Schrödinger's Rental Car

I had hoped to post some nice photos for you today, as a complement to Grim's travel pics. However, apparently reserving a rental car in advance no longer guarantees that there will be a real car waiting for you at the appointed time and place. Some of you, maybe all, probably knew that but I discovered it yesterday. I had reserved a car two days in advance and, in the past, I'd always been able to rely on my reservation.

(Below the fold you may find the rest of this rather pedestrian story explaining why you may or may not ever get a rental car again, along with comments on Schrödinger's thought experiment and even a dramatic suggestion.)

Mesa Falls


Regular commenter Thos. and I met for lunch the last time I was out this way, and he suggested that I go to Mesa Falls. I didn’t have time last year, but this trip we got out there. It’s a beautiful volcanic area with a healthy river, Henry’s Fork, that is heavily aerated by the falls. It is therefore rich with life, including fish and the bears that prey on them (the land below is called “Bear Gulch”).


It’s got an upper and lower waterfall, the upper one being less tall but more beautiful. 


Thank you for the recommendation, Thos.

Jews awake

In my old firm, adding my colleagues' identity as lawyers to their predominantly being Jews and New Yorkers meant a triple whammy for their political alignment. They were intensely capitalist but almost uniformly Democrats.

For years I've wondered if the increasingly obvious anti-Semitism on the left would push them into the arms of the GOP or even--gasp--Trump. After October 7, 2023, I watched even more closely. It seems the moment may have arrived at last.

1 Cor. 13:13

A friend's grandson was just born perilously early, at only 20-21 weeks, as they believed. When early labor commenced a couple of weeks ago, they tried to suspend it ith drugs and by the almost desperate tactic of sewing the cervix shut. In this way they managed to buy about six more days before the mother began hemorrhaging and had to be delivered, but in the meantime they got some steroids into the baby and lots of magnesium into the mother. The family then prepared for the worst, because there was little reason to believe the baby could survive birth.

Whether from pure mercy and good fortune, or the good effects of the steroids and magnesium, or because the gestational age had been misestimated and the baby was really more like 23-24 weeks along, the little guy began breathing, had an APGAR of 6, and has been doing surprisingly well for over a week now. He is taking a little milk and has suffered only a couple of concerning episodes which so far seem to have responded well to treatment. He's tiny, closer to 1-1/2 lbs. than 2, but hanging in there.

At one of the pre-birth crises, when both mother and child were in danger and rapid decisions had to be made in the operating room, the mother called out for quiet. She said she had to do something to calm down and be able to make decisions. The anesthesiologist backed her up and called for quiet in the room. Mom said she wasn't sure whether she needed to pray or to sing, so she began singing "Jesus Loves Me." Immediately the anesthesiologist joined in, and then so did the rest of the staff.

Perhaps many medical teams would have been flummoxed and exasperated by this non-medical interlude. It took kindness, faith, and courage for them all to recognize the mother's need and remind themselves to ask God for help in a moment of such abject grief and fear.

Early in the ordeal, the medical staff leaned toward terminating the pregnancy, believing that the fetus was hopeless and the mother was in unreasonable danger. The parents firmly told them to pull out all the stops to save their son. They had already lost their first pregnancy at an earlier stage, only nine months ago. They are strong young people.

The Big Holes

This year I stuck to the ridges instead of the lush canyons, and consequently saw little wildlife but vast landscapes. 

Elementary Arithmetic

Mom is chaperoning a trip to the Grand Tetons National Park for my niece’s school tomorrow. As a reward, the children of families who chaperone got to choose the groups. 

So tonight mom was complaining to another mom that Clio had made her life difficult by choosing a group of five with TWO boys in it, boys being unruly compared to little girls. 

“I did not!” my niece exclaimed. 

“You didn’t?”

“No,” said my niece. “I chose FOUR boys.”

The Yellowstone, Day II

We spent the morning in the northern section of the park, crossing Dunraven Pass a little after noon. 

The Yellowstone, Day I

Lower Falls of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, from Artist’s Point.

Leaving Eden

I've just thoroughly enjoyed a 2018 book by an author new to me, "Against the Grain" by James C. Scott. The author challenges the assumption that the great civilizations that sprang up after the dawn of agriculture improved things for anyone. Without romanticizing the hunter-gatherer life, he reports solid evidence bearing on the severe disadvantages of sedentary agriculture, and explores the considerable changes (including genetic) it wrought on the human race. He argues that sedentary agriculture succeeded for millenia before agrarian states arose. He draws a parallel between tax-collecting states and the surrounding barbarian civilizations engaged in what must be recognized as a protection racket. Both treated the farmers essentially as domesticated livestock and extracted as much as possible of the excess food they produce via the momentous replacement of hunter-gathering with sedentary cultivation.

Scott's prose is a pleasure. There is no tiresome hectoring against colleagues who might dispute his revisionism. He organizes his thinking clearly and makes a sustained argument with solid evidence and logic--something that shouldn't be rare in academic literature but sadly is. I'm off to read some of his other books, including one on anarchy, a subject he obviously has grappled hard with. It's no easy thing to construct a society that restrains people from seizing the results of other people's labor by force, rather than requiring us all to proceed by some form of consent.

Tetonia


Two of the three businesses are bars. 

Prophecy versus Psychological Warfare in Dune 2

On the long flight out here, I had time to watch Dune Part II. It’s different from the book in a number of conceptual respects. Most of these are predictable refusals by contemporary writers to honor the vision of their ancestor (and benefactor) where it defies their own ideals. The young are shockingly alienated from all human history. 

One place where an interesting dialogue develops, though, is in the film’s criticism of the Bene Gesserit. It’s interesting that the current generation would criticize the Bene Gesserit, since it represents a successful feminine wrenching of power from the male structures: the Emperor is really mastered by them, and the Guild hates them because it recognizes their power over the mental magics of the Spice. They successfully prevent the generation of a male who can do and be what Paul is for generations by controlling reproduction, seduction, bloodlines. 

But they do commit one sin against the mode of the young, and that is colonialism. They wage sexual war against all men, the Guild, the Emperor, and the Great Houses: well enough. But they also tell stories to the Fremen, and others, to colonize their minds. That’s where the film really gets sideways with them: colonizing a third world minority group to establish psychic control over them. 

There’s a subplot unique to the film in which worldly Northerners (Fremen!) reject the superstitions and fundamentalist religious beliefs of the Southerners (still Fremen!). The Southerners are totally captured by these religious forces, which the Northerners doubt. The conquest of Paul and Jessica of the minds of the Fremen is treated as a kind of hostile, manipulative psychological war. 

Yet it is also a prophecy, one that comes true at important moments in ways not in human control. Yes, Paul ‘knows the ways of the desert’ because worldly feminist Chani teaches him (‘we are equals, male and female,’ she says while submitting to Fremen social roles that silence women in sacred places). But Paul really does summon the Grandfather Worm, and rides him; you can make up a story about that, and tell it for generations, but ultimately it is up to the worm if he comes. 

It ends up leaving a question about how much of these Bene Gesserit tales were psychological warfare and how much were true prophecy. That is the road by which the divine gets in: however much the stories were lies, were colonialist modes of control, were wiles aimed at mastery, somehow the truth got in. Somehow, in spite of all attempts at manipulation and mastery, the tales were true for the Fremen after all. 

Up the Teton Canyon

I really enjoyed this hike last year, and this year my wife was able to come along. It was a beautiful day and a fine hike — praise the day at evening— and we had a wonderful time together. 

Facing into the canyon from above, you can see the peaks that you will be slowly approaching.

A panoramic view of the canyon from the junction with the Alaska Basin trail.