Potomac Notes

Out of the Closet

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Fri, 15 Jun 2012 13:58:00 +0000

I'm coming out of the closet. Or more accurately, the voting booth.

I know it's fashionable to stand up as a United State's citizen and proudly proclaim that I'll be exercising my hard-won and valued right to vote this November 6 in the national election. But I won't. Because I'm not. Voting, that is. Not for candidates running for national office.

What we have here in Washington, D.C., if it ever was, is no longer democracy. From where I sit in my day-upon-day office, a few blocks from the nation's Capitol and Supreme Court, and an even few more blocks from the White House, is theater. More than that, it's theater of the absurd. And I won't be patronizing that theater anymore, thank you very much. At least not until the actors drop their facades and masks, and start facing reality; and begin acting real.

Instead of pouring over what substitutes for news, mining for nuggets of truth; instead of weighing the inconsequential, shallow, hollow political alternatives available to chose from on the national stage; instead of walking to my precinct's voting location; instead of pushing a button on the voting terminal screen; instead playing the part of a willing participant in a theatrical, empty "democracy," I'll spend my time holding hands with my wife, walking with my dogs, talking on the phone with my grandchildren, listening to my mother's wisdom, reading an enthralling novel.

The lover's hand, dogs' pants, child's laughter, mother's words and novel's fiction in the end will likely hold more truth than the emptiness of what passes for democracy within Washington's halls of power.

Countdown to Second Half of Doctor Who Series 6

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 17:29:00 +0000

Poem: Brother, I’ve seen some by Kabir

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Mon, 04 Apr 2011 15:30:00 +0000

Brother, I’ve seen some

Astonishing sights:

A lion keeping watch

Over pasturing cows;

A mother delivered

After her son was;

A guru prostrated

Before his disciple;

Fish spawning

On treetops;

A cat carrying away

A dog;

A gunny-sack

Driving a bullock-cart;

A buffalo going out to graze,

Sitting on a horse;

A tree with its branches in the earth,

Its roots in the sky;

A tree with flowering roots.

This verse, says Kabir,

Is your key to the universe.

If you can figure it out.

Translated from the Hindi by Arvind Krishna Mehrotra

Stop Requested

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Fri, 10 Sep 2010 14:51:00 +0000

The nice Washington, DC Metrobus (number 10E) that runs on clean-burning natural gas - the one that I take to and from my home each workday - talks to me. I don't mean in the way that gods might talk to saints or devils to sinners or anything like that. I mean that, in a very soothing feminine voice, she announces which stops are coming next. "Herbert Street." "Arlington Ridge Road." That kind of talking. And when someone pulls the cord for a stop she says, "Stop requested." Much nicer than a buzzer or ringer. Then the driver stops the bus and people get off to go their merry ways and do their important things, while my bus rolls on to its final destination. "Pentagon Station," she gently announces. And I get off bus number 10E to take the subway into DC.

After I merrily arrived at work today to do my own thing, there was this new climate change conundrum in my daily in-box of environmental news items: Lisa Friedman wondered in an article in Climatewire (reprinted in Scientific American magazine), "If a country disappears (beneath a rising sea), is it still a country?" and "If entire populations are forced to relocate by rising seas as a result of climate change, do they remain citizens of a vanished country?"

The legal issue at question centers around the premise that national and international laws currently on the books all assume that coastlines are a constant. But constant coastlines, like many other things thought unvarying, are not so constant in a world in which temperatures rise, and glaciers melt and icebergs calve into the sea at ever increasing rates. The human rights issues at question are even more pressing and immediate than the legal: millions of people in low-lying regions around the world face the daunting prospect of watching their homes drown beneath rising seas, and their lives forcibly relocated elsewhere, as they become climate refugees.

According to the Friedman article, officials in the Marshall Islands, a Micronesian nation of 29 low-lying coral atolls in the Pacific Ocean, are campaigning to turn international attention toward the plight of it and other vulnerable countries around the globe. In the Maldives, another of those susceptible, low-lying countries, President Mohamed Nasheed has declared that he plans to create a fund in anticipation of that country's 305,000 residents requiring future relocation.

Edward Cameron, former adviser to the Maldive government, says in the Scientific American piece that nations threatened with sinking beneath rising seas need answers to the myriad and complex legal questions of land, water and migration for their own sakes. But, Cameron cautions, those countries also need to send a message to developed countries not acting on climate change mitigation; a message that "if you don't come up with a response, we're going to start looking at legal options." Even more important, Cameron notes, the international community needs to start viewing climate change from a human rights perspective.

Ironically, the Republic of Palau, which acknowledges that its very survival is threatened by climate change and the accompanying rising sea levels, has embarked on a mission to become a major supplier of oil and natural gas, the burning of which is among the chief culprits behind greenhouse gas accumulations and climate change. The tract to be initially explored is found in the waters of Palau's Kayangel state, located on the northern edge of the 300-mile long island nation. Palauan officials say the area is likely home to one of the world's largest oil fields. The Marine Biology Coordinator for Palau Pacific Exploration, which has secured a million acre drilling concession on the Velasco Reef in Kayangel State, has determined that "the planned drilling will not impact the environment." All is well; business as usual, in other words.

For money's sake, Palau wants to pump that oil and natural gas. For us to burn in our cars and clean DC Metrobuses, and convert into greenhouse gases exhausting into the atmosphere. To melt the ice caps. To raise the seas. To drown the low-lying archipelago of Palau. And the Marshall Islands. And the Maldives. And, even, New Orleans.

In the meantime climate legislation has been officially pronounced "dead" in both the U.S. House (by Representative Collin Peterson) and Senate (by Senator Mitch McConnell ); scientists warn that the entire ice mass of Greenland will disappear if the earth's temperature rises by as little as 2 degrees C; a group of nine Nobel laureates has announced that unless the world starts reducing greenhouse gas emissions within six years, we face devastation; the U.S. Geological Survey reports that many of Asia’s glaciers are retreating as result of climate change; Canada has declared that it will delay greenhouse gas emission reduction efforts for at least another five years; and a Chinese analysis of U.S. and Australian carbon dioxide emission reduction plans says they are inadequate and inconsequential.

"Stop requested!"

The End and The Beginning

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 16:30:00 +0000

The End and The Beginning
By Wislawa Szymborska
Translated from the Polish by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh

After every war
someone has to tidy up.
Things won't pick
themselves up, after all.

Someone has to shove
the rubble to the roadsides
so the carts loaded the corpses
can get by.

Someone has to trudge
through the sludge and ashes,
through the sofa springs,
the shards of glass,
the bloody rags.

Truth, Perception and the Gulf of Mexico Dead Zone

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 16:26:00 +0000

Biologist T. H. Huxley once opined that “all truth, in the long run, is only common sense clarified.” Therefore, it was with considerable interest that I opened up a story this morning that came across my "Gulf of Mexico dead zone" RSS feed entitled "The Truth About the Gulf of Mexico Dead Zone," and posted on July 6 on the Renewable Energy World web site by "sdreyer" of Growth Energy. Growth Energy is a self-described "coalition of U.S. ethanol supporters" based here in Washington, DC. The Growth Energy story seemed particularly relevant in light of another story that made the front page of the San Francisco Chronicle, also on July 6, that was headlined "Dead zone in gulf linked to ethanol production."
I've read both stories now. Each twice. In the style of any well-written journalistic piece, the second article meets Huxley's clarified common sense test. The former does not. It can charitably be described as partial facts combined in illogical sequences to reach ill-founded conclusions. Rather than reflecting common sense, clarified, the "Truth About the Gulf of Mexico Dead Zone" appears to have been crafted following the philosophy of Humpty Dumpty in Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass: "When I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean."
Growth Energy's web site states that it is a group "committed to the promise of agriculture and growing America’s economy through cleaner, greener energy," a laudable goal and one that many, including myself, could readily espouse. But open dialogue based upon truth is central to engaging all parties in the active pursuit of any objective, including that of Growth Energy's. History has taught us that such open, honest, truthful dialogue can result in a collective wisdom founded upon mutually agreed-upon interests that reach value-driven goals. And social science teaches that it is only the values that a group holds in common that will ultimately bind and drive a group toward a goal.
Opinions are a valuable and values-reflecting element of any human interaction. However, views based on partial, ill-construed truths such as those put forth in "The Truth" opinion piece over time only serve to increase the intensity and depth of barriers already existing among parties or even raise barriers where none existed to begin with. Opinions and the values they reflect should be well-founded upon truth that is, in the long run, common sense, clarified. Not facts gone awry.

Investment?

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 03:24:00 +0000

I saw a couple of headlines this morning that made me think: a truly amazing impact being that it was a Monday morning and I was only half way through my first cup of coffee. The first headline said, "Investment in oil sands will boost U.S. economy - study." The second pronounced, "Senator calls for increased investment in domestic oil drilling." Now, neither article contained earth-shaking news or unusual content. The calls to increase oil sand development in Canada and domestic oil drilling are nothing we haven't heard before. What did catch my eye, though, was the common use of the term "investment." Because, as I understand the word, investment implies the active redirection of resources from those being consumed today, to those creating benefits in some future time. This definition of investment begs, I think, a critical question: In what future benefits are we investing, and for whom?

If the combustion of hyrdocarbons is fueling the release of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere (a given); if the accumulation of atmospheric carbon dioxide is contributing to a not-so-gradual shift in the world's climate (also a fact); and if that shift will dramatically alter the social, ecological and economic fabric of the world as we know it (a somewhat well-founded hypothesis), then why on earth would we call increased reliance on oil (or tar) sands and domestic oil an "investment?" The incongruous use of the term boggles the mind - even a mind only half awake on a Monday morning and running on just one-half cup of caffeine!

Interestingly, the use of the word "investment" in such a context pays ironic homage to the word's roots. "Invest" finds its meaning in the Latin word investire, which means to "clothe" or "surround." And doubtless, burning more fossil fuels will generate more carbon dioxide that will "clothe" or "surround" the earth with an atmospheric shroud of heat-trapping carbon dioxide: a shroud and resulting climate change that will eventually render our past reliance upon the world's natural resources totally unpredictable.

If we are investing in anything by increasing our future reliance upon hyrdocarbon based fuels, it is a future of increased atmospheric carbon dioxide levels and resultant climatic change. If we are to have any chance of avoiding that chaos, today's investment should be in alternative sources of energy; not one founded upon vesting the earth in a thickening blanket of climate-altering gases.

To Be or Not

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 03:23:00 +0000

As I was walking to the bus stop this morning and passing through a park area near our house, I could smell the newness of the plants and soil refreshed by last night's heavy rains in the Washington, DC area. It had been very dry in the area recently before yesterday's rains. The ground was hard and parched. Many plants - grasses, shrubs and trees - were starting to reach their wilting points. And the typical urban response of turning on the sprinklers at night was not putting a dent into an emerging water deficit. Yesterday's half-inch, plus, rainfall will help.

We are fortunate in the eastern states to have abundant water. So, I'm not too concerned of the prospects of a long-term drought in the DC area. And I know elsewhere in the Northeast and Midwest, fresh water supplies are fortunately very abundant. Pennsylvania, my home state, has more stream miles than any other state besides Alaska. The Great Lakes hold about one-fifth of the world's fresh water supply. And the Mississippi River discharges roughly somewhere between 200 and 700 thousand cubic feet of fresh water each second.

The abundance of water that we enjoy is not matched everywhere. Dozens of countries obtain most of their water from sources outside their own borders. Water withdrawals from rivers bordering multiple jurisdictions are contentious (i.e., various Indian states, U.S. and Mexico, the Middle East). And as glaciers continue to melt worldwide, those countries and regions dependent on glacial melt (China and India) and snowpack melt (Western U.S.) for freshwater supplies are likely to see less reliable or diminishing supplies. Three news reports from just this past week highlight a growing incidence of water shortages worldwide, in places like the U.S. Southwest, Middle East and India.

Some who take note of these growing trends and who have abundant water resources available within their regions have taken the initiative to protect those water supplies from outside exploitation. A prime, recent example would be the governors from the eight Great Lakes states. On October 3, 2008 President Bush signed a joint resolution of Congress consenting to the Great Lakes-St. Lawrence River Basin Water Resources Compact (The U.S. and Canadian governments have entered into a similar agreement.). The signature marked the final step in a Compact negotiation and approval process reaching back into the 1980s, and enabling the protection of Great Lakes water for future generations to enjoy and utilize-individuals, businesses, industries. And the ongoing protection of the lakes' waters will help secure the rich natural heritage of fish, birds, mammals and other wildlife for which the Great Lakes region is renowned.

Not only are the volumes of Great Lakes water being protected, but the quality of those waters is being maintained and restored through the collective, organized and concerted efforts of the Great Lakes government, business, conservation and grassroots communities. For more than a century now, individuals, governmental bodies, companies, agencies and organizations have joined together to protect and revitalize the international treasure that is the Great Lakes. The results of those collective efforts can be most recently seen in the $400-plus billion Great Lakes restoration appropriation making it way presently through the U.S. House and Senate.

The Mississippi River Basin, like the Great Lakes, is an internationally renowned and treasured natural resource. And like the Great Lakes, people in the region and around the country care for and value the waters of the Mississippi River. But the waters of the basin are not protected from those who might want to export them for outside use. There is no "Mississippi River Water Resources Compact." And no concerted effort to protect and restore the quality of the River waters from the source to the Gulf of Mexico exists. None to the scale and degree of cooperation so evident in the Great Lakes basin. None remotely as effective as the collaborative that has succeeded in those lakes to the north and east.

That model for success is there for all to see, draw from and apply toward the effective protection and restoration of great water bodies world wide; for the protection and restoration of the Mississippi basin waters.

As the world's population booms; as demands for fresh, clean water soar; and as available supplies of that resource dwindle, those of us with abundant fresh water within our communities can choose to assure its presence for our and future generations. Or not. We can choose to use the models of connection, engagement, cooperation and collaboration - models like that employed to such great success in the Great Lakes. Or not.

The choice is ours to make. And the time to make the choice is now. Because in the end, without enough fresh water, the question will no longer be whether to cooperate or not. It will be whether to be . . . or not. - Mark Gorman

Shifting Boundaries

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 03:22:00 +0000

A Christian Science Monitor article caught my eye this morning: "Climate change could redraw national borders." The article mentions, by way of example, that as the ridge crests defined by the glaciers in the southern Alps shift due to glacial melting, the border between Italy and Switzerland, defined by treaty as those ridge crests, has likewise shifted - northward by hundreds of feet. Melting glaciers may also play a role in redefining the boundaries in already-disputed sections of India’s borders with Pakistan and China; a somewhat chilling scenario, if you'll pardon the reverse pun. And as lowland and coastal countries become more and more submerged by rising seas, those coastal boundaries, too, will change.

Sometimes boundary changes are forced upon us, as in the cases above. At other times, if we are prescient enough, we can shift our personal, political and positional boundaries - our perspectives if you will - voluntarily. Impending changes in our climate, along with all of the attendant changes in economy, ecology, lifestyle, health, natural and human built resources, hold the power to force a change in perspective upon us - a change in the boundaries that we may be very comfortable living within at the present. But forced change is rarely the preferred, efficient, agreeable and enjoyable path forward. And unlike the shifting ridge crests, our perspectives are not physically or legally defined. We can choose, ahead of time, voluntarily, to listen to others, to find common ground and to follow shared interests.

Before those changes are forced upon us.

Before the foundations of our relationships literally shift beneath us, as assuredly as the glaciers are melting and the boundaries shifting in the Alps and Himalayas. - Mark Gorman

Climatic Convergence

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 03:21:00 +0000

Two bits of climate news converged in ironic fashion over the past several days, as seemingly random bits of news tend to do now and again.

The first was Senator Barbara Boxer's (D-CA) announcement last week that the committee she chairs, the Senate Environment and Public Works Committee, will wait until after the August Congressional recess to take up consideration of climate change legislation. With several other pressing topics up for Senate consideration before the recess (i.e., Supreme Court nominee confirmation, health care, appropriations), the EPW Committee would have been hard pressed to give the complex and important climate legislation its due attention before hand. Even beyond that relatively short Committee delay, full Senate passage of climate change legislation this year is less than certain, portending even further delays.

I noticed the second news headline yesterday (Sunday) in The Observer article entitled: "Wild weather in the year ahead, scientists predict," in which scientists predict that along with "droughts, floods and other extreme events, the next few years are also likely to be the hottest on record." All the result of an evolving "global "El Niño" phenomenon exacerbat(ing) the impact of global warming."

Now I wouldn't want to wish droughts, flooding, heat waves or other "extreme events" on anyone, particularly the world's poor, who often seem to be at most risk from such events. And the Upper Mississippi River basin certainly has seen more than its fair share of flooding over the years. However, in light of the human tendency to react under crisis with more urgency and certainty that when not in crisis mode, a decision to delay serious consideration of climate legislation in the short term may result in more serious consideration of climate legislation in the long term, if that short term gives us a glimpse into what a climate-changed future might hold.

What that future might hold for the Upper Midwest was outlined in a June report by the U.S. Global Change Research Program, which “summarizes the science of climate change and the impacts of climate change on the United States, now and in the future.” Specifically, for the Midwestern U.S., the authors predict "an increase in precipitation in winter and spring, more heavy downpours, and greater evaporation in summer, leading to more periods of both floods and water deficits." More "droughts, floods and other extreme events," in other words.

El Niño means "the child" in Spanish. Perhaps it will be a child who brings clarity to the climate change debate. - Mark Gorman

The Speed of Light

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 03:20:00 +0000

A couple of days back I sent an email to Greg, an intern and fellow worker here at our F Street office at the Institute. It was an invitation to an agriculture coalition meeting that I thought he would find interesting and contribute to, as well. A minute or two later I was walking past Greg's desk and mentioned the invitation. He hadn't gotten it yet. So, face-to-face this time, I explained what I had written in the email and then some. It seems I was faster that the electrons buzzing their way through the Internet ether!

But on a whole other level, my experience just goes to show you that oftentimes in coalition building and networking and communicating it's the face-to-face relationships that work better. That are the more efficient. That result in the stronger teams and longer-lasting results.

I'm not really faster than the speed of light. Or the speed of electrons parsing through the virtual world we have come to know and love and so heavily rely upon. But maybe my presence now and again in real meetings with actual people across solid tables can go far in achieving constructive conservation and restoration ends. That's my personal goal anyway. More real meetings. Fewer of the virtual.

Yours in Tweeting, Facebooking and Blogging - Mark Gorman

A Commonplace River

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 03:18:00 +0000

Samuel Clemens (a/k/a Mark Twain) begins his book "Life on the Mississippi" by noting, with Clemens' typical gift for understatement, that the Mississippi River is "not a commonplace river." While certainly true in many respects, I would beg to differ from one particular perspective. The River and its rich heritage of resources, both natural and cultural, are the very essence of commonplace - reflecting the very heart of America.

We’ve been extremely lucky in that heartland. In the valleys cut by the Mississippi, by its major tributaries, like the Arkansas, Missouri, Illinois, Minnesota, Wisconsin and others, and by the hundreds of smaller streams that ultimately feed the mighty waterway, we’ve been handed a unique treasure. Those streams in so many ways tie the central region of the Nation together into the diverse natural, historical and cultural quilt that is our common heritage. They are streams that have literally sustained the region's economy and ecology. The Native Americans who lived along these waters and the first Europeans to settle in these valleys understood that relationship – the connection of their lives to the land and the water . . . the connection of economy to ecology. And the today's rural neighbors in the basin's farm-filled valleys and its small towns largely understand those connections still.

The mode of conservation that works in this type of landscape has to similarly recognize and build upon those connections. It has to recognize that all things in a watershed are connected. The language that we use to solve problems and address issues together has to acknowledge that everything is connected. The paths toward conservation that we follow have to recognize that there are connections everywhere.

It’s ironic that the Native Americans and early settlers recognized those connections, and that today's rural communities live out those connections on a daily basis. Ironic because all too often discussions about ecology and economy boil down to a debate over choices and concessions, and over primacy and control of one perceived sphere of influence over the other, as if one or the other - the economy or conservation - has to predominate.

It’s especially odd since ecology and economy both at their core relate to the heart of our very existence. Both words arise from the same ancient Greek word for home - “oikos.” Ecology literally means to study or to know our home. And economy literally means to manage our home.

So, rather than being at conflict, what the Greeks knew intuitively when the words formed so naturally out of their daily lives over 3000 years ago is that ecology and economy are joined - one to the other. The Greeks understood - doubtless because they lived much closer to nature than most of us do today - is that we need to know our home in order to manage it wisely.

But over time as an increasingly urbanized America has separated itself from our natural roots, we’ve forgotten what the Greeks and Native peoples and early settlers tried to teach us in their words and actions. We’ve forgotten what rural America still knows - that our economy and ecology, rather than being opposed and at odds, are inescapably linked.

It is in the commonplace, in the farms and small villages and the back roads and pastures and woodlands and people in the great Mississippi valley where day-to-day life practically oozes the unspoken message of conservation – the message that these people connect with and hold the land dearly to their hearts, and that they want so much to be able to pass those lands and waters and natural areas and way of life on to their children and children's children. If we listen closely, we will hear that landscape and those people silently screaming out the message of connections . . . connections with the land and water, connections in this time and place with each other, and connections through time with both past and future generations.

Once upon a time, the story goes, a disciple asked the elder, “How am I to listen?” And the elder responded, “Become an ear that pays attention to every single thing the universe is saying. The moment you hear something you yourself are saying, stop.”

All too often we miss the commonplace message from the nation's heartland that speaks so loudly of conservation and of connections, as we are busy writing and typing and speaking and instant messaging. Trying to explain ourselves. Not listening at all. It’s time, I would offer, that we stop to listen carefully to the echoes from the voices of our early ancestors and Native peoples, which speak of connections and responsibility and accountability. It’s time that we listen attentively to our rural neighbors whose lives convey a message of care for the common wealth. And it’s well beyond time that we attend to the whispers of those generations yet to come, which ask simply that their dreams may be fulfilled, their hopes realized and their opportunities achieved. Because if we do that - if we stop in our frenetic rush toward who knows where - to listen . . . we will hear those calls demanding that we have the vision to create a radically new and innovative way of doing things and solving problems and moving together into a very commonplace - yet very rich - future. - Mark Gorman

It's worse than you know

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 03:17:00 +0000

One of my favorite movies, Joss Whedon's "Serenity," has a little bit of dialogue that is quite appropriate to some climate change and Mississippi River news that came out this past week. The movie's villain and hero are having a conversation, and the villain says that the situation is "worse than you know." To which our hero replies, "It usually is."

Which is a bit like the cover story published in the July 1 edition of the NewScientist: "Sea level rise: It's worse than we thought." To quote the article, "The good news is that some of the scarier scenarios, such as a sudden collapse of the Greenland ice sheet, now appear less likely. The bad news is that there is a growing consensus that the IPCC (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change) estimates are wildly optimistic . . . The oceans are already rising. Global average sea level rose about 17 centimetres in the 20th century, and the rate of rise is increasing."

What does this have to do with the Mississippi River region you might ask. Well, beside the typical answer that "all things are connected," and that a crisis in one region will have repercussions in others, there is the article just published last Sunday in ScienceNews, the magazine for the Society of Science and the Public. That article, "Losing Louisiana," says that engineering attempts to save a sinking Louisiana delta by allowing sediment-laden Mississippi River water to overflow the River channel into the delta region will fail, because the River no longer carries enough sediment for those efforts to succeed. There are dams on the River now and farther upstream on many of its tributaries, too - each dam trapping tons of sediment that at one time reached the delta and replenished its wetlands.

The ScienceNews article cites an analysis by Michael Blum and Harry Roberts, published in the June 26 online issue of Nature Geoscience (free registration required), in which the authors estimate that between 2000 and 2100, the combined effects of subsidence and sea-level rise will swamp as much as 13,500 square kilometers — about 10 percent - of the area of Louisiana.

Blum and Roberts estimate that, compared to times when the Mississippi River was free-flowing, today only about half of the River sediments reach the delta region. Therefore, diverting sediment-laden Mississippi River water into wetlands at the head of the delta will only prevent about 900 square kilometers of land from sinking below sea level over the next 100 years.

The scientists conclude their article by saying, "Our calculations of sediment mass balance represent a conservative first-order assessment because we use modest subsidence rates, conservative sea-level rise estimates, optimistic sediment supplies and an optimistic timeline for implementation of large-scale diversions."

In other words, it may be "worse than you know." - Mark Gorman

Um . . . hello?

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 15:25:00 +0000

Is anyone out there?

And that's the way it is

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 11:34:00 +0000

Three memorable moments

Redrawing Boundaries

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 19:37:00 +0000

Slow

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 10:47:00 +0000

The week is moving slower than most it seems. It's only Tuesday. Seems like it should be Wednesday or more.

Maybe it's the fact that there is less activity than the past few weeks.

Maybe it's because the Internet was very very slow the past couple of days (it's better now).

Maybe it's the general slowness of summer in the south. People tend to move slower here - likely to conserve energy and not overheat.

Things are slow in DC, too. Not a lot of activity. Just the Supreme Court nominee confirmation.

No scandals or pressing legislation or real news. Just the fake, contrived kind.

We'll see if Tuesday ends up being any faster. Maybe tomorrow will end up being Friday!

Cool Jazz

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 09:59:00 +0000

Kate and I were going to sit and enjoy some live jazz at the outdoor sculpture garden of the National Museum of Art last evening. But there was no sitting to be had. The place was crowded with people of all sorts, sizes and shapes, leaving little room for two to sit down on the grass or benches or fountainside curb. I think it was a combination of the nice weather and . . . and something else (it's always a combination of causes, you know - but I can't think of another right now).

So, we left the sculpture garden and walked around downtown DC until we stumbled upon - by crazy, random happenstance - ESPN Zone. How shiny is that? Had a nice meal there. Although in the "Bristol Room" where we sat it was a bit chilly. The air conditioning must have been cranked down a bit in anticipation of a combination of the large Friday night crowd and . . . something else.

Then we grabbed the Yellow Line Metro to almost home. Kate had parked the car at the Metro thinking we would get back after dark. But because of a combination of the cut-short Jazz and quick meal (See! Two things!) we got back before dark. No fears but we drove home anyway in the daylight.

All-in-all not a bad evening. Even though things didn't happen as planned. It's like the French (I think) say, "If you want to make God laugh, make plans."

Walks

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 10:09:00 +0000

The two dogs and I have been enjoying our evening walks down along the Potomac River. The breeze is usually noticeably heftier there, and it's nice to get a longer perspective reaching out to horizons on the east (Maryland shore), north (DC) and south (downriver). Usually sailboats are breezing by and always others are out for a walk, jog, bike or run along one of the paths and trails down there.

A few of those others have dogs along for the walk, too. Kooper and Logan will either avoid them (at my prompting) or go sniff appropriate (for dogs) body parts in a canine introductory ritual. Kooper tends to approach out of fear and apprehension. Logan out of curiosity (if I may add on a layer of human intent here).

We typically walk down Bashford Lane, which crosses the George Washington Parkway just up from the house, bend south along the railroad tracks that feed coal to the power plant down along the River, and then cut across the tracks into the Riverside park. The park (with some gaps in the business and residential districts) goes south along the River through a good chunk of Alexandria. But we only do a bite-sized chunk on our walks and cut back west and north again before hitting the Alexandria downtown area.

Then it's back to the house for a treat (dog treats), some water and settling in for the night (until around 10 PM when it's time for a pee break . . . and 3:30 AM . . . and 5 AM). Get lots of walks that way.

Love

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 10:10:00 +0000

It's heartening to know that besides all of the crappy stuff that people tend to do a lot of the time, there are a lot of glimmers of love that shine through, too. Gives me hope. Not hope that people will change. But that people have the ability, the capacity, the innate drive to love each other. It makes the crappy stuff easier to bear, although not any easier to understand.

Then I think of all of the dogs I've known over my life. Just counting the ones in my families: Happy, Heidi, Daisy, Bess, Lady, Dobie, Kooper and Logan. Plus many other "extended family" and friend's dogs. They always seem to epitomize the unending capacity for forgiveness and love. No matter how much they are ignored or scolded or disciplined they always seem to come back with tail wagging and body squiggling and happy panting. I know that I'm humanizing the dogs a bit here. But, then, maybe we humans could do with a bit of dog-anizing, ourselves. Wag our tails a bit more now and again.

Makes the crappy stuff easier to bear.

Jayne

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 23:00:00 +0000

The Ballad of Jayne (revised in honor of good friends who are adopting a Newfoundland puppy and naming him "Jayne")

Jayne, the dog they call Jayne

He went from the couch
And he went to the door
He had to go pee
And perhaps to do more
Our love for him now
Ain't hard to explain
The dog that's a Newfy
The dog we call Jayne

Dollhouse Update

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 22:43:00 +0000

Update - DOLLHOUSE will now have its Season 2 premiere on FRI, 9/25 at 9/8c. Pushed back 1 week from the originally announced FRI, 9/18.

Poem of the week

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 23:00:00 +0000

From Iran’s national poet, Ahmad Shamlu, written in response to the recent Iranian election and subsequent violent suppression of the election abuse resistance movement-

To slaughter us
Why did you need to invite us
To such an elegant party?

Great New Fall TV Show Announced

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 21:21:00 +0000

I can't wait!

The Sentimentalist - watch more funny videos

Clouds

noreply@blogger.com (Mark Gorman) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 13:16:00 +0000

Today is the first in a long time when it has been generally cloudy. That cloudiness is reflective of the loneliness I feel these last few days between the days of much family visiting and the days of Kate being back. I talk to the dogs and Zelda (Lucky is still in daytime hiding) but they can only talk back in dog and cat talk so our conversations are limited.

"Hi Zelda." "Mrroww"
"Want to go for a walk Kooper?" heavy panting and tail wagging (Kooper)
Stand up. Move on the couch. Go upstairs. Brush my teeth. Roll over in bed. Take a pee. You name it. heavy panting and jumping and rapid short tail waggingg (Logan)

You get the picture.

The check out clerk and I had a nice conversation yesterday about the Fourth of July and her work schedule and the pace of business at the local Trader Joe's. But then I left. And she went on to have another nice conversation with the next person in the checkout line.

I say "hi" to people who are walking the opposite way down the sidewalk when we are out for our innumerable dog walks. About a half of the people respond. Others don't make eye contact or talk to their cell phones or text message someone.

It's a lonely world for anyone alone.

Cloudy.

I think I'll go to church now and be alone together with others.