that an insult? I see how it is. You don't like me and wish you had another student." As I was leaving his office he said, “So there's about a 90% chance I'll need you Wednesday about 1:00.” And I said, “So I should expect a call at 12:30 saying Ben just called and he's going.” He laughed, but I was being serious.
Later, Trauth tells me there is a 95% chance he will need me to set out traps. A day later he needs me to help mend the nets to get them ready to trap turtles (which took a few hours to do and he very begrudgingly bought my lunch again. And people think I’m cheap!). I met him at his office. When I went to his office that morning he told me he would in fact need me to help set them out. Apparently Ben is cut out of the whole deal now. Trauth said I was 'sucking on the hind tit' since I would help set them out, but not be there to check them with Dirty Jobs. He also said it hit the fan at his house the night before over Ben vs. his son helping check them. In the end blood is thicker than water so Trauth let Ben know that his son was going to help instead. He said there was a chance that some Dirty Jobs people may tag along to get some film footage when we set them out, but I doubted it. He also said he invited the crew for supper and hadn't heard back, but he would try to include me since I'd been helping. One of my friends who I had now been airing my grievances to said, “Don't hold your breath with anything dealing with Trauth. I wouldn't be surprised if you were on your way to set traps and he dropped you off and picked up Ben.” Wouldn’t surprise me either.
Also, while in his office that day, he gets a call from the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission (AGFC). You see, AST’s are protected in Arkansas and so the AGFC have to grant permission to do anything with them. Also, this project would require four boats to carry everyone; Trauth only had two boats. So AGFC was supplying the permission to work with a protected species, two boats, and two fisheries biologists. The guy on the phone happened to be the PR guy for AGFC. They wanted to send a fifth boat out with a film crew from AGFC for their TV show. Trauth didn’t think the crew would go for that since this was supposed to be secret, plus that fifth boat might be just too much. Trauth said they could bring back a turtle and the AGFC film crew could interview Mike with the turtle at the boat ramp. Then the AGFC biologists could take the turtle back where it came from and everyone would be happy, but that would need to be cleared with the Dirty Jobs crew (which it was). The funny part was that the PR guy for AGFC said, and I’m paraphrasing, “you know, we’re supplying two boats and two biologists, it’s a protected species and it’s public water. We could just show up if we wanted to, but we won’t do that.”
Earlier this week, the crew arrived and Trauth was set to meet with them a couple days before we set traps out. So before they come he has me help get the fish out and put the nails in them and get them ready. He does about half and then says we'll wait and he'll show the crew that part to see if they want Mike Rowe involved. Well, he calls me when the crew gets there and as I head to the herp range I'm wondering why he needs me there and it dawns on me...he needs me to clean up afterwards. I get to the herp range and he's there talking to a couple of guys and they don't care about the fish so I'm thinking I'll have to finish getting the fish ready and then clean up. Well, they start talking about setting the traps out and apparently they are going to go and film about 30 seconds worth of footage while I'm there (I'll probably end up on the cutting room floor...and Mike won't be there anyway). They start discussing how many people will be there and they say, "Okay, we'll have three guys and you'll have a helper..." At this point I'm thinking, "Hey, I'm right here, Dr. Trauth. Now would be a good time to introduce 'your helper' to the crew." But it doesn't even cross his mind. As they get ready to leave Trauth says to me, "We'll just finish the fish up later." And I said, "Well I figured you'd want me to finish it up now." He doesn't detect any sarcasm. He says, "Oh, yeah. Then put 'em in the cooler and cover them with ice." And they walk out the door and he still doesn't even introduce me to them. They ignored my presence the entire time! I was thinking there was a better than average chance that Trauth would ditch me for Ben to set traps out. I was waiting for the call any minute...
I told my aforementioned friend about the situation and here was his response (slightly edited by me for language): “You know your e-mails really don't have any direct affect on me, but they always seem to raise my blood pressure a little. If I hadn't moved, I have little doubt that Trauth and I would have had one of those Trauth/Ben screaming matches. Everytime I think about that &*% I just want to kick him in the nose.” I concur. He then offers this advice: “Also, I will throw out some advice. Even if you can't get into another school, I would leave ASU as soon as you get your MS done. Take a year off if you need and try again. ASU is going down and it seems like it will take you with it if you're not careful.”
The day before we set traps out, I stop by to see Trauth and make sure he still needs me. I jokingly said, “So do you still need me or did Ben decide to help you set out traps.” I said it jokingly, but in all seriousness I was afraid Ben would get to help instead of me. The reason I wanted to help so bad even though I wouldn’t be there to help them check the traps is that I was still holding out for a chance to meet Mike. Trauth confirms that Ben is cut out of the entire thing and he does need me to help.
So, the day we go to set out traps I am to meet Trauth and his son at the boat compound on the ASU farm at 12:15 pm. I get there at about 12:00 and put on some sun screen and wait for them to show up. I notice a KAIT8 news vehicle at the farm (where the dung beetle research occurs) and thought to myself, “I thought this was supposed to be kept quiet.” Trauth and his son arrive and we hook up the boats. I asked Trauth about the news crew and said I thought it was a secret. He said somebody must have leaked it. As we are hooking up the boats, Trauth’s son, Ryan, mentions that I am probably better at this than him. I told him that I had only been on the jet boat once and I have never been on the turtle boat. He said we were tied then. I figured Ryan had driven the boats more than that. I mean, I know he’s not a biologist (he’s an engineer), but still, didn’t he go fishing with his dad and brother when they would take the jet boat out?
Just as we are about to leave, the news crew finish harassing, er, I mean interviewing Mike. I didn’t see Mike at first, just the news crew. Trauth says he is going to introduce himself and he’ll be right back. As we wait for him I finally see Mike Rowe come around the corner. Trauth talks to him for a minute, completely disregarding us, and then comes back. He makes no mention of Mike, but the first thing he tells me is to go park near the Lab Science building and meet them in the herp range to get the fish. I get to the herp range first, irritated, but not surprised, that Trauth passed up another opportunity to introduce his student to someone like Mike Rowe.
When Trauth gets to the herp range he says, “If you had come over there I would have introduced you.” Sure you would have. I’m guessing he just thought of that about two steps before he walked in the door to meet me. So Trauth takes the fish down to load it onto the boat and sends me to get a couple buckets full of ice. He doesn’t give me a cart. So I have to carry two 5-gallon buckets 2/3 full of ice from the ice room in one wing of the building to where the boat is parked on the other side of the other wing of the building. When I get there, he and his son are not there. So I put the ice into the cooler myself and take the buckets back to the herp range. When I get back they are there and we are ready to go.
We all get in his vehicle for him to take us to where the other boat is parked and where we will meet the crew. As we pull out, he says to me, “You won’t believe what else I’ve been asked to do.” Knowing that when he’s asked to do something it often means I have to do something, I ask “Do I want to know?” He says, “No.” And I said, “Then don’t tell me.” There’s silence. He must think I was joking, but I was dead serious. He says, “It will affect you, too.” I said, “Will it keep me from graduating?” He said, “It could delay it.” Oh my goodness, not again. He says, “No. I’m joking. You should still graduate. I just got a message from Sustich (Interim Dean of the College of Sciences and Mathematics). Ron Johnson turned down the chair’s position. So guess who it goes to.” I said, “Why did Dr. Johnson turn it down?” He said, “I guess they didn’t give him what he wanted.”
As we get near to where Ryan’s SUV and the other boat are parked as well as the film crew, we were talking about things that go on at ASU. I made a sarcastic remark about nepotism, which they both interpreted to be solely about the situation we were discussing, but I also had other things in mind. Ryan then tells me about nepotism where he works and then says that ‘oh yeah, I’m not even a biologist; I’m an engineer. But just getting to go out with the film crew is exciting to me.’ I paraphrased.
We meet up with three guys from the crew and Trauth finally introduces me to them. But I guess it would seem strange if he had introduced his son to them and completely ignored the other guy standing right there (me). The guys going are Dave (the producer), Doug (a cameraman, I think), and Ryan (a lower ranking cameraman?). Hereafter, if I say ‘Ryan’, I mean Ryan Trauth. If I’m referring to Ryan the cameraman, I’ll say ‘Ryan the cameraman’.
Trauth asks them when there will be a news conference with him and Mike Rowe since KAIT8 did one about the dung beetle project that day. Dave said there wouldn’t be another one, but the news crew might contact Trauth. Trauth doesn’t seem to get it and wants to know if it will be Friday since Mike would be leaving soon. Dave says, no, Mike is not doing another one, but the news people might talk to Trauth individually. He seemed somewhat upset about that. Man, get over it.
So we hit the road. I’m riding with Trauth. Ryan is behind us. The crew is behind Ryan. Over the drive from Jonesboro to Jacksonport, Trauth and I discuss several things: whether or not he should be chair, some rattlesnake research that has just come up, Dirty Jobs, etc. Trauth mentions that Dirty Jobs turned down the invitation for supper so there's one opportunity to meet Mike down the tube. At one point Trauth calls his wife to let her know that he has been offered the chairmanship of the department. It’s a thankless, paper-pushing job. I overhear one side of the conversation and it seems like she doesn’t want him to take it, but he wants to. Her reasoning is that it’s too much work for not enough recognition. Hey, I think I know about that. His reasoning is that if he doesn’t take it, someone else will get it and he doesn’t want that person to get the job. Then apparently his wife mentions that if he were chair she could get in a tenure-track position instead of just an instructor’s position. He says he can’t do that or everyone would notice that blatant nepotism and he could get fired. Wow. I guess he does have his limits. Later he tells me about how his son was so excited when he heard Dirty Jobs was coming and how that was one of his favorite programs and he planned his weeklong vacation just to be there when it happened. Then he tells me about how he was on the phone with Ben about the Dirty Jobs thing and Trauth’s wife really went at him about Ben helping instead of their son who was coming from Waco, Texas. Apparently, it was loud enough that even Ben could hear on the phone and said, “Doc, why don’t I just bow out of this one?” You’re a good man, Ben; I wouldn’t have done so.
When we get to Jacksonport, we get things ready in the boats. I’m the only one that dressed to get in the water. Go figure. We go to set out turtle traps and everyone dresses to stay dry! So I’m the one that has to wade out to move the boat to the side after we launch it, so the second boat can be launched. Then I hold the boats steady while everyone climbs in their respective boats. Finally, I get in with Trauth in the turtle boat, Ryan and the crew get in the jet boat. We take off and then Trauth realizes he has managed to pull the plug out of the boat and we are taking on water. He motions the other boat over and tells them to stay behind while he goes really fast to draw the water out and then they can catch up. So he drives as fast as he can with the plug out to try to get the water out and then plugs it and slows down. It didn’t work that great, but it would have to do. The other boat catches up but was going really slow, so he motions them over again and says one of the crew can ride with us until we get there. Ryan shows his lack of boat driving skill here by not getting the boats close together. So I have to paddle our boat until I can just reach the other boat and pull us together and Dave jumps into our boat.
We take off again. We talk about different things as we go: the scenery, turtles, etc. I tell Dave about how I wanted them to come catch watersnakes with me, but Kristen Stanford beat me to it. We generally have a good ride even if it did take a half hour. The crew films us from the other boat some. But like I say, it will probably end up on the cutting room floor (but everything is digital these days so maybe I should say it will end up in the recycle bin on their desktop?).
When we get to Dota Creek, Dave gets back in the jet boat with the crew and we get ready to set out traps. Dave says that when Mike is there with the rest of the film crew that they will need Trauth and Mike on one side of the traps with the film crew in the boat on the other side of the traps. Trauth says they can’t do that since the traps are beside the bank and there’s no room for a boat in between the trap and the bank. I said, "You could put one in front of the trap and one behind." Then Trauth says, “I know, we can put one boat in front of the trap and another behind.” Dave says that will work and I think, “Why, you’re very welcome Dr. Trauth. Glad I could help.”
So we set out the first trap. Trauth is a perfectionist when it comes to how the traps are set out. He told me that if it wasn’t to his liking we would do it again. So after every trap is set I asked, “Are you happy with this one?” Well, we made pretty good time and set out six traps before the sky started to darken. I had checked the weather and knew that it would start to storm and last all night. Trauth thought it would only last for a little while and stop. After the sixth trap, Trauth decided that we would wait since it was about to come up a bad cloud and we would just wait out the storm under some trees at the edge of the water. So he situated our boat so that he was under the trees and I was out in the open. The other boat with the crew was also situated under the trees; I was the only one in the open. It hadn’t started raining yet and I thought we should just set traps as long as we could, but I kept it to myself. I laid back and rested while Trauth bailed water out of the boat (there was still plenty of water in our boat) and the crew were just passing the time with conversation. At one point Trauth took a picture of the crew and I told him to take my picture because no one would believe me if I told them I helped with a production of Dirty Jobs. So he took my picture (see below).
Eventually, it started to rain…hard. It came a severe thunderstorm. No, I’m serious. Ryan called his wife and we were listed by the weather service as being under a severe thunderstorm. Trauth and his son figured it would last 30 to 45 minutes and we’d be out of it. I sat there getting rained on more than anyone (because I was out in the open while everyone else was under the trees), but I never complained. It began thundering and lightening all around us…big and loud. After about ten minutes there was a HUGE CRACK, which I assumed was more thunder until I heard a splash behind me. The crew jumped and Trauth about jumped out of his seat. I had my back turned and barely moved since I thought it was thunder. When I heard the splash I figured it wasn’t thunder, but that I was still okay, so it didn’t really bother me. If I had been facing the other way, though, I would have seen a large limb break out of the trees and land about ten feet behind me. Ten feet over and that would have hurt really bad.
As we sat there getting soaked to the bone (me more than the others) I thought, “You know, this is what it’s like as a grad student at ASU everyday…metaphorically speaking.” I never complained, but sat there freezing, soaking, but sat there with a slight smirk on my face, undetectable to the others, because I was the most calm of anyone. Doug and Ryan the cameraman took turns videoing the storm (which they don’t get in L.A.) trying to get some footage of lightening (which was quite close at times). They got a tarp out to try to keep some things dry and eventually Ryan the cameraman got tired of being wet and climbed inside the tarp with only his face showing at times. Once I even noticed Doug with the camera pointed at me, sitting there, water dripping off me, not complaining at all. Again, cutting room floor.
After about an hour and a half of driving rain, Trauth decided it wasn’t going to quit and we should set the other half of the traps in the rain. The crew wanted to head back home since they had enough footage. Trauth said we should stay together since you never know what could happen. So we took off. Trauth and I set out the second set of six traps in record speed. The crew would kind of follow us and then park underneath some trees to try to keep from getting rained on. We set out some perfect traps if I do say so myself. When we would be setting out traps I would be fine. But when we were driving to the next spot and I was sitting there still, I would freeze from being cold and wet and I really had to go to the bathroom. Thankfully, I have the bladder of a camel and made it until we got back and had the boats back on the trailers.
After we got the twelfth, and last, trap set the crew was quite happy to be done since we were already later than we thought we would be. Dave got back in the turtle boat with me and Trauth and we headed back to the boat ramp. I was chumming the water with the fish blood as we went back. When we got to the first net that we had set out about 3 or 4 hours before, Trauth stopped us and said as tradition we always check the first trap. I don’t think Dave and the crew were particularly happy. They just wanted to get back. But the first trap was messed up and we knew something had messed it up. As we drove up to it, I lifted it up. About three or four large carp started splashing and getting us wet (we were already soaked so who cares). Then Dave said there was a turtle, too. I looked to my left and just entering the trap was about a 25 pound AST. I said, “It’s an Alligator Snapper, too.” Trauth was happy. Now what do we do? Do we leave it overnight and wait for Mike to be there? It could get out, especially since it wasn’t in all the way. We could take it back, but we don’t have a place for it. We decided to take it back anyway. We couldn’t risk letting it get away. So we pull the trap back into the boat and the turtle falls out into the boat. It’s walking around snapping at things. Its mouth is big enough to fit both of my fists inside and it’s not even a big AST. We start grabbing the fish for future bait and the turtle starts to climb out of the boat. I grab its hind legs to keep it in the boat. Then people start telling me how to hold it (not realizing that I’ve held a few AST’s before and I don’t need a TV producer to tell me what to do). I thought we just wanted to keep it in the boat, I didn’t know we wanted to have it hovering in mid-air while someone holds it. Excuse me for trying to conserve my energy. So I pick it up, only to hold it for a few seconds before they tell me set it back down and we put the trap on top of it to keep it from going anywhere. Then Trauth sticks his chest out and throws some things around like he’s the king of the world. Thanks for the show, Doc.
So now we head back to the boat ramp. About a 20 minute drive while soaking wet and freezing. About 10 or 15 minutes in I got used to it and started to dry out from the wind. We make it back and start getting the boats loaded up while the rain picks up again. I start to feel the aches in my body from setting out traps. My knees especially are hurting where I braced myself by placing my knees against the side of the aluminum boat while I leaned over to put the traps in the water. I’m scratched up from various things along the way. And of course, since the hoops in the traps are made of fiberglass, I have about a million fiberglass splinters in my hands, arms, and legs. And, due to the rain delay, we still haven’t had supper and it’s past suppertime. And oh, yeah, we’re not stopping on the way home.
As we get the boats tied down and things loaded up, Trauth mentions that there may be room for me when they go to check the traps with Mike. He says he really needs me there anyway. He says he’ll ask if it’s okay and even if it’s not, he’ll introduce me to Mike Rowe. Just show up at 9:00 am at the farm. Okay, I’ll be there.
Since I’m soaking wet, Trauth gets a bunch of snake bags for me to sit on in his SUV and we head out. It’s now after dark. The AST is still in the boat under the trap where Trauth plans to keep it all night, assuming it doesn’t get out. As we leave the rain gets worse. You almost can’t see the road. Trauth is amazed and wonders who could have known it would be this bad. I didn’t tell him I did since I had checked the weather beforehand. He mentions another time or two that since I had helped a lot that he thought I should get to go along, too, when Mike is there. There is still hope, I thought. Maybe Trauth is not as selfish as he seems at times. He mentions that the deal breaker for me was that I didn’t have a hitch on my truck. Now I know he is lying, because he didn’t even ask me about a hitch until AFTER he had replaced me with Ben! Besides, I told him I could buy one. He calls his wife as we get closer and tells her that he will have to take me back to school and get rid of the fish we picked up before coming home. He requests some dry clothes and warm food to be waiting for him. She reminds him to give me some money for supper. I’m still waiting on that. But if he offers it now, I will not accept it.
When we get back to school I go to get some buckets to put the fish in as he goes to get the key to the necropsy room with the freezers since he left the key in his office. I get back and put the fish in the bucket, but one of the fish is hung in the net with the snapper. When Trauth gets back he holds the net up while I get the fish out. He wants to know how many fish there are, but I can’t really see and I can’t hold onto them since my hands are now covered in fish blood and slime. He says we’ll count them later and says again that he’ll ask if I can go along, but at least he’ll introduce me to Mike if nothing else. Just be at the farm at 9:00 am. You bet; I’m there.
He leaves for home while I take the fish up to the necropsy room, fill the bucket with water, and put them in the freezer. Then I wash my hands (you can’t get rid of the fish smell, though) and go to the mail room where I have a box of frozen rats that need to go in the freezer also. I’m still waiting for the department to reimburse me for those, too. To a grad student, $175 is a lot of money. Anyway, I do that and go to my office to check my email. Nothing important, but I do send an email to a friend of mine (previously mentioned) that I might get to go after all, but I should at least get to meet Mike Rowe. My friend responds thusly: “Don't hold your breath. He told me he would ask Sir David [Attenborough] too. Joe confirmed that he did no such thing. Either way, good luck.”
By the time I leave school it is after 10:30 pm. All I’ve had to eat are a plain biscuit and cinnamon melt from McDonalds and two candy bars around lunch time. I’m starved. I go pick up some food and eat supper at almost 11:00 pm. Then I go take a shower. My knees are killing me by this time. But I’m excited about the morning. I set FIVE alarm clocks all at about five or ten minute intervals to make sure I wake up. But I didn’t need five; it only took one.
During the night I couldn’t sleep. My stomach was full from a late supper, my knees were throbbing, every time I moved I was aware of every fiberglass splinter in my hands, arms, and legs, and there were a few raw scratches on me. My knees hurt so bad that I dreamed that my right knee was bitten twice by copperheads and my left knee was bitten once and they were both swelling up and painful. Strange. But I wake up with the first alarm clock, turn off all the others, get a shower to wake me up, and listen to the radio while I get ready. The guy on the radio keeps talking about Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs being in town to do a segment with a couple of grad students about dung beetles. He mentions their names: Matt Connior and Justin Fine (he mispronounced Fiene [pheeney]). He mentions it in between about every song. I thought, “Wow, they really dropped the ball on keeping this a secret.” Then I head in to school early. I’ve got plenty of time.
I check my email and kill some time. I had already added up how many people would be there: 12. And four boats. That’s three people per boat. Putting a fourth person in a boat is a stretch, but at least I’ll get to meet Mike Rowe. So before I leave my office I make sure I have my camera so I can get a picture with him. I leave early to make sure I am there on time. I turn onto the road to the farm at 8:50 am, ten minutes EARLY. I see some cars coming out. I thought to myself that better not be them. As I drive past them I see Trauth in the driver’s seat of his SUV pulling his boat. Ryan is behind him with the other boat and there’s about three more cars behind. They left early without waiting for me to arrive to meet Mike. I’m sure Trauth didn’t even make an attempt to wait for me.
I turn around and go home, listening to another radio station who is also talking about Mike Rowe being in town, and then I walk back to school. I get some work done on my research. Then Matt Connior walks into my office. He tells me about how he just did a phone interview for one of the radio stations, and how the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette had been talking to Mike and the other grad student I think. He told me how the PR guy for ASU is totally unprofessional and is probably the person who leaked the story to the media and he really did a bad job of the whole deal. He allowed KAIT8 to come do a conference with Mike when he could have told them no (which he should have done). And then KAIT8 was supposed to wait until Friday before running the story so that the crew would have time to leave town, but they ran it Wednesday afternoon, the same day. Doesn’t surprise me. He tells me how the filming went for the dung beetle segment. He talks about how Mike is a great guy and he makes up all the letters that ‘viewers’ write in to the show. He makes up things there on the spot and he’s a funny guy. He ripped the crotch of his pants jumping over a fence and tried to sew it up with some thread that Matt has when he does surgeries on gophers. It ripped again. This time he really sewed it up and it was really obvious and he was making jokes about it. Tanja was kind of embarrassed about it. He tells about how the farm guys were all following them around and the crew was like, “Okay, we can only have these three people here.” Then the farm guys were watching and videoing from the window. He talked about how Dave almost put some pig manure in his mouth on a dare before Justin and Matt stopped him. Then he asked about the AST stuff. I tell him about it. He’s surprised that Ryan is there and not me. He says, “What if they ask him how he’s involved? What’s he gonna say? ‘Oh, I’m his son?’ That’s not right.” I agree.
Later I get an email from Tanja who needs something that Trauth was supposed to get for her. I go to Trauth’s lab and find them and bring them to her. When I get to her office she’s telling a couple of professors about the filming; the same thing I had heard from Matt. Then they ask about the AST stuff and I tell them about setting out the traps and the incident with the storm and I almost died from a falling limb and now they are checking traps. I didn’t mention how I was supposed to meet Mike that morning but they left early without even telling me. I’m happy for Matt, Justin, and Tanja. I really am. They are nice people and I’m glad for them. But every time I heard them talk excitedly about the show, it was a bitter reminder of how much work I had done without even a thank you, but rather being slighted every time I thought things were looking up.
I went to another grad student’s office and told him that I thought Trauth was trying to send me a message and told him the story about almost getting to meet Mike. He wasn’t surprised. That’s the way things work around here. I spent the rest of the day getting research done and hoping they didn’t find any turtles. Yes, I am bitter.
Today, the day after, I slept late. I got to school to find two missed calls from Trauth. Over the course of the day he called four more times. I was there for each of those four, but refused to answer the phone. I don’t want to speak to him, I refuse to go see him, and if I spot him in the hallway I will turn and go the other direction. Finally he sends me an email that says: “The food items in the plastic bag in the EM refrigerator are yours…compliments of the Dirty Jobs crew excesses.” Notice it’s not compliments of the Dirty Jobs crew, but the Dirty Jobs crew excesses; I get the leftovers.
Today my knees are bruised and hurting, I’m scratched up, I’m sore from sitting on a hard boat and setting traps, I still have some raw places on my feet from being in some wet, cheap sandals, I have a knot in my leg from who knows what, I have several days of lost research time, and still a few fiberglass splinters that let me know about them if they get rubbed the wrong way…and Trauth sends me a picture of Mike Rowe with a little snapper. Thanks, Trauth, that’s exactly what I wanted…along with a formal apology for every way you’ve done me wrong over the last four years. I’m waiting…but not holding my breath.
The story I am about to tell might seem like nothing to some people, but it is something to me. And if nothing else, keep in mind that I have four years worth of stories about how I, and other grad students, have been blatantly mistreated. And in the big picture this story by itself is not that big of a deal, but it’s like that Chinese torture: death by a thousand cuts. Each cut is small, but added up, they will kill you. What’s that about a straw breaking a camel’s back…
The most recent situation began a few months ago. My advisor (Dr. Trauth) told me that the TV show Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe would be coming to ASU to do a segment with him. Before he could even begin to tell me the details, I got excited and told him about how I loved that show and wanted to get Mike to come catch watersnakes with me, but unfortunately, Kristen Stanford beat me to it and had Mike catch Lake Erie watersnakes with her. After I calmed down and I asked why he was coming to ASU, Trauth told me he was coming to catch Alligator Snapping Turtles (AST’s) and since there wasn’t currently a turtler in the lab I may get to be involved. That was great news! However, this is secret and needs to remain quiet. That’s fine with me; I can certainly keep secrets. I didn’t even tell my closest friends for fear of jinxing it.
Later, he tells me he might need my help to get the boats ready and wants to know if I’ll be around during spring break (he assumes I have nothing better to do during spring break!). I mention that I could be around part of the time if he needs me, but that the end of the week would work better for me. He says that wouldn’t work for him and would need me at the beginning of the week. He says he could do it by himself if he needs to, but would rather have some help. I assume he’ll either do it himself or wait until later since our schedules do not match up.
A few weeks later, I was talking with Trauth about something (not important) and conversation turned to Dirty Jobs. Trauth mentions in passing that he has enlisted Ben (a former graduate student who doesn’t even live in Jonesboro) to drive the jet boat. I assumed that meant I would not get to be involved, but Trauth did not mention it one way or the other; he just said Ben would drive the jet boat.
Towards the end of April I go to Trauth’s office and he hands me a piece of paper he has just printed out. It is a copy of an email exchange between Tanja McKay (one of the few uncorrupt professors in the department) and the Dirty Jobs people. Apparently, they are also going to do a segment with dung beetles based on my friend, and fellow grad student, Justin Fiene’s research. Dr. McKay and Justin are nice people. Personally, I am happy for them. But Trauth starts complaining that Tanja was so excited that she emailed them and now they will probably start communicating through her instead of through him. Talk about an ego. I wanted to slap him right then. Later on he says, “You know, if I had broken you in on driving the jet boat, you could have been a part of this.” He said something else, but I don’t remember what it was. I just remember my hopes going down the drain and I said, “Well, that’s just how my luck is.” That’s what loyalty gets you around here.
A few days later, he asks me if I would be out of town any in the next few weeks. I said I wasn’t sure (my birthday was the next week and I wasn’t certain of my plans at the time). He said to let him know if I planned to leave for a few days because he needed my help to get the boat out and get it ready for Dirty Jobs. I said I had thought about leaving for a few days, but I hadn't decided yet. He said if I did decide to leave to send him an email otherwise he’d be upset. He said it jokingly, but it still bothered me. He needed my help for a show which I can't be a part of and he'd be upset if I leave town for a few days without telling him! Gimme a break!
A day or two later, Trauth tells me that I may have to be involved with Dirty jobs after all. He seemed to be getting upset with Ben. Ben has a history of dragging his feet, being late, and generally being unreliable at times. So I became the back up. The more Ben gets on Trauth’s nerves, the better I look and the more likely he will choose me instead of Ben. It’s a good thing I had been patient through this thing; it might work out for me yet!
Trauth finally decides to get his boats ready and schedules a day to do that and get my help. I spend an entire day helping him. This involves holding a makeshift funnel while Trauth pours in some gas and gets it all over my hands and having me hold in a pin in the fuel hose while he pumps gas through it to clear up a blockage and I get more gas spewed on my hands. Since I spent the day helping him when I could be working on my research, he begrudgingly buys my lunch…from McDonalds. But, the whole day, he talks about how Ben is unreliable and always late. The one thing he can’t have on this project is someone who is going to be late. I’m looking better all the time.
One of his boats never got fixed by the boat mechanics, so I had to spend a second day helping him. He says, “I guess I have to buy your lunch again.” Glad I could be of service. After we get the boat back, he takes me to Lake Frierson to practice driving the boat and tells me to make sure I’m around the first week of June just in case. This is really looking good now! He’s still worried about Ben being unreliable, and his original reason for bumping me was because I had never driven the jet boat. Now I’ve driven the boat and there’s no reason I can’t help out! This is great! As long as Trauth can’t trust Ben then I’m a shoe in! He asks if I have a hitch on my truck and I said I didn’t but I could buy one for $20 or $30 dollars so it’s not a problem. He mentions the electrical hook-ups. Not a problem, Dr. Trauth, I have that part already.
The last week of May, Trauth makes sure he has my cell phone number in case he needs me. Things are still looking great. I’m certainly glad I didn’t burn the bridge with Trauth when he first bumped me for Ben, because now it’s looking like there’s a good chance I will get to be involved. But Trauth is still worried and he tells me he is getting as many contingency plans as possible and his son is coming from Waco, Texas. Trauth tells me, “You’re not my right hand man, even though you should be. Ben is still that.” Then he says if Ben can’t help him then his son is going to help. I got bumped again! I’m now his third choice! He tells me I’ll still be involved somehow, and I’m thinking “Yeah, I’ll be answering your phone saying, ‘Sorry, Dr. Trauth can’t come to phone right now, he’s out filming Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe. Can I take a message?” Then Trauth tells me, “If you had a hitch on your truck you would be in like flint.” Are you kidding me!? I told you I could buy one!
A couple days later, he calls me and says he needs some more DI water (DI = deionized). I said, “Yeah, the DI machine is on the 5th floor.” And he said, “Yeah”. And I said, “So that's where you can go to get it.” He kind of laughed and said they had turned the water off and the pump that circulates the water to keep the transmission electron microscope cool had overheated and now he needed some more water to refill the tank and see if it would still work. I said, “So you need me to come down and help.” And he said, “Yeah.” So, I helped him and Sarah clean things up down there and get some more water. And during this time, he mentions again that he may need me the next week to set traps for Dirty Jobs. He said, “I hate to keep telling you yes and then no, but I still haven't heard from Ben, yet.” Somewhat sarcastically (but not enough for him to realize) I said, “What about your son?” He said, “Oh, he's still coming, but I still need someone else to help me set out traps.” He mentioned a day or two before that Mike Rowe might help with the traps, but I doubted it. He said, "You know I used to have students who were dying to go out like this, but not anymore. Uh, not that you don't want to. I just don't have any turtlers, although those other students weren't necessarily turtlers. But I'm not even a turtle biologist." Keep backpedalling, Dr. Trauth. I said (jokingly, but truthfully), "Is that an insult? I see how it is. You don't like me and wish you had another student." As I was leaving his office he said, “So there's about a 90% chance I'll need you Wednesday about 1:00.” And I said, “So I should expect a call at 12:30 saying Ben just called and he's going.” He laughed, but I was being serious.
Later, Trauth tells me there is a 95% chance he will need me to set out traps. A day later he needs me to help mend the nets to get them ready to trap turtles (which took a few hours to do and he very begrudgingly bought my lunch again. And people think I’m cheap!). I met him at his office. When I went to his office that morning he told me he would in fact need me to help set them out. Apparently Ben is cut out of the whole deal now. Trauth said I was 'sucking on the hind tit' since I would help set them out, but not be there to check them with Dirty Jobs. He also said it hit the fan at his house the night before over Ben vs. his son helping check them. In the end blood is thicker than water so Trauth let Ben know that his son was going to help instead. He said there was a chance that some Dirty Jobs people may tag along to get some film footage when we set them out, but I doubted it. He also said he invited the crew for supper and hadn't heard back, but he would try to include me since I'd been helping. One of my friends who I had now been airing my grievances to said, “Don't hold your breath with anything dealing with Trauth. I wouldn't be surprised if you were on your way to set traps and he dropped you off and picked up Ben.” Wouldn’t surprise me either.
Also, while in his office that day, he gets a call from the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission (AGFC). You see, AST’s are protected in Arkansas and so the AGFC have to grant permission to do anything with them. Also, this project would require four boats to carry everyone; Trauth only had two boats. So AGFC was supplying the permission to work with a protected species, two boats, and two fisheries biologists. The guy on the phone happened to be the PR guy for AGFC. They wanted to send a fifth boat out with a film crew from AGFC for their TV show. Trauth didn’t think the crew would go for that since this was supposed to be secret, plus that fifth boat might be just too much. Trauth said they could bring back a turtle and the AGFC film crew could interview Mike with the turtle at the boat ramp. Then the AGFC biologists could take the turtle back where it came from and everyone would be happy, but that would need to be cleared with the Dirty Jobs crew (which it was). The funny part was that the PR guy for AGFC said, and I’m paraphrasing, “you know, we’re supplying two boats and two biologists, it’s a protected species and it’s public water. We could just show up if we wanted to, but we won’t do that.”
Earlier this week, the crew arrived and Trauth was set to meet with them a couple days before we set traps out. So before they come he has me help get the fish out and put the nails in them and get them ready. He does about half and then says we'll wait and he'll show the crew that part to see if they want Mike Rowe involved. Well, he calls me when the crew gets there and as I head to the herp range I'm wondering why he needs me there and it dawns on me...he needs me to clean up afterwards. I get to the herp range and he's there talking to a couple of guys and they don't care about the fish so I'm thinking I'll have to finish getting the fish ready and then clean up. Well, they start talking about setting the traps out and apparently they are going to go and film about 30 seconds worth of footage while I'm there (I'll probably end up on the cutting room floor...and Mike won't be there anyway). They start discussing how many people will be there and they say, "Okay, we'll have three guys and you'll have a helper..." At this point I'm thinking, "Hey, I'm right here, Dr. Trauth. Now would be a good time to introduce 'your helper' to the crew." But it doesn't even cross his mind. As they get ready to leave Trauth says to me, "We'll just finish the fish up later." And I said, "Well I figured you'd want me to finish it up now." He doesn't detect any sarcasm. He says, "Oh, yeah. Then put 'em in the cooler and cover them with ice." And they walk out the door and he still doesn't even introduce me to them. They ignored my presence the entire time! I was thinking there was a better than average chance that Trauth would ditch me for Ben to set traps out. I was waiting for the call any minute...
I told my aforementioned friend about the situation and here was his response (slightly edited by me for language): “You know your e-mails really don't have any direct affect on me, but they always seem to raise my blood pressure a little. If I hadn't moved, I have little doubt that Trauth and I would have had one of those Trauth/Ben screaming matches. Everytime I think about that &*% I just want to kick him in the nose.” I concur. He then offers this advice: “Also, I will throw out some advice. Even if you can't get into another school, I would leave ASU as soon as you get your MS done. Take a year off if you need and try again. ASU is going down and it seems like it will take you with it if you're not careful.”
The day before we set traps out, I stop by to see Trauth and make sure he still needs me. I jokingly said, “So do you still need me or did Ben decide to help you set out traps.” I said it jokingly, but in all seriousness I was afraid Ben would get to help instead of me. The reason I wanted to help so bad even though I wouldn’t be there to help them check the traps is that I was still holding out for a chance to meet Mike. Trauth confirms that Ben is cut out of the entire thing and he does need me to help.
So, the day we go to set out traps I am to meet Trauth and his son at the boat compound on the ASU farm at 12:15 pm. I get there at about 12:00 and put on some sun screen and wait for them to show up. I notice a KAIT8 news vehicle at the farm (where the dung beetle research occurs) and thought to myself, “I thought this was supposed to be kept quiet.” Trauth and his son arrive and we hook up the boats. I asked Trauth about the news crew and said I thought it was a secret. He said somebody must have leaked it. As we are hooking up the boats, Trauth’s son, Ryan, mentions that I am probably better at this than him. I told him that I had only been on the jet boat once and I have never been on the turtle boat. He said we were tied then. I figured Ryan had driven the boats more than that. I mean, I know he’s not a biologist (he’s an engineer), but still, didn’t he go fishing with his dad and brother when they would take the jet boat out?
Just as we are about to leave, the news crew finish harassing, er, I mean interviewing Mike. I didn’t see Mike at first, just the news crew. Trauth says he is going to introduce himself and he’ll be right back. As we wait for him I finally see Mike Rowe come around the corner. Trauth talks to him for a minute, completely disregarding us, and then comes back. He makes no mention of Mike, but the first thing he tells me is to go park near the Lab Science building and meet them in the herp range to get the fish. I get to the herp range first, irritated, but not surprised, that Trauth passed up another opportunity to introduce his student to someone like Mike Rowe.
When Trauth gets to the herp range he says, “If you had come over there I would have introduced you.” Sure you would have. I’m guessing he just thought of that about two steps before he walked in the door to meet me. So Trauth takes the fish down to load it onto the boat and sends me to get a couple buckets full of ice. He doesn’t give me a cart. So I have to carry two 5-gallon buckets 2/3 full of ice from the ice room in one wing of the building to where the boat is parked on the other side of the other wing of the building. When I get there, he and his son are not there. So I put the ice into the cooler myself and take the buckets back to the herp range. When I get back they are there and we are ready to go.
We all get in his vehicle for him to take us to where the other boat is parked and where we will meet the crew. As we pull out, he says to me, “You won’t believe what else I’ve been asked to do.” Knowing that when he’s asked to do something it often means I have to do something, I ask “Do I want to know?” He says, “No.” And I said, “Then don’t tell me.” There’s silence. He must think I was joking, but I was dead serious. He says, “It will affect you, too.” I said, “Will it keep me from graduating?” He said, “It could delay it.” Oh my goodness, not again. He says, “No. I’m joking. You should still graduate. I just got a message from Sustich (Interim Dean of the College of Sciences and Mathematics). Ron Johnson turned down the chair’s position. So guess who it goes to.” I said, “Why did Dr. Johnson turn it down?” He said, “I guess they didn’t give him what he wanted.”
As we get near to where Ryan’s SUV and the other boat are parked as well as the film crew, we were talking about things that go on at ASU. I made a sarcastic remark about nepotism, which they both interpreted to be solely about the situation we were discussing, but I also had other things in mind. Ryan then tells me about nepotism where he works and then says that ‘oh yeah, I’m not even a biologist; I’m an engineer. But just getting to go out with the film crew is exciting to me.’ I paraphrased.
We meet up with three guys from the crew and Trauth finally introduces me to them. But I guess it would seem strange if he had introduced his son to them and completely ignored the other guy standing right there (me). The guys going are Dave (the producer), Doug (a cameraman, I think), and Ryan (a lower ranking cameraman?). Hereafter, if I say ‘Ryan’, I mean Ryan Trauth. If I’m referring to Ryan the cameraman, I’ll say ‘Ryan the cameraman’.
Trauth asks them when there will be a news conference with him and Mike Rowe since KAIT8 did one about the dung beetle project that day. Dave said there wouldn’t be another one, but the news crew might contact Trauth. Trauth doesn’t seem to get it and wants to know if it will be Friday since Mike would be leaving soon. Dave says, no, Mike is not doing another one, but the news people might talk to Trauth individually. He seemed somewhat upset about that. Man, get over it.
So we hit the road. I’m riding with Trauth. Ryan is behind us. The crew is behind Ryan. Over the drive from Jonesboro to Jacksonport, Trauth and I discuss several things: whether or not he should be chair, some rattlesnake research that has just come up, Dirty Jobs, etc. Trauth mentions that Dirty Jobs turned down the invitation for supper so there's one opportunity to meet Mike down the tube. At one point Trauth calls his wife to let her know that he has been offered the chairmanship of the department. It’s a thankless, paper-pushing job. I overhear one side of the conversation and it seems like she doesn’t want him to take it, but he wants to. Her reasoning is that it’s too much work for not enough recognition. Hey, I think I know about that. His reasoning is that if he doesn’t take it, someone else will get it and he doesn’t want that person to get the job. Then apparently his wife mentions that if he were chair she could get in a tenure-track position instead of just an instructor’s position. He says he can’t do that or everyone would notice that blatant nepotism and he could get fired. Wow. I guess he does have his limits. Later he tells me about how his son was so excited when he heard Dirty Jobs was coming and how that was one of his favorite programs and he planned his weeklong vacation just to be there when it happened. Then he tells me about how he was on the phone with Ben about the Dirty Jobs thing and Trauth’s wife really went at him about Ben helping instead of their son who was coming from Waco, Texas. Apparently, it was loud enough that even Ben could hear on the phone and said, “Doc, why don’t I just bow out of this one?” You’re a good man, Ben; I wouldn’t have done so.
When we get to Jacksonport, we get things ready in the boats. I’m the only one that dressed to get in the water. Go figure. We go to set out turtle traps and everyone dresses to stay dry! So I’m the one that has to wade out to move the boat to the side after we launch it, so the second boat can be launched. Then I hold the boats steady while everyone climbs in their respective boats. Finally, I get in with Trauth in the turtle boat, Ryan and the crew get in the jet boat. We take off and then Trauth realizes he has managed to pull the plug out of the boat and we are taking on water. He motions the other boat over and tells them to stay behind while he goes really fast to draw the water out and then they can catch up. So he drives as fast as he can with the plug out to try to get the water out and then plugs it and slows down. It didn’t work that great, but it would have to do. The other boat catches up but was going really slow, so he motions them over again and says one of the crew can ride with us until we get there. Ryan shows his lack of boat driving skill here by not getting the boats close together. So I have to paddle our boat until I can just reach the other boat and pull us together and Dave jumps into our boat.
We take off again. We talk about different things as we go: the scenery, turtles, etc. I tell Dave about how I wanted them to come catch watersnakes with me, but Kristen Stanford beat me to it. We generally have a good ride even if it did take a half hour. The crew films us from the other boat some. But like I say, it will probably end up on the cutting room floor (but everything is digital these days so maybe I should say it will end up in the recycle bin on their desktop?).
When we get to Dota Creek, Dave gets back in the jet boat with the crew and we get ready to set out traps. Dave says that when Mike is there with the rest of the film crew that they will need Trauth and Mike on one side of the traps with the film crew in the boat on the other side of the traps. Trauth says they can’t do that since the traps are beside the bank and there’s no room for a boat in between the trap and the bank. I said, "You could put one in front of the trap and one behind." Then Trauth says, “I know, we can put one boat in front of the trap and another behind.” Dave says that will work and I think, “Why, you’re very welcome Dr. Trauth. Glad I could help.”
So we set out the first trap. Trauth is a perfectionist when it comes to how the traps are set out. He told me that if it wasn’t to his liking we would do it again. So after every trap is set I asked, “Are you happy with this one?” Well, we made pretty good time and set out six traps before the sky started to darken. I had checked the weather and knew that it would start to storm and last all night. Trauth thought it would only last for a little while and stop. After the sixth trap, Trauth decided that we would wait since it was about to come up a bad cloud and we would just wait out the storm under some trees at the edge of the water. So he situated our boat so that he was under the trees and I was out in the open. The other boat with the crew was also situated under the trees; I was the only one in the open. It hadn’t started raining yet and I thought we should just set traps as long as we could, but I kept it to myself. I laid back and rested while Trauth bailed water out of the boat (there was still plenty of water in our boat) and the crew were just passing the time with conversation. At one point Trauth took a picture of the crew and I told him to take my picture because no one would believe me if I told them I helped with a production of Dirty Jobs. So he took my picture (see below).
Eventually, it started to rain…hard. It came a severe thunderstorm. No, I’m serious. Ryan called his wife and we were listed by the weather service as being under a severe thunderstorm. Trauth and his son figured it would last 30 to 45 minutes and we’d be out of it. I sat there getting rained on more than anyone (because I was out in the open while everyone else was under the trees), but I never complained. It began thundering and lightening all around us…big and loud. After about ten minutes there was a HUGE CRACK, which I assumed was more thunder until I heard a splash behind me. The crew jumped and Trauth about jumped out of his seat. I had my back turned and barely moved since I thought it was thunder. When I heard the splash I figured it wasn’t thunder, but that I was still okay, so it didn’t really bother me. If I had been facing the other way, though, I would have seen a large limb break out of the trees and land about ten feet behind me. Ten feet over and that would have hurt really bad.
As we sat there getting soaked to the bone (me more than the others) I thought, “You know, this is what it’s like as a grad student at ASU everyday…metaphorically speaking.” I never complained, but sat there freezing, soaking, but sat there with a slight smirk on my face, undetectable to the others, because I was the most calm of anyone. Doug and Ryan the cameraman took turns videoing the storm (which they don’t get in L.A.) trying to get some footage of lightening (which was quite close at times). They got a tarp out to try to keep some things dry and eventually Ryan the cameraman got tired of being wet and climbed inside the tarp with only his face showing at times. Once I even noticed Doug with the camera pointed at me, sitting there, water dripping off me, not complaining at all. Again, cutting room floor.
After about an hour and a half of driving rain, Trauth decided it wasn’t going to quit and we should set the other half of the traps in the rain. The crew wanted to head back home since they had enough footage. Trauth said we should stay together since you never know what could happen. So we took off. Trauth and I set out the second set of six traps in record speed. The crew would kind of follow us and then park underneath some trees to try to keep from getting rained on. We set out some perfect traps if I do say so myself. When we would be setting out traps I would be fine. But when we were driving to the next spot and I was sitting there still, I would freeze from being cold and wet and I really had to go to the bathroom. Thankfully, I have the bladder of a camel and made it until we got back and had the boats back on the trailers.
After we got the twelfth, and last, trap set the crew was quite happy to be done since we were already later than we thought we would be. Dave got back in the turtle boat with me and Trauth and we headed back to the boat ramp. I was chumming the water with the fish blood as we went back. When we got to the first net that we had set out about 3 or 4 hours before, Trauth stopped us and said as tradition we always check the first trap. I don’t think Dave and the crew were particularly happy. They just wanted to get back. But the first trap was messed up and we knew something had messed it up. As we drove up to it, I lifted it up. About three or four large carp started splashing and getting us wet (we were already soaked so who cares). Then Dave said there was a turtle, too. I looked to my left and just entering the trap was about a 25 pound AST. I said, “It’s an Alligator Snapper, too.” Trauth was happy. Now what do we do? Do we leave it overnight and wait for Mike to be there? It could get out, especially since it wasn’t in all the way. We could take it back, but we don’t have a place for it. We decided to take it back anyway. We couldn’t risk letting it get away. So we pull the trap back into the boat and the turtle falls out into the boat. It’s walking around snapping at things. Its mouth is big enough to fit both of my fists inside and it’s not even a big AST. We start grabbing the fish for future bait and the turtle starts to climb out of the boat. I grab its hind legs to keep it in the boat. Then people start telling me how to hold it (not realizing that I’ve held a few AST’s before and I don’t need a TV producer to tell me what to do). I thought we just wanted to keep it in the boat, I didn’t know we wanted to have it hovering in mid-air while someone holds it. Excuse me for trying to conserve my energy. So I pick it up, only to hold it for a few seconds before they tell me set it back down and we put the trap on top of it to keep it from going anywhere. Then Trauth sticks his chest out and throws some things around like he’s the king of the world. Thanks for the show, Doc.
So now we head back to the boat ramp. About a 20 minute drive while soaking wet and freezing. About 10 or 15 minutes in I got used to it and started to dry out from the wind. We make it back and start getting the boats loaded up while the rain picks up again. I start to feel the aches in my body from setting out traps. My knees especially are hurting where I braced myself by placing my knees against the side of the aluminum boat while I leaned over to put the traps in the water. I’m scratched up from various things along the way. And of course, since the hoops in the traps are made of fiberglass, I have about a million fiberglass splinters in my hands, arms, and legs. And, due to the rain delay, we still haven’t had supper and it’s past suppertime. And oh, yeah, we’re not stopping on the way home.
As we get the boats tied down and things loaded up, Trauth mentions that there may be room for me when they go to check the traps with Mike. He says he really needs me there anyway. He says he’ll ask if it’s okay and even if it’s not, he’ll introduce me to Mike Rowe. Just show up at 9:00 am at the farm. Okay, I’ll be there.
Since I’m soaking wet, Trauth gets a bunch of snake bags for me to sit on in his SUV and we head out. It’s now after dark. The AST is still in the boat under the trap where Trauth plans to keep it all night, assuming it doesn’t get out. As we leave the rain gets worse. You almost can’t see the road. Trauth is amazed and wonders who could have known it would be this bad. I didn’t tell him I did since I had checked the weather beforehand. He mentions another time or two that since I had helped a lot that he thought I should get to go along, too, when Mike is there. There is still hope, I thought. Maybe Trauth is not as selfish as he seems at times. He mentions that the deal breaker for me was that I didn’t have a hitch on my truck. Now I know he is lying, because he didn’t even ask me about a hitch until AFTER he had replaced me with Ben! Besides, I told him I could buy one. He calls his wife as we get closer and tells her that he will have to take me back to school and get rid of the fish we picked up before coming home. He requests some dry clothes and warm food to be waiting for him. She reminds him to give me some money for supper. I’m still waiting on that. But if he offers it now, I will not accept it.
When we get back to school I go to get some buckets to put the fish in as he goes to get the key to the necropsy room with the freezers since he left the key in his office. I get back and put the fish in the bucket, but one of the fish is hung in the net with the snapper. When Trauth gets back he holds the net up while I get the fish out. He wants to know how many fish there are, but I can’t really see and I can’t hold onto them since my hands are now covered in fish blood and slime. He says we’ll count them later and says again that he’ll ask if I can go along, but at least he’ll introduce me to Mike if nothing else. Just be at the farm at 9:00 am. You bet; I’m there.
He leaves for home while I take the fish up to the necropsy room, fill the bucket with water, and put them in the freezer. Then I wash my hands (you can’t get rid of the fish smell, though) and go to the mail room where I have a box of frozen rats that need to go in the freezer also. I’m still waiting for the department to reimburse me for those, too. To a grad student, $175 is a lot of money. Anyway, I do that and go to my office to check my email. Nothing important, but I do send an email to a friend of mine (previously mentioned) that I might get to go after all, but I should at least get to meet Mike Rowe. My friend responds thusly: “Don't hold your breath. He told me he would ask Sir David [Attenborough] too. Joe confirmed that he did no such thing. Either way, good luck.”
By the time I leave school it is after 10:30 pm. All I’ve had to eat are a plain biscuit and cinnamon melt from McDonalds and two candy bars around lunch time. I’m starved. I go pick up some food and eat supper at almost 11:00 pm. Then I go take a shower. My knees are killing me by this time. But I’m excited about the morning. I set FIVE alarm clocks all at about five or ten minute intervals to make sure I wake up. But I didn’t need five; it only took one.
During the night I couldn’t sleep. My stomach was full from a late supper, my knees were throbbing, every time I moved I was aware of every fiberglass splinter in my hands, arms, and legs, and there were a few raw scratches on me. My knees hurt so bad that I dreamed that my right knee was bitten twice by copperheads and my left knee was bitten once and they were both swelling up and painful. Strange. But I wake up with the first alarm clock, turn off all the others, get a shower to wake me up, and listen to the radio while I get ready. The guy on the radio keeps talking about Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs being in town to do a segment with a couple of grad students about dung beetles. He mentions their names: Matt Connior and Justin Fine (he mispronounced Fiene [pheeney]). He mentions it in between about every song. I thought, “Wow, they really dropped the ball on keeping this a secret.” Then I head in to school early. I’ve got plenty of time.
I check my email and kill some time. I had already added up how many people would be there: 12. And four boats. That’s three people per boat. Putting a fourth person in a boat is a stretch, but at least I’ll get to meet Mike Rowe. So before I leave my office I make sure I have my camera so I can get a picture with him. I leave early to make sure I am there on time. I turn onto the road to the farm at 8:50 am, ten minutes EARLY. I see some cars coming out. I thought to myself that better not be them. As I drive past them I see Trauth in the driver’s seat of his SUV pulling his boat. Ryan is behind him with the other boat and there’s about three more cars behind. They left early without waiting for me to arrive to meet Mike. I’m sure Trauth didn’t even make an attempt to wait for me.
I turn around and go home, listening to another radio station who is also talking about Mike Rowe being in town, and then I walk back to school. I get some work done on my research. Then Matt Connior walks into my office. He tells me about how he just did a phone interview for one of the radio stations, and how the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette had been talking to Mike and the other grad student I think. He told me how the PR guy for ASU is totally unprofessional and is probably the person who leaked the story to the media and he really did a bad job of the whole deal. He allowed KAIT8 to come do a conference with Mike when he could have told them no (which he should have done). And then KAIT8 was supposed to wait until Friday before running the story so that the crew would have time to leave town, but they ran it Wednesday afternoon, the same day. Doesn’t surprise me. He tells me how the filming went for the dung beetle segment. He talks about how Mike is a great guy and he makes up all the letters that ‘viewers’ write in to the show. He makes up things there on the spot and he’s a funny guy. He ripped the crotch of his pants jumping over a fence and tried to sew it up with some thread that Matt has when he does surgeries on gophers. It ripped again. This time he really sewed it up and it was really obvious and he was making jokes about it. Tanja was kind of embarrassed about it. He tells about how the farm guys were all following them around and the crew was like, “Okay, we can only have these three people here.” Then the farm guys were watching and videoing from the window. He talked about how Dave almost put some pig manure in his mouth on a dare before Justin and Matt stopped him. Then he asked about the AST stuff. I tell him about it. He’s surprised that Ryan is there and not me. He says, “What if they ask him how he’s involved? What’s he gonna say? ‘Oh, I’m his son?’ That’s not right.” I agree.
Later I get an email from Tanja who needs something that Trauth was supposed to get for her. I go to Trauth’s lab and find them and bring them to her. When I get to her office she’s telling a couple of professors about the filming; the same thing I had heard from Matt. Then they ask about the AST stuff and I tell them about setting out the traps and the incident with the storm and I almost died from a falling limb and now they are checking traps. I didn’t mention how I was supposed to meet Mike that morning but they left early without even telling me. I’m happy for Matt, Justin, and Tanja. I really am. They are nice people and I’m glad for them. But every time I heard them talk excitedly about the show, it was a bitter reminder of how much work I had done without even a thank you, but rather being slighted every time I thought things were looking up.
I went to another grad student’s office and told him that I thought Trauth was trying to send me a message and told him the story about almost getting to meet Mike. He wasn’t surprised. That’s the way things work around here. I spent the rest of the day getting research done and hoping they didn’t find any turtles. Yes, I am bitter.
Today, the day after, I slept late. I got to school to find two missed calls from Trauth. Over the course of the day he called four more times. I was there for each of those four, but refused to answer the phone. I don’t want to speak to him, I refuse to go see him, and if I spot him in the hallway I will turn and go the other direction. Finally he sends me an email that says: “The food items in the plastic bag in the EM refrigerator are yours…compliments of the Dirty Jobs crew excesses.” Notice it’s not compliments of the Dirty Jobs crew, but the Dirty Jobs crew excesses; I get the leftovers.
Today my knees are bruised and hurting, I’m scratched up, I’m sore from sitting on a hard boat and setting traps, I still have some raw places on my feet from being in some wet, cheap sandals, I have a knot in my leg from who knows what, I have several days of lost research time, and still a few fiberglass splinters that let me know about them if they get rubbed the wrong way…and Trauth sends me a picture of Mike Rowe with a little snapper. Thanks, Trauth, that’s exactly what I wanted…along with a formal apology for every way you’ve done me wrong over the last four years. I’m waiting…but not holding my breath.
Tribute to the ILH...with apologies to Hank Jr.
All my herpin’ friends have moved away,
And they don’t have time to catch three-toed’s,
Nobody wants to go catch frogs and catch snakes,
Everybody just has such a heavy load,
I myself have seen my wilder times,
When I would go out after Conanti,
But I need to find a friend that knows about Tokay’s,
But nobody wants to go look for Ornates,
And all my herpin’ friends have moved away.
And I think I know what my advisor meant when he talked about a microscope,
And Melissa’s teaching high school now, I’m sure that she can cope,
And Jacob’s staying home and watching Max and Ben, I hope,
And nobody wants to go out and catch snakes,
And all my herpin’ friends have moved away.
And the snake bites sure hurt more than they used to,
And N2 and EM took the place of tongs and a long canoe,
And it seems like none of us do things quite like we used to do,
And nobody has a use for their potato rake,
And all my herpin’ friends have moved away.
Yeah, I think I know what my advisor meant when he talked about microscopy,
And Josh don’t herp like he did back in Polk County,
And not a one of us even have a PhD,
And nobody wants to go flip rocks for DeKay’s,
And all my herpin’ friends have moved away.
Yeah, me and my herpin’ friends sure need a field day.
And they don’t have time to catch three-toed’s,
Nobody wants to go catch frogs and catch snakes,
Everybody just has such a heavy load,
I myself have seen my wilder times,
When I would go out after Conanti,
But I need to find a friend that knows about Tokay’s,
But nobody wants to go look for Ornates,
And all my herpin’ friends have moved away.
And I think I know what my advisor meant when he talked about a microscope,
And Melissa’s teaching high school now, I’m sure that she can cope,
And Jacob’s staying home and watching Max and Ben, I hope,
And nobody wants to go out and catch snakes,
And all my herpin’ friends have moved away.
And the snake bites sure hurt more than they used to,
And N2 and EM took the place of tongs and a long canoe,
And it seems like none of us do things quite like we used to do,
And nobody has a use for their potato rake,
And all my herpin’ friends have moved away.
Yeah, I think I know what my advisor meant when he talked about microscopy,
And Josh don’t herp like he did back in Polk County,
And not a one of us even have a PhD,
And nobody wants to go flip rocks for DeKay’s,
And all my herpin’ friends have moved away.
Yeah, me and my herpin’ friends sure need a field day.
Aldo Leopold Quotes
Following are some of my favorite quotes by Aldo Leopold from A Sand County Almanac with Essays on Conservation from Round River.
Like winds and sunsets, wild things were taken for granted until progress began to do away with them. Now we face the question whether a still higher ‘standard of living’ is worth its cost in things natural, wild, and free. For us of the minority, the opportunity to see geese is more important than television, and the chance to find a pasque-flower is a right as inalienable as free speech. –Foreword
…our bigger-and-better society is now like a hypochondriac, so obsessed with its own economic health as to have lost the capacity to remain healthy. The whole world is so greedy for more bathtubs that it has lost the stability necessary to build them, or even to turn off the tap. Nothing could be more salutary at this stage than a little healthy contempt for a plethora of material blessings…Perhaps such a shift of values can be achieved by reappraising things unnatural, tame, and confined in terms of things natural, wild, and free. –Foreword
There are two spiritual dangers in not owning a farm. One is the danger of supposing that breakfast comes from the grocery, and the other that heat comes from the furnace. –February: Good Oak
These things I ponder as the kettle sings, and the good oak burns to red coals on white ashes. Those ashes, come spring I will return to the orchard at the foot of the sandhill. They will come back to me again, perhaps as red apples, or perhaps as a spirit of enterprise in some fat October squirrel, who, for reasons unknown to himself, is bent on planting acorns. –February: Good Oak
It is fortunate, perhaps, that no matter how intently one studies the hundred little dramas of the woods and meadows, one can never learn all of the salient facts about any one of them. –April: Skydance
What was big was not the trout, but the chance. What was full was not my creel, but my memory. –June: The Alder Fork – A Fishing Idyll
Books or no books, it is a fact, patent both to my dog and myself, that at daybreak I am the sole owner of all the acres I can walk over. It is not only boundaries that disappear, but also the thought of being bounded. Expanses unknown to deed or map are known to every dawn, and solitude, supposed no longer to exist in my country, extends on every hand as far as the dew can reach. –July: Great Possessions
We grieve only for what we know. The erasure of Silphium from western Dane County is no cause for grief if one knows it only as a name in a botany book. –July: Prairie Birthday
Every farm woodland, in addition to yielding lumber, fuel, and posts, should provide its owner a liberal education. This crop of wisdom never fails, but it is not always harvested. –November: A Mighty Fortress
Every farm is a textbook on animal ecology; woodsmanship is the translation of the book. –December: Homerange
But all conservation of wildness is self-defeating, for to cherish we must see and fondle, and when enough have seen and fondled, there is no wildness left to cherish. –Wisconsin: Marshland Elegy
That the prairie is rich is known to the humblest deermouse; why the prairie is rich is a question seldom asked in all the still lapse of ages. –Wisconsin: Odyssey
Perhaps every youth needs an occasional wilderness trip, in order to learn the meaning of this particular freedom. –Wisconsin: Flambeau
Perhaps our grandsons, having never seen a wild river, will never miss the chance to set a canoe in singing waters. –Wisconsin: Flambeau
Despite several opportunities to do so, I have never returned to the White Mountain. I prefer not to see what tourists, roads, sawmills, and logging railroads have done for it, or to it. I hear young people, not yet born when I first rode out ‘on top’, explain about it as a wonderful place. To this, with an unspoken mental reservation, I agree. –Arizona and New Mexico: On Top
Only the mountain has lived long enough to listen objectively to the howl of a wolf. –Arizona and New Mexico: Thinking Like a Mountain
I now suspect that just as a deer herd lives in mortal fear of its wolves, so does a mountain live in mortal fear of its deer. –Arizona and New Mexico: Thinking Like a Mountain
…but too much safety seems to yield only danger in the long run. Perhaps this is behind Thoreau’s dictum: In wildness is the salvation of the world. Perhaps this is the hidden meaning of the wolf, long known among mountains, but seldom perceived among men. –Arizona and New Mexico: Thinking Like a Mountain
He did not foresee that within two decades the cow country would become tourist country, and as such have greater need of bears than of beefsteaks. –Arizona and New Mexico: Escudilla
We spoke harshly of the Spaniards who, in their zeal for gold and converts, had needlessly extinguished the native Indians. It did not occur to us that we, too, were the captains of an invasion too sure of its own righteousness. –Arizona and New Mexico: Escudilla
Escudilla still hangs on the horizon, but when you see it you no longer think of bear. It’s only a mountain now. –Arizona and New Mexico: Escudilla
Man always kills the thing he loves, and so we the pioneers have killed our wildness. Some say we had to. Be that as it may, I am glad I shall never be young without wild country to be young in. Of what avail are forty freedoms without a blank spot on the map? –Chihuahua and Sonora: The Green Lagoon
There is, as yet, no sense of pride in the husbandry of wild plants and animals, no sense of shame in the proprietorship of a sick landscape. We tilt windmills in behalf of conservation in convention halls and editorial offices, but on the back forty we disclaim even owning a lance. –Oregon and Utah: Cheat Takes Over
Education, I fear, is learning to see one thing by going blind to another. –Manitoba: Clandeboye
That wildlife is merely something to shoot at or to look at is the grossest of fallacies. –Country
In country, as in people, a plain exterior often conceals hidden riches, to perceive which requires much living in and with. –Country
Harmony with land is like harmony with a friend; you cannot cherish his right hand and chop off his left. That is to say, you cannot love game and hate predators; you cannot conserve the waters and waste the ranges; you cannot build the forest and mine the farm. The land is one organism. Its parts, like our own parts, compete with each other and co-operate with each other. The competitions are as much a part of the inner workings as the co-operations. You can regulate them – cautiously – but not abolish them. –The Round River
The last word in ignorance is the man who says of an animal or plant: ‘What good is it?’ If the land mechanism as a whole is good, then every part is good, whether we understand it or not. If the biota, in the course of aeons, has built something we like but do not understand, then who but a fool would discard seemingly useless parts? To keep every cog and wheel is the first precaution of intelligent tinkering. –The Round River
American conservation is, I fear, still concerned for the most part with show pieces. We have not yet learned to think in terms of small cogs and wheels. –The Round River
One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds. Much of the damage inflicted on land is quite invisible to laymen. An ecologist must either harden his shell and make believe that the consequences of science are none of his business, or he must be the doctor who sees the marks of death in a community that believes itself well and does not want to be told otherwise. –The Round River
No ‘fortuitous concourse of elements’ working blindly through any number of millions of years could quite account for why warblers are so beautiful. No mechanistic theory, even bolstered by mutations, has ever quite answered for the colors of the cerulean warbler, or the vespers of the woodthrush, or the swansong, or – goose music. –Goose Music
I have congenital hunting fever and three sons. As little tots, they spent their time playing with my decoys and scouring vacant lots with wooden guns. I hope to leave them good health, and education, and possibly even a competence. But what are they going to do with these things if there be no more deer in the hills, and no more quail in the coverts? No more snipe whistling in the meadow, no more piping of widgeons and chattering of teal as darkness covers the marshes; no more whistling of soft wings when the morning star pales in the east? And when the dawn-wind stirs through the ancient cottonwoods, and the gray light steals down from the hills over the old river sliding softly past its wide brown sandbars – what if there be no more goose music? –Goose Music
Conservation is a state of harmony between men and land. Despite nearly a century of propaganda, conservation still proceeds at a snail’s pace; progress still consists largely of letterhead pieties and convention oratory. On the back forty we still slip two steps backward for each forward stride. –The Land Ethic: The Ecological Conscience
A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic community. It is wrong when it tends otherwise. –The Land Ethic: The Outlook
One of the most insidious invasions of wilderness is via predator control. It works thus: wolves and lions are cleaned out of a wilderness area in the interest of big-game management. The big game (usually deer or elk) then increase to the point of overbrowsing the range. Hunters must then be encouraged to harvest the surplus, but modern hunters refuse to operate far from a car; hence a road must be built to provide access to the surplus game. Again and again, wilderness areas have been split by this process, but it still continues. –Wilderness: The Remnant
Even if wild spots do survive, what of their fauna? The woodland caribou, the several races of mountain sheep, the pure form of woods buffalo, the barren ground grizzly, the freshwater seals, and the whales are even now threatened. Of what use are wild areas destitute of their distinctive faunas? --Wilderness: The Remnant
Pioneers usually scoff at any effort to perpetuate pioneering. –Wilderness: The Remnant
It is bootless to execute a portage to the tune of motor launches, or to turn out your bell-mare in the pasture of a summer hotel. It is better to stay home. –Wilderness: Wilderness for Recreation
Mechanized recreation already has seized nine-tenths of the woods and mountains; a decent respect for minorities should dedicate the other tenth to wilderness. –Wilderness: Wilderness for Recreation
There seems to be a tacit assumption that if grizzlies survive in Canada and Alaska, that is good enough. It is not good enough for me. –Wilderness: Wilderness for Wildlife
Recreational development is a job not of building roads into lovely country, but of building receptivity into the still unlovely human mind. –Conservation Esthetic
Like winds and sunsets, wild things were taken for granted until progress began to do away with them. Now we face the question whether a still higher ‘standard of living’ is worth its cost in things natural, wild, and free. For us of the minority, the opportunity to see geese is more important than television, and the chance to find a pasque-flower is a right as inalienable as free speech. –Foreword
…our bigger-and-better society is now like a hypochondriac, so obsessed with its own economic health as to have lost the capacity to remain healthy. The whole world is so greedy for more bathtubs that it has lost the stability necessary to build them, or even to turn off the tap. Nothing could be more salutary at this stage than a little healthy contempt for a plethora of material blessings…Perhaps such a shift of values can be achieved by reappraising things unnatural, tame, and confined in terms of things natural, wild, and free. –Foreword
There are two spiritual dangers in not owning a farm. One is the danger of supposing that breakfast comes from the grocery, and the other that heat comes from the furnace. –February: Good Oak
These things I ponder as the kettle sings, and the good oak burns to red coals on white ashes. Those ashes, come spring I will return to the orchard at the foot of the sandhill. They will come back to me again, perhaps as red apples, or perhaps as a spirit of enterprise in some fat October squirrel, who, for reasons unknown to himself, is bent on planting acorns. –February: Good Oak
It is fortunate, perhaps, that no matter how intently one studies the hundred little dramas of the woods and meadows, one can never learn all of the salient facts about any one of them. –April: Skydance
What was big was not the trout, but the chance. What was full was not my creel, but my memory. –June: The Alder Fork – A Fishing Idyll
Books or no books, it is a fact, patent both to my dog and myself, that at daybreak I am the sole owner of all the acres I can walk over. It is not only boundaries that disappear, but also the thought of being bounded. Expanses unknown to deed or map are known to every dawn, and solitude, supposed no longer to exist in my country, extends on every hand as far as the dew can reach. –July: Great Possessions
We grieve only for what we know. The erasure of Silphium from western Dane County is no cause for grief if one knows it only as a name in a botany book. –July: Prairie Birthday
Every farm woodland, in addition to yielding lumber, fuel, and posts, should provide its owner a liberal education. This crop of wisdom never fails, but it is not always harvested. –November: A Mighty Fortress
Every farm is a textbook on animal ecology; woodsmanship is the translation of the book. –December: Homerange
But all conservation of wildness is self-defeating, for to cherish we must see and fondle, and when enough have seen and fondled, there is no wildness left to cherish. –Wisconsin: Marshland Elegy
That the prairie is rich is known to the humblest deermouse; why the prairie is rich is a question seldom asked in all the still lapse of ages. –Wisconsin: Odyssey
Perhaps every youth needs an occasional wilderness trip, in order to learn the meaning of this particular freedom. –Wisconsin: Flambeau
Perhaps our grandsons, having never seen a wild river, will never miss the chance to set a canoe in singing waters. –Wisconsin: Flambeau
Despite several opportunities to do so, I have never returned to the White Mountain. I prefer not to see what tourists, roads, sawmills, and logging railroads have done for it, or to it. I hear young people, not yet born when I first rode out ‘on top’, explain about it as a wonderful place. To this, with an unspoken mental reservation, I agree. –Arizona and New Mexico: On Top
Only the mountain has lived long enough to listen objectively to the howl of a wolf. –Arizona and New Mexico: Thinking Like a Mountain
I now suspect that just as a deer herd lives in mortal fear of its wolves, so does a mountain live in mortal fear of its deer. –Arizona and New Mexico: Thinking Like a Mountain
…but too much safety seems to yield only danger in the long run. Perhaps this is behind Thoreau’s dictum: In wildness is the salvation of the world. Perhaps this is the hidden meaning of the wolf, long known among mountains, but seldom perceived among men. –Arizona and New Mexico: Thinking Like a Mountain
He did not foresee that within two decades the cow country would become tourist country, and as such have greater need of bears than of beefsteaks. –Arizona and New Mexico: Escudilla
We spoke harshly of the Spaniards who, in their zeal for gold and converts, had needlessly extinguished the native Indians. It did not occur to us that we, too, were the captains of an invasion too sure of its own righteousness. –Arizona and New Mexico: Escudilla
Escudilla still hangs on the horizon, but when you see it you no longer think of bear. It’s only a mountain now. –Arizona and New Mexico: Escudilla
Man always kills the thing he loves, and so we the pioneers have killed our wildness. Some say we had to. Be that as it may, I am glad I shall never be young without wild country to be young in. Of what avail are forty freedoms without a blank spot on the map? –Chihuahua and Sonora: The Green Lagoon
There is, as yet, no sense of pride in the husbandry of wild plants and animals, no sense of shame in the proprietorship of a sick landscape. We tilt windmills in behalf of conservation in convention halls and editorial offices, but on the back forty we disclaim even owning a lance. –Oregon and Utah: Cheat Takes Over
Education, I fear, is learning to see one thing by going blind to another. –Manitoba: Clandeboye
That wildlife is merely something to shoot at or to look at is the grossest of fallacies. –Country
In country, as in people, a plain exterior often conceals hidden riches, to perceive which requires much living in and with. –Country
Harmony with land is like harmony with a friend; you cannot cherish his right hand and chop off his left. That is to say, you cannot love game and hate predators; you cannot conserve the waters and waste the ranges; you cannot build the forest and mine the farm. The land is one organism. Its parts, like our own parts, compete with each other and co-operate with each other. The competitions are as much a part of the inner workings as the co-operations. You can regulate them – cautiously – but not abolish them. –The Round River
The last word in ignorance is the man who says of an animal or plant: ‘What good is it?’ If the land mechanism as a whole is good, then every part is good, whether we understand it or not. If the biota, in the course of aeons, has built something we like but do not understand, then who but a fool would discard seemingly useless parts? To keep every cog and wheel is the first precaution of intelligent tinkering. –The Round River
American conservation is, I fear, still concerned for the most part with show pieces. We have not yet learned to think in terms of small cogs and wheels. –The Round River
One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds. Much of the damage inflicted on land is quite invisible to laymen. An ecologist must either harden his shell and make believe that the consequences of science are none of his business, or he must be the doctor who sees the marks of death in a community that believes itself well and does not want to be told otherwise. –The Round River
No ‘fortuitous concourse of elements’ working blindly through any number of millions of years could quite account for why warblers are so beautiful. No mechanistic theory, even bolstered by mutations, has ever quite answered for the colors of the cerulean warbler, or the vespers of the woodthrush, or the swansong, or – goose music. –Goose Music
I have congenital hunting fever and three sons. As little tots, they spent their time playing with my decoys and scouring vacant lots with wooden guns. I hope to leave them good health, and education, and possibly even a competence. But what are they going to do with these things if there be no more deer in the hills, and no more quail in the coverts? No more snipe whistling in the meadow, no more piping of widgeons and chattering of teal as darkness covers the marshes; no more whistling of soft wings when the morning star pales in the east? And when the dawn-wind stirs through the ancient cottonwoods, and the gray light steals down from the hills over the old river sliding softly past its wide brown sandbars – what if there be no more goose music? –Goose Music
Conservation is a state of harmony between men and land. Despite nearly a century of propaganda, conservation still proceeds at a snail’s pace; progress still consists largely of letterhead pieties and convention oratory. On the back forty we still slip two steps backward for each forward stride. –The Land Ethic: The Ecological Conscience
A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic community. It is wrong when it tends otherwise. –The Land Ethic: The Outlook
One of the most insidious invasions of wilderness is via predator control. It works thus: wolves and lions are cleaned out of a wilderness area in the interest of big-game management. The big game (usually deer or elk) then increase to the point of overbrowsing the range. Hunters must then be encouraged to harvest the surplus, but modern hunters refuse to operate far from a car; hence a road must be built to provide access to the surplus game. Again and again, wilderness areas have been split by this process, but it still continues. –Wilderness: The Remnant
Even if wild spots do survive, what of their fauna? The woodland caribou, the several races of mountain sheep, the pure form of woods buffalo, the barren ground grizzly, the freshwater seals, and the whales are even now threatened. Of what use are wild areas destitute of their distinctive faunas? --Wilderness: The Remnant
Pioneers usually scoff at any effort to perpetuate pioneering. –Wilderness: The Remnant
It is bootless to execute a portage to the tune of motor launches, or to turn out your bell-mare in the pasture of a summer hotel. It is better to stay home. –Wilderness: Wilderness for Recreation
Mechanized recreation already has seized nine-tenths of the woods and mountains; a decent respect for minorities should dedicate the other tenth to wilderness. –Wilderness: Wilderness for Recreation
There seems to be a tacit assumption that if grizzlies survive in Canada and Alaska, that is good enough. It is not good enough for me. –Wilderness: Wilderness for Wildlife
Recreational development is a job not of building roads into lovely country, but of building receptivity into the still unlovely human mind. –Conservation Esthetic
Battle of the Bulge: One Soldier's Story
After reading a Human Events column today about journalism and the Battle of the Bulge (this time of year being the 64th anniversary of the battle) I was reminded of one soldier in that battle and his story. A journalist, Don Mckee, tells the story of Morris Pettit, a soldier. I’m privileged to know both McKee and Pettit, having gone to church with both of them when I lived in Georgia. Following is the story as written by McKee in the Marietta Daily Journal on September 1, 1999:
American hero Morris Pettit still paying price of World War II
It has been a long, long battle for Morris Pettit, Army infantry volunteer, decorated World War II hero, awarded eight medals including the Bronze Star and Purple Heart with Oak Leaf Cluster.
Staff Sgt. Pettit, expert rifleman, tall and tough from the hills of Gilmer County, saw his first combat action in July 1944 near St. Lo, France, taking out a German position under heavy fire and fighting across France. He marched into Paris on Aug. 26, 1944, with the liberating First Army.
Then they hit the Ziegfried Line, Hitler’s ominous fortifications of concrete “dragon teeth” and “pillboxes” from which advancing troops were raked with withering fire. Pettit’s B Company drew the job of taking out pillboxes with tank support, but the first tank got stuck. Pettit and his men were pinned down all day by machine gun fire.
The next day they knocked out nine pillboxes. Pettit was wounded by artillery shell fragments and flown to England for recovery. By late November, he was back at the front in Luxembourg.
The Germans launched their last-ditch surprise attack Dec. 16, the Battle of the Bulge. Pettit joined an American tank unit blocking a road to Bastogne under orders for no retreat, but superior enemy forces quickly overran the Americans.
“The Germans opened machine gunfire on the hole I was in. The man next to me was killed, and I was shot in the back,” Pettit said. An exploding hand grenade hit his left arm.
He played dead for hours. Germans walked around shooting the wounded. But the German who pointed a gun at him spoke a little English, and Pettit talked his way out of dying that day.
They took his boots and overcoat. He was forced to march shoeless in the ice and snow. The temperatures fell as low as 20 below. It was one of the worst winters on record.
At a railway station, prisoners were packed into boxcars.
“The only food we had was icicles hanging from the boxcar,” he said.
Pettit wound up in Stalag 7 – A at Friezen.
Americans liberated the camp May 8, 1945. Pettit, who stood over 6 feet tall and weighed 210 before combat, lost 65 pounds in three months. His feet were badly frostbitten, and he needed more surgery on his arm.
He spent a year at Lawson Veterans Hospital in Chamblee. On June 1, 1946, he returned home to Gilmer County, and in December 1947, he married Laura Waddell. They have three sons—Joseph, John, and Mark. A daughter, Sheila, is deceased.
The battle isn’t over for Morris Pettit. Last September, one leg had to be amputated due to infections, effect of the old frostbite. Last week, doctors took off his other leg for the same reason.
The sergeant is 82 now, but he’s still a tough fighter.
He spoke quietly from his bed at VA Medical Center in Decatur.
“I’m doing fine,” he said.
Yes, you are, Morris Pettit, genuine American hero.
A Year of African Life
An article by JoAnn Hornak appeared in the My Turn section of the May 13, 2002 issue of Newsweek magazine describing how a year spent in Tanzania changed her life. I believe it is a very good article and is worth reading. Understand, a simple article cannot fully convey the differences between life in Africa and life in the U.S. It is a start, however. It's disappointing when someone asks me about my experiences in Africa and, as I tell them, I can see on their face that they just don't really get it. And you can't 'get it' unless you've been there and experienced it yourself. That's not possible for everyone, though. For those who can't go themselves this article may seem too strange to be true, but it is true. The article is below and I've bolded certain parts for emphasis...
A Year of African Life Opened My Eyes
The simple, slow pace of Tanzania helped me see what I needed to do: quit my job and start over
By Joann Hornak
Anyone who has considered following a dream career is often told by well-meaning family and friends, “Don’t quit your day job.” I didn’t listen.
Three years ago, while I was working as a prosecuting attorney, I took a year’s leave of absence to pursue a goal I’d had since college: to volunteer in a developing country. During the year in Tanzania, I made several discoveries that ultimately led me to change careers when I returned home.
In Africa I worked on research proposals with several Tanzanian attorneys, including Julius, a struggling public-interest lawyer at the East Africa Law Society. One of my first surprises was to find a country where lawyers are held in the highest esteem. That may be because with a population of about 30 million, Tanzania has fewer than 600 lawyers.
One day Julius and I had lunch at a café in Arusha, a tourist town and starting point for safaris to the Serengeti and the Ngorongoro Crater. One of our favorite pastimes was discussing the many differences between life in the United States and in Tanzania. Dessert presented another opening for debate.
Julius ordered a dish of vanilla and banana ice cream, two of three flavors offered on the menu. I told him that in the United States we have at least 50 flavors, some mixed with chocolate chips, chunks of cookie dough or caramel swirls, sweets that were difficult to describe because they don’t exist in Tanzania. I thought he’d be interested and ask a lot of questions, so I wasn’t prepared for his response.
“That’s too many,” he said, and then went back to enjoying his two plain scoops melting in the equatorial heat. Considering that he longed to visit the United States someday, I was surprised by his lack of curiosity. But his observation struck me.
I thought about how complex U.S. life can be with our countless lifestyle-and-consumer options. In Tanzania I’d learned to live without luxuries like constant running water and electricity, a refrigerator, car, television, telephone and shopping malls. I grew to prefer the lack of choices, the time not spent in making the perfect selection.
My housemates, Katie from Toronto and Ruth from England, felt the same way. Near the end of our year, we talked about returning to our First World homes.
“I’m afraid to go back,” said Katie.
“I’m going to stay in my village and not leave for a month,” said Ruth, who grew up in Calne, population 800.
“We don’t have villages! What am I going to do?” I worried. I loved the simple, slow pace of African life that had given me time to spend hours each day writing. I felt I loved it enough to leave the practice of law and make writing my new career. But when I returned home, reality struck. What if I failed? How would I pay my bills? I was afraid.
I went back to the district attorney’s office. For months I resisted the decision to take a leap of faith and quit my job that for nearly 10 years had provided a steady paycheck, health insurance, four weeks’ paid vacation and the intangible benefits of a successful profession. I’m the first and only person in my family to have earned a college degree. To pay for undergrad and law school, I had always had part-time jobs and taken out student loans. I was reluctant to let go of a career I’d worked hard to achieve.
But often I’d think back to a conversation I had had at a conference in Nairobi a month before returning to the United States. It was at the Carnivore Restaurant, and I was sitting next to Edwin Mtei, former executive director of the International Monetary Fund. Over dinner of Cape buffalo, crocodile and zebra, Mtei asked if I was going back to my job as a prosecutor. I told him that I was thinking of other possibilities, that I hoped to try something new.
“You people have so many choices. You’d never hear a Tanzanian say that. There are so few jobs, we need to take whatever comes along,” he said. He wasn’t bitter, just pointing out something I hadn’t appreciated until I’d spent a year abroad: that I live in a country that gives me the opportunity to reinvent myself.
How could I not try to become a writer when, by accident of birth, I had the option and my friends like Julius, the so-called elite in Tanzania, didn’t? I finally realized that the only things holding me back were fear and the golden handcuffs.
I gave notice at the D.A.’s office last August. The past nine months haven’t been easy, but I can honestly say my only regret is that I wish I’d done this sooner.
Hornak lives in Milwaukee.
A Year of African Life Opened My Eyes
The simple, slow pace of Tanzania helped me see what I needed to do: quit my job and start over
By Joann Hornak
Anyone who has considered following a dream career is often told by well-meaning family and friends, “Don’t quit your day job.” I didn’t listen.
Three years ago, while I was working as a prosecuting attorney, I took a year’s leave of absence to pursue a goal I’d had since college: to volunteer in a developing country. During the year in Tanzania, I made several discoveries that ultimately led me to change careers when I returned home.
In Africa I worked on research proposals with several Tanzanian attorneys, including Julius, a struggling public-interest lawyer at the East Africa Law Society. One of my first surprises was to find a country where lawyers are held in the highest esteem. That may be because with a population of about 30 million, Tanzania has fewer than 600 lawyers.
One day Julius and I had lunch at a café in Arusha, a tourist town and starting point for safaris to the Serengeti and the Ngorongoro Crater. One of our favorite pastimes was discussing the many differences between life in the United States and in Tanzania. Dessert presented another opening for debate.
Julius ordered a dish of vanilla and banana ice cream, two of three flavors offered on the menu. I told him that in the United States we have at least 50 flavors, some mixed with chocolate chips, chunks of cookie dough or caramel swirls, sweets that were difficult to describe because they don’t exist in Tanzania. I thought he’d be interested and ask a lot of questions, so I wasn’t prepared for his response.
“That’s too many,” he said, and then went back to enjoying his two plain scoops melting in the equatorial heat. Considering that he longed to visit the United States someday, I was surprised by his lack of curiosity. But his observation struck me.
I thought about how complex U.S. life can be with our countless lifestyle-and-consumer options. In Tanzania I’d learned to live without luxuries like constant running water and electricity, a refrigerator, car, television, telephone and shopping malls. I grew to prefer the lack of choices, the time not spent in making the perfect selection.
My housemates, Katie from Toronto and Ruth from England, felt the same way. Near the end of our year, we talked about returning to our First World homes.
“I’m afraid to go back,” said Katie.
“I’m going to stay in my village and not leave for a month,” said Ruth, who grew up in Calne, population 800.
“We don’t have villages! What am I going to do?” I worried. I loved the simple, slow pace of African life that had given me time to spend hours each day writing. I felt I loved it enough to leave the practice of law and make writing my new career. But when I returned home, reality struck. What if I failed? How would I pay my bills? I was afraid.
I went back to the district attorney’s office. For months I resisted the decision to take a leap of faith and quit my job that for nearly 10 years had provided a steady paycheck, health insurance, four weeks’ paid vacation and the intangible benefits of a successful profession. I’m the first and only person in my family to have earned a college degree. To pay for undergrad and law school, I had always had part-time jobs and taken out student loans. I was reluctant to let go of a career I’d worked hard to achieve.
But often I’d think back to a conversation I had had at a conference in Nairobi a month before returning to the United States. It was at the Carnivore Restaurant, and I was sitting next to Edwin Mtei, former executive director of the International Monetary Fund. Over dinner of Cape buffalo, crocodile and zebra, Mtei asked if I was going back to my job as a prosecutor. I told him that I was thinking of other possibilities, that I hoped to try something new.
“You people have so many choices. You’d never hear a Tanzanian say that. There are so few jobs, we need to take whatever comes along,” he said. He wasn’t bitter, just pointing out something I hadn’t appreciated until I’d spent a year abroad: that I live in a country that gives me the opportunity to reinvent myself.
How could I not try to become a writer when, by accident of birth, I had the option and my friends like Julius, the so-called elite in Tanzania, didn’t? I finally realized that the only things holding me back were fear and the golden handcuffs.
I gave notice at the D.A.’s office last August. The past nine months haven’t been easy, but I can honestly say my only regret is that I wish I’d done this sooner.
Hornak lives in Milwaukee.
Zell's 'Deficit of Decency' Speech
In 2004 Senator Zell Miller gave a thought provoking speech to the senate about the declining morals in our culture. Here is a copy of his speech...
February 12, 2004
U.S. Senator Zell Miller, D-GA
Floor Statement on
'Deficit of Decency' in America
Prepared Remarks for Delivery on the Senate Floor
The Old Testament prophet Amos was a sheep herder who lived back in the Judean hills, away from the larger cities of Bethlehem and Jerusalem. Compared to the intellectual urbanites like Isaiah and Jeremiah, he was just an unsophisticated country hick.
But Amos had a unique grasp of political and social issues and his poetic literary skill was among the best of all the prophets. That familiar quote of Martin Luther King, Jr. about ‘Justice will rush down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream’ are Amos’s words.
Amos was the first to propose the concept of a universal God and not just some tribal deity. He also wrote that God demanded moral purity, not rituals and sacrifices. This blunt speaking moral conscience of his time warns in Chapter 8, verse 11 of The Book of Amos, as if he were speaking to us today:
That ‘the days will come, sayeth the Lord God, that I will send a famine in the land. Not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the word of the Lord.
‘And they shall wander from sea to sea, and from the north even to the east. They shall run to and fro to seek the word of the Lord, and shall not find it.’
‘A famine in the land’. Has anyone more accurately described the situation we face in America today? ‘A famine of hearing the words of the Lord.’
But some will say, Amos was just an Old Testament prophet – a minor one at that – who lived 700 years before Christ. That is true, so how about one of the most influential historians of modern times?
Arnold Toynbee who wrote the acclaimed 12 volume A Study of History, once declared, ‘Of the 22 civilizations that have appeared in history, 19 of them collapsed when they reached the moral state America is in today.’
Toynbee died in 1975, before seeing the worst that was yet to come. Yes, Arnold Toynbee saw the famine. The ‘famine of hearing the words of the Lord.’ Whether it is removing a display of the Ten Commandments from a Courthouse or the Nativity Scene from a city square. Whether it is eliminating prayer in schools or eliminating ‘under God’ in the Pledge of Allegiance. Whether it is making a mockery of the sacred institution of marriage between a man and woman or, yes, telecasting around the world made-in-the-USA filth masquerading as entertainment.
The Culture of Far Left America was displayed in a startling way during the Super Bowl’s now infamous half-time show. A show brought to us courtesy of Value-Les Moonves and the pagan temple of Viacom-Babylon.
I asked the question yesterday, how many of you have ever run over a skunk with your car? I have many times and I can tell you, the stink stays around for a long time. You can take the car through a car wash and it’s still there. So the scent of this event will long linger in the nostrils of America.
I’m not talking just about an exposed mammary gland with a pull-tab attached to it. Really no one should have been too surprised at that. Wouldn’t one expect a bumping, humping, trashy routine entitled ‘I’m going to get you naked’ to end that way.
Does any responsible adult ever listen to the words of this rap-crap? I’d quote you some of it, but the Sergeant of Arms would throw me out of here, as well he should. And then there was that prancing, dancing, strutting, rutting guy evidently suffering from jock itch because he kept yelling and grabbing his crotch. But then, maybe there’s a crotch grabbing culture I’m unaware of.
But as bad as all this was, the thing that yanked my chain the hardest was seeing that ignoramus with his pointed head stuck up through a hole he had cut in the flag of the United States of America, screaming about having ‘a bottle of scotch and watching lots of crotch.’ Think about that.
This is the same flag that we pledge allegiance to. This is the flag that is draped over coffins of dead young uniformed warriors killed while protecting Kid Crock’s bony butt. He should be tarred and feathered, and ridden out of this country on a rail. Talk about a good reality show, there’s one for you.
The desire and will of this Congress to meaningfully do anything about any of these so-called social issues is non existent and embarrassingly disgraceful. The American people are waiting and growing impatient with us. They want something done.
I am pleased to be a co-sponsor of S.J. Res. 26 along with Senator Allard and others, proposing an amendment to the Constitution of the United States relating to marriage. And S.1558, the Liberties Restoration Act, which declares religious liberty rights in several ways, including the Pledge of Allegiance and the display of the Ten Commandments. And today I join Senator Shelby and others with the Constitution Restoration Act of 2004 that limits the jurisdiction of federal courts in certain ways.
In doing so, I stand shoulder to shoulder not only with my Senate co-sponsors and Chief Justice Roy Moore of Alabama but, more importantly, with our Founding Fathers in the conception of religious liberty and the terribly wrong direction our modern judiciary has taken us in.
Everyone today seems to think that the U.S. Constitution expressly provides for separation of church and state. Ask any ten people if that’s not so. And I’ll bet you most of them will say ‘Well, sure.’ And some will point out, ‘it’s in the First Amendment.’
Wrong! Read it! It says, ‘Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.’ Where is the word ‘separate’? Where are the words ‘church’ or ‘state.’
They are not there. Never have been. Never intended to be. Read the Congressional Records during that four-month period in 1789 when the amendment was being framed in Congress. Clearly their intent was to prohibit a single denomination in exclusion of all others, whether it was Anglican or Catholic or some other.
I highly recommend a great book entitled Original Intent by David Barton. It really gets into how the actual members of Congress, who drafted the First Amendment, expected basic Biblical principles and values to be present throughout public life and society, not separate from it.
It was Alexander Hamilton who pointed out that ‘judges should be bound down by strict rules and precedents, which serve to define and point out their duty.’ Bound down! That is exactly what is needed to be done. There was not a single precedent cited when school prayer was struck down in 1962.
These judges who legislate instead of adjudicate, do it without being responsible to one single solitary voter for their actions. Among the signers of the Declaration of Independence was a brilliant young physician from Pennsylvania named Benjamin Rush.
When Rush was elected to that First Continental Congress, his close friend Benjamin Franklin told him ‘We need you. . . we have a great task before us, assigned to us by Providence.’ Today, 228 years later there is still a great task before us assigned to us by Providence. Our Founding Fathers did not shirk their duty and we can do no less.
By the way, Benjamin Rush was once asked a question that has long interested this Senator from Georgia in particular. Dr. Rush was asked, are you a democrat or an aristocrat? And the good doctor answered, ‘I am neither’. ‘I am a Christocrat. I believe He, alone, who created and redeemed man is qualified to govern him.’ That reply of Benjamin Rush is just as true today in the year of our Lord 2004 as it was in the year of our Lord 1776.
So, if I am asked why – with all the pressing problems this nation faces today – why am I pushing these social issues and taking the Senate’s valuable time? I will answer: Because, it is of the highest importance. Yes, there’s a deficit to be concerned about in this country, a deficit of decency.
So, as the sand empties through my hourglass at warp speed – and with my time running out in this Senate and on this earth, I feel compelled to speak out. For I truly believe that at times like this, silence is not golden. It is yellow.”
February 12, 2004
U.S. Senator Zell Miller, D-GA
Floor Statement on
'Deficit of Decency' in America
Prepared Remarks for Delivery on the Senate Floor
The Old Testament prophet Amos was a sheep herder who lived back in the Judean hills, away from the larger cities of Bethlehem and Jerusalem. Compared to the intellectual urbanites like Isaiah and Jeremiah, he was just an unsophisticated country hick.
But Amos had a unique grasp of political and social issues and his poetic literary skill was among the best of all the prophets. That familiar quote of Martin Luther King, Jr. about ‘Justice will rush down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream’ are Amos’s words.
Amos was the first to propose the concept of a universal God and not just some tribal deity. He also wrote that God demanded moral purity, not rituals and sacrifices. This blunt speaking moral conscience of his time warns in Chapter 8, verse 11 of The Book of Amos, as if he were speaking to us today:
That ‘the days will come, sayeth the Lord God, that I will send a famine in the land. Not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the word of the Lord.
‘And they shall wander from sea to sea, and from the north even to the east. They shall run to and fro to seek the word of the Lord, and shall not find it.’
‘A famine in the land’. Has anyone more accurately described the situation we face in America today? ‘A famine of hearing the words of the Lord.’
But some will say, Amos was just an Old Testament prophet – a minor one at that – who lived 700 years before Christ. That is true, so how about one of the most influential historians of modern times?
Arnold Toynbee who wrote the acclaimed 12 volume A Study of History, once declared, ‘Of the 22 civilizations that have appeared in history, 19 of them collapsed when they reached the moral state America is in today.’
Toynbee died in 1975, before seeing the worst that was yet to come. Yes, Arnold Toynbee saw the famine. The ‘famine of hearing the words of the Lord.’ Whether it is removing a display of the Ten Commandments from a Courthouse or the Nativity Scene from a city square. Whether it is eliminating prayer in schools or eliminating ‘under God’ in the Pledge of Allegiance. Whether it is making a mockery of the sacred institution of marriage between a man and woman or, yes, telecasting around the world made-in-the-USA filth masquerading as entertainment.
The Culture of Far Left America was displayed in a startling way during the Super Bowl’s now infamous half-time show. A show brought to us courtesy of Value-Les Moonves and the pagan temple of Viacom-Babylon.
I asked the question yesterday, how many of you have ever run over a skunk with your car? I have many times and I can tell you, the stink stays around for a long time. You can take the car through a car wash and it’s still there. So the scent of this event will long linger in the nostrils of America.
I’m not talking just about an exposed mammary gland with a pull-tab attached to it. Really no one should have been too surprised at that. Wouldn’t one expect a bumping, humping, trashy routine entitled ‘I’m going to get you naked’ to end that way.
Does any responsible adult ever listen to the words of this rap-crap? I’d quote you some of it, but the Sergeant of Arms would throw me out of here, as well he should. And then there was that prancing, dancing, strutting, rutting guy evidently suffering from jock itch because he kept yelling and grabbing his crotch. But then, maybe there’s a crotch grabbing culture I’m unaware of.
But as bad as all this was, the thing that yanked my chain the hardest was seeing that ignoramus with his pointed head stuck up through a hole he had cut in the flag of the United States of America, screaming about having ‘a bottle of scotch and watching lots of crotch.’ Think about that.
This is the same flag that we pledge allegiance to. This is the flag that is draped over coffins of dead young uniformed warriors killed while protecting Kid Crock’s bony butt. He should be tarred and feathered, and ridden out of this country on a rail. Talk about a good reality show, there’s one for you.
The desire and will of this Congress to meaningfully do anything about any of these so-called social issues is non existent and embarrassingly disgraceful. The American people are waiting and growing impatient with us. They want something done.
I am pleased to be a co-sponsor of S.J. Res. 26 along with Senator Allard and others, proposing an amendment to the Constitution of the United States relating to marriage. And S.1558, the Liberties Restoration Act, which declares religious liberty rights in several ways, including the Pledge of Allegiance and the display of the Ten Commandments. And today I join Senator Shelby and others with the Constitution Restoration Act of 2004 that limits the jurisdiction of federal courts in certain ways.
In doing so, I stand shoulder to shoulder not only with my Senate co-sponsors and Chief Justice Roy Moore of Alabama but, more importantly, with our Founding Fathers in the conception of religious liberty and the terribly wrong direction our modern judiciary has taken us in.
Everyone today seems to think that the U.S. Constitution expressly provides for separation of church and state. Ask any ten people if that’s not so. And I’ll bet you most of them will say ‘Well, sure.’ And some will point out, ‘it’s in the First Amendment.’
Wrong! Read it! It says, ‘Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.’ Where is the word ‘separate’? Where are the words ‘church’ or ‘state.’
They are not there. Never have been. Never intended to be. Read the Congressional Records during that four-month period in 1789 when the amendment was being framed in Congress. Clearly their intent was to prohibit a single denomination in exclusion of all others, whether it was Anglican or Catholic or some other.
I highly recommend a great book entitled Original Intent by David Barton. It really gets into how the actual members of Congress, who drafted the First Amendment, expected basic Biblical principles and values to be present throughout public life and society, not separate from it.
It was Alexander Hamilton who pointed out that ‘judges should be bound down by strict rules and precedents, which serve to define and point out their duty.’ Bound down! That is exactly what is needed to be done. There was not a single precedent cited when school prayer was struck down in 1962.
These judges who legislate instead of adjudicate, do it without being responsible to one single solitary voter for their actions. Among the signers of the Declaration of Independence was a brilliant young physician from Pennsylvania named Benjamin Rush.
When Rush was elected to that First Continental Congress, his close friend Benjamin Franklin told him ‘We need you. . . we have a great task before us, assigned to us by Providence.’ Today, 228 years later there is still a great task before us assigned to us by Providence. Our Founding Fathers did not shirk their duty and we can do no less.
By the way, Benjamin Rush was once asked a question that has long interested this Senator from Georgia in particular. Dr. Rush was asked, are you a democrat or an aristocrat? And the good doctor answered, ‘I am neither’. ‘I am a Christocrat. I believe He, alone, who created and redeemed man is qualified to govern him.’ That reply of Benjamin Rush is just as true today in the year of our Lord 2004 as it was in the year of our Lord 1776.
So, if I am asked why – with all the pressing problems this nation faces today – why am I pushing these social issues and taking the Senate’s valuable time? I will answer: Because, it is of the highest importance. Yes, there’s a deficit to be concerned about in this country, a deficit of decency.
So, as the sand empties through my hourglass at warp speed – and with my time running out in this Senate and on this earth, I feel compelled to speak out. For I truly believe that at times like this, silence is not golden. It is yellow.”
Zell on Hillbillies
In 2003 Senator Zell Miller (D-GA) gave a speech to the senate about hillbillies. I echo his sentiments. By the way, Zell is a mountainman from north GA just like I am. We don't always agree on the issues, but these days we're increasingly on the same page. Here's his speech on hillbillies (emphasis mine)...
Senate--Feb. 25, 2003
HILLBILLIES
Mr. MILLER: Mr. President, I rise this morning--and I appreciate the generosity of the Senator from Utah and the Senator from Vermont in giving me this opportunity--to get something off my chest.
CBS Television is currently planning what that great company calls "a hillbilly reality show." I would like to say a few words about that as a Senator who happens to be a hillbilly.
I can call myself that, Mr. President, but please don't you call me that, for "hillbilly" is a term of derision that was first coined in April of 1900 when the New York Journal had an article on "Hill Billies" with this description:
A free and untrammeled white citizen who lives in the hills, has no means to speak of, talks as he pleases, drinks whiskey when he gets it and fires off his revolver as his fancy strikes him.
The description has not improved very much over the past 100 years. White minstrel shows depicting these ignorant creatures played to laughing audiences in New York and Chicago in the 1920s and 1930s.
After a man named Al Capp saw one, he dreamed up the comic strip "Li'l Abner" who lived in a place called Dogpatch with a mama who smoked a pipe and a girlfriend named Daisy Mae who ran around barefooted and half naked. It was a riot, and it made Al Capp a fortune.
A short time later, Snuffy Smith, a wife abuser with his ever-present jug of moonshine, also appeared in comic strips around the Nation. Then came Ma and Pa Kettle in the movies and the Beverly Hillbillies on television. Even the contemporary poet and author James Dickey has contributed to this false image of mountain people by portraying them as depraved cretins in his popular book and movie "Deliverance."
My neighbors and I have lived with this ridicule and overdrawn stereotype all of our lives, as did our parents and their parents before them. My roots run very deep in the Appalachian Mountains of North Georgia where I was born and raised and always have made my home. It is where my children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren live today.
My ancestors were among the very first mountain settlers. They were descendants of the Scotch-Irish who were driven out of Northern Ireland by the Stuart Kings. They landed in Maryland and Virginia and migrated westward as far as the hostile Indians and French would allow, and then moved southward into the heart of a region of rugged mountains and beautiful valleys we now know as Appalachia.
They were accompanied and followed by the Huguenots, Pennsylvania Quakers, Palatine Germans, and various dissatisfied Protestant sects.
These mountain people were the very first Americans to fall back on their own resources as they settled in isolation from the remainder of the Nation and the world.
Their language, customs, character, possessions, knowledge, and tools were isolated with them and suspended in time, an unchanging microcosm of early American thought, culture, and mores.
These mountaineers possessed the qualities that formed the fundamental elements of pioneer American character: love of liberty, personal courage, a capacity to withstand and overcome hardship, unstinted hospitality, intense family loyalty, innate humor, and trust in God.
It could be said that if they had one overriding characteristic, it would have to be independence. They developed as extreme, rugged individualists who never closed their doors, had inherent self-respect, were honest and shrewd, knew no grades of society, and had unconscious and unspoiled dignity. They were utterly without pretension or hypocrisy.
When the Civil War came along, it was this area of the Mountain South that opposed secession, for there were no vast plantations in the mountains of the South and very few slave owners among those poor people. Some even fought on the side of the Union, with families sometimes divided over that terrible conflict.
Later, when the wars of the 20th century came along, it was the families in the mountains of the South who sent a disproportionate share of their young men who volunteered to fight in distant lands, far away from their peaceful valleys.
When this country was threatened to be torn apart over Watergate, it was two great Members of this Senate from opposite parties but the same part of the country who helped keep this Nation on an even keel: Democrat Sam Ervin from the mountains of North Carolina and Republican Howard Baker from the mountains of Tennessee.
I am very pleased and proud that these are my people, and I find that one of the great ironies of history is that while the cowboy, another type of frontiersman, has been glorified, the mountaineer--the first frontiersman--has been ridiculed and caricatured in the image of a Snuffy Smith.
Why am I going into all of this? Because now in the 21st century--the enlightened 21st century--there are plans underway for a new hillbilly minstrel show using the same old stereotype, denigrating, laughing at, and ridiculing this group of people.
CBS calls it a reality show--CBS, the once proud and honorable broadcasting company that brought us Edward R. Murrow and that unforgettable program of his, "The Harvest of Shame."
In the sixties, brave and courageous CBS reporters risked their lives to cover the civil rights struggles in the South, and for decades, CBS's "60 Minutes" has set the standard for all of television. But today in this money-grubbing world, CBS, it seems, has become just another money-grubber.
It is now part of the giant Viacom. CBS has a CEO named Mr. Les Moonves, the man who is pushing this program-to-be; a man who obviously believes that network television is an ethics-free zone and that it is acceptable for big profits to always come ahead of good taste.
I do not know Mr. Moonves, but from his actions, it seems he is a person who cares little about human dignity and believes television has no social responsibility. I suppose we should not be surprised, for his ilk have been around long before the creators of Li'l Abner and Snuffy Smith. Since the beginning of civilization, there have always been some Homo sapiens who, it seems, had to have someone to look down upon, some group to feel superior to. For this kind of person, it is as basic to their human nature as the drive to reproduce or the urge for food and water. They were there in the time of the Greeks. They were there in the time of the Romans. They can be found all through the Bible. That is what the parable of the Good Samaritan is all about.
Jesus was very concerned about how the rejects of society were looked down upon and warned us about "a haughty spirit" and an "unkind heart."
Shakespeare wrote about them as did Dickens and Steinbeck and Faulkner. And songwriter Merle Haggard, who knew personally how it felt, wrote that memorable line "another class of people put us somewhere just below, one more reason for my mama's 'Hungry Eyes'."
This country was not meant to be this way. We are supposed to be better than that. More than two centuries ago, Moses Sexius was the warden of the Hebrew Congregation of Newport, RI.
He wrote hopefully to the President of this new Nation of his delight at the birth of a government "which to bigotry gives no sanction, to persecution no assistance, but generously affords to all liberty of conscience."
That new President, George Washington, wrote back.
Here is a copy of the letter affirming that the Government of the United States "would give to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance." That was Washington's dream for this country.
What CBS and CEO Moonves proposed to do with this Cracker Comedy is "bigotry" pure and simple. Bigotry for big bucks. They will deny it. They will say it is just harmless humor. But they know better and they feel safe.
They know the only minority left in this country that you can make fun of, demean, humiliate, put down and hardly anyone will speak up in their defense are hillbillies in particular and poor rural people in general. You can ridicule them with impunity.
Can you imagine this kind of program being suggested that would disrespect an African American family or denigrate a Latino family? Years ago, the program Amos and Andy was removed from television--as it should have been--because it was in poor taste and made fun of a minority.
In this wonderful and diverse country today, one of every six Americans speaks some other language other than English in their homes. In my home State of Georgia, their number has more than doubled in the past decade. I believe that may be the largest increase in the Nation.
From the red clay hills of Georgia to the redwood forests of California, all of us are struggling to answer the simple question: Can't we all get along?
And that daunting challenge, can't we live our lives as if we are all created equal? All of us: we eat, we sleep, we have strengths and weaknesses; we have dreams and anxieties. A tear knows no race, no religion, no color. A tear has no accent. We all cry in the same language.
Many years ago, the rabbis were asked why was it that in the beginning God created just one man, Adam, and one woman, Sa-ba, or Eve. Surely, God could have created multitudes.
The rabbis answered that only one man and one woman were created to help us all remember that we all came from the same mother and father. So no one should ever say, "I'm better than you", and no one should ever feel, "I'm less than you."
CBS, Viacom, Mr. Moonves: I plead with you to call off your hillbilly hunt. Make your big bucks some other way. Appeal to the best in America not the worst. Give bigotry no sanction.
For no one--not even a rich and powerful network like CBS--should ever use the airwaves of this Nation to say to one group of people in God's image, "We're better than you."
And no one, Mr. Moonves, no one should ever be made to feel they're less than you.
I yield the floor.
Senate--Feb. 25, 2003
HILLBILLIES
Mr. MILLER: Mr. President, I rise this morning--and I appreciate the generosity of the Senator from Utah and the Senator from Vermont in giving me this opportunity--to get something off my chest.
CBS Television is currently planning what that great company calls "a hillbilly reality show." I would like to say a few words about that as a Senator who happens to be a hillbilly.
I can call myself that, Mr. President, but please don't you call me that, for "hillbilly" is a term of derision that was first coined in April of 1900 when the New York Journal had an article on "Hill Billies" with this description:
A free and untrammeled white citizen who lives in the hills, has no means to speak of, talks as he pleases, drinks whiskey when he gets it and fires off his revolver as his fancy strikes him.
The description has not improved very much over the past 100 years. White minstrel shows depicting these ignorant creatures played to laughing audiences in New York and Chicago in the 1920s and 1930s.
After a man named Al Capp saw one, he dreamed up the comic strip "Li'l Abner" who lived in a place called Dogpatch with a mama who smoked a pipe and a girlfriend named Daisy Mae who ran around barefooted and half naked. It was a riot, and it made Al Capp a fortune.
A short time later, Snuffy Smith, a wife abuser with his ever-present jug of moonshine, also appeared in comic strips around the Nation. Then came Ma and Pa Kettle in the movies and the Beverly Hillbillies on television. Even the contemporary poet and author James Dickey has contributed to this false image of mountain people by portraying them as depraved cretins in his popular book and movie "Deliverance."
My neighbors and I have lived with this ridicule and overdrawn stereotype all of our lives, as did our parents and their parents before them. My roots run very deep in the Appalachian Mountains of North Georgia where I was born and raised and always have made my home. It is where my children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren live today.
My ancestors were among the very first mountain settlers. They were descendants of the Scotch-Irish who were driven out of Northern Ireland by the Stuart Kings. They landed in Maryland and Virginia and migrated westward as far as the hostile Indians and French would allow, and then moved southward into the heart of a region of rugged mountains and beautiful valleys we now know as Appalachia.
They were accompanied and followed by the Huguenots, Pennsylvania Quakers, Palatine Germans, and various dissatisfied Protestant sects.
These mountain people were the very first Americans to fall back on their own resources as they settled in isolation from the remainder of the Nation and the world.
Their language, customs, character, possessions, knowledge, and tools were isolated with them and suspended in time, an unchanging microcosm of early American thought, culture, and mores.
These mountaineers possessed the qualities that formed the fundamental elements of pioneer American character: love of liberty, personal courage, a capacity to withstand and overcome hardship, unstinted hospitality, intense family loyalty, innate humor, and trust in God.
It could be said that if they had one overriding characteristic, it would have to be independence. They developed as extreme, rugged individualists who never closed their doors, had inherent self-respect, were honest and shrewd, knew no grades of society, and had unconscious and unspoiled dignity. They were utterly without pretension or hypocrisy.
When the Civil War came along, it was this area of the Mountain South that opposed secession, for there were no vast plantations in the mountains of the South and very few slave owners among those poor people. Some even fought on the side of the Union, with families sometimes divided over that terrible conflict.
Later, when the wars of the 20th century came along, it was the families in the mountains of the South who sent a disproportionate share of their young men who volunteered to fight in distant lands, far away from their peaceful valleys.
When this country was threatened to be torn apart over Watergate, it was two great Members of this Senate from opposite parties but the same part of the country who helped keep this Nation on an even keel: Democrat Sam Ervin from the mountains of North Carolina and Republican Howard Baker from the mountains of Tennessee.
I am very pleased and proud that these are my people, and I find that one of the great ironies of history is that while the cowboy, another type of frontiersman, has been glorified, the mountaineer--the first frontiersman--has been ridiculed and caricatured in the image of a Snuffy Smith.
Why am I going into all of this? Because now in the 21st century--the enlightened 21st century--there are plans underway for a new hillbilly minstrel show using the same old stereotype, denigrating, laughing at, and ridiculing this group of people.
CBS calls it a reality show--CBS, the once proud and honorable broadcasting company that brought us Edward R. Murrow and that unforgettable program of his, "The Harvest of Shame."
In the sixties, brave and courageous CBS reporters risked their lives to cover the civil rights struggles in the South, and for decades, CBS's "60 Minutes" has set the standard for all of television. But today in this money-grubbing world, CBS, it seems, has become just another money-grubber.
It is now part of the giant Viacom. CBS has a CEO named Mr. Les Moonves, the man who is pushing this program-to-be; a man who obviously believes that network television is an ethics-free zone and that it is acceptable for big profits to always come ahead of good taste.
I do not know Mr. Moonves, but from his actions, it seems he is a person who cares little about human dignity and believes television has no social responsibility. I suppose we should not be surprised, for his ilk have been around long before the creators of Li'l Abner and Snuffy Smith. Since the beginning of civilization, there have always been some Homo sapiens who, it seems, had to have someone to look down upon, some group to feel superior to. For this kind of person, it is as basic to their human nature as the drive to reproduce or the urge for food and water. They were there in the time of the Greeks. They were there in the time of the Romans. They can be found all through the Bible. That is what the parable of the Good Samaritan is all about.
Jesus was very concerned about how the rejects of society were looked down upon and warned us about "a haughty spirit" and an "unkind heart."
Shakespeare wrote about them as did Dickens and Steinbeck and Faulkner. And songwriter Merle Haggard, who knew personally how it felt, wrote that memorable line "another class of people put us somewhere just below, one more reason for my mama's 'Hungry Eyes'."
This country was not meant to be this way. We are supposed to be better than that. More than two centuries ago, Moses Sexius was the warden of the Hebrew Congregation of Newport, RI.
He wrote hopefully to the President of this new Nation of his delight at the birth of a government "which to bigotry gives no sanction, to persecution no assistance, but generously affords to all liberty of conscience."
That new President, George Washington, wrote back.
Here is a copy of the letter affirming that the Government of the United States "would give to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance." That was Washington's dream for this country.
What CBS and CEO Moonves proposed to do with this Cracker Comedy is "bigotry" pure and simple. Bigotry for big bucks. They will deny it. They will say it is just harmless humor. But they know better and they feel safe.
They know the only minority left in this country that you can make fun of, demean, humiliate, put down and hardly anyone will speak up in their defense are hillbillies in particular and poor rural people in general. You can ridicule them with impunity.
Can you imagine this kind of program being suggested that would disrespect an African American family or denigrate a Latino family? Years ago, the program Amos and Andy was removed from television--as it should have been--because it was in poor taste and made fun of a minority.
In this wonderful and diverse country today, one of every six Americans speaks some other language other than English in their homes. In my home State of Georgia, their number has more than doubled in the past decade. I believe that may be the largest increase in the Nation.
From the red clay hills of Georgia to the redwood forests of California, all of us are struggling to answer the simple question: Can't we all get along?
And that daunting challenge, can't we live our lives as if we are all created equal? All of us: we eat, we sleep, we have strengths and weaknesses; we have dreams and anxieties. A tear knows no race, no religion, no color. A tear has no accent. We all cry in the same language.
Many years ago, the rabbis were asked why was it that in the beginning God created just one man, Adam, and one woman, Sa-ba, or Eve. Surely, God could have created multitudes.
The rabbis answered that only one man and one woman were created to help us all remember that we all came from the same mother and father. So no one should ever say, "I'm better than you", and no one should ever feel, "I'm less than you."
CBS, Viacom, Mr. Moonves: I plead with you to call off your hillbilly hunt. Make your big bucks some other way. Appeal to the best in America not the worst. Give bigotry no sanction.
For no one--not even a rich and powerful network like CBS--should ever use the airwaves of this Nation to say to one group of people in God's image, "We're better than you."
And no one, Mr. Moonves, no one should ever be made to feel they're less than you.
I yield the floor.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)