Friday, March 23, 2007

Mobile, Alabama

Born near Mobile at Brookley Field Air Force Base, I have had a pleasant lifelong connection to this most beautiful of all gulf cities. It's my father's hometown, and where we spent countless Easters and Thanksgivings in the '50s and '60s and '70s. Enjoy.

American Journeys

You Can Call It the Little Easy

Steven Frame for The New York Times

Tori Ross, 14, posed for her mother, Susan, last Sunday at Bellingrath Gardens near Mobile, Ala.

Published: March 23, 2007

WHEN thousands of athletes from around the world pull on their running shoes in Mobile, Ala., tomorrow and set out through the streets in the 10-kilometer Azalea Trail Run, they will race past antebellum mansions, ornate old commercial buildings, majestic churches and storefronts topped by lacy cast-iron balconies and grillwork. The run, now in its 30th year, is timed for late March to coincide with the bloom of azaleas and dogwood, one of the prettiest seasons in Mobile, an easygoing port town spread along the banks of the Mobile River and bell-shaped Mobile Bay. The race attracts runners from as far away as Kenya and New Zealand, happy to test themselves amid the scent of wisteria. But they are far from the first outsiders to be attracted to Mobile.

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Mobile, Ala.Map

Mobile, Ala.

James Edward Bates for The New York Times

The Gonsalves family of Summit, Miss., toured Fort Gaines on Dauphin Island last week.

Steven Frame for The New York Times

The Carnival Museum.

Steven Frame for The New York Times

Bienville Square.

The city’s strategic setting — where Alabama thrusts its stubby southwestern thumb toward the Gulf — and the fecundity of its natural estuarine environment first drew American Indians and then attracted and concentrated the energies of European exploration like few other places in North America. Euphonious street and place names evoke the intermingling of cultures — French, British, Spanish, American and Confederate flags have all flown over Mobile.

Locals like to point out that in 2005, the city absorbed a glancing blow from Hurricane Katrina with relatively little damage, taking the temporary closing of some downtown buildings in stride. Soon afterward, Katrina swept in a new wave of residents — 30,000 or more who had been uprooted from elsewhere on the Gulf Coast — many from New Orleans, a two-hour drive west on Interstate 10.

“I grew up in New Orleans and lived in Marigny, near the French Quarter,” a waitress who would give her name only as Claudia said on a late January day as she tended to the lunch buffet at Janino’s, an Italian restaurant on Dauphin Street, within blocks of two of the city’s eight historic districts. After Katrina, she moved to Mobile.

“The architecture is similar,” she said, gesturing toward the imposing stone cathedral across the street. “Just look at the iron fence over there. Plus there are lots of Catholics, Mardi Gras, and it’s close enough to home. The coolest thing is, you have the beach here.”

To a new visitor, Mobile does look a bit like New Orleans with a beach. Both cities are saltwater ports founded on river deltas by the French early in the 18th century, with a similar cultural and architectural legacy, right down to the ornamental iron curling into arabesques, leaf clusters and lyres.

But Mobile sits on slightly more secure ground, puts on a more sedate Mardi Gras, and exudes an understated prosperity — its regional amenities include expensive beach houses at the south end of Mobile Bay (half an hour’s drive out of town) and five Robert Trent Jones Sr. golf courses, three at Magnolia Grove and two at Lakewood Golf Club.

Janino’s looks out on Cathedral Square — a good place to begin a search for Mobile’s soul. At the west side of the square sits the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, which embodies the sweep of the city’s past in microcosm. Its parish has its roots in 1703; the core of the current structure was completed in 1850. The classical portico, towers and steeples — and the intricate cast-iron fence — were added after the Civil War. Inside, the vaulted ceiling is decorated with both fleurs-de-lis and shamrocks.

Within a few walkable blocks are carefully preserved Greek Revival and Italianate buildings, an attractive city park called Bienville Square; the Carnival Museum, stocked with Mardi Gras memorabilia; and a terminal for cruise ships.

The Battle House Hotel on Royal Street, known to long-time residents as “Mobile’s living room,” is in the final stages of restoration and is scheduled to reopen in May. In the lobby, a meticulously restored stained-glass dome crowns a rotunda that is surrounded by ornate columns, three balconies and “whispering” arches, which seem to magnify voices.

“We’re so looking forward to its reopening,” said Anne Layfield, a longtime Mobile resident. “As young Mobilians we went to so many functions there — sorority dances, wedding receptions, even teas.”

Ms. Layfield is curator of another preserved building, the Conde-Charlotte Museum House, which was originally built around 1710 as a munitions magazine.

The Museum of Mobile, in an 1857 building that is one of the best local examples of Italianate architecture, peels back the layers of local history. Among the engaging artifacts is a hoary wooden dugout canoe found in the river delta north of the city on a fishing trip by a local father and son in 1976. Modern dating techniques show it to have been fashioned for use in local waters by Indians about 1320, 200 years before the first Spaniard identified Mobile Bay.

Beyond downtown, Mobile sprawls out — its genteel, easygoing reputation is almost belied by the dashing around you can do to take in its attractions.

Oakleigh, about a mile west of the cluster of historic sites downtown, is a mansion open for tours and furnished in period style, reflecting the cosmopolitan opulence of the city when it was a thriving seaport in the mid-1800s. Step through the back-to-back parlors with 16-foot ceilings and note the rich appointments chosen by the owners, a cotton broker and his wife: silver-plated hardware on the doors; piano keys covered with mother-of-pearl; a pier or “petticoat” table with a mirror underneath; and crystal gaskoliers, a reminder that Mobile was one of the first Southern cities to use natural gas when it became available in the early 1800s.

RUNNERS (or spectators) who don’t get enough of azaleas at the Trail Run will find 250,000 of them about a half-hour out of downtown at Bellingrath Gardens in suburban Theodore. Camellias, cyclamen with variegated leaves of white, red or hot and pale pink, and a variety of other flowers also bloom in Bellingrath’s 68 acres, but the azaleas rule.

The gardens are on the grounds of the Bellingrath mansion, which sits on a rise above the brackish Fowl River and is also a tourist spot. Built in 1935, it borrows elements of many traditions and eras — a Georgian staircase reminiscent of an English country house, French doors, a Mediterranean courtyard.

To understand the elemental natural setting that underpins Mobile’s history, drive down the bay to Dauphin Island, a barrier island at the gateway to the Gulf of Mexico where Civil War history, end-of-the-road geography and marine ecology overlap. Cross the bridge from the mainland and soak up the view: a vast, open seascape of sky and lowland marsh, daubed with the white specks of oyster and shrimp boats.

At the end of Route 193, make a left turn onto Bienville Boulevard and stop at Cadillac Square, a picnic area shaded by huge pines and live oaks. In the early 1700s, this outpost was the home of the governor of the territory of Louisiana, a link in an ambitious plan by French explorers based in Canada to control southern North America.

A couple of miles away, at the eastern tip of the island, is Fort Gaines, which together with Fort Morgan, situated on a coastal spit across a three-mile stretch of water, was the focal point in the Battle of Mobile Bay in 1864. In an important victory, the Union Navy captured the forts, which had guarded the mouth of the bay. The battle is best remembered for Admiral David Farragut’s supposed cry, “Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!”

Follow the fort’s self-guided tour through brick tunnels, buildings and bastions.

Across the street from the fort is the Dauphin Island Estuarium, the public aquarium of the Dauphin Island Sea Lab, Alabama’s marine research and education center. If your timing is right, and aided by informative signs that drive home the ephemeral nature of barrier island existence, you may see rangy pelicans or a great blue heron along a boardwalk that skirts a marsh outside the building.

Inside, tanks illustrate the four habitats of the Mobile bay ecosystem: river delta, bay, barrier islands and gulf. The area drained by the watershed makes the bay the fourth largest estuary system in the United States, according to the estuarium.

The local sea life presents a resplendent, almost voluptuous diversity: there are submerged grass beds in the delta, 15 species of shrimp, literally dozens of species of crabs in the bay, and oysters that release 70 million to 170 million eggs at once and filter five gallons of water an hour through their gills.

Mobile Bay’s shallowness — averaging about 10 feet deep — hampers its ability to absorb agricultural runoff, contributing to a local phenomenon well known to scientists and bayside residents, though rarely seen. In certain conditions, with an easterly wind, crabs, flounder and other bottom-dwelling creatures, starved for oxygen, flop up like manna on the bay’s eastern shore — unexpected offerings of seafood that were called the Jubilee by surprised settlers. Jubilees have been recorded since the mid-1800s — sometimes several in a single summer — but no one can predict when they will happen.

For better odds of viewing wildlife, cross the street to the Audubon BirdSouth America. Sanctuary. Though it may not be as extraordinary as a Jubilee, the sanctuary’s panoply of bird life quickens the hearts of birders, who consider it one of the top spots in North America to see migratory species. In its pine forest, freshwater lake and swamp or on its beach, you may spot a cormorant cavorting in the dunes or a brilliant-blue indigo bunting touching down, glad to be back in Alabama after the long flight from

VISITOR INFORMATION

AMERICAN, Continental, Delta, Northwest and US Airways serve the Mobile Regional Airport, but there are no direct flights from New York. A Web search this week found round trips from New York in mid-April starting at $305.

The Renaissance Riverview Plaza (64 South Water Street, 251-438-4000; www.marriott.com) is under renovation until June, but there was little evidence of disruption this winter in its beautiful and busy lobby. Rooms start at $169.

The Berney/Fly Bed and Breakfast (1118 Government Street, 251-405-0949; www.berneyflybedandbreakfast.com) is in a Victorian mansion with period antiques, a courtyard and a pool. It has five rooms, $69 to $159.

At Janino’s (350 Dauphin Street, 251-433-0500) the lunch buffet of Italian dishes costs $6.99.

The elegant Spot of Tea Cafe (310 Dauphin Street, 251-433-9009) draws a breakfast crowd with dishes like pecan waffles ($5.99) and eggs cathedral, made with crab cakes and a sauce of blackened grouper and crawfish ($9.95).

Felix’s Fish Camp (1530 Battleship Parkway, Spanish Fort; 251-626-6710), a five-minute drive from downtown, is a local favorite for oysters, prepared in many ways. Broiled crab cakes and shrimp and grits are both $16.95.

The Museum of Mobile (111 South Royal Street, 251-208-7569; www.museumofmobile.com), is $5 to enter.

Oakleigh (350 Oakleigh Place, 251-432-1281; www.historicmobile.org) is part of a complex of three historic houses. A tour of one is $5, of all three $7.

At Bellingrath Gardens (12401 Bellingrath Gardens Road, Theodore; 251-973-2217; www.bellingrath.org) admission is $10, and a house tour is $8.

On Dauphin Island, entry to the Estuarium (101 Bienville Boulevard, 251-861-7500; estuarium.disl.org) is $7; to Fort Gaines (51 Bienville Boulevard; 251-861-6992; www.dauphinisland.org) $5.



What's On My Other Blogs today: (click blog name to go there) = / 1.3rd Eye Blog / 2. Favorites Blog/ 3. Vita Excolatur (Living Well ...) Blog/ 4. Humor Me Blog/ 5. News and Current Events Blog/ 6. Consider This ... Blog/ 7. Consumer Warnings Blog/ 8. New Orleans Pentimento Blog/ 9. We Constant Gardeners Blog/ 10. Chaillot Family Blog/

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Low-Impact Living

The Year Without Toilet Paper

Nicole Bengiveno/The New York Times

Dim Lights, Big City The Conlin-Beavan family experiment requires that lights be low in their Fifth Avenue apartment.

Published: March 22, 2007

DINNER was the usual affair on Thursday night in Apartment 9F in an elegant prewar on Lower Fifth Avenue. There was shredded cabbage with fruit-scrap vinegar; mashed parsnips and yellow carrots with local butter and fresh thyme; a terrific frittata; then homemade yogurt with honey and thyme tea, eaten under the greenish flickering light cast by two beeswax candles and a fluorescent bulb.

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Michelle Conlin ride her scooter, even in the snow. “Rain is worse,” she said.

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His Way Colin Beavan is a regular visitor to the Union Square Greenmarket; he brings string bags and reusable cups.

Nicole Bengiveno/The New York Times

Worms eat their garbage.

Nicole Bengiveno/The New York Times

Michelle Conlin’s lunch is packed in a Mason jar each day.

A sour odor hovered oh-so-slightly in the air, the faint tang, not wholly unpleasant, that is the mark of the home composter. Isabella Beavan, age 2, staggered around the neo-Modern furniture — the Eames chairs, the brown velvet couch, the Lucite lamps and the steel cafe table upon which dinner was set — her silhouette greatly amplified by her organic cotton diapers in their enormous boiled-wool, snap-front cover.

A visitor avoided the bathroom because she knew she would find no toilet paper there.

Meanwhile, Joseph, the liveried elevator man who works nights in the building, drove his wood-paneled, 1920s-era vehicle up and down its chute, unconcerned that the couple in 9F had not used his services in four months. “I’ve noticed,” Joseph said later with a shrug and no further comment. (He declined to give his last name. “I’ve got enough problems,” he said.)

Welcome to Walden Pond, Fifth Avenue style. Isabella’s parents, Colin Beavan, 43, a writer of historical nonfiction, and Michelle Conlin, 39, a senior writer at Business Week, are four months into a yearlong lifestyle experiment they call No Impact. Its rules are evolving, as Mr. Beavan will tell you, but to date include eating only food (organically) grown within a 250-mile radius of Manhattan; (mostly) no shopping for anything except said food; producing no trash (except compost, see above); using no paper; and, most intriguingly, using no carbon-fueled transportation.

Mr. Beavan, who has written one book about the origins of forensic detective work and another about D-Day, said he was ready for a new subject, hoping to tread more lightly on the planet and maybe be an inspiration to others in the process.

Also, he needed a new book project and the No Impact year was the only one of four possibilities his agent thought would sell. This being 2007, Mr. Beavan is showcasing No Impact in a blog (noimpactman.com) laced with links and testimonials from New Environmentalist authorities like treehugger.com. His agent did indeed secure him a book deal, with Farrar, Straus & Giroux, and he and his family are being tailed by Laura Gabbert, a documentary filmmaker and Ms. Conlin’s best friend.

Why there may be a public appetite for the Colin-Beavan family doings has a lot to do with the very personal, very urban face of environmentalism these days. Thoreau left home for the woods to make his point (and secure his own book deal); Mr. Beavan and Ms. Conlin and others like them aren’t budging from their bricks-and-mortar, haut-bourgeois nests.

Mr. Beavan looks to groups like the Compacters (sfcompact.blogspot.com), a collection of nonshoppers that began in San Francisco, and the 100 Mile Diet folks (100milediet.org and thetyee.ca), a Vancouver couple who spent a year eating from within 100 miles of their apartment, for tips and inspiration. But there are hundreds of other light-footed, young abstainers with a diarist urge: it is not news that this shopping-averse, carbon-footprint-reducing, city-dwelling generation likes to blog (the paperless, public diary form). They have seen “An Inconvenient Truth”; they would like to tell you how it makes them feel. If Al Gore is their Rachel Carson, blogalogs like Treehugger, grist.org and worldchanging.com are their Whole Earth catalogs.

Andrew Kirk, an environmental history professor at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, whose new book, “Counterculture Green: The Whole Earth Catalog and American Environmentalism,” will be published by University Press of Kansas in September, is reminded of environmentalism’s last big bubble, in the 1970s, long before Ronald Reagan pulled federal funding for alternative fuel technologies (and his speechwriters made fun of the spotted owl and its liberal protectors, a deft feat of propaganda that set the movement back decades). Those were the days when Stewart Brand and his Whole Earth writers, Mr. Kirk said, “focused on a brand of environmentalism that kept people in the picture.”

“That’s the thing about this current wave of environmentalism,” he continued. “It’s not about, how do we protect some abstract pristine space? It’s what can real people do in their home or office or whatever. It’s also very urban. It’s a critical twist in the old wilderness adage: Leave only footprints, take only photographs. But how do you translate that into Manhattan?”

With equals parts grace and calamity, it appears. Washed down with a big draught of engaging palaver.

Before No Impact — this is a phrase that comes up a lot — Ms. Conlin and Mr. Beavan were living a near parody of urban professional life. Ms. Conlin, who bought this apartment in 1999 when she was still single, used the stove so infrequently (as in, never, she said) that Con Edison called to find out if it was broken. (Mr. Beavan, now the family cook, questioned whether she had yet to turn it on. Ms. Conlin ignored him.)

In this household, food was something you dialed for.

“We would wake up and call ‘the man,’ ” Ms. Conlin said, “and he would bring us two newspapers and coffee in Styrofoam cups. Sometimes we’d call two men, and get bagels from Bagel Bob’s. For lunch I’d find myself at Wendy’s, with a Dunkin’ Donuts chaser. Isabella would point to guys on bikes and cry: ‘The man! The man!’ ”

Since November, Mr. Beavan and Isabella have been hewing closely, most particularly in a dietary way, to a 19th-century life. Mr. Beavan has a single-edge razor he has learned to use (it was a gift from his father). He has also learned to cook quite tastily from a limited regional menu — right now that means lots of apples and root vegetables, stored in the unplugged freezer — hashing out compromises. Spices are out but salt is exempt, Mr. Beavan said, because homemade bread “is awful without salt; salt stops the yeast action.” Mr. Beavan is baking his own, with wheat grown locally and a sour dough “mother” fermenting stinkily in his cupboard. He is also finding good sources at the nearby Union Square Greenmarket (like Ronnybrook Farm Dairy, which sells milk in reusable glass bottles). The 250-mile rule, by the way, reflects the longest distance a farmer can drive in and out of the city in one day, Mr. Beavan said.

Olive oil and vinegar are out; they used the last dregs of their bottle of balsamic vinegar last week, Mr. Beavan said, producing a moment of stunned silence while a visitor thought about life without those staples. Still, Mr. Beavan’s homemade fruit-scrap vinegar has a satisfying bite.

The television, a flat-screen, high-definition 46-incher, is long gone. Saturday night charades are in. Mr. Beavan likes to talk about social glue — community building — as a natural byproduct of No Impact. The (fluorescent) lights are still on, and so is the stove. Mr. Beavan, who has a Ph.D. in applied physics, has not yet figured out a carbon-fuel-free power alternative that will run up here on the ninth floor, though he does subscribe to Con Ed’s Green Power program, for which he pays a premium, and which adds a measure of wind and hydro power to the old coal and nuclear grid.

The dishwasher is off, along with the microwave, the coffee machine and the food processor. Planes, trains, automobiles and that elevator are out, but the family is still doing laundry in the washing machines in the basement of the building. (Consider the ramifications of no-elevator living in a vertical city: one day recently, when Frankie the dog had digestive problems, Mr. Beavan, who takes Isabella to day care — six flights of stairs in a building six blocks away — and writes at the Writers Room on Astor Place — 12 flights of stairs, also six blocks away — estimated that by nightfall he had climbed 115 flights of stairs.) And they have not had the heart to take away the vacuum from their cleaning lady, who comes weekly (this week they took away her paper towels).

Until three weeks ago, however, Ms. Conlin was following her “high-fructose corn syrup ways,” meaning double espressos and pastries administered daily. “Giving up the coffee was like crashing down from a crystal meth addiction,” she said. “I had to leave work and go to bed for 24 hours.”

Toothpaste is baking soda (a box makes trash, to be sure, but of a better quality than a metal tube), but Ms. Conlin is still wearing the lipstick she gets from a friend who works at Lancôme, as well as moisturizers from Fresh and Kiehl’s. When the bottles, tubes and jars are empty, Mr. Beavan has promised her homemade, rules-appropriate substitutes. (Nothing is a substitute for toilet paper, by the way; think of bowls of water and lots of air drying.)

Yet since the beginning of No Impact, and to the amusement of her colleagues at Business Week, Ms. Conlin has been scootering to her office on 49th Street each day, bringing a Mason jar filled with greenhouse greens, cheese and her husband’s bread for lunch, along with her own napkin and cutlery. She has taken a bit of ribbing: “All progress is carbon fueled,” jeered one office mate.

Ms. Conlin, acknowledging that she sees her husband as No Impact Man and herself as simply inside his experiment, said she saw “An Inconvenient Truth” in an air-conditioned movie theater last summer. “It was like, ‘J’accuse!’ ” she said. “I just felt like everything I did in my life was contributing to a system that was really problematic.” Borrowing a phrase from her husband, she continued, “If I was a student, I would march against myself.”

While Ms. Conlin is clearly more than just a good sport — giving up toilet paper seems a fairly profound gesture of commitment — she did describe, in loving detail, a serious shopping binge that predated No Impact and made the whole thing doable, she said. “It was my last hurrah,” she explained.

It included two pairs of calf-high Chloe boots (one of which was paid for, she said, with her mother’s bingo winnings) and added up to two weeks’ salary, after taxes and her 401(k) contribution.

The bingo windfall points to a loophole in No Impact: the Conlin-Beavan household does accept presents. When Mr. Beavan’s father saw Ms. Conlin scootering without gloves he sent her a pair. And allowances can be made for the occasional thrift shop purchase. For Isabella’s birthday on Feb. 25, her family wandered the East Village and ended up at Jane’s Exchange, where she chose a pair of ballet slippers as her gift.

“They cost a dollar,” Ms. Conlin said.

It was freezing cold that day, Mr. Beavan said, picking up the story. “We went into a restaurant to warm her up. We agonized about taking a cab, which we ended up not doing. I still felt like we really screwed up, though, because we ate at the restaurant.”

He said he called the 100 Mile Diet couple to confess his sin. They admitted they had cheated too, with a restaurant date, then told him, Yoda-like, “Only in strictness comes the conversion.”

Restaurants, which are mostly out in No Impact, present all sorts of challenges beyond the 250-mile food rule. “They always want to give Isabella the paper cup with the straw, and we have to send it back,” Mr. Beavan said. “We always say, ‘We’re trying not to make any trash.’ And some people get really into that and others clearly think we’re big losers.”

Living abstemiously on Lower Fifth Avenue, in what used to be Edith Wharton country, with early-21st-century accouterments like creamy, calf-high Chloe boots, may seem at best like a scene from an old-fashioned situation comedy and, at worst, an ethically murky exercise in self-promotion. On the other hand, consider this response to Mr. Beavan’s Internet post the day he and his family gave up toilet paper.

“What’s with the public display of nonimpactness?” a reader named Bruce wrote on March 7. “Getting people to read a blog on their 50-watt L.C.D. monitors and buy a bound volume of postconsumer paper and show the filmed doc in a heated/air-conditioned movie theater, etc., sounds like nonimpact man is leading to a lot of impact. And how are you going to measure your nonimpact, except in rather self-centered ways like weight loss and better sex? (Wait, maybe I should stop there.)”

Indeed. Concrete benefits are already accruing to Ms. Conlin and Mr. Beavan that may tempt others. The sea may be rising, but Ms. Conlin has lost 4 pounds and Mr. Beavan 20. It took Ms. Conlin over an hour to get home from work during the snowstorm on Friday, riding her scooter, then walking in her knee-high Wellingtons with her scooter on her back, but she claimed to be mostly exhilarated by the experience. “Rain is worse,” she said.

Perhaps the real guinea pig in this experiment is the Conlin-Beavan marriage.

“Like all writers, I’m a megalomaniac,” Mr. Beavan said cheerfully the other day. “I’m just trying to put that energy to good use.”



What's On My Other Blogs today: (click blog name to go there) = / 1.3rd Eye Blog / 2. Favorites Blog/ 3. Vita Excolatur (Living Well ...) Blog/ 4. Humor Me Blog/ 5. News and Current Events Blog/ 6. Consider This ... Blog/ 7. Consumer Warnings Blog/ 8. New Orleans Pentimento Blog/ 9. We Constant Gardeners Blog/ 10. Chaillot Family Blog/

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Baseball as life

Op-Ed Columnist

TimesSelect Your Brain on Baseball

Published: March 18, 2007

Vero Beach, Fla.

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It’s spring training fielding practice, and Jeff Kent, the Dodgers second baseman, is covering first. A coach rolls the ball out toward the mound. The pitcher scrambles to pick up the ball. The catcher yells out which base he should throw to. Kent runs over and catches the ball at first.

Jeff Kent is 39 years old and has been playing professionally for 17 years. He’s probably been doing this same drill since he was 10 years old, because the practice drills the Little Leaguers do are basically the same drills the major leaguers do. Why is Jeff Kent, after all these years, still learning to cover first?

Because the institution of baseball understands how to make the most of the human brain.

One of the core messages of brain research is that most mental activity happens in the automatic or unconscious region of the brain. The unconscious mind is not a swamp of repressed memories and childhood traumas, the way Freud imagined. It’s a set of mental activities that the brain has relegated beyond awareness for efficiency’s sake, so the conscious mind can focus on other things. In his book, “Strangers to Ourselves,” Timothy Wilson of the University of Virginia notes that the brain can absorb about 11 million pieces of information a second, of which it can process about 40 consciously. The unconscious brain handles the rest.

The automatic mind generally takes care of things like muscle control. But it also does more ethereal things. It recognizes patterns and construes situations, searching for danger, opportunities or the unexpected. It also shoves certain memories, thoughts, anxieties and emotions up into consciousness.

Baseball is one of those activities that are performed mostly by the automatic mind. Professional baseball players have phenomenal automatic brains.

As Jeff Hawkins points out in his book “On Intelligence,” it is nearly impossible to design a computer with a robotic arm that can catch a ball. The calculations the computer has to make are too complicated to accomplish in time. Baseball players not only can do that with ease, they can hit a split-finger fastball besides.

Over the decades, the institution of baseball has figured out how to instruct the unconscious mind, to make it better at what it does. As we know the automatic brain only by the behavior it produces, so we can instruct it only by forcing it to repeat certain actions. Jeff Kent is practicing covering first after all these years because the patterns of the automatic brain have to be constantly and repetitively reinforced.

But baseball has accomplished another, more important feat. It has developed a series of habits and standards of behavior to keep the conscious mind from interfering with the automatic mind.

Baseball is one of those activities in which the harder you try, the worse you do. The more a pitcher aims the ball, the wilder he becomes. The more a batter tenses, the slower and more tentative his muscles become.

Over the generations, baseball people have developed an infinity of tics and habits to distract and sedate the conscious mind. Managers encourage a preternaturally calm way of being — especially after failure. In the game I happened to see here on Tuesday, Detroit Tigers pitcher Nate Robertson threw poorly, but strutted off the mound as if he’d just slain Achilles. Second baseman Kevin Hooper waved pathetically at a third struck fastball, but walked back to the dugout wearing an expression of utter nonchalance.

This sort of body language helps players remain steady amid humiliation, so they’ll do better next time.

Believe me, the people involved in the sport have no theory of the human mind, but under the pressure of competition, they’ve come up with a set of practices that embody a few key truths.

First, habits and etiquette shape the brain. Or as Timothy Wilson puts it, “One of the most enduring lessons of social psychology is that behavior change often precedes changes in attitudes and feelings.”

And second, there is a certain kind of practical wisdom that is not taught but is imparted through experience. It consists of a sensitivity to the contours of how a situation may evolve, which cannot be put into words.

Baseball players are like storm-tossed sailors falling and rising with the slumps and hot streaks that emanate from inaccessible parts of themselves. The rest of us rationalists use statistics to try to understand the patterns of what they do.



What's On My Other Blogs today: (click blog name to go there) = / 1.3rd Eye Blog / 2. Favorites Blog/ 3. Vita Excolatur (Living Well ...) Blog/ 4. Humor Me Blog/ 5. News and Current Events Blog/ 6. Consider This ... Blog/ 7. Consumer Warnings Blog/ 8. New Orleans Pentimento Blog/ 9. We Constant Gardeners Blog/ 10. Chaillot Family Blog/

Monday, March 12, 2007

Laughter

Findings

What’s So Funny? Well, Maybe Nothing


Published: March 13, 2007

So there are these two muffins baking in an oven. One of them yells, “Wow, it’s hot in here!”

And the other muffin replies: “Holy cow! A talking muffin!”

Did that alleged joke make you laugh? I would guess (and hope) not. But under different circumstances, you would be chuckling softly, maybe giggling, possibly guffawing. I know that’s hard to believe, but trust me. The results are just in on a laboratory test of the muffin joke.

Laughter, a topic that stymied philosophers for 2,000 years, is finally yielding to science. Researchers have scanned brains and tickled babies, chimpanzees and rats. They’ve traced the evolution of laughter back to what looks like the primal joke — or, to be precise, the first stand-up routine to kill with an audience of primates.

It wasn’t any funnier than the muffin joke, but that’s not surprising, at least not to the researchers. They’ve discovered something that eluded Plato, Aristotle, Hobbes, Kant, Schopenhauer, Freud and the many theorists who have tried to explain laughter based on the mistaken premise that they’re explaining humor.

Occasionally we’re surprised into laughing at something funny, but most laughter has little to do with humor. It’s an instinctual survival tool for social animals, not an intellectual response to wit. It’s not about getting the joke. It’s about getting along.

When Robert R. Provine tried applying his training in neuroscience to laughter 20 years ago, he naïvely began by dragging people into his laboratory at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County, to watch episodes of “Saturday Night Live” and a George Carlin routine. They didn’t laugh much. It was what a stand-up comic would call a bad room.

So he went out into natural habitats — city sidewalks, suburban malls — and carefully observed thousands of “laugh episodes.” He found that 80 percent to 90 percent of them came after straight lines like “I know” or “I’ll see you guys later.” The witticisms that induced laughter rarely rose above the level of “You smell like you had a good workout.”

“Most prelaugh dialogue,” Professor Provine concluded in “Laughter,” his 2000 book, “is like that of an interminable television situation comedy scripted by an extremely ungifted writer.”

He found that most speakers, particularly women, did more laughing than their listeners, using the laughs as punctuation for their sentences. It’s a largely involuntary process. People can consciously suppress laughs, but few can make themselves laugh convincingly.

“Laughter is an honest social signal because it’s hard to fake,” Professor Provine says. “We’re dealing with something powerful, ancient and crude. It’s a kind of behavioral fossil showing the roots that all human beings, maybe all mammals, have in common.”

The human ha-ha evolved from the rhythmic sound — pant-pant — made by primates like chimpanzees when they tickle and chase one other while playing. Jaak Panksepp, a neuroscientist and psychologist at Washington State University, discovered that rats emit an ultrasonic chirp (inaudible to humans without special equipment) when they’re tickled, and they like the sensation so much they keep coming back for more tickling.

He and Professor Provine figure that the first primate joke — that is, the first action to produce a laugh without physical contact — was the feigned tickle, the same kind of coo-chi-coo move parents make when they thrust their wiggling fingers at a baby. Professor Panksepp thinks the brain has ancient wiring to produce laughter so that young animals learn to play with one another. The laughter stimulates euphoria circuits in the brain and also reassures the other animals that they’re playing, not fighting.

“Primal laughter evolved as a signaling device to highlight readiness for friendly interaction,” Professor Panksepp says. “Sophisticated social animals such as mammals need an emotionally positive mechanism to help create social brains and to weave organisms effectively into the social fabric.”

Humans are laughing by the age of four months and then progress from tickling to the Three Stooges to more sophisticated triggers for laughter (or, in some inexplicable cases, to Jim Carrey movies). Laughter can be used cruelly to reinforce a group’s solidarity and pride by mocking deviants and insulting outsiders, but mainly it’s a subtle social lubricant. It’s a way to make friends and also make clear who belongs where in the status hierarchy.

Which brings us back to the muffin joke. It was inflicted by social psychologists at Florida State University on undergraduate women last year, during interviews for what was ostensibly a study of their spending habits. Some of the women were told the interviewer would be awarding a substantial cash prize to a few of the participants, like a boss deciding which underling deserved a bonus.

The women put in the underling position were a lot more likely to laugh at the muffin joke (and others almost as lame) than were women in the control group. But it wasn’t just because these underlings were trying to manipulate the boss, as was demonstrated in a follow-up experiment.

This time each of the women watched the muffin joke being told on videotape by a person who was ostensibly going to be working with her on a task. There was supposed to be a cash reward afterward to be allocated by a designated boss. In some cases the woman watching was designated the boss; in other cases she was the underling or a co-worker of the person on the videotape.

When the woman watching was the boss, she didn’t laugh much at the muffin joke. But when she was the underling or a co-worker, she laughed much more, even though the joke-teller wasn’t in the room to see her. When you’re low in the status hierarchy, you need all the allies you can find, so apparently you’re primed to chuckle at anything even if it doesn’t do you any immediate good.

“Laughter seems to be an automatic response to your situation rather than a conscious strategy,” says Tyler F. Stillman, who did the experiments along with Roy Baumeister and Nathan DeWall. “When I tell the muffin joke to my undergraduate classes, they laugh out loud.”

Mr. Stillman says he got so used to the laughs that he wasn’t quite prepared for the response at a conference in January, although he realizes he should have expected it.

“It was a small conference attended by some of the most senior researchers in the field,” he recalls. “When they heard me, a lowly graduate student, tell the muffin joke, there was a really uncomfortable silence. You could hear crickets.”


TierneyLab

But Seriously: Why Is There A Gender Gap in Laughter? Join the discussion.

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Further Reading

"Laughing rats' and the evolutionary antecedents of human joy?" (PDF)
Jaak Panksepp and Jueff Burgdorf. Physiology & Behavior 79 (2003).

“Laughter: A Scientific Investigation.”
Robert Provine. Viking Penguin (2000).


What's On My Other Blogs today: (click blog name to go there) = / 1.3rd Eye Blog / 2. Favorites Blog/ 3. Vita Excolatur (Living Well ...) Blog/ 4. Humor Me Blog/ 5. News and Current Events Blog/ 6. Consider This ... Blog/ 7. Consumer Warnings Blog/ 8. New Orleans Pentimento Blog/ 9. We Constant Gardeners Blog/ 10. Chaillot Family Blog/

Friday, March 09, 2007

Cell Phone contracts

Your Money

Getting Out of a 2-Year Cellphone Contract Alive

Published: March 10, 2007

The two-year contract. It is the bane of a cellphone owner’s existence, especially one who must have the latest hot phone at a discounted price.

Two years is a long time, and few other marketers can get away with demanding it, much less adding to it. Every time you walk back into the cellphone store or call the customer service operators, it seems, the contract is extended. Lose the phone or ask for a replacement, and the contract is extended. Sign up for a family plan, same thing.

But try getting out of a contract early? You can do it, but you will have to pay an early termination fee of as much as $240.

Cellphone companies do not make it easy to break two-year contracts. But it can be done through shrewd negotiating or by turning to the innovators on the Internet who match contract sellers with people who want to assume the contract.

Early termination fees are intended to compensate phone companies for the discount they gave on the phone upfront. Most mobile phone companies charge the full fee no matter when the contract is scheduled to expire. Verizon Wireless recently decided to prorate the fee, and some of the other companies do that in certain cities.

The companies will waive the early termination fee if you die. Pretending to be dead, however, does not work well as a way to break a contract. Sprint Nextel, Verizon and Cingular, for example, may ask for a death certificate. T-Mobile says it does not. “They want to take people at their word,” said Graham Crow, a spokesman for the company.

Joining the military can sometimes work to break a contract if you are going to be stationed overseas. Sometimes, though, the company will suspend the service for the duration of active duty, which is not a great deal. Upon returning home, you would still be stuck with the remaining period of the contract and a much older phone. Buying a new phone would only extend the contract further.

Next to death, moving to a place where your phone company does not have service may not seem so draconian. Each company provides maps on its Web site or at its stores that show the general service area, so you can easily figure that out. But companies will ask for proof of the new address. The T-Mobile spokesman warns that it has to be a legitimate address, and post office boxes will not work.

There is an intriguing escape clause in contracts with phone companies that offer “roaming” services, though it is intended to give the carrier a way out. When a cellphone is used outside the provider’s network, calls are routed through another company’s network. The consumer pays a monthly fee for this service, which the carrier uses to pay the other phone companies to handle those calls.

Roam too much and your phone company starts losing money. Find a place where your phone goes into roaming mode and make at least half your calls from there. Every carrier said they would cancel the contract, though it might take them a month or two to notice.

A more practical approach has been bandied about on a number of blogs since October, when many carriers raised the price of text messaging. They pointed out a clause in contracts that says if changes adversely affect your rates or service, the consumer has the right to end the contract early without paying a penalty.

It was not that easy. Some companies, like Cingular, now AT&T, refused to budge, according to its spokesman. Sprint was more accommodating, though a spokeswoman said Sprint approached early termination requests on case by case. That means the consumer has to argue with customer service.

Sprint says a customer will be released from a contract if a price change has a “material adverse effect” on the customer. In other words, prices have to go up, not down. The customer has to be actually using the service in which the price changed. How much they are using it is the critical factor. The spokeswoman said Sprint’s “customer care representatives” have guidelines, but she was not going to reveal them.

Though the contract says customers have 30 days after a price change to get out of the contract, Sprint may be more generous. “They can always call customer care and see if there is a way to reconcile,” said Emmy Anderson, the Sprint spokeswoman.

Liza Tremblay, a 26-year-old owner of Bay Burger in Sag Harbor, N.Y., gave it a shot to get out of her contract with Verizon and avoid paying $175. (She wanted to use Cingular because colleagues told her the reception was better.) She followed a script she found on Consumerist.com. “I used a lot of big words, and I think I got across the idea that I meant business,” she said.

But then the Verizon service representative threw her a curve ball. They wanted her to fax her contract so they could see the clause she was referring to. She dug through her papers and found an old one — she had been with Verizon almost 10 years — and after a few more transfers to call center supervisors, they let her out. “Obviously, they had a copy of the contract,” Ms. Tremblay said.

More often than not, the company will steer the customer into a new calling plan rather than breaking the contract. “Typically, a customer calling up is not dissatisfied with the service, they are dissatisfied with their plan,” said Brenda Rainey, a Verizon spokeswoman. Nonetheless, she said, Verizon demands to see that a price increase has a significant impact on the consumer. “We are going to look at usage patterns to see if it is material,” she said.

In other words, after a lot of machination and arguing, you may not win in the end.

The solution might be, as it so often is these days, in the power of the Internet. All of the companies allow a contract to be signed over to someone else. So a number of entrepreneurs have created a new online business in trading those contracts. The best known are Celltradeusa.com and Cellswapper.com. For a fee, $20 at Celltradeusa and $15 at Cellswapper, these companies will match a contract holder to a buyer. The contract buyers pay no fee, providing them a way to save on a phone and on activation fees.

The sites have search engines so you can find a plan length, minutes and price that you like. Once the match is made, the cellphone company arranges the transfer.

The risk is that you may not find a buyer; Cellswapper, however, does not charge a fee until a match is made. Adam Korbl, the chief executive of Cellswapper, said his service makes about 100 matches a week and currently has 350 plans listed.

Be careful if you want to keep your phone number when you trade your account, which you are allowed to do. Some of the phone companies use this as a pressure point for keeping you on board, so make sure you arrange with the carrier to keep the number before you transfer the contract.

Derek C. F. Pegritz, an English composition instructor at Waynesburg College in western Pennsylvania, wants to switch cellphone carriers because of dropped calls, but he isn’t sure how he’ll do it.

“I’m shelling out $90 a month for a phone that basically sits there and collects dust,” he said.

But getting out of his contract will cost him $170. Mr. Pegritz has tried to explore other ways to be released from the remaining year of his contract, but the best he hopes for is a compromise by Cellular One. “I’m looking forward to that about as much as I’m looking forward to getting several teeth pulled next week,” he said.

FOLLOW-UP TIP: A reader recently suggested a handy tool for bypassing automated call routing at call centers. Get Human (www.gethuman.com/us/) is a database of call center numbers and the secret codes needed to get to a human.

A list of useful cellphone company numbers can be found at http://consumersadvocate.wordpress.com/2007/02/19/cell-phone-company-phone-numbers/.

E-mail: yourmoney@nytimes.com



What's On My Other Blogs today: (click blog name to go there) = / 1.3rd Eye Blog / 2. Favorites Blog/ 3. Vita Excolatur (Living Well ...) Blog/ 4. Humor Me Blog/ 5. News and Current Events Blog/ 6. Consider This ... Blog/ 7. Consumer Warnings Blog/ 8. New Orleans Pentimento Blog/ 9. We Constant Gardeners Blog/ 10. Chaillot Family Blog/