Ah, the old Autumnal Equinox

Fall arrived Tuesday evening, so we are told. The orbit and tilt of the earth is not a thing that matches perfectly with our calendars, so this time it landed on September 22, which is actually more common than the 21st.

If you want just a touch of science (I know you do), what’s happening is that the tilt of the earth, as it swings in its orbit around the sun, is such that the sun is crossing the equator around September 22 (directly overhead there at noon). Unfortunately for us, it’s on its way down south of that, eventually to over the imaginary line from our school globes called the Tropic of Capricorn. It reaches there about December 21, when we in the northern hemisphere enjoy our shortest day of the year. You remember that: getting dark at four in the afternoon, no light in the morning until almost eight o’clock.

Tuesday was called the Fall Equinox or the “Autumnal Equinox” if we want to be even more verbose— meaning “equal night”, but it’s really meaning equal day and night.

I once spent a year in Resolute Bay, up on the arctic islands, as a weather observer in what now seems like a previous life. Like down here, September 22 is the usual “equinox” in Resolute, with equal day and night, but the sun is at such a low angle there that in the winter it can’t get over the horizon at all (I’ll keep referring to the sun doing something, which we humans have done since the beginning of time, though it’s us who are really doing most of the moving). In the summer, it manages to shine at a low angle right over the North Pole, such that it’s seen all day. I lived in the “Land of the Midnight Sun”.
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And now Tori

So first we have Karissa Boudreau, and now Tori Stafford. We can only shake our heads and ask, “What kind of a world are we living in?”

Is this sickness something new? I think not. That’s both good and bad. If it were entirely new, we might expect it to be growing, which I certainly hope it isn’t. I suspect this kind of thing happened throughout history, but one reason it’s in our face every year or so is the media of today—we live in a much smaller world. While in 1960 we might not have been presented the story of a situation in Woodstock, Ontario, in 2009 it gets delivered to us daily until it’s over (and then some). There may be some argument that with the Internet and other such things, child pornography has grown and triggered this kind of crime. I don’t know. Often investigations of such relationships indicate that while it might seem more blatant today, it was unfortunately always there. Continue reading

I just want what’s coming to me…

Did you ever wonder if there is something that conspires against you as you go about your daily routine? No, not the government, but something almost as sinister.

I learned in elementary math classes that there is something called the “Law of Averages”. I’m not sure if it’s as fixed as the Law of Gravity. It should be, but over the long haul it seems at times that something or someone has a finger in the works. I’m lodging a complaint. Not getting my fair share.

The Law of Averages tells us that if we flip a coin, it has a 50-50 chance of coming up as either possibility: heads or tails. If we flipped it a thousand times (fortunately, though retired, I still have other things to do), we should find that it comes up in the general area of 500 times on each side. The more we flipped, the closer it would get to half and half. Probably (there’s that word– from “probability”) we would do better if we changed coins now and then, in case the Queen’s face is inexplicably heavier than that of a moose and might affect the outcome. The Law of Averages tells us about things like the coin flip, and is a very general expression for the science, or really math, of “probability”. Probability Theory tells us odds for all kinds of situations. We can learn that the odds of winning the 6-49 lottery are astronomical, and that, although we know someone does win it, and (maybe) lives happily ever after, we have better chances of being struck by lightning. A website on the topic indicates that the odds of picking the correct number for 6-49 is one in 13,983,816. These are apparently the same odds as flipping a coin and getting tails 24 times in a row. That’s one to try. You first.
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A Walk in the Night

Last Friday evening into early yesterday morning, or later on the next few weekends, people will be taking part in the Canadian Cancer Society’s “Relay for Life”. It’s an inspiring, tiring, and often poignant night.

I was in a couple of Relays in recent years. In the first we met at a sports site with a track in back of Yarmouth, pitched a tent in a grassy field with dozens and dozens of others, and were fascinated immediately by the experienced teams who arrived more ready for the event than our team of novice teachers: wild costumes, signs, banners, and enough camping equipment to make the night really special even for those not on the track. We made vows to get more “geared up” the next year.

If you’re not familiar with the relays, the procedure is that you have to form a team of at least ten, and be prepared to have at least one member of the team (usually a few) walking on the track at all times for the next 12 hours– generally from 8 p.m. until morning. Each team member has to raise at least $100 in pledges. We fudged things a bit, since some of us knew that staying awake all night would play havoc with our sleep cycles, and since about half of our team lived in the Yarmouth area and half back here in Barrington. We set up a system where the Barrington bunch started off the night, and about 2 a.m. the Yarmouth half, having grabbed at least a nap or two, arrived as relief and allowed us to get home and to bed by about 3 a.m.

We had to arrive early. Although the Relay portion started about 8 p.m., there were “opening ceremonies” and special events before we started. These were not boring “I’d just as soon not be there” formalities; in fact, the late shift people were somewhat disappointed not to be on hand for them. Some of the speakers were recovered cancer patients, a few seemingly snatched back from the brink of death, and some some spoke in honor of people who were stalwarts in the Relays of the past, but during the last year the fight they thought they might win had turned against them.
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Rockin’ to the Oldies

I know that the Baby Boomers like myself have been controlling most of western society for the last decades, and I know that we have also been controlling much of the radio airwaves for a while as well, resulting in the abundance of “easy listening”, “gold rock”, and similar approaches to programming as an attempt to please us, but to be honest, judging from the irritating stuff from our local stations in this area, I thought the effect was fading.

No so, it seems. Either we still hold tremendous sway or are dragging a lot of younger people with us for the musical ride.

Witness the excitement over Paul McCartney possibly playing an outdoor concert at the Halifax Commons this summer. Witness the excitement over the Eagles playing outdoors at Moncton this summer. Witness the attendance figures of the Rolling Stones concerts in Moncton and Halifax in the last couple of years.

Are there no music stars able to draw these kinds of crowds from the younger artists? Or are the younger artists just not interested in grassy fields in Maritime cities?

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Wandering in a Strange Land

A couple of weeks ago I took on a part-time job for Google– actually it’s for a company that contracts work for Google. Unfortunately, I don’t get the corporate benefits that they apparently do at places like their Google Mountain View California headquarters, where staff enjoy a workout room with weights and rowing machine, locker rooms, washers and dryers, massage room, assorted video games, Foosball, baby grand piano, pool table, ping pong, roller hockey twice a week in the parking lot, and a cafeteria described as having “healthy lunches and dinners for all staff, with outdoor seating for sunshine daydreaming”. And, if that is just normal, consider the rumored Google policy that no ones workstation will be more than fifty feet from a snack cart or room, where you can access “bins packed with various cereals, gummi bears, M&Ms, toffee, licorice, cashew nuts, yogurt, carrots, fresh fruit and other snacks, plus dozens of different drinks including fresh juice, soda and make-your-own cappuccino.”

Certainly you can’t imagine a more pleasant workplace, except the thoughts wander easily to visualizing 300 pound people walking about the halls, unless the roller hockey and workout room copes with that issue.
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