Borders and bullies

22 July 2019

It's odd. Nothing has changed. I'm not doing anything illegal. I'm still an American citizen. I'm again about to make my annual summer migration to visit my parents. But for the first time I worry about crossing the border into my own country. In previous years, crossing the border has mainly been one of tedious and impatient waiting in line after a long haul on the plane. Of course, it was always attended by the moment of self-conscious tension when you come face-to-face with authority. But that tension was almost always dissolved in the warm patriotic glow engendered by the immigration official's "Welcome home."

I don't feel the same this year. I don't anticipate any problems. And there's no reason there should be any problems crossing the border. But under the current regime, in the current climate, I no longer have confidence that things will go smoothly. Between the capriciousness of the President and the complicity of Congress and Wall Street, between the crowding and poor treatment at the border's concentration camps and my family's own negative border experience two years ago, between chants to "Send her back" and Civil Rights Era calls to "Go back home", the border no longer feels like a bureaucratic hurdle. The border now feels like a barbed wire fence.

Maybe Trump got his wall after all.

Historic and legendary

1 July 2019

In the press conference following Trump's unprecedented stroll into the North Korean side of the DMZ, Trump himself described the event as "historic" several times and even labeled it "legendary". I'm not sure Trump understands what "historic" means. Organizing an international summit by Tweet with just 24 hours notice may be historic. But the mere fact that he was the first US president to set foot in North Korea is not historic. To be historic, the event itself must reflect and symbolize deeper changes. The underlying transformation is the truly historic component. Its significance simply gets compressed into a single event.

In this case there appears to be no meaningful underlying historical process. The outcome of Sunday's publicity stunt is simply that working talks are being restarted. As Michael Fuchs points out, this places us right back at the beginning. Okay, maybe not the "Rocketman" beginning, but certainly the beginning of talks. The only possible positive spin may be that the leaders' date in the DMZ may have kept up a relationship that could serve as the basis for future cooperation. Progress will not be made without some measure of trust building.

The event is not "historic", but it may be "legendary". "Legendary" only requires that an event be larger than life. And arranging a date through Twitter for an empty photo op may indeed be Trump's ego.

Please note that the argument informing my notion of "historic" was originally inspired by a talk by Marshall Sahlins that I once attended and whose contents are contained in this article. I may also have been inspired by my recent reading Walter Benjamin's On the concept of history.

Bodies and immigration

27 June 2019

This article and photo is disturbing. And it should be. It depicts the tragedy of a Salvadoran father and his two-year-old daughter who drowned attempting to cross the Rio Grande from Mexico to the US. The pointless loss is tragic in and of itself, but the photo of the two face down in the water by the bank of the river is doubly poignant because of the clear bond between the two. The father has tucked his daughter inside his shirt to ensure that she stays with him. And the daughter's arm is still flung around her father's neck, as if she were still clinging to him to keep her safe.

The story should trigger deeper reflection on the human toll of the US's currently inhumane and murderous immigration policies.

Presenting and entertaining

31 May 2019

A friend of mine was just asked to replace the speaker for this talk on survival skills that will take place in NYC this week. He tells awesome stories, but he doesn't tell them in formal circumstances like this and wrote that it's time for him to become an entertainer. I decided to offer some unsolicited advice for presenting, since I am procrastinating to avoid reading student theses! Since this is presentation season at my university, I thought it might be useful more broadly. This is most of what I wrote (edited for clarity).

Welcome to my life. As a professor I am an entertainer on a daily basis. You probably know of the following suggestions for giving presentations and teaching, but even if they are just a reminder:

  1. If you're nervous, just say so. It helps you relax.
  2. If you think you'll be nervous, memorize the first minute or so. It gives your system time to relax.
  3. "Never" look at the projection screen. If you need to see the presentation, look at the computer. You don't want to turn your back on people. Doing so is subconsciously interpreted as rude and, more importantly, it muffles your voice.
  4. Move around. Movement stimulates people's brain and keeps their attention. Staying at the podium doesn't work. But be warned that it makes you feel more vulnerable at first.
  5. People love stories. They are not appropriate for every topic, but they personalize you and build a stronger bond between you and the participants.

Actually, I think this would be my main suggestion: Think-pair-share. The teaching technique world says that people don't focus well after ten minutes or so, so if you break your talk up into little pieces and then do an interactive activity, you win. So you want to get people doing something. Plus people learn more when they think than when they listen. So what I typically do when I ask a question is ask it and then say "talk to your neighbor for a couple of minutes and come up with an answer". Then discuss it as a group. After that break from just listening, people are a bit refreshed and more people are willing to talk and try to answer your question. When discussing answers, be sure to recognize any good ideas your didn't think of or that are not your focus. There are almost always one or two.

Here's a link to a risk communication video by Bonner that actually has some cynically decent tips for presenting.

Hope this helps some of you.

Trump and sanity

24 May 2019

I've long had a theory that Trump has had a brilliant fundamental strategy for undermining the legitimacy of his opponents and deflecting attention from his own faults. He simply accuses others of things he is guilty of. So it comes as some dismay that after his supposed meltdown in front of Democrat representatives over funding infrastructure he has said of House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, "She's mess...she's disintegrating. I've been watching her for a long time. She's not the same person. She's lost it."

Maybe he does need a break from running the country.

Weber and rationality

23 May 2019

In the weekly book club I am involved in with some of our students, we are reading John Dewey's The Public & Its Problems but in trying to understand Dewey's idea of how science should work confusion arose over Weber's concept of rationality. It drove me nuts through the night. Although I've read it a dozen times (maybe), instrumental and value rationality were not settling down together comfortably. So I went back to Economy and Society once again. My brief reconnaissance produces the following observations. They are surely incomplete, but I'm throwing them out here because there does seem to be a small core of value. If anyone wants to correct or educate me further, please email me.

I have not found a clear definition of rationality in the book. It may be there, but I haven't found it. Instead, rationality appears to be a process of deliberate, conscious analysis (and decision making). He breaks it down into two broad types: formal and substantive. Formal rationality involves clear quantitative calculations (though it also seems to include rigid structures, like government bureaucracies). Substantive rationality involves conscious decision-making based on ultimate values.

These are then connected to corresponding types of social action. Instrumentally rational (zweckrational) action is associated with formal rationality and calculates expectations about the behavior of others and the environment to pursue rationally determined ends. Note that the rationally determined ends could be predominantly formal or substantive, so you can pursue values in a consciously rational way. Value-rational (wertrational) action is associated with substantive rationality and is determined by a conscious belief in some value, regardless of you chances of succeeding. It seems that these types of social action are characterized by the source of their ends. The fucky thing is that instrumental rationality seems to be considered both a means and an end (as far as I can tell). Weber seems to be a bit sloppy here, but he is unequivocal. He states, "Action is instrumentally ration (zweckrational) when the ends, the means, and the secondary results are all rationally taken into account and weighed." But value-rational only seems to refer to the ends. Weber does not discuss any means other than instrumental.

He also adds two non-rational types of action. The first is affectual, which refers to action driven from emotion. The other is traditional, which refers to action done out of habit or custom (pragmatism again!).

Intelligence and wealth

19 May 2019

The notion that intelligence is a personal endowment or personal attainment is the great conceit of the intellectual class, as that of the commercial class is that wealth is something which they personally have wrought and possess.

--- John Dewey, The Public and its Problems, 1927, p. 211.

Houses and homes

15 December 2018

I guess I am making this list because I am about to move out of CJ International House. On Monday I will return to the US, and after six weeks will return to move into Girum New Town. All semester long I've been saying that CJ House is the one house that I'll never miss. But, of course, as departure looms the scent of nostalgia is creeping in. So here is a pretty complete list of all the places I've lived in order.

  1. Old Evarts Lane, Mystic, CT (eight years)
  2. Lantern Hill Rd, Mystic, CT (ten years plus summers and winters during school and more recently when the family has visited)
  3. Lewis Hall, Tufts University, Somerville, MA (one year)
  4. Milne House, Tufts University, Somerville, MA (four months)
  5. Lewis Hall, Tufts University, Somerville, MA (four months)
  6. Alcuin College, University of York, York, UK (one year)
  7. Whitman Street, Somerville, MA (one year)
  8. Hallfield Rd, York, UK (one year)
  9. 35th and Cabrillo, SF, CA (one year)
  10. Chenery St, SF, CA (a few months)
  11. 17th and Guerrero, SF, CA (six months)
  12. San Carlos, SF, CA (one and a half years(?))
  13. Eureka St, SF, CA (one year)
  14. 46th and Balboa, SF, CA (few months)
  15. Eureka St, SF, CA (few months)
  16. Insa-dong, Seoul, ROK (one year)
  17. Eungam-dong, Seoul, ROK (one year)
  18. Seokyo-dong, Seoul, ROK (three years)
  19. South and Southeast Asia (one year)
  20. 120th St, NY, NY (one year)
  21. 122nd St, NY, NY (three years)
  22. Brady Court, Bronx, NY (four years)
  23. Donam Brownstone Apartments, Donam-dong, Seoul, ROK (three years)
  24. Bomun e-Pyunhan Saesang Apartments, Bomun-dong, Seoul, ROK (three years)
  25. Elihu Island, Stonington, CT (one year)
  26. CJ International House, Korea University, Seoul, ROK (four months)
  27. Remian Apartments, Girum New Town

KU Klue and You

8 December 2018

I don't know if it is just a few students trying to get better grades here at the end of the semester, but I've received a couple of encouraging comments about my teaching over the last few days. They boil down to the fact that students feel like they genuinely learn when they participate in my classes. One person suggested that I don't simply feed the students information to memorize and spit back out, that the students have to actively engage the material and draw their own conclusions. The other person informed me that my reviews on KU Klue, Korea University's private student portal for commenting on professors and classes, are generally favorable, saying that students can learn something new and that although the readings may be difficult, attending class helps you understand them.

Of course, everyone likes their ego to be stroked, but more importantly---or am I fooling myself?!---these comments suggest to me that I am achieving my primary pedagogical goals. The most important thing for me is to help students practice thinking. And that requires processing new ideas independently. I deeply believe that one only learns by wrestling with ideas, by getting confused, by consciously reorganizing one's understanding of the world. A teacher cannot do that for another. A teacher can only create and facilitate opportunities for students to teach themselves.

Living labs and smart cities

1 December 2018

I haven't posted many independent posts since returning. I've been slowing filling in the details of the summer road trip below and working fairly consistently. So I thought I'd take a moment to mention the conference I attended the other day at KLID that was co-sponsored by the Friedrich Naumann Foundation, the thinktank for the German liberal party.

When the director of the foundation was introducing the organization, he continuously referred to it as "FNF". All I could think of was Lupe Fiasco's record label, which caused a bit of pleasant cognitive dissonance. (Note that Lupe has a comparatively new album.)

More interestingly, there was a curious disparity (cognitive dissonance?) between the German and Korean presenters. One presenter, Julian Petrin of urbanista, offered a repackaging of participatory planning as urban living labs and co-creation, provocatively arguing that living labs' innovation lies as much in the process (of user/citizen participation) as in the outcomes. Marc Wolfram, meanwhile, argued that innovative outcomes (that can address environmental destruction) are more important. Despite their differing emphases on process and outcome, they were both pressing for deeper innovations through living labs, i.e., democracy and sustainability. The Korean speakers, for their part, pushed for a centralized notion of smart cities and living labs. In particular, Jong-Sung Hwang from the National Information Society Agency, pitched Busan EDC as Smart City 4.0, which supposedly transforms smart cities from products (like Songdo) to platforms for urban innovation. To my ears, the platform sounded like an even more centralized product. Indeed, the development seems to have no greater ambition than creating a new profitable product. At the heart is a supercomputer that will manage all the smart-ness, including augmented reality, transportation services, emergency services, the power grid, and so on. Combining the Busan EDC model with the explanation of LH's role in turning out large developments in record time, one can see that there is little role for user/citizen participation in the design and development of these urban platforms, as pointed out by In-Sook Kim of KDI. Rather, citizen participation comes after the fact as a mere consumer or perhaps marginal innovator. In short, for the Germans, citizen participation comes in the design phase, and for the Koreans, citizen participation comes in the consumption phase.

To some extent this is an acceptable and understandable difference in urban planning approach. What disturbed me, however, was the second panel's Korean moderator, Hyun Joo Kim from the University of Seoul, final conclusion. He basically suggested that German and Korean understandings of the smart city are different, and that's all there is to it. There was a finality in his statement that most Korean participants appeared to welcome. But this finality closed off any possibility for exploring how development processes might be restructured to incorporate more citizen participation. Democracy was dismissed.

My life and your life

19 September 2018

I got the best compliment ever over the weekend. I was traveling to Shanghai and Nanjing to meet the students in my streaming class. I wound up telling other colleagues about my summer trip and Elihu Island and my 2003 trip to western Mongolia among other things. Apparently a bit jealous of my adventures, one of the professors told me, "I wish I could live your life." Of course, I know that my life isn't that great, but it reminds me that it is pretty cool nevertheless. I mean, what better compliment can you get than someone wanting to have your experiences? Too bad they just get the Instagram version, where even the unpleasant experiences look exciting.

Travels and travails

9 September 2018

Over forty days this summer my family and I drove 10,000 miles across the US and back, camping almost all the way. It was awesome. There weren't actually too many travails in our travels, except a few serious downpours, but it sounded good as a title. If there are any genuine travails, they relate to the pain of having to end the trip. This post is really intended as a record of the trip and recollections about the journey. As the trip was forty days long, the entry will have to be built over time.

  1. July 01: Mystic to Newbridge.

    Drove from Mystic to Newbridge, NY during the East Coast heat wave. Did some last minute shopping at the REI in New Haven. The plan was to ease ourselves into traveling and camping by spending two days here and two in the next place.

  2. July 02: Shawangunks.

    Hiked around Lake Minnewaska and visited Stony Kill Falls. Minnewaska is an old haunt of mine from when I lived in NYC. My buddy Brad and I used to drive up to the Gunks once a week to hike in Mohonk or Minnewaska. This time I got to introduce my kids to my memories. Two memories were brand new, however. First, a friendly hiker informed us that if we actually went to the top of Stony Kill Falls, clothing was optional. We, uh, didn't go to the top. Instead, the second new memory was that my wife got us all to stand under the falls, though the dry weather had reduced them to a mere trickle. Still, it was the spirit of the thing and seeing my kids experience something they never expected that was the real treat.

  3. July 03: Newbridge to Tionesta.

    Drove to Tionesta in Allegheny National Forest. This was a long day, as we were working to get out West as quickly as possible. That did not stop us from stopping at the Lackawanna Coal Mine for a tour. The most interesting aspect of the tour was seeing how the miners maximized production by cleaning entire seams while maintaining safety by leaving pillars of coal behind to support the roof. In particular, the Lackawanna Valley had something like eight seams separated by granite, so it was like an eight-story mining apartment building. Plus, it was a well positioned national park. The campground we stayed at was at the base of a huge dam and was home to one of our more dramatic travails. Our trailer site was at the bottom of a small slope, and it rained ferociously for much of the night. So, on our third night camping ever as a family---and my wife and my first time in a long time---I wound up outside in my boxers for an hour (it seemed) digging trenches to try to keep the water from flowing under our tent. We survived. Friendly neighbors asked us how we survived in a tent, informing us that the dedicated tent camping sites across the river had been flooded overnight. So we were lucky, but scarred.

  4. July 04: Tionesta.

    On the holiday, we visited Tionesta and walked around Lighthouse Island, where we met and chatted with an Amish couple fishing. Later, YK and the kids went off to a local fair while I worked on a paper I was supposed to have already finished. It wasn't supposed to rain again that night, but torrential rains came down for a couple of hours and I was out in my boxers again. (I have to admit that while I was a bit stressed, I wasn't really worried, and it was fun to "battle the elements" a bit. I was further scarred and decided that I should buy a hatchet at some point for digging trenches and pounding tent stakes.

  5. July 05: Tionesta to Union.

    A very long drive to a KOA on the west side of Chicago. My wife had to drive through more heavy rain, and I had to drive through Chicago, which was a bit enervating, as I'd only been driving in the countryside for a year. But we did briefly stop in Vermilion, OH to look out over Lake Erie. I believe we also touched Michigan along the way, but I may be wrong. We ate Thai food in Elkhart, Indiana before continuing on toward Chicago and the KOA in Union. Meanwhile, our soundtrack of Jo Jo, Sing, Leap, and later Bruno Mars started to get assembled. I was not often able to listen to my own music selections during the trip, except on my birthday.

  6. July 06: Union to Pikes Peak, IA.

    This was a fairly manageable day. We spent most of it on Route 20, lunching in Lena at a state park and running through Galena and Dubuque and then following the Mississippi River north to Pikes Peak State Park, where the Mississippi meets the Wisconsin River at 500' bluffs and where we camped for the night. Route 20 took us along a stagecoach route through corn country. "Corn again!" my daughter coined to describe how boring the scenery supposedly was. And though I've heard many cross-country drivers complain of the Plains, I found at least this first stretch of "corn again" to be quite attractive and engaging. Perhaps there were more hills than in other areas? At any rate, this was the first time we tried our luck as "walk-ins" without prior reservations at the campground. We were fortunate enough to get one, but the other two free sites were taken within a half hour of our arrival. The campground itself was quite nice and shady, but it was filled with tiny black flies that did not bite but seemed to flock around my face. It was quite unpleasant, and it had us wondering if camping was perhaps a mistake after all! But making our first fire of the trip helped to dispel those worries. The S'mores were tasty!

  7. July 07: Pikes Peak.

    On this day, my job was to work on my paper. So after hiking around Pikes Peak and looking at the old Native American effigy mounds in the shape of animals, I stayed in the campsite trying to avoid the flies. Meanwhile, everyone else went down to the attractive town of McGregor to walk around and shop and to take a ferry on the river, where the girls got a chance to "steer" the boat and where Sienna seems to have lost her pocketbook with her some of her savings inside.

  8. July 08: Pikes Peak to Fort Thompson.

    Finally west of the Mississippi. We drove out to the Army Corp of Engineers' Left Tailrace Campground in South Dakota area to camp just below the dam. Lovely but hot. We saw white pelicans, the girls' first ever pelicans. That said,, we went shopping at Lynn's Dakotamart to pick up supplies and encountered a troubling sign of Native American poverty. There was a sign that said that the store stayed open late on days that locals received their welfare checks. This of course implies that are scraping by and need to shop for food the moment they receive their welfare. Must make for a stressful life.

  9. July 09: Fort Thompson to Badlands.

    Badlands. For me, the first major stop out West and the beginning of the real site seeings. I had long wanted to visit since one of my closest friends from college and after had told me that his father had visited the Badlands on a motorcycle and told him that it was incredible. As it is. Insanely hot, but incredible. And it was a great introduction to the geology of canyons and the Plains...and, of course, dinosaurs. At the ranger station in the Badlands, you can see researchers cleaning up fossils found in the park. And so began the trip's inevitable engagement with dinosaurs for the girls and geology for me. Volcanoes were soon to come. It was also where we learned about the Junior Ranger Program, in which kids complete a number of tasks that teach them about the park. Upon completion, they are sworn in (often with a joke included, like "I promise to always eat my vegetables.") and receive a badge. Somehow, no matter how frazzled or tired the rangers were, they always made time to sincerely engage the kids in asking about their experience and swearing them in. For the girls, the badge was the major goal, but they had fun doing the exercises, too. We often had to spend extra time somewhere just so that they could get their badge. Ultimately, they acquired quite a collection. I will say, though, that the program is excellent and the I applaud the National Park Service for the commitment to this program. It makes the park a richer experience for both kids and parents.

  10. July 10: Badlands to Spearfish.

    Woke up in the last of the mosquito campsites, the Badlands KOA, where I went for the last jog of the trip. On our drive out of the Badlands, we saw our first mountain goats and bison. The four bison were exciting, but nothing compared to what we would soon see in Yellowstone. The rest of the day was basically spent in the Black Hills. First stop was Mount Rushmore, still one of the kids' favorite stops. Like most of the national parks, especially the hyped parks, Mount Rushmore was cooler than expected. The site is a bit too patriotic, but it still is stunning. From Mount Rushmore, we drove along the Needles Highway, admiring the impossibly tall rock spires. After lunch among lodge pole pines, we drove through Custer State Park, hoping to visit Jewel Cave. Unfortunately, we were too late to get tickets, so on our way north toward Deadwood, I gave in to my wife's earlier suggestion that we stop for a swim at Sylvan Lake, where there were rocks towering up out of the manmade lake. Perhaps one of my biggest regrets of the trip is that I was all too often thinking about saving money and getting to the destination at a reasonable time. When I forced myself to relax and follow opportunities (and my wife's typically excellent suggestions), we had more fun. In this case it was a lovely dip in refreshingly cool water at the end of a hot day. Of course, we then had to drive almost two hours to drive through Deadwood on our way to stay in Spearfish for our first night in a hotel. Thanks to the HBO series, Deadwood was a must for me. I wanted to take a minute to imagine this silver-inspired pop-up city in its heyday and visit the famous Mount Moriah Cemetery, even though we did not have time to look around for specific graves. After all, I was the only one interested. Had a tasty dinner at the Steerfish Steak and Smoke.

  11. July 11: Spearfish to Devil's Tower.

    Laundry day in Spearfish. Also made my first experiment with dry ice in the snazzy Yeti cooler, which turned out to be an awesome investment, despite the price. My combination of a couple of pounds of dry ice and a ten pound block of icey ice kept the icey ice frozen for two days and the food plenty cold for a couple 100 degree heat. In the afternoon, we drove to Devil's Tower, still my youngest daughter's favorite spot on the trip. She loved it because I explained how it is a baby volcano and because it was the first volcano she'd every seen. And of course it looks amazing with the geometric edges scraping skyward. We were fortunate to get a site in the park campground, Belle Fourche. I think this was the first time that we headed to a campground without reservations, a practice we got much more comfortable with as the trip progressed. From the campground, you could see Devil's Tower and the feeling was awesome. The girls made friends with a young teenage girl traveling with her father to visit the rest of her family (or something like that). The only drawback was that the girl was up until 2 or 3am listening to religious adventure stories about God conquering demons. I didn't hear it much, but it kept my wife awake for a long time. It was definitely bad campground behavior. Don't know how her father failed to notice.

  12. July 12: Devil's Tower to Cody.

    This day was all about Wyoming. We first hustled back up to Devil's Tower so that the girls could get their Junior Ranger badges. And then we got back on the road. Originally I wanted to visit Thunder Basin National Park, but we decided on this day to stage ourselves for entry into Yellowstone the next day, so we made KOA reservations in Cody, WY. This is as good a point as any to mention the advantages of staying at KOAs. They are very much the hotel of campgrounds. You can make same day online reservations up to 4pm. This is awesome if you know you are going to be on the road until dinner or later and want to be sure you have a place to stay. They simply assign you a site (among the class that you designated), like a hotel assigns a room. This is necessarily as nice as letting you assess what is available and making choices that suit your individual preferences, but it is quick and worry free. And most importantly, as my buddy Brad's sister said, they have pools. And playgrounds. And the kids love this. They would always light up when they learned that we would stay in a KOA, because they knew that we would play in the pool and they could play on the swingset while my wife and I set up camp and got dinner ready. And of course, they have laundry and internet (kind of). So the KOAs had their place. As they did this day.

    After making our reservations, we took our time driving out I-90 to Route 14. Though I wanted to take Route 16 through Ten Sleep, since our Big Agnes tent was named the Ten Sleep 6, Route 14 is purportedly the most attractive road through Bighorn National Forest. And it was a gorgeous route. From the Plains, you climb and climb up the steep roadway into the Bighorn Mountains, which are a sister range to the Rockies. As the Plains fade away, you traverse wide, alpine meadows and then drop into precipitous, geometric valleys before exiting back out onto the Plains. On one of the last empty stretches of Wyoming highway, with no restroom for miles and a bladder threatening to burst, my youngest daughter was forced to pee on the side of the road. She refused at first, but her bladder insisted, and then her worries were over. One step tougher. After pulling into the Cody KOA, the girls went to the playground and inflatable trampoline while we set up. After a brief swim at one of the nicest pools on the trip, I pushed us out for one of the few things I consciously planned for: the Cody Nite Rodeo. I'm not a great fan of rodeos, but they have their interesting aspects and more importantly no one else in the family had ever been to a rodeo. And what better place to see your first rodeo than in Cody, the town established by Buffalo Bill Cody, the most famous rodeo man in history? Turns out it is the 80th year of the Stampede. The quality was not the highest, but it was better than I recall having seen. We enjoyed our dinner in the stands. And my older daughter watched fascinated. I think it was the amazement of seeing so many horses. It was also cool to see young girls and women riding and roping and whatnot. (I really should have let my wife get us all out for a horse ride at some time during the trip, but money made me shy.) At any rate, my daughter made us stay until the very end of the show and was ready to go back as soon as possible. The girls even joined the kids' game of trying to grab a red cloth off the back of a calf. I don't think they ever came close, but they were out there in the middle of the stampede field, something I have never done. I'm not sure they liked it. But they got a bit tougher again. I don't want delicate daughters.

  13. July 13: Cody to Colter Bay.

    After an aggravated effort to clear hosts of little tiny sand flea looking bugs out of our tent, we left Cody for Yellowstone. I have always stubbornly rejected the idea of going to Yellowstone and the Grand Canyon. Both are so famous and popular that I thought I needed to resist visiting. In my head I guess it was all Yogi Bear and tourists. But Yellowstone was on the way, so we figured we'd pass through on our way to Grand Teton National Park, which I was confident would be, well, grand. And with some good fortune, I was lucky enough to get us reservations for two nights in tent cabins (two solid walls and canvas for everything else) in Colter Bay. They were a bit expensive ($80/night), but I figured we could benefit from a modicum of comfort since we had stayed in our tent the whole time so far. Plus, they had bunk beds, which I knew the girls would enjoy. To go in through the east entrance of the park, the closest, we got to pass through Shoshone Valley, a reservoir and power plant that gave way to rough, rocky mountains and forests of lodgepole pine. We finally knew we were getting out of cattle country and into the wilds. But our entrance to Yellowstone was anti-climactic, if interesting in its own right. We wound our way down toward Yellowstone Lake, which sits at the heart of the park. The entire landscape consisted of grass and tall blackened sticks of burnt pine. It was disheartening, but it showed what forest fires can do. Indeed, it showed what forest fires must do to keep the forests themselves healthy. But it did not seem to bode well for our visit. At one point, we presumed that the whole park had burned down, reinforcing my belief that Yellowstone might not be all it is cracked up to be.

    But then we approached the lake. On the way down, we passed a waterfall that tumbled downward for 300m or more. Then we saw an elk walking along a spit projecting into the lake (and followed by 20--30 people!). We had sandwiches for lunch under some pines overlooking the lake. Suddenly it felt like we should stop the car and get out at every corner and turnout. We visited the ranger station to get Junior Ranger activity books and saw our first up-close bison and were warned about bears. And then we headed for Old Faithful, because if you're going to be in Yellowstone for one day in your life, you obviously have to see Old Faithful. I expected a disappointment (still!), but I wanted my daughters to be able to say that they had seen it. And they did. And we all loved it. I must mention again here how amazing the National Park Service is. They have done a fantastic job of spreading the crowds out around Old Faithful and protecting both them and the geyser from damage. We were also fortunate to be seated at the spot that a roving ranger came and explained how the pressure builds up inside the chamber below the surface and leads to the eruption. It also served as their ranger activity for their Junior Ranger books, which was convenient since we were trying to finish the activities and get their badge before we left the park in a few hours. One of the activities was to use a simple formula to calculate when Old Faithful's next eruption would take place, a great bit of math practice for my older daughter amidst the fun. We marked the time when the geyser started and timed how long it lasted, and my daughter was able to make the exact prediction that the rangers made. The eruption itself was also pretty cool. Not necessarily awe-inspiring, but definitely satisfactory. I probably would have pushed to move on, but the Junior Rangers saved us. The girls had to do a hike to get their badge, so off we went on the one-mile walk among the geysers and hot springs adjacent to Old Faithful. The clear water filled rock formations were amazing. Precipitated calcium formed jagged snow-like bluffs around the edges, and the sulfur tinged other spots a fascinating orange. And just as we returned from our hike, it was time for Old Faithful to erupt again, 5:39pm according to my daughter's calculations. She was exactly right. Awesome. In a few short hours the girls had finished their Junior Ranger activities. They were quite determined. So we went in to get their badges. When the ranger asked how many elk and bison they had seen, they responded just a couple. The ranger was surprised, so I asked where we should be going. Lamar Valley and Hayden Valley was the answer. Suddenly I had a feeling we would be back.

    But by now it was time to head south to our tent cabin in Grand Teton. The drive down was lovely all over again. There is just no end to the magnificence up there. The kids loved the bunk beds while my wife and I worried about mosquitoes flying in through the gaps between the canvas roof and the walls. The mosquitoes turned out to be a false alarm, since it is so cool at night there. But we did have to worry about bears for the first time. Everything that smelled vaguely edible had to go into the bear lockers, even make up and toothpaste. I expected to run into a bear at any moment, especially when I went out to pee in the middle of the night. But we didn't see any...until the next day.

  14. July 14: Grand Tetons.

    The Grand Tetons are quite simply gorgeous, and we were fortunate enough to have clear skies that showed them off to their best advantage, even if we didn't wake up for sunrise. Still, I was excited. We were going to go on our first real hike. We stopped by the grocery store in Colter Bay to pick up and pack up lunch. Most of us wound up with mediocre pulled pork sliders. We then stopped by the ranger station to pick up the Junior Ranger activity book and get some advice on trails. After some discussion, we settled on walking along Jenny Lake up to String Lake for lunch and then I would probably return alone to get the car and pick everyone else up. But the chief advice we received was to be wary of bears and that the rangers "recommend" carrying bear spray, available at the low, low price of $50--70. To be honest, they weren't pushing the bear spray sales; they were simply trying to keep people safe. If it had been just my wife and I, I would not have thought too seriously about the bear spray. But we were with the girls, and parental instincts urge you to protect. Still, since the cost was so high, we resolved with some nervousness to simply go for it. Never having encountered a bear in the wild, I was imagining that just seeing a bear would result in three-inch claws flying everywhere and ripping us to shreds. Needless to say, I was uncomfortable. And observing other people on the trail only added to my concern. Those trail runners who passed us? Small canister of bear spray strapped to the lead runner's shorts. The couple that passed us going the other way? Holster full of bear spray. It seemed that each of the four or five groups we passed were carrying bear spray, and I started to get very worried. Then, 20 meters away up on the hill above us, I saw the black fur of a bear's back as it walked by. We immediately aborted the mission, turning around and heading back to the car. Looking back now, I know I was over-reacting and things would have been fine, but it was the first time encountering a bear in the wild and it freaked me out. My feeling quickly changed. On our drive up to Jenny Lake for lunch, we stopped with others to watch a bear foraging in the trees nearby. As we walked along the lake, someone let use their binoculars to look at a grizzly on the other side of the lake. At the picnic area, we saw someone alerting an entirely nonplussed ranger that they had seen a bear a few hundred meters up the path. It became apparent that the bears were much less of a danger than I had imagined.

    In the afternoon we returned to Colter Bay. My wife insisted that we go canoeing on Jackson Lake. Ever money conscious, I was opposed to such an extravagant expense for such minimal returns. After all, we could canoe for free back in CT if we really wanted to. But my wife prevailed. We had a small heated debate when I learned that we would have to rent two canoes and our cost would double to $70 for two hours. As we debated, the counter person faded away. Eventually I realized that canoeing under the Tetons would be a unique experience and that $70 would not matter much in the long run. So off we went. One daughter and one parent in each canoe. The views were fantastic, and my wife and daughters had a brand new experience. Upon our return, we moved north to the Colter Bay beach of small, smooth stones. The water was chilly, but there was no way I wasn't going in. After all, I had jumped into the water off Elihu Island each day through the end of October. I could handle and even thrill in cold water. So in I went. What I didn't expect was that my younger daughter would so happily follow me, while my wife and older daughter entertained themselves on the shore. I was so proud of my daughter for being so bold and for enjoying the challenge of the cold water. It was a serious bonding moment.

  15. July 15: Yellowstone.

    There is no way to "finish" one of these incredible parks. There is only moving on when the time comes. And it came. We headed out of Grand Teton after breakfast and headed for the Yellowstone South Entrance to see if we might be able to get a campsite for night. On the way up we passed a bear, some elk, and a bison by a steaming geyser. And there were indeed a few open up by the Northeast Entrance. We aimed for Tower Fall. We traveled through Hayden Valley. It was fairly uneventful, but I was focused on Tower Fall and wasn't ready to stop and look around. We were fortunate enough to get a site looking across the valley to another hill. The view was not exceptional, but it was a view and air was clean and we were going to sleep in Yellowstone. We didn't have to leave yet after all.

    After lunch, we visited Tower Fall and hiked down the hill to the Yellowstone River, where we waded and cooled down for a while before heading back up. After that, we headed out Route 212 to Cooke City through the Lamar Valley, which I had seen billed as one of the best drives in America. And, indeed, one wants to stop at every corner and pull out as you wind through the steep, pine valley alongside Soda Butte Creek. And then we discovered why the ranger was so surprised that we'd only seen a couple of bison. We saw at least two huge herds. Males were fighting. Dust was flying. Calves were munching. And all were on the move. Not far away, there were countless elk. Exactly the kinds of things you seen in nature documentaries. We later learned from a ranger (at th eGrand Canyon, I think) that the reintroduction of wolves into Yellowstone had significantly impacted the ecosystem. I had already seen How Wolves Change Rivers. The short film shows how reintroducing wolves had cut down the populations of herd animals and that this had allowed the grasses to grow more lushly, which in turn countered the erosion caused by the river. And one simply assumes that the causal mechanism is hunting, but the ranger told us that they now think the biggest impact is due to fear. Because the herd animals fear being hunted by the wolves, they pay more attention to their surroundings, which means that their heads are up longer and more frequently, so they do not eat as much.

    In some ways, I think this day may have been the climax of the trip. We felt so fortunate to stay another day in Yellowstone, and we had seen all the nature one imagines when one imagines Yellowstone. We had seen the river, bear, elk, bison, rugged valleys, water falls, broad alpine meadows. It was unbelievable. So we made a nice, big fire, and my wife and I sat around a while in the coolness of the mountains' night sky and had a beer.

  16. July 16: Tower Fall to Pocatello.

    The day was a bit gray, but that was fine, since we were ready to get on the road. Or at least we had decided it was time to get back on the road. After all, we were already about halfway through our time and still far from the Pacific. We drove out to Mammoth Hot Springs, where rain started to drop lightly and we were able to marvel at the mineral deposits from the hot springs. Of course, there were water falls and elk and bison and breathtaking scenes. What else would you expect from Yellowstone? How could I ever have doubted how amazing the place is? Anyway, the intricate and unique patterns the hot springs created fascinated me. I couldn't stop taking close-ups of just parts of the mineral mounds. I think this is when my older daughter started to also zero in on the coolness of the small details of the landscape. By the time we hit southern Colorado, she was taking close up pictures of rocks and dirt and trees and things.

    Originally we planned to simply sneak out the North Entrance of the park, but since Yellowstone continued to deliver, I decided we might as well drive down the one stretch of road we hadn't covered yet. Also, around this time, my buddy from long ago Korea bailed on us. He and his son were supposed to meet us in the northern Rockies for a drive out to Haida Gwaii. This promise may well have been the final weight that tipped the scale in favor of actually getting on the road. But after a week or two of failing to convince us to go through more empty plains to a family house on a lake, where we have "lost" a week of seeing North America's greatest hits, he told us that he had rented the place and wouldn't be able to meet us. While a big disappointment, since I haven't seen the guy since 9/11, the original promise helped get us on the road and breaking it freed up my family to do our thing. All good in my world. Cosmic determination in his. So rather than head north to Glacier National Park, Kootenai, Banff, and beyond, we decided to get to the West Coast as soon as we could. I was starting to thirst for those big waves, long beaches, salty winds, and ocean sunsets. So we headed south to Norris and then out the West Entrance to West Yellowstone, Montana. Perhaps we should have gone north. We got held up by multiple bouts of road construction. But by the end we had basically seen "everything" (at least as far as roads go), and our pizza in West Yellowstone was a total delight. From here, we jumped on Route 20 and then took I-15 south to a KOA in Pocatello, Idaho.

  17. July 17: Pocatello to Twin Falls.

    I think our initial plan was to visit Craters of the Moon National Park and then high-tail it into Sawtooth or something. After dawdling in Yellowstone, I was starting to feel pressure to cover some ground so that we could actually get to the Pacific Ocean. My wife suggested that maybe we didn't have to go all the way across the country, but what did she know? There was no way we could come this far and not touch the Pacific. That said, we held out the possibility of staying at Craters of the Moon, since it was in the middle of lava and volcanoes are my youngest's thing. Though sites were available, it would have been to hot, so we decided we'd push on.

    But not without checking out the lava fields and climbing an old cone volcano. We would also have visited lava tubes, but unfortunately we had visited Lackawanna and did not have shoes we could wear without threatening the local bat population. While visiting various spots, though, a couple from the region strongly recommended that we visit Shoshone Falls on the Snake River, which they said was called the "Niagara Falls of the West". So we made reservations at the Twin Falls KOA and headed for a visit. To my mind, though, Niagara Falls should probably be designated the "Shoshone Falls of the East". While Niagara Falls, which we visited in October 2018, exhibits sheer power, Shoshone Falls tumbles in strong staggered steps around rocky parapets and thereby expresses more character.

  18. July 18: Twin Falls to Deschutes.

    Having burned the last of our Yellowstone wood the night before (so as not to spread parasites or disease), we hit the road in earnest, following 84 west to Route 20 and Deschutes National Forest. Route 20 is basically the historic Oregon Trail, and it is a barren, forbidding stretch. We camped amid pines at Gull Point Campground on Wickiup Reservoir. Due to the drought, the reservoir water was low, but it was a calm, quiet site where we basically alone. We were finally within striking distance of the ocean, but it was clear that we wouldn't have time to drive down the coast and visit friends. We still had to get back.

  19. July 19: Deschutes to the Oregon Coast.

    This was a huge day. We started by visiting Crater Lake National Park, where there is a volcano inside a lake inside a volcano. This was destined to be one of my youngest's favorites, and perhaps it was. We were blessed with beautiful weather. As a result the lake's color was a brilliant azure and the pines a lush chartreuse. The endless photos we took fail to do the place justice. We wound up driving all the way around, which turned out to be a bit longer than we'd hoped.

    Fortunately, we did not have to stress out. I had managed to make reservations for the night at William M. Tugman State Park. The campground was a bit crowded, but the facilities were decent and the sites were separated by dense redwoods. Most importantly, one could feel and smell the moisture of the Pacific. Perhaps it's just nostalgia my days back in SF, but there is something about the smell and feel of the Pacific that energizes and embraces me. Somehow it just feels right to me.

    When we arrived, though, I was in a hurry. Sunset was approaching quickly, and we had to get out to the dunes to see the sun go down. We quickly set up camp, ate dinner, and then rushed off to dunes. The kids loved it. They had never seen so much sand, never seen a sand dune. We climbed up the closest dune just in time to watch the sun hit the horizon. My youngest daughter and I watched it closely and were rewarded. We got my favorite kind of Pacific sunset. As the sun goes down, the bottom edge widens out into a trapezoid and when the last sliver is about to drop below the horizon, it turns ever so slightly green. To have my arm over my daughter's shoulder and point out the whole transformation was a special moment to share.

    For the kids, the best was yet to come. I taught them how they could do what I called moon leaps down the dune. With a heave and huge steps it feels like you're defying gravity as you run down the dune. The kids loved it. I think they climbed all the way up the 100m dune two or three more times just to run down again and finally collapse on their butt. I don't think they would have stopped if my wife hadn't made us all go back.

  20. July 20: The Oregon Coast to Portland.

    We got a bit of a slow start and then headed up the Oregon Coast. Again, for me, it was like coming home. The big sweeping beaches stretching away under the bluffs. The stiff breeze mixing salt and pine in the air. The crash of waves occasionally obscured by a splash of fog. Just heaven. We made three major stops, benefiting from low tide. First, we visited a wide beach and walked out to the waves to officially touch the Pacific. My youngest misjudged a wave and got a shoe soaking wet. After changing her shoe, we moved on to a random area of tidal pools. The girls loved jumping from rock to rock and looking for life amidst the streaming seaweed. Our third stop was the top of a bluff to get some lunch (in the wind). After one woman kindly pointed out that we had left our engine on, we got yelled at by the landscaper for parking too close to the exit (never minding that he had occupied half of the parking area!).

    I had made reservations in Portland for Saturday night. It was to be our first and most expensive hotel. So, all too soon, we left the coast to turn back east toward Portland. On the way, we stopped for a coffee at Wild Rain, where the proprietor's ocean paintings demonstrated some skill. With only one night in Portland, we got there while it was still light and headed out. For me, the main destinations were books and beer. First it was off to the Deschutes pub for dinner. After all, we had stayed in Deschutes National Park... The beer was, of course, tasty. Then we made the obligatory stop at Powell's Books, which thrilled everyone since we all got a book. For the kids, I tried to head over to Voodoo Donuts for dessert, but the line was ridonkulous and we pushed on. My wife wanted to go down to the riverside park, and so we did. She was amazed at the number of homeless people, though I don't think it affected my kids too much. The evening ended by watching the beginning of Wonder Woman in Pioneer Square.

  21. I'm going to get a bit briefer to try to finish. 2018-11-30
  22. July 21: Portland to Umatilla.

    After a diner breakfast during which I was desperately trying to get my paper finished---and about to give up---we headed out of Portland and Back East. We followed the Columbia River to Umatilla. Umatilla is the former storage site for chemical weapons from World War II, mustard gas in particular, and there are fields full of marked mounds and sheds. A bit eerie. We crossed the river into Washington and set up camp, then back across the river to go shopping, and back into Washington to settle in. Our campsite felt like a park, and the area were we set up our tent with no water or electricity was probably meant to be a picnic area, since there were grills and picnic tables but no real sites. That said, we were not the only campers. Once settled, we drove to a genuine public park across the inlet to go swimming. The local Hispanic population was in full force. Camping was without incident.

  23. July 22: Umatilla to Ogden.

    This day was massive mileage day. We followed I-84 east to Ogden, Utah, which is just above Salt Lake City. Except for the very last stretch of I-95, this was the only place we "backtracked" over a road we had already driven. On our only other option was a longer and emptier drive through northern Nevada. I think it was somewhere along this stretch of road that I secretly decided that we would have to visit the Grand Canyon. We hadn't decided where to go after Salt Lake City, but I urged us to go south. I wanted to surprise my wife by actually going to the Grand Canyon, which she had regularly talked about. I had always assumed it would be as overrated as I thought Yellowstone would be. Having been wrong about Yellowstone, I figured we might as well give it a shot. In Ogden we stayed at a KOA and ate at a crummy diner. During dinner, I urgently made a reservation for July 26th, my birthday, at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon (I think).

  24. July 23: Ogden to Spruces Campground.

    This day was a work day. Our car Etta, which is named after the previous owner whom we'd never met, was overdue for an oil change, had driven all the way across country, and was soon to drive in serious heat. So while the girls did the laundry and went for a swim, I got a premium oil change at Jiffy Lube. While waiting for my oil change, I fell into conversation with another customer who thought I worked for NASA because of the SSAA sticker my daughter put on my computer and just loved boilers. We started talking about the trip and in response to my question he said that his favorite place in southern Utah was Cedar Breaks, which I had never heard of. After the car and laundry were ready, we drove into downtown Salt Lake City so that the girls could visit the Children's Museum while I continued working on my paper at a coffee shop with uncomfortable modern furniture and overpriced coffee. We drove by the Tabernacle to say that we had because we felt we had to rush a bit to get to a first-come-first-served campground. And it is good that we did. The next day was Pioneer Day, a huge holiday in Utah that I had never heard of. After a long and lovely climb into the mountains above Salt Lake City, we were fortunate to get one of only a few sites left at Spruces Campground. We enjoyed a small fire amid the spruce trees.

  25. July 24: Spruces Campground to Cedar Breaks.

    Following the boiler guy's advice, we made a long drive south on I-15 to Cedar Breaks, hoping for another walk-in site. The drive was mainly flat on a dry plain between two mountain ranges. As we began the climb up to Cedar Breaks, a nasty thunderstorm ripped through the area and continued to threaten all afternoon. We found a site at Point Supreme Campground, which is at an elevation of roughly 10,000', which is kind of cool in its own way. Everyone else was fine, but I think I had some minor altitude sickness in the form of a mild headache each morning. The campground is basically a spruce wooded island in the middle of a wide mountain meadow lake full of yellow flowers. We pitched our tent while avoiding burst of rain showers and even a brief bout of hail. We then drove across the street to Point Supreme itself, the starting point of Cedar Breaks, which is in turn the starting point of all the canyons going south to the Grand Canyon. It was awesome. Striated oranges, yellows, and whites. Hoodoos climbing upward. Monumental depth. Later that evening, we noticed that the campers across the road included a couple of girls about my daughters' ages. Much later that night I was awoken twice by the howling of wolves in the meadow.

  26. July 25: Cedar Breaks to Zion and back.

    Since we had been driving so much and since putting up and taking down the tent and packing the car every day gets tiring and since we were camping at 10,000', we had decided to stay put for another night. The day's plan was to visit Zion National Park. As awesome as it is, it was by far my least favorite national park. We drove in to the park through the east entrance. Even though I couldn't find our National Parks Pass at the moment, the gate keeper let us through. And, oh my. The wind and water carved mesas there are phenomenal, abstract designs. Driving along the winding Mount Carmel Highway, every turn was simply astounding. Much busier than most other parks, but tolerable for the majesty. However, when we pulled into the park's core near Springdale, things got unpleasant. We found a parking spot on the road, paid for our parking ticket, and headed to the trail head. The ranger insisted on seeing our pass, which I still couldn't find. We assume that we lost it in our hurry at the crappy diner in Ogden. So we had to pay another $80 for a new pass. In the end, we still saved money, and under the current administration the Parks System needs all the resources it can get, so we chalked it up as a donation. Still hurt though. We took the crowded bus up Zion Canyon and got off early to have lunch and hike a bit further. Lunch was hot but filling and quiet. Then we got back on the bus to the final stop to follow the trail up to the Narrows. Still with the taste of an $80 loss in my mouth, the crowds on the trail greatly disappointed me and spoiled the experience quite a bit. Hiking up the trail, lovely as it was, was like climbing Baegundae, Seoul's most famous peak, on a Sunday afternoon. It was a single-file line moving up the trail. When we got to the point where you walk through the stream into the narrow canyons, I could see a thunderstorm out over the canyon. I believed that we could not continue, since the rain would make the canyon dangerous, and it seemed like people were flooding back. My wife didn't believe and thought I was playing weather fairy, which frustrated her. But I insisted, and after a bit of walking in the stream, we rejoined the line down the hill, which turned into a line for the buses. She learned from conversations around us that I had been right and that the rangers had been sending everyone back. Eventually we made it back to the car. And there was Springdale parking ticket on the windshield. Literally minutes after we had left the car, the traffic cop that I had seen pull up had given us a ticket because the license plate on the ticket did not match our license plate. All it said was "L". Then I remembered the screen that had flashed by as I pushed some buttons waiting for the parking station computer to respond. Knowing that the cop must have seen me park and leave, I got pissed off at the puny minded tourist town traffic cop mentality. They were probably just trying to meet a quota, but how petty. It was minutes too late to call to contest, so I immediately filed an online contestation. Needless to say, my ice cream did not taste so good.

    After winding back out through the beauty, which helped restore some good feeling, we returned to our campsite. Pretty soon the two girls from the opposite campsite were visiting, and the four girls starting cooking up magic potions or something. If I remember correctly, all the girls went over to have toasted marshmallows: dessert before dinner! But even before we sat down to dinner, the girls' parents, who of course we had waved to and exchanged simple pleasantries with, came over and just kind of joined us. Their timing was a bit odd, but they were certainly welcome. It was fun to sit around and chat with someone else. As I had guessed when they refused my offer of a beer, they were Mormons. They had driven down for a five day vacation. She was a former art student and he was an engineer. Nice folks.

  27. July 26: Cedar Breaks to Grand Canyon North Rim.

    My birthday. And we had reservations for the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. In the morning, the four girls were back at their games, and as we packed up, the parents joined us and kind of watched. So we made a slow departure that morning, especially since we revisited Cedar Breaks in the sunlight. The drive down was uneventful but lovely. We lunched at the Rocking V in Kanab for some tasty Southwestern cooking. And we arrived fairly early...for us. We skipped the campground and headed straight for canyon. Holy be-moley! Just like Yellowstone, it was better than I had ever imagined it could be. Words can't do justice to vast, deep expanse of the Grand Canyon, to the antiquity of the geological strata revealed in its earthy pigments. Insane. But I can mention that I climbed to the top of a promontory on the first trail for a full view. Realizing that it looked more dangerous than it was and that I needed to encourage some rock climbing in my daughters, I helped them to the top in turn. I have some picture of me with my youngest daughter that I love, despite the fact that they all came out horribly. Having gotten a taste for the Canyon, we visited the ranger station to get the Junior Ranger badge process started, learning that we needed to attend a ranger talk that evening to make it happen. So we went to the campground to set up our site and eat some dinner. Rain made the process a challenge, but I had fun setting up our tarp as a shelter for my wife to cook dinner. The storm passed as soon as dinner was over, and we headed back to the North Rim Visitor Center for a craft beer, a sunset, and a ranger talk. The ranger, a recent graduate from Wesleyan, gave a great talk about the stories behind white men imposing their naming on places that had long had other names. All in all, an awesome birthday.

  28. July 27: North Rim to Flagstaff.

    We checked out of the site, apologizing for having made some small trenches to deal with the rain. I also asked the ranger if there were any last minute cancellations. There weren't, but she told me we could free camp just outside the park. Even though I knew we'd never do it and already had hotel reservations for the evening, I took down information on the site. Then, we spent the day driving along the North Rim. We spent quite a bit of energy identifying plants and trees. My oldest daughter spent quite a bit of energy making up names for places and convincing us that they were the real names. She had a great name for Angel's Window, but I've forgotten it. She was also pretty captivated by the Walhalla Glades Pueblo, ruins of an ancient settlement not far from the rim. I also thought it was fascinating, but my favorite was probably Wotan's Throne.

    Since we could not get South Rim reservations, I had made reservations at a hotel in Flagstaff, Arizona. The place attracted me for two reasons. First, it was the name of the beer my grandfather used to drink. Second, it was home to the Lowell Observatory. Much of trip had been by chance about my younger daughter's favorite: volcanoes. My older daughter had complained that there was no space activities. When I discovered the Lowell Observatory, I knew we had to go. We had a tasty late lunch at the Cliff Dweller's Restaurant amidst Mars red rocks on the backside of the Vermilion Cliffs. After winding our way through Page and Mexican Hat, we headed south on 89, where some idiot passed cars coming toward us at well over 80mph and forced me to slam on the brakes to ensure that we wouldn't have a head on collision that killed us all. It was by far the closest we came to an accident and, indeed, death. But we survived that and another lightening storm on our way into Flagstaff.

    We went straight to the observatory, since it was already 7pm or so. We saw a science show, and then toured the main telescope before returning for a talk on Mars. My oldest daughter loved it and did not want to leave after the talk, even though it was 9pm and we hadn't eaten dinner. At the hotel, we ordered Chinese food, which was delivered by a white kid and tasted poor.

  29. July 28: Flagstaff to South Rim.

    I originally thought we would head east toward Escalante or something from Flagstaff, but the Grand Canyon was so awesome that we decided to visit the South Rim before pushing east to find a campsite. Though I generally preferred the North Rim, perhaps because it was our first taste, perhaps because it was steeper, we very much enjoyed Desert View Tower, where we learned that the most dangerous animal to humans in the park was the squirrel, which could bite through to your bone if you offered them food. That said, the visit took us all day. And while I was starting to get worried about finding a campsite or hotel, I had gained enough confidence that we would find something somewhere. And we did. Something somewhere turned out to be free camping in Kaibab National Forest just outside the South Rim near Desert View. Driving into the area ("Turn right at mile marker 161," the guy at Desert View had told me.), we found an empty area that had been frequently used in the past. As we drove around to find a site, we came across a deer skin. Everyone was a bit freaked out about being so isolated. There was just one RV out by the entrance. Discomfort was made worse by the fact that everyone had to pee outdoors. My oldest freaked out about it until she finally just did it. First time is always the hardest. Perhaps because we saw a coyote in the Desert View Campground before we left, perhaps because we saw a dead animal nearby, the girls and my wife decided that the girls wanted to sleep in the car. We set that up. I cracked the windows and gave them a key. But then it started raining, and I didn't want to leave the windows open, and the girls got a bit scared of the lightening and thunder. So we moved them to the tent and locked the doors.

  30. July 29: South Rim to Cortez.

    In the morning I discovered that I could not open the car doors because the key was still inside. For a few moments, I was freaking out, thinking that we were miles from civilization in an empty wilderness and would have to call a locksmith that would take all day and a million dollars. However, it turned out that we had another key in the tent and were able to open the car. But not before I had had a minor heart attack. Ultimately, though, I am quite proud of our night in Kaibab. After a month of camping, we had finally done it without infrastructural support. We brought all our own supplies, including water. We had used only our charged lanterns for light. We had not picnic tables. We had lived without plumbing. We had truly roughed it and come out stronger. I had not had any real worries about being able to, but I am proud that we actually did.

    We couldn't resist going back to Desert View to see the Canyon in a different light. So I made reservations at the Cortez KOA and back we went. A ranger told us about the creepy crawlies of the Canyon, including the tarantula hawk.

    I insisted that we visit Monument Valley along the way to see the iconic image of the Wild West of John Wayne and John Ford. We drove through the horribly bumpy and red dusty reservation. And we admired the mesas. They still remain iconic memories for me. I'm sure this has been reinforced by watching a number of Westerns and road trips that visit Monument Valley since I returned to Korea. But still, the volcanic stubs sticking straight up out of a red wasteland are compellingly majestic. We reached the Cortez KOA at dinner time. The KOA was exceptionally clean and ordered, if tight. While we got set up, the girls played with a tween Swiss girl from the next campsite, who was traveling through with her family to attend an Up with People! reunion and visit some family. Her father seemed ignorant of the fact that we were just miles from Mesa Verde.

  31. July 30: Mesa Verde.

    But we weren't. My oldest daughter and I, who were both excited about it, drove to the visitor center at 7am to get tickets for the pueblo tours. We were one of the first and managed to get tickets to both Cliff Palace and Balcony House. After breakfast back at the KOA, we headed up to Cliff Palace with our Junior Ranger booklets and lots of water. Cliff Palace is the most famous complex. Unfortunately, that makes it the most popular, and tours have to move through fairly quickly and there is no real opportunity to go inside. But we learned about the role of seeps in both creating the cliff recesses and providing essential water for the settlements. And we learned that the reason for moving from the top of the mesa above into the cliff houses is unknown. Though there seems to have been defensive advantages, archaeologists suggest that there was little conflict. And then the people all vanished.

    After lunch, we visited Balcony House, where you have to climb a 10m ladder at one point and crawl through a tiny entrance that serves as the main entrance to the complex. Visiting what I think is the oldest preserved indigenous settlement in North America was touching. We had seen much of the country's natural grandeur. Now we were encountering its human accomplishments. For some reason, my older daughter remained equally interested. While my wife and youngest seemed ready to push on after the Balcony House tour was over, my oldest and I kept examining the evolution of the pit houses on top of the mesa that were ultimately superseded by the cliff dwellings.

    We returned to the KOA for a swim and lazy night.

  32. July 31: Cortez to Black Canyon of Gunnison.

    From Cortez, we ventured into areas famous for their Wild West past and luxury present. We followed Route 160 east to Durango (of mountain biking fame), and then headed north of Route 550 into the San Juan Mountains. There was more mountain awesomeness. We stopped in Silverton for lunch. Interestingly, Silverton has left most of its roads unpaved, which strikes me as a clever urban planning choice. On the one hand, it preserves the touristy Wild West feeling of wide, dusty streets. On the other, it must be relatively inexpensive to maintain, especially given the damage that winters must do to the roads up there.

    Then I gave my wife cause to hate me...again. From Silverton we continued north through Ouray. My wife really wanted to visit Telluride, but I wanted to get the kids to Dinosaur National Monument so that they could see and touch real dinosaur bones in situ. With all the stories of evolution and dinosaurs that we had encountered, I had hatched a bigger plan of visiting the Creation Museum in Ohio to demonstrate to the girls that other people had other beliefs. I wanted to create a sort of cognitive gap that would engender critical thinking. So I got fixated on Dinosaur National Monument. Plus, Telluride was a long detour, and I was convinced that we would not find affordable lodging if we arrived at dinnertime. Moreover, we had learned around this time that we had to be back for a party on August 12th. So I insisted we push north. I had expected to get to Grand Junction or so and find a KOA or something. But the Black Canyon of Gunnison National Park was on the way, so we stopped with no knowledge of what to expect---other than a canyon.

    As we pulled in, I suddenly thought that we should check out the campground. And next thing we knew, we had picked a site and set up our tent. After this, we visited the canyon. I loved it. The hard, dark rocks formed a steep, black canyon that was a monumental counterpart to the siennas and ochres of the desert canyons. With the girls, we had fun finding shapes and faces in the Painted Wall. And of course, we started working on our Junior Ranger booklets.

    The girls learned of a ranger talk that evening at the campground on the soundscape of the park. Since we attended the first ranger talk at Devil's Tower, my oldest consistently strove to attend the ranger talks. And who can squash an inquisitive mind? So my wife graciously took the hit and prepared dinner while I took the girls to think about the sounds your hear in national parks. The ranger---yet again!---did a great job and opened our minds and ears to a new type of experience. He also mentioned a telescope star viewing later in the evening. Again, my oldest insisted that we ask him for more details. As the Black Canyon is an International Dark Sky Park, that very night there was going to be a telescope set up to view the planets. There was no question that we were going.

    So, at 9pm approached, we made our way to the appointed destination nearby. A volunteer had set up a rather expensive telescope and focused it on Mars. The girls loved it. As the telescope moved through Saturn and Jupiter, we had to gently pull my oldest away so that others could see. She just got back in line to view again. I think she checked out Saturn three times. And it was worth it. You could literally see the colored rings around the planet. The eye of Jupiter was clearly visible. It was astonishing to think that we were "directly" looking at them with our naked eyes. I want to believe that my daughters' evident interest encouraged the volunteer to find new objects after other spectators had faded away and left about eight of us. He showed us a couple of things I still cannot believe I have seen. We viewed a globular cluster, an exploding star (I think), and something else. (I'll have to ask my daughter. I'm sure she wrote it down.) Finally, my oldest was getting her space fix.

  33. August 01: Black Canyon of Gunnison to Dinosaur National Park.

    The kids had to go for a hike to get their badges, so my wife drove to the visitor center and I took them along a canyon-edge trail. Even as we got to the trail, we had to wait for a deer and her calf to get out of the way, since we had learned not to frighten them or get too close. We had seen them wandering around the campground a couple of times the day before. The walk itself was pleasant enough, but the most interesting thing to me was that my older daughter had taken to copying me and taking close-up pictures of rocks and other objects to capture the patterns. I had started at Craters of the Moon and I guess it appealed to her.

    After looking at the sun through a different telescope owned and operated by the same amateur astronomer and receiving our badges, we started the drive north on Route 50 and then Route 139 through country Colorado to Dinosaur. It turns out that Dinosaur is one entrance to the park, but not for the fossils, so we picked up our Junior Ranger booklets and drove another 45 minutes almost to Vernal. In the car, the kids played a game we made up from the booklet of making up dinosaur names by translating the Greek words into new names. Upon arrival, we first reserved our campsite and then returned for one of the last buses up the hill to logjam cliff of dinosaur bones that is the highlight of Dinosaur National Monument. We touched some fossils and then walked down the fossil trail looking for our fossils. We did find a few that were pointed out in the guide. And we took lots of close ups of rocks. Good fun. On the way out in the middle of the open desert a rainstorm came up on us. We starting running out of fear of lightening that had been regularly instilled in us by the rangers. Fortunately, we got wet but the storm soon passed without electrocuting us. We returned to the campground and relaxed a bit. In the dark and their bedtime clothes, the girls decided that they wanted to climb the hill behind the site to see where the chipmunks had run off to. So we started up...and then took a long time coming down. The girls were scared of sliding down, so they basically slid down on their butts, filling their bedtime clothes with dust adn sand. My wife was not happy.

  34. August 02: Dinosaur National Park to Rocky Mountain National Park.

    Before heading east on Route 40 to Rocky Mountain National Park, we visited some ancient runes and the Josie Morris homestead. The homestead very much interested me. Josie Morris started it in 1913 and, while rustic, the grounds were orderly and attractively organized. She had a small canyon fenced in for her cattle. The yard was a delightfully open space with enough large trees to provide a consistent shade. I tried to impress upon my daughters how amazing and tough she must have been.

    Then it was back on the road in hopes of getting a campsite in the park. Time was ticking, and we could feel that the Rocky Mountain National Park would be the last major Western stop for us. We were again fortunate to get a site at Timber Creek Campground. Unfortunately, the site had been in a fire some years previously and completely lacked shade. After setting up camp, we settled in for a mellow dinner and fire. After watching some elk pass through the campsite, the girls insisted on another ranger talk. This time the talk was about winter visits to the park. Not the strongest talk, but it did leave us with the distinction between deer scat and elk scat: elk scat will not fit up your nose.

  35. August 03: Rocky Mountain National Park.

    We woke up and were told by a passing ranger that the temperature had dropped to 39F and was still hovering in the mid-40s. It was the coldest morning of the trip. But that didn't stop my awesome family from deciding to go for a hike in the rain near Grand Lake. Even as the rain was threatening and began to drizzle, my toughened brood kept trekking. For a while. Then the youngest started to complain about the distance and rain, so we turned back, went grocery shopping, and headed back into the main park for a drive up Route 34 to the Alpine Visitor Center. There is, again, no way to describe the beauty of the mountains, especially as the skies cleared in the afternoon. We climbed up to the nearby Alpine Ridge and looked at the Never Summer Mountains below which we were camping, and around to mountains that were possibly in Wyoming. After hot cocoa, coffee, and souvenir shopping for my parents, we made our way back down and visited first two small lakes and second the Holzwarth Historic Site. To get to the historic site, we crossed what is nearly the beginning of the Colorado River. Here it was only 3-5m wide, and we touched water that would eventually carve the Grand Canyon. On the way back across the open grasslands surrounding the river, it again threatened rain. And again we ran. Dinner was cooked and eaten under the tent awning (one of the best features of the Tensleep Station Six).

  36. August 04: Rocky Mountain National Park to Limon.

    After closing up camp, we drove back up to the Alpine Visitor Center. We moved on over the highest road in the US, stopping regularly. The kids wondered at the marmots more than the scenery. We wound our way down. Following the sign suggestions, I learned how to use the Etta's manual shift option since I wanted to preserve our brakes, which had worn a bit unevenly and shuttered a bit at high speed. We parked in Glacier Basin and took the bus up to the last stop, Bear Lake. My wife had been insisting that she wanted to visit a mountain lake, so I set my sights on Nymph Lake, which instinct told me would do the job. This was basically to be our last hurrah before returning to the plains and the long slog back East, so I wanted it to be good. And it was.

    As we walked up, we came to a large rock that the girls insisted on climbing. This was my first reward. My girls had moved past their city-bred caution around the coarse, dirty natural world and were really embracing its rough scramble. They had become such pros. I can only hope they don't lose the enthusiasm And Nymph Lake, which sites at the bottom of a rocky basin, was as beautiful as I had hoped. It wasn't in the middle of a meadow, but that's not what you get at the altitude in the Rockies. It was clear, lined by pines, and dominated by a promontory behind it. Really, just the perfect "end" to our trip. As we left the lake, we encountered a pair of elk. By this time elk were not particularly special, but it was still a nice note. Mostly we commented on how stupid people were to try to get as close as they were. We scooted over the stream on a tree trunk bridge a bit too close to the wildlife, paused, and then headed down. As rain began to fall, we sighed and hit the road. We had reservations at the Limon KOA.

  37. August 05: Limon to Kansas City.

    The Limon KOA was not our favorite. Though there was a decent pool and the site was well tended, it was located just off the highway after days in the forest, and the tent sites were as far from the bathrooms as possible. We had never had such a long walk. Worse---and there is nothing the KOA could do about this---winds were so strong that night that some guy line pegs got pulled out and we were kept awake by the flapping fly. Perhaps it was a user error. But we got out early and essentially spent the day driving I-70 across Kansas. And I have to say, Kansas was far more engaging than most people describe it. It's corn again, but the hills roll and there is plenty to catch the eye.

    Our first stop was Q39 for some of the tastiest BBQ I've had. I had decided that from this point on, my wife wasn't going to be too happy---and she wasn't---so we'd try to entertain ourselves with some better food and a few sites. Q39 was the first effort and furnished us with another souvenir, some honey BBQ sauce for use back in CT.

  38. August 06: Kansas City to Hoosier National Forest.

    The night was uneventful and we moved on across Missouri. The major stop I had conceived for the day was Blues City Deli for takeout that we could eat under the Gateway Arch. The deli was highly regarded, but I assumed it was like a NYC deli and would be takeout only. However, there was crowded seating and settled in for another monstrously tasty meal. Stuffed, we headed down toward the Arch...and trouble. I personally didn't have any great desire to spend time looking at it. I thought that we should just see it since we were in the neighborhood. So, when we passed the $6 parking, I just decided to drive on, pointing the Arch out to everyone so that we could push on toward our next destination. That was the dumbest thing I did the whole trip. My wife was pissed...and rightly so. For $6 and 30 minutes, we could have gone under the Arch and contacted yet another icon of Americana. But I was only focused on the end goal another four hours away. I even missed a chance to visit Lincoln's childhood home because I hadn't even known it was there until we were too far past. And Lincoln is one of my kids' favorite presidents. That said, we still didn't reach Hoosier National Park until it was starting to get dark. We still could have afforded 30 minutes and $6, though. Sorry, honey.

    There was another novel thing of note about our lovely pine campground. The girls went to check out the bathrooms on their own with only simple notice to us. Through most of the trip, they always went first with one of us. But this time they went to check it out and let us know if it was any good. It was. (Note: they may have done this earlier, but this was the first time it really sunk in how much they had grown.)

  39. August 07: Hoosier National Forest to Cambridge.

    In the morning, we drove by the Painted Ladies of Louisville and out I-64 to the Creation Museum outside Cincinnati in Bullitsburg. It was my big educational moment...or so I thought. Despite the $100 price tag and my wife's reservations, in we went. To me the place was fascinating. It's all predicated on dinosaurs, which presumably draw the kids in. The place starts by placing a bit of scientific doubt, showing two paleontologists amicably disagreeing about the dating of dinosaur bones in sedimentary rock. One thinks the bones are from millions of years ago and the other from 5,000 years ago. Then, as one goes on to learn more about dinosaurs, pseudo-scientific language is used to debate whether God added venom to snakes and other animals after Eve ate the apple, or if he simply threw a switch that he had already genetically programmed. The language seems intentionally opaque so as to convey an air of scientific rigor and sophistication beyond the average visitor's abilities. Indeed, I heard someone say that they "weren't so sure any more. It seems so complicated." Then the notion of a corrupt and confusing world starts to creep in. There are light indicators of global conflict and disorder. This is accompanied by the notion that God's way is much more straightforward than science's confusing pathways. There is even a poster that shows scientist's meandering pathway of evolution in the form of a winding arrow and compares this pathway to God's: a straight line from Adam to contemporary man. It's so much simpler! Having generated some cognitive dissonance, they then hammer you over the head. You have to walk through a hallway of people talking about their problems with drugs, infidelity, crime, homosexual tendencies, etc. The hallway is dark. The music is ominous in a horror movie sort of way. My wife, who already thought things were a bit weird and was not as interested as I, decided that it was too scary to bring the girls through. So she an my oldest just started cruising and left me and the youngest in the dust. I quickly moved through the horror tunnel but slowed down when we came out. Because the answer to the horror and disorder was the story of the bible told in large-scale diorama form, where dinosaurs frollicked with deer and Eve. Once we got to the bloody scene of Cain and Abel I decided that we should give up and hurry on. Outside, we visited the small zoo they have. They offered camel rides for $5 a pop. Though a rip off, I had not made the horse riding happen during the trip, so I made sure that the kids got on the camel. They loved it. As the weather continued to turn, we got back on the road. We stopped at our last hotel, a small clean place in Cambridge, Ohio, where we dined at a nearby Greek restaurant of no special mention.

  40. August 08: Cambridge to Hersey.

    The reality of the trip's end was coming down fast, but we still had a few more things to do. We left Cambridge for the Hersey, PA KOA. We passed through Wheeling, West Virginia and into Pennsylvania. I had thought about visiting Pittsburgh, but I had to recreate my childhood memories for my kids. I needed to take them to Hersey's Chocolate World, of which I have fond childhood memories. We went on the revamped ride through the making of chocolate, which seemed less informative than it did as a child, but everyone loved it. I then got suckered into taking the kids to a 4D movie about robots and candy heroes. We stocked up on Reese's and other candies for my father and the upcoming picnic party. Then we headed to the Hersey KOA. I expected it to be a bit grimy and full of mosquitoes. After all, we were back on the East Coast. But the place was lovely, spacious, and bug free. The kids once again inspected the bathrooms for us, and we went for a swim in the ever present pool. Bittersweet.

  41. August 09: Hersey to Mystic.

    In the morning, we packed up for the last time. I wanted to drive through Amish country to replicate those childhood memories some more. So we visited an uninspiring covered bridge and drove out through the countryside through Manheim, Lititz, Ephrata, and Blue Ball before getting back on the thruway. But we did see a young man driving a horse-drawn buggy and make the obligatory family stop at Julius Sturgis Pretzel Bakery in Lititz, where I had gone as a kid and where my wife, sister, and I had taken my nieces when they were my kids' ages. And then...

    And then we had to head back. We didn't want to return too late, and we didn't want to drive through NYC at rush hour. But we did have to stop for Korean food in Fort Lee. I let me wife choose.

Austerity and capabilities

2 September 2018

Last fall I was asked to contribute to a special issue of International Planning Studies with an article on austerity and Korea. That article is now available as Austerity in reverse: Korea, capabilities, and crisis. You can also download the accepted manuscript here. I worked with Jeeyeop Kim (Ajou University) to understand Korea's long development trajectory, which I posited was the reverse of austerity since austerity relies on a reduction of social welfare or capabilities and development is fundamentally about increasing capabilities. We argue that the developmental state advanced capabilities, that the neoliberal policies since the mid-1990s have increasingly threatened those gains, and that social pressure has been essential to slowing the deterioration of capabilities, using housing as an example. Here is the full abstract.

Development is austerity in reverse. And austerity is development in reverse, a form of de-development. This paper argues that austerity is a neoliberal technology for returning countries to positive economic growth that reduces social spending and thereby reverses development. Drawing on Sen and Nussbaum's human capabilities approach, an exploration of Korea's development since 1960 supports this and three additional claims. First, the expansion of capabilities in Korea is tied to democratization and exponential increases in social spending. Second, Korea's experience with financial crises and austerity programmes demonstrate that increased social spending is compatible with rapid recovery. Third, Korea's roll out of neoliberal technologies and economic transformation since the 1980s have undermined the capabilities developed during earlier industrialization. Fourth, the importance of housing as a vital tool for political legitimation, especially since democratization, has sustained political interest in providing better housing, suggesting that social movements are essential to protecting social spending.

Korea and KPOO

30 August 2018

I've been busy. The main thing was spending 40 days in the wilderness driving to the Oregon Coast and back with the family. Totally awesome, but a story for another day. Right now I just want to mention that I returned to Korea last night and am setting up my bachelor pad for the next four months. After lots of bad signs about my arrival (torrential downpours mainly), I just received a good sign. As I hooked up the computer speakers I had forgotten I had stored in my office, the first music that came on was KPOO's Wake the Town Radio, which is one of my very favorite radio shows of all time. Perhaps things will be more awesome than I expect. After all, moving in the rain is considered good luck in Korea...and it was fucking pouring.

Noddings and Sahlins

17 May 2018

In the midst of a middle of the night read, I was struck by a curious parallel between the moral positions presented by Nel Noddings in her work on caring and Marshall Sahlins on reciprocity in primitive society.

Nel Noddings strove to counter a masculine notion of abstract ethics based primarily on reason with a feminine notion of materialist ethics based primarily on emotion. She critiqued the view that ethics was at its most sublime when the basis for decision making was each individual's abstracted value. The result is that one should apply the same rational ethic principles and standards to one's immediate family as to those across the world. (Kant?) As the example shows, this leads to emotionally contradictory behavior. Rather, Noddings argues for a situated ethics based on caring in which one should make ethical decisions contingent upon how emotionally close a person is to you. That is, one should certainly favor one's daughter's well being over that of a stranger in a strange land. Because one cares for those closest to them (socially and emotionally), ethics should prioritize those close to the individual making the decision. Therefore, as (social) distance increases, one's ethical obligation to others decreases.

This is precisely the way Sahlins describes the ethics of reciprocity in primitive societies. Generalized reciprocity, in which resources are pooled and redistributed without demand for repayment (Mauss' gift), is morally correct for those in your household. As one moves further out along kinship and tribal lines, the moral impulsion to give weakens and moves toward balanced reciprocity, in which explicit expectations of equitable exchange prevails. As social distance increases and one deals entirely with strangers, it is often morally permissible--and sometimes even lauded--to cheat them in trade or even to outright steal from them, like Navajo horse raids. This he calls negative reciprocity. So, like Noddings' ethics of caring, primitive societies embrace stronger ethical commitments to those closest to them, and these commitments wane as social distance increases.

What makes this more interesting to me is a comment that Sahlins throws out that modern, industrial economies rely much more on balanced reciprocity to function effectively. The import, I believe, is that the mode of production drives ethics (economic structure drives the superstructure). The primitive society is a segmentary one of significant autonomy at the household (of kinship group) scale. There is little to no interdependence on individuals socially distant. The individual is primarily (more) dependent on those immediately around them. However, as the mode of production moves toward specialization and mass production, the level of interdependence increases, and moral standards of exchange shift strongly toward balanced reciprocity.

Sahlins has not (yet) spoken of how social distance and anonymity in modern economies simultaneously fosters negative reciprocity (caveat emptor). But it is clear that a change in the mode of production entails a change in the ethics of reciprocity. The fourth industrial revolution or sustainability entail the transformation of moral obligations. The question is one of causality. Can moral change can lead economic change? Or does economic change lead moral change?

Clastres and Sahlins

10 May 2018

I have recently finished reading Pierre Clastres' Society Against the State and am in the midst of reading Marshall Sahlins' Stone Age Economics. Clastre's book famously influenced Deleuze and Guattari, while Sahlin's book influenced Clastres and the whole post-development literature.

Clastres' book develops a political anthropology of so-called primitive societies, in which he draws on his knowledge of indigenous American peoples to argue that they are organized (almost rhizomatically) into small groups that are designed to limit the exercise of power of leaders over others. He concludes that states must be forced on society and should be considered an external force of expropriation that is fundamentally based on uneven power relations. Presumably this is the origin of Deleuze and Guattari's "Ur state".

Sahlins' book, on the other hand, develops an economic anthropology based in a Marxist reading of political superstructures reflecting economic foundations. He posits the notion of a domestic mode of production (DMP), in which the household (broadly conceived) is the fundamental unit of production and distribution. There is much here of relevance for development theory. Three elements stand out for me at the moment. First, the contradictory Western colonial views of so-called primitive peoples as, on one hand, living harsh lives that require them to work ceaselessly to just barely survive the day and, on the other hand, as being inherently lazy. The first view is one used to justify colonization as a bringer of civilization and wealth, while the second view is used to justify the use of force to compel indigenous people to work (as effective slaves). This is a clear ideological contradiction that I hadn't really considered before. And it is one that immediately suggests the underlying political economic goals of colonization. Sahlins' solution to this contradiction--and the second notion of interest--is to empirically show that indigenous societies are the "original affluent societies" (drawing on John Kenneth Galbraith's famous notion). He demonstrates that in those very societies that Westerners tend to see as incurably impoverished and technologically backward are actually so efficient in procuring sustenance and supplied from their environment that they only work four to five hours a day on average. That is, they do not live lives of bare subsistence. And in this way, they are better off than many proletarian workers in the early industrial revolution. Heck, they may even be better off than many of us with our eighty hour work weeks. At any rate, this observation also addresses the view that indigenous workers are lazy and prone to run away after earning some money: this is the only thing they have to do to survive on their own. People are accustomed to working until near term stocks are replenished and then relaxing to enjoy themselves. Because they can. The third item of interest is that primitive peoples (often nomadic) lifestyles do not support or require high levels of accumulation since their environmental so abundantly provides for their needs, and therefore accumulation is not a societal value. The Western capitalist mode of production, however, is fundamentally based on the believe that no level of accumulation is sufficient. While the domestic mode of production naturally imposes limits on accumulation, e.g., how much one can carry, accumulation under the capitalist mode of production is theoretically infinite. The indigenous approach has proved sustainable; the latter has not.

When we put these two books together, two points immediately pop out. First, "development" and the "civilizing mission" rely on the external imposition of statehood. That is, the colonial powers had to literally force states upon indigenous peoples who wanted no such thing. To the extent that development is based on introducing economic and political capitalist relations, it is thus rooted in unequal power. Second, these books taken together imply that to achieve sustainability, we must not only find a replacement for accumulation but also reduce power imbalances in society.

I don't know if this is possible, of course. For another unexplored aspect of both books is the notion of population density and political structure. The affluent and equal society in both cases appears to depend to a great degree on low population densities, including the possibility of rhizomatic meiosis to reduce population densities. Both authors, however, leave open the question of political transformation as population density increases. This surely lies at the base of differences between anarchist and socialist concepts of appropriate political structures (cf. the debate between Bookchin and Harvey over the role of cities). Or perhaps this is a difference between the domestic and industrial modes of production?

Things done and undone

12 April 2018

What have I accomplished so far during my sabbatical? My previous post about finishing Marx's Capital has engendered a moment of reflection on my achievements during my sabbatical to date. The thoughts are amplified---as they always are---by the sense of impending endings. Though I have more than four months before I return to Korea, other endings lurk near. In about six weeks I will have to move off the island and resettle in my parents' house. During those weeks I will have to prepare my final report for research project, explaining what has and has not gone according to plan. Soon after, we plan to travel for a month, which is a new beginning but also a probably end to my scholarly work. All these closings demand a sort of reckoning. Why it has to be public, I don't know, but here it is.

Over the greater part of the last year, here is what I can say I have done.

  • Lived on a lovely island (despite the undertone of jealousy for others' wealth and good fortune and infrastructure challenges)
  • Stayed quite fit
  • Bicycled regularly in beautiful surroundings (something difficult to do in Seoul)
  • Chaperoned a number of my daughters' school field trips (unlikely in Seoul)
  • Helped my daughters with their science projects (a volcano and a water rocket)
  • Spent a lot of time with my family (also difficult in Seoul)
  • Begun to get my daughters outdoors
  • Taken the family to DC
  • Started gardening at my parents' place
  • Plan to take the family across country car camping
  • Managed my uncle's transition to a nursing home (including cleaning out and selling his house)
  • Written two and a half papers
    • Fragmented states and pragmatic improvements: Susan S. Fainstein's contributions to planning theory, an introduction to Susan's theory (forthcoming under AESOP)
    • Austerity in reverse, now in the midst of minor revisions
    • Transnational gentrification as imperial process, which is half written
  • Attended four conferences
    • RC43 in Leeds
    • ACSP in Denver
    • AAS in Washington DC
    • UAA in Toronto
  • Read some good books
    • Marx's Capital
    • Mumford's Pentagon of Power
    • Lees et al. Planetary Gentrification
    • Beauregard's Cities in the Urban Age: A Dissent
    • Thant Myint-U's River of Lost Footsteps
    • Pierre Clastres' Society Against the State (May)
    • Marshall Sahlins' Stone Age Economics (May)
  • Read a large number of articles
  • Read some novels (mainly classics of worker exploitation)
    • Dickens' Hard Times
    • Dickens' Tale of Two Cities
    • Upton Sinclair's The Jungle
    • John Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men
    • John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath
    • China Mieville's The City & the City (May)
  • Rooted my old phone and tablet
  • Created external SSD drive install of Arch Linux that I hope to use in classes in place of my laptop and the locally installed OSes (May)

Of course, there are many things I wanted to do and have left undone.

  • Write three or four more papers
    • Built Out
    • Contemporary Concessions
    • Quick quant paper comparing Vietnamese and Korean attitudes to high rise housing
    • Two or three other co-authored papers awaiting a few days of work from me :(
  • Read a gazillion more books (I shipped a whole box of books and have read practically none of them.)
  • Lay the basis for a new stage of research, which depended on reading many of the books as mentioned above
  • Read a large number of articles
  • Create graphs and tables to use for my Introduction to Development and Cooperation class
  • Cook lots of Indian food
  • Learn how to make and control robots with a Raspberry Pi

Heather Campbell (formerly Sheffield, now UBC) told me that if you accomplished half of what you planned, you have been successful. Not sure if I have been successful (academically), but I am close and I've done pretty good on the family front.

Also, I have to remember that when I return to Korea, I will be alone for four months and can live the monastic scholar's life. Of course, I won't get everything done then either!

Two years and three volumes

10 April 2018

Today I have completed a project. Over the last two years I have been reading all three volumes of Marx's Capital a few pages a day. I finished the last of more than 2,500 pages this afternoon. Time to break out the IPA.

Of course, there is Bernstein's Volume 4 and the Grundrisse that I could still read...and hopefully will eventually do so. But I have finished those volumes of Capital written primarily by Marx. And that is no small feat. So I will ignore the existence of an endless list of follow up readings and simply celebrate my accomplishment. This achievement is all the sweeter for coming just before Marx's 200th birthday on May 5th.

David Harvey once said that anyone who finishes reading Capital wants to write a book about it. I guess I'd better start.

Myths and machines

15 January 2018

It's been almost exactly six months since my last post. You would think that being on sabbatical would have given me more than ample time to write about my experiences and my thoughts. But so far you would be wrong. I mostly blame the young kids in the house, but life has also intervened unnecessarily.

I should write about our amazing---if small and drafty---1875 farmhouse on Elihu Island. I should write about swimming through the end of October despite rapidly declining fall temperatures. I should write about the hurricane just before Halloween that pushed an immense oak tree across the only road to the island and the only power line to the island, leaving us stranded without power for days. I should write about having responsibility for my negative equity uncle's tiny estate thrust on me when it was suddenly determined that he was no longer fit to live on his own. I should write about the grounding reflections on aging that experience has engendered. I should also write about the joy my daughters express at their new school and how they have code switched into English. I should write about how full-blooded the holiday season has felt here in America. I should write about the Arctic temperatures that have frozen the cove outside our kitchen window except for a small hole where the hooded mergansers have gathered. I should write about the kids' first major snowstorms, the snowmen they built, and the sledding they did. And I should probably write about reading Ta-Nehisi Coates on Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday. I should write about many things.

But I have a few words about Lewis Mumford's The Myth of the Machine. Mostly I just want to announce that I've finished reading both volumes. I've been reading them piecemeal a couple of pages a day for more than a year, and I finally finished the second volume last night. The main thing that has struck me while reading these volumes is the influence he must have had on Deleuze and Guattari. It may sound a bit odd, but I am convinced of the connection. First of all, from citations in A Thousand Plateaus, I know they read him. It may only have been the essay version of The Myth of the Machine, but there is sufficient commonality to suggest a fuller reading. Prime among these is the notion of assemblage, a term Mumford uses throughout the volumes to refer to a socio-technic system for transforming the world. More specifically, D&G appear to draw their concept of the war machine from the machine in Mumford's title. For Mumford the machine is the model for the modern power complex that strives to centrally manage society as if it were a mechanical device. That is, the machine cum war machine is an assemblage for channeling living energy. For Mumford, the machine is too rigid to contain living, creative energy and is thus prone to breakdowns that open opportunities for revitalization and renewal. These openings, of course, are D&G's lines of flight.

There are also strong parallels between the history Mumford offers and that of D&G. Both parties argue that the modern state was created by hunting tribes dominating pastoral cultivators. And both highlight the role of metallurgy. I understand that D&G got many ideas from Pierre Clastres, but he is next on my reading list, so I do not want to push this potential influence further at this time.

Most striking to me now, however, is Mumford's final chapter on materialization and etherialization. These concepts parallel D&G's territorialization and deterritorialization. Materialization, like territorialization, refers the process by which pre-linguistic ideas gradually take on material form; and etherialization refers to the opposite process by which material form crumbles over time until it is hidden in our language and thought, like long lost etymologies. For these three authors, these two processes are always interacting and shaping each other in a nondirectional evolutionary process. They are also profoundly human and subject to human determination.

All these parallels suggest to me that D&G drew many ideas from Mumford. It may have been that this way of understanding the world was materializing all over and both parties simply followed the same natural course. Regardless, I believe I will have to dig deeper into history. Not to determine who influenced whom, but to read Patrick Geddes's work. Mumford consistently contributes his most fundamental understandings to his advisor, Geddes. So, if Mumford influenced D&G, then Geddes was an indirect influence. If the Mumford and D&G only moved along parallel paths, Geddes's writing should still offer a productive framework for considering D&G's writing. It doesn't hurt, of course, that I am an urban planner and Geddes was one of the most influential early planners.