Resillence (3/2/2026

The other day, at our UU church we had a program on the resilience of nature or may be on how nature helped us with our resilience. This brought me back to my Ph.D. study, and particularly my research project. We moved to Las Cruces, NM in 1986 for my studies. Nine years married and yes, we had our occasional marriage spats. I think the issues were mostly my doing and most likely caused by my insecurity concerning my qualifications even to pursue a Ph.D. (imposter syndrome) and the decision we had made to finally settle in the U.S.A. (being a Dutchman who had traveled most of his life, that was an alien concept).

My research plots were in the Jornada del Muerto. It was at the southern end of the of an area in New Mexico made famous by the Trinity site, where Oppenheimer and his compadres detonated the first nuclear bomb. My site was far enough away from that area for any remaining radioactivity to ever have gotten that far south and have any effect on me. This was a good thing, since we (my wife) became pregnant in 1988, midway through my studies.

One of the things that stayed with me from that time were the weekly trips to my research plots. We had to travel about an hour into the desert away from all civilization. I was taking physiological measurements on broom snakeweed (Gutierrezia sarothrae); a common weed in this area of the country. I had to get there before daylight to take what are called pre-dawn plant measurements and compare them to changes that occurred during the day, when it got brighter and warmer. We got to the site when it was just getting light and stayed until two or three in the afternoon and took measurements on the hour. We hid in the shade under a shelter that we set up between measurement times. On some really hot days I would take a quick dip in a nearby stock tank if the water looked clean. Remember, the temperatures in southern New Mexico would easily soar over 100 degrees (38 Celsius) in summer.

At sunrise, exactly when the sun hit the site, the coyotes in the area started howling, just for a minute or so. It was absolutely amazing and, in a way, very moving. It sounded so wild and primitive. To think that there were all these eyes watching us and we hardly ever saw them. And then all the snakes (rattlesnakes) that were also observing us, the birds and other critters.

Recently I wrote a couple of posts about the more bashful coyotes in the woods behind our home. They excite our dogs, especially when they start howling at two in the morning. Hearing the howl or even seeing them brings me back to my studies in the Jornada desert and those early mornings when the coyotes graced me with their concert.

Coyotes are amazing animals. Persecuted and killed, they seem to survive, even in our urban areas. These are resilient species and fit into the discussions we had that Sunday morning. Resilience, we biologists sometimes used the word plasticity in place of resilience. At times this seems more appropriate, nature is resilient by being adaptable or what we would call plastic. An interesting concept to ponder.

The Coyotes behind our home (left and center)

Report from the road (9/25/2024)

Although I am home, I want to report a little more about my recent road trip. I was gone for 11 days. I had fun. I did not record the miles I drove, but I think it was over 3000 miles. Flying back was ok. Thank goodness there was a direct flight from Los Angeles to Norfolk and I was able to relax once the airplane tool off. In this blog I want to discuss some of the non-drive experiences, mostly as they relate to people.

My objective of Day 1 was to get away from Virginia as soon as possible. The major thing I experienced that roads were still under construction, very much like what I described here a year ago. I also had trouble with my phone keeping its charge, despite the fact that I plugged it in. Somehow the USB port was not doing its job. I decided to buy a plug-in charger in the town I stopped. Luckily, there was a car parts store near the motel I stayed in. The attendant was very helpful, we had a nice talk about all the complicated plug-in gadgets and different telephone charge ports there were. He was young, but even for him it was somewhat difficult to hunt for the correct gadget on the rack.

I somehow had a hankering for Mexican food and stopped at the restaurant nearby. It had good ratings on Google, and I dare say, the food was good. But don't order the rib-eye fajita. My chin dropped when it was served; it was an actual rib-eye stake with all the fajita makings. I ate all the vegies and half the meat and that was it. The stake was great but I was full and regretted all those chips I ate and washed down with a jumbo margarita. When I mentioned to my server that it was way too much, he just nodded.

As I mentioned in my previous post the next stop included St. Louis and the famous Gateway Arch. You go up in what they call a train; however, to me it feels more like a ferris-wheel. I shared my gondola with two couples. When making small talk they mentioned that they were both from Milwaukie, did not know each other, but lived a mile apart. As a result they started to discuss the latest murder a few blocks down from where they lived. The mother of one of the couples lived a few homes down whre the murder took place. One of the ladies told me that she wanted to take her (now) husband to all the water parks in the country and they had just spent a day at one in St. Louis.

I want to keep this post about some of the people I encountered on the road. I did not get a chance to interact with many, except some servers in restaurants, most of them were very nice and personable, including the server in Warrenton (MO), Pratt (KS), the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, and Mesquite (NV). The bar lady at the brewery in Alamosa was nice too. The most memorable were the teenage server in Pratt. She was too young to serve beer and the bartender had to bring it over. I should have asked if she was still in school and what she thought her future was in such a small rural Kansas town. Actually, the staff at the Pratt Holiday Inn Express were the friendliest. The wait staff at the North Rim appeared to be mostly Turkish engineering students who were there for the second season. I had fun talking with them. Their season was almost over, after which they played tourist for a few weeks before going back to Ankara. Their plans included a tour of the National Parks in the west. The owner of the Peruvian restaurant was from Nicaragua, but he assured me the cook was Peruvian. The food was outstanding.

The ranger or receptionist at the Prairie Preserve, she was mildly interesting, well trained and thus politically correct. Between the lines, she briefly mentioned something like “the mess” this country was in, but when I tried to draw her out, she refrained. We had a nice talk; she as a wildlife grad and me as a range management dude. However, she had no idea about the less common plants that I observed during my hike on the preserve.

The most interesting discussion I had was with a Navajo sales person at the Four Corners Landmark.  He was manning a booth and we spoke about my previous life and work on and near the Navajo Nation.  He told me that I missed the powwow in Windowrock which was held that weekend.  Again just small talk but very pleasant to be back in the culture I once lived in.

My last real encounter with someone I did not know was at the Hollywood Bowl. I wanted to buy a commemorative sweatshirt. “No, no that one is too small for you,” an African American lady all the sudden started to give me advice, “you need to go a size up.” We ended up in a nice 5-minute small talk, while my daughter and her spouse looked on. Having had a few women trying to take advantage of me on-line, I was a little weary or suspicious but then my family was nearby and we parted on very friendly terms. I may write about these more nefarious encounters some other time.

As you can see, I have nothing serious to report, and never had an in-depth discussion during any of my encounters. In a way I regret that, but is never was my objective during this trip. Hopefully, it provides a very small vignette of the people I saw and met during my trip.

This is a photograph of the small gondola of the train going up the Arch.  It's a four minute ride and as you can see, very intimate.

The Four Corners Landmark

On the road (9/12/2024)

Not a very imaginative or original title, but it is appropriate. As I mentioned in my previous post, I have been traveling the famous U.S. highways and some of the byways. This last time, it was a quick trip across, delivering one of our cars to my daughter and her spouse. We had three vehicles and that is more than enough for a retired couple. It was a solo trip this time; my wife stayed home to take care of the dogs and bonsai. In addition, it is hurricane season and it always feels risky leaving home for an extended period. The region was hit by a tropical storm when we took a similar trip last year.

In the past we have taken a few road trips across and I still enjoy it. In 1979 we drove from Delaware to Utah for our graduate studies. We did the opposite trip in 1981 on our way to a new job in Nepal. Those were my really first multi day road trip. On the way we visited my wife's friends in Lexington (KY), Louisville (KY) and Columbia (MO). We continued on through Denver to Cheyenne, and ended our trip in northern Utah. We drove an AMC Pacer, which looked like a fishbowl on wheels. On the way back we raced through Nebraska, Iowa and the Midwest; we were in a hurry. We somehow fixed my wife's paintings (she's an artist) to the ceiling of the car, and the gap between the paintings was occupied by our two cats; our two dogs were on the back seat. The other memorable thing that I remember is hearing Barbara Mandrell’s song titled “Crackers” over and over while driving through the prairie states (Nebraska and Iowa). It always amazed me that this song was so popular in the Bible belt since she invites someone back in her bed after a fight and I didn’t think it was her hubby.

Our next trip across the continent was in 1986, but now from Delaware to southern New Mexico. This time in a Honda Civic Wagon, with the same two dogs and only one of the two cats. The most exiting episode was when our cat escaped out of our room of an Indian run motel, in Artesia, NM. We had to stay another night before we found our cat and we could complete the journey. We got to know that town quite intimately that layover day. During those study years we made one more road trip, back and forth for Christmas vacation. Another time we drove to Dallas and flew from there to visit the grandparents of our 1 year-old daughter. In the mean time we made some other trips: to Corpus Christy for one and later on to California (the San Luise Obispo area).

Finally, we did the trip across that I describe in last year's posting: Yorktown to Montana to Long Beach and back home. In addition, my wife drove across one time to take our daughter to Sacramento and now I did this solo trip. I also made a solo trip from Gallup (NM) to Richland (WA) and from Virginia to Maine (I-95). We also have traveled to Charleston (SC) by car. In the past we frequently traveled the Pennsylvania Turnpike when we lived in Cincinnati and visited the (grand) parents in Delaware.

What highways did we take. We lived on Route 66 in Gallup, NM, and we did other Route 66 sections in Arizona, California, Oklahoma, and Missouri. These past two years Interstate 64 was a common route in our trips across the country. We have also traveled Interstates 70, 35, 40, 44, 15, 70, 76, 80, 84, 10, 37, 90, 94 and 95. Highway driving is fair. It is a great way to quickly get from point A to point B; however, the landscape typically flies by. We always joke that the Texas Interstates are the reason we were able to conceive our daughter; all those early arrivals in motel rooms and having time for more time for intimacy (aka wild monkey sex … we were still young … sorry daughter). Naturally, the radar detectors assisted in our speedy arrivals.

Honestly, I like the byways. We have taken large sections of the Lewis and Clark trail through Missouri, Nebraska, South Dakota, North Dakota, Idaho, and Montana. We have driven some of the country roads in Missouri, Kansas, New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming and Arizona on some of our other cross-country forays. I like those much better. It allows you to sightsee and just spend time to take it all in.

Things have changed over the years. While in the old days we poured over maps to plan our trips; Google maps is now my go to source. I still plan a trip marking destinations and aiming to keep a day's drive to around 300 miles (480 km). That distance can amount to approximately 6 to 7 hours of driving. Going west is easier because you gain time when crossing into another time zone. Going east you can lose an hour and a 7 hour drive all the sudden results in an 8-hour trip (on the clock) when you cross into the next time zone.

This is just a sampling what we have done. We have spread our wings and shared our exhaust gasses with many places. We still enjoy traveling the highways and byways by car (and now our van).

Bison near the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.  All the pictures below are from my latest trip.

Me at the North Rim

The Four Corners

Highlands of Colorado

Nomads, days 25 and 26 (9/27/2023)

So, we made it to Flagstaff and camped at a KOA campsite again. Although we hate to admit it, they have become one of our favored establishments. They are predictable and have relatively roomy sites and usually very friendly. What did we do the next two days? I for one was very excited, knowing that I would really immerse myself in the ecosystem that I dearly love: the southern Colorado Plateau high altitude desert. We were going to meet up with friends for the next two days and visit places we used to live in. But first things first.

Day 25: Flagstaff (AZ) – Gallup (NM) – Albuquerque

Day 26: Albuquerque – Santa Fe – Tres Piedras – Alamosa (CO)

It was especially day 25 that was so familiar to me. We had lived in Gallup for three years in the early 1990s and this was the next homecoming for us. We were able to contact Gwen, one of our best friends when we lived there and were able to visit her for three hours before moving on to meet our next batch of friends. But first Gallup.

The drive to Gallup was amazing; it included I-40 at its worse, Navajo souvenir shops, the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest National Parks, and a lot of reminiscing (“been here, remember this or that”). The entrance into New Mexico was as dramatic as I remember. The landscape changed from flat, high-altitude desert to the red rocks and cliffs that Gallup is famous for. Gallup looked the same, except that I think they moved the Walmart (which was overrun every weekend by folks from the reservation who came down to shop). At least I think it was. They had built what looked like town houses along the interstate. Gwen told us later that it was low-income housing. And there was a dog park in Gallup. It was great catching up with an old friend talking about old friends that we were not able to catch up with.

A little about the desert. Short grass, fourwing saltbush, sagebrush, an occasional juniper and other assorted plants. Having lived in Gallup, the species (looking from the van) and the sparseness felt so familiar. These were all species I had done research on during my career out west or know from the bonsai folks I follow. We spent a lot of time with Gwen and her late husband Mark visiting spots in the desert, looking for petrified wood, hiking the woods and exploring the lave fields and lava tubed in the Mal Pais.

The road from Gallup to Albuquerque was similar, we drove through the lave fields near Grants ("remember camping on the ridge with our daughter in her play pen and us almost starting a forest fire or meeting those folks from Florida who decided to travel the U.S. after their home was destroyed by hurricane Andrew?") before descending into the Rio Grande are. Maybe with the exception of the Indian Casinos, it was also familiar. I remembered the day that I was varnishing the floor in our living room, and I ran out of varnish. I jumped in the car and drove to Lowes in Albuquerque for another can and drove back. This was a three-hour trip, and it was snowing all the way. I continued varnishing when I arrived home. The floor looked great afterwards. Ah, to be young again!

In Albuquerque we met our friends Jean and Steve who were moving to Arizona for a temporary job. This was a motel night for us; we ended up going to dinner together and afterwards we said our goodbyes. Time for us to sleep in because of a date we had in Santa Fe after 10:30, while they got up early so they could reach the Phoenix area by nightfall.

The next day we had a wonderful get together with Ruth and Terry in Santa Fe. Terry and I used to commute together to the coal mine we worked at, and they took care of our daughter when we needed it. We had a great time catching up and getting pointers for our trip further north and east. At their recommendation we followed the route to Tres Piedras and a stop-over at the home that Aldo Leopold built as the time of his marriage and acceptance as head forester of the Carson National Forest. I felt like stepping on hallowed ground. It felt very special!

We ended our trip in Alamosa at the KOA campground (did I mention our like of KOAs?). We had spent some time in Alamosa in the past to attend a wedding between good friends, which is the reason why we chose this for our trip home. Jean and Steve told us that I-40 sucked; moreover, we wanted to stay away from the large highways. Alamosa is at 7500 feet elevation and famous for the Sand Dunes National Parks. It was predicted to be 34 degrees that night. A microbrewery and dinner out later we settled into the van, small space-heater on and hoped for the best. Ah what a grant two days in familiar territory and with old friends.

A quick walk in Flagstaff in the Pondarosa pine forest near the KOA

The desert

On the road between Santa Fe and Tres Piedras (honey I am home)

Aldo Leopold's home

John Dewey, teaching and changing the world (4/7/2021)

As I inform you in some of my posts I am or better, I used to be, part of a sermon writing group in my UU church. I say used to since because of COVID, we have not met in a year. However, some time ago group members asked me to continue to develop my previous post entitled “I love to change the world" into my next sermon. I had written it as part of an exercise and my follow participants thought it would make a great motivational type of sermon. Who am I to quibble with them and I started looking for a direction to take it. Should I take it into the purpose of life; purposefully living; having a goal after retirement; or what?

Looking online, you cannot avoid hitting philosophy when you start investigating such “lofty” subjects as existentialism, Plato, Socrates, Kant, Nietzsche, Emmerson, Sartre, Camus, you name it. Then I hit a name that I was not familiar with John Dewey.

Dewey lived from 1859 to 1952. Mr. Dewey was a professor of education and philosophy (or the other way around), but you get the messages. He was an atheist, very liberal, a believer that education was the solution to a lot of issues facing the world, and a very strong proponent of the women’s suffrage movement. Right up my alley.

What impressed me about Dewey was his educational philosophy. He suggested that “the purpose of education should not revolve around the acquisition of a pre-determined set of skills, but rather the realization of one's full potential and the ability to use those skills for the greater good.” This reminds me so much of my graduate studies in the late 1980s and my own teaching philosophy.

When I entered New Mexico State University for my Ph.D. study I befriended a very interesting set of characters; a few will always stay with me at least in my mind; although, I have regretfully lost contact with all of them. Foremost was Daniel Manuchia, or Manuch as I used to call him. Manuch was a fellow graduate student and he and I often discussed exactly this philosophy of Dewey with each other, while we both had never discussed him by name. I don’t think we even knew of him. We had a few fellow grad students who were all into grades and grade point average and in acquiring those “pre-determined skills,” but not really learning anything about life and living. I came to grad school after 6 years of working overseas and running ins with some savory characters. Daniel had much bigger plans in life as an entrepreneur and innovator. As a result, he and I were always making fun of the other students and wondering where these grade point junkies would end up in life. We had fun doing research that was not related to our studies or discussing various plans.

It was during my grad studies that I could finally start thinking about my hobby of growing bonsai.  Manuch was managing a couple of greenhouses for the university and was growing seedlings for McDonalds (the burger place) to be distributed during Earth day (this was his idea that he marketed to the company ... my wife designed the marketing materials for him).  Manuch had grown Siberian elms and this is one of the three that he had grown in 1988 and given to me as seedlings.  This picture is from earlier this year (33 years old now) when it started flushing out.

Another was Reinhard Laubenbacher, a mathematics professor at the university. He rode a Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle, lived very minimalistic, and prided himself on doing research that was worthless to the defense industry. We often would have him over for dinner and talk about life, philosophy and politics over wine until 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning. Reinhard was another guy who was more interested in learning to live and enjoying life, rather than those “pre-determined” skills. He had a very interesting girlfriend Gene, who had somewhat of a similar outlook on life.

Alison Hill is the final person we were close to and also lost contact with. She already had a lot of life experience, maybe too much. We became close friends which lasted a long time, and I never really know what happened. All I know she too was more interested in living than her grade point average.

The other cast of characters were mostly political animals. Some were back biters, trying to get ahead, trying to make sure that their careers (in academia) were assured. Folks trying to do extra-curricular activities just to get noticed or get it on a resume. I am not sure if they ever learned to live.

During my career now 30 years later, I regret that we lost touch with Manuch, Reinhard and Allison. Subconsciously, I have followed Dewey’s advice and tried to learn to live. As an instructor I practice this as well. Dewey argues that the classroom teacher does not have to be a scholar in all subjects; but that she or he should exhibit a genuine love in the one subject the person is teaching. This should result in the feeling that students have that they are receiving genuine information and as a result they gain a better insight in all subjects taught. Dewey says it best when he writes: "teacher ought not to strive to be a high-class scholar in all the subjects he or she has to teach," rather, "a teacher ought to have an unusual love and aptitude in some one subject: history, mathematics, literature, science, a fine art, or whatever."

To end this essay, this was something Manuch and I frequently spoke about and something I found back in Dewey’ writing. Interesting how something like this brings me back 30 years ago. According to Dewey, this propensity and passion for intellectual growth in the education profession (my intellectual friends and I thought any profession) must be accompanied by a natural desire to communicate one's knowledge with others. "There are scholars who have [the knowledge] in a marked degree but who lack enthusiasm for imparting it. To the 'natural born' teacher learning is incomplete unless it is shared" he writes. As an educator I agree with Dewey when he concludes that it is not enough for the classroom teacher to be a lifelong learner of the techniques and subject-matter of education; she/he must aspire to share what she/he knows with others in her/his learning community. That is what I try to do every time I teach.

My wife sometimes jokes with me that I lecture too much or see everything as a teaching moment. Maybe that is my calling and maybe it will remain my calling until I die. Coming back to my previous post, maybe that is the best way I can contribute to changing the world.

On immigration (2/22/2016)

It is election season.  Great, the demagogues are out, throwing all kinds of words at each other, you name it.  Don’t worry; I am not going to try to convince you to vote for one or the other.  I just find it fascinating, sometimes to the frustration of my wife.  But then I am one of those immigrants that are being bantered around, albeit a legal one and a Caucasian one (below I’ll write more about an interesting thing that always happened to me as a foreigner in southern New Mexico). Where I come from, the primary system and big money politics is alien on it own, so yes this is fascinating.

The symbol of our great country, the bald eagle.  I took this photo in Yorktown on 2/21/2016 during our morning walk with the dogs.  A man came to talk to us basically indicating how proud he was seeing it and how he wished he could watch it hunt and catch its prey.  The only thing I could think was "bald eagles are somewhat cowardly and go for the infirm individuals and dead animals (carrion), if you want to see a real hunter, watch an osprey." But I did not dare to tell him that, because they are real stately, beautiful birds, well worth their magnificent status, and I did not want to burst his bubble.

When I became U.S. citizen on September 9, 1994 I did it for a number of reasons:

• My wife and daughter were U.S. citizens;
• My wife and I had been married 17 years and our daughter was almost 6, we did not think we would be moving back to Europe anytime soon;
• I had lived here permanently for more than 8 years and had my green card since 1980 (14 years);
• My Masters and Ph.D. degree were both from U.S. institutions and I interviewed once for a job in Holland in 1990 and I noticed that I did not have command of the Dutch scientific jargon in my field and the persons interviewing me let me know that;
• In a past international job, a few frustrated Dutchmen had tried to do everything in their power to show me that their European education was better than my U.S. education (you traitor);
• Therefore, I had come to the conclusion that I was going to remain in the U.S. for the rest of my career;
• In 1993, I was rejected for the ideal job at the last minute, when at the time of contract signing, I was asked the question: “are you a U.S. citizen”; this was for the job as manager of natural resources division at the Nevada Test Site; and lastly
• I decided, if I want to stay in the U.S., I should be able to vote and be a responsible citizen.

Truthfully, I have not missed an election since I turned a U.S. citizen, although there have been elections where I have voted with my nose pinched very close!  I strongly feel that I am not allowed to complain if I don't vote!

So what happened to me in New Mexico?  I got my Ph.D. at New Mexico State University in Las Cruces.  I stayed on after my Ph.D. to do a post-doctoral study, and that is where this story is from.  Las Cruces is in southern New Mexico, very close to the border with Mexico.  There is no wall there between the U.S. and Mexico, and I am not even sure if there was a fence at places when we lived there.  If there was a fence, there were probably holes in it.  There were roadblocks at various locations on the highway where border patrol agents stopped your car and searched your vehicle for illegal aliens.

At the time, I was doing research in the mountains above Alamogordo, New Mexico and had to drive through the White Sands Missile Range to get there.  I traveled that road at least twice a week for an entire summer, usually in a state van or truck with two Mexican-American technicians.  These guys were American citizens, one born and raised in Las Cruces, the other near Albuquerque.  There is such a border patrol roadblock on that part of the highway, and yes we got stopped every time.  Guess what?  Without failure, my two technicians were asked every time for identification and proof that they were legal residents of the U.S., and I, who was the only (legal) alien or immigrant in the car was never questioned or asked for identification.  Thank goodness my two companions took it very lightly and it became a standing joke, but it always amazed and somewhat upset me.  It undeniably was a form of racial profiling.

While these guys put on a big smile and took it all in stride, I wonder.  I can imagine that privately they felt hurt, humiliated.  I can understand why someone (some ethnic groups) would vote for certain political candidates or not, based on some of the rhetoric being spouted about certain races, certain under current or things not being said.  As an immigrant or alien, I am fascinated with U.S. politics and probably hypersensitive to some of these things as well.  I will keep watching and listening and making my own opinion about it all.  But one thing is for sure, I will vote!