James L Adams—People and Products

People, Products, and Quantities

People, Products, and Quantitities.

 The  U.S. “k through 12” educational system is presently burdened with many expectations — to get us more highly ranked internationally, make the sometimes less than brilliant children of wealthy and powerful people smarter, equip people to escape poverty and lead clean and rewarding lives, etc. etc. etc.  This is a far cry from teaching the ABC’s with a little arithmetic thrown in.  But to add my two cents, I wish our kids were being given a better feel for quantities than we were.  I am not talking about more calculus tricks here, but rather the ability to make order of magnitude estimates, handle probabilities, and deal with quantities with which we have little experience.

 Every time elections approach I become aware of the pleasure candidates get from throwing around large numbers (the national debt, the cost of Obama care, the number of immigrants in the country, and so on).  They do this knowing that most of the electorate has little experience with or feeling for such numbers, and will agree that we are in bad shape and should vote for the candidate dropping words like billions and trillions.  In a sense, their tactic is a good one, because we have not been trained to process such numbers.

 We are first exposed to quantities by learning to count our fingers and toes (probably the reason we use ten-based numerical systems and why parents did not appreciate the “new math” introducing digital and octal systems).  As we grew we picked up experience with thousands (car and house prices in the old days),  and have now grown used to millions (the population of large cities, and the net worth of well-off people.  But we are now being bombarded with quantities that we can’t handle with our intuition. We are cramming a billion transistors on a silicon chip, communicating with the Voyager spacecraft over 12 billion miles, and buying two terabytes (billion bytes) of computer memory for less than 100 dollars.  Bill Gates is worth 70 billion dollars. On the other end of the scale, we are fascinated with nanotechnology (the manipulation of material on a molecular or atomic scale)—the nano refers to a billionth of a meter, or the order of  10^-9 .   meters, (If  you are uncomfortable with this notation, you should be even more uncomfortable if I wrote 0.000000001 meters.  The total number of particles in the universe has been estimated at 10⁸⁵ You want to see 85 followed by 85 zeros? I doubt it.)

We also have difficulty thinking about long time periods.  The government usually defines a generation as 25 years.  The so-called Neolithic revolution, when we became hooked to agriculture and quit being nomad, was about 10,000 years ago, or about 400 generations. During that time, we have learned to do serious harm to our resources and environment.  We are not going to repair the damage or even quit causing it in one generation.  Yet we seem to have difficulty thinking and acting beyond our individual deaths.

 Part of our problem is the U.S. refusal to completely adopt the metric system.  We cling to our strange units such as inches, miles per hour, British Thermal  Units, ounces, pounds, and so on. At present, Myanmar, Liberia, and the U.S. are the only countries in the world that have not adopted the metric system, and we are the only so-called developed one.  In 1971 there was a major government study entitled “The Metric System, It’s Time Has Come”, led by Daniel DeSimone.  The government accepted it, but it didn’t take.  Can you imagine the price we pay in trade and travel for this, as well as needing to constantly figure out things like how many cups are in a gallon and how U.S. times in the 440 yard race compares with 400 meter times?

 But the problem mostly stems from lack of experience with very large and small numbers, and being taught methods of gaining perspective on them.  Orders of magnitude are important.  My older son has some land on which he sometimes raises tomatoes. Modern machine-raised tomatoes can produce on the order of 50 tons per acre.  Probably not too meaningful.  Better we should think of 100,000 pounds.  That’s a lot of trips to the store. If you have a spare one tenth acre on your lot, you should be able to raise 10,000 pounds of tomatoes.  That get your attention? I used to have fun asking students to quickly tell me how many hairs were on their head, or how many blades of grass were on the football field.  Over time they would get much better at order of magnitude guessing —not exact numbers, but a feeling for quantity.  In 1977 Charles and Ray Eames produced a short film entitled “Powers of Ten”, which gives a feeling for what happens when one adds or subtracts a zero from a number.  It’s still available, and worth watching if you have never seen it. It is here.

 We all need to become more familiar with quantities. The probability of dying in a car accident in the U.S. is on the order of one in 10,000 per year.  The probably of dying in an airplane accident is one in millions.  Why do people sitting in airplanes seem more worried than those sitting in cars?  There are approximately 12 million Mexican residents in the U.S.  That is about one per each 30 non-Mexican residents.  Is that too many?  I sure don’t think so, since the ones I know are hard-working, non-complaining, fun loving people, and after all quite a bit of the U.S. was taken away from Mexico by armed force.  Let’s not let ourselves be convinced that Mexico is taking us over. And let us face the fact that providing first class healthcare and education for everybody and keeping our  highways in good order  is very expensive, and someone will have to pay for it.

The Enigma of Success

I was recently talking with a few other faculty elders at Stanford, and we were reminiscing about the changes that had occurred in the University since we had arrived (1958 for me as a graduate student, 1966 as a member of the faculty).  They have been many.  Stanford in 1958 had begun its climb to its present size, wealth, and justified fame, and was a wonderful place to be because of its smaller physical size, its relative lack of red tape and rules, the excitement of rising in prestige, and its more informal physical plant and personal interactions.  During my time as a graduate student I not only carried a large teaching load and was responsible for a research contract, but was given the job of re-building (with student help) the upper floor of a large building, where we were building a new academic unit. In fact, I repeated this— studs, drywall, and paint— in the 1980’s when I was tasked with chairing a struggling program and allocated unusable space. I came to love the place through building my offices to suit my desires, and being able to move walls around at will.  No longer.  My present office has concrete walls and a building manager, and I must be very clever even to be able to drill holes in the wall.

 In 1958 there was no faculty club, so many of the professors would bring their lunches, eat them together, and socialize.  In fact the faculty members of one very academically successful group in my department was famous for playing loud and boisterous games of hearts during the lunch break.  Since there were many fewer Ph.D. students, there was less overhead in the funding and maintaining of laboratories.  Now successful faculty members in the Engineering School often have a much larger number of Ph.D. students, visiting faculty members, fellows, lab space to accommodate them all, perhaps an executive director with industrial experience to keep the whole thing running, several administrative assistants,  etc. etc. etc.  Faculty members are more likely to be entertaining visitors at lunch than playing hearts, and tending their mini empires rather than interacting with each other.

 An even larger change has been in the overall feeling of the place.  The 8000 acres  owned by the University was originally Governor Leland Stanford’s horse farm, and was in fact called the Farm, as it still is by many alumni. The academic center was developed but most of the land was not, and even the academic area was equipped with somewhat wild growth and nicely worn buildings.  Lake Lagunita on campus was generally full during warm weather (no perception of water shortage then), and just before filling, was sometimes used by the students to stage the Lagunita Seca road race, run by vehicles built by the students with no rules and driven by students with no training!  When I was a student there was one policeman on campus.  I don’t know how many we have now. It was possible to park one’s car next to one’s office.  It is a challenge to park on campus at all now, and probably will cost money.  We have tour busses, traffic circles, and stop signs for bicycles, and the construction going on seems to be never ceasing.  The university seems more like an airport every year.

 But as you know, Stanford has become an educational power house.  The university sits high on all ranking lists, attracts an increasing number of outstanding applicants, does research that affects us all, and becomes ever more successful at hiring world famous scholars for the faculty and raising money for everything from funding research and endowing professors to expanding the facilities.   There are certainly more conveniences, money, and prestige attached to being to being part of the university now than there were when I first arrived, and Stanford is even becoming a force in athletics But as one alumnus said on a recent visit.  “What happened to the Farm?  This is a research city—an extension of Silicon Valley”.

 And is the plant going in the same direction as the people?  Stanford is becoming larger than human scale and  a show house of cleanliness and landscaping. But people who work in universities are supposed to be creative.  My background includes a great deal of study of creativity.  Creativity requires room to think and experiment and an environment that is consistent. Faculty members and students in universities often have neither the time nor inclination to follow the dreams of architects and administrators.  Life in the university  consists of overlapping and seldom finished work, which can seldom be tucked away, leaving clean desks and shelves.

Below are two photos taken in the new Engineering Quadrangle at Stanford.  The next three show the  work space of an outstanding professor, an IT expert, and a  program manager.  These are a far cry from the interiors shown in the architecture renderings and blessed by the Trustees.  

The next photo shows the exterior of the Clark center for bio-engineering. It is a striking piece of architecture, with its glass walls opening onto a central atrium.  But if you look closely, most of glass walls have been obscured from inside, because the people working inside neither want to be watched by passers by (oh look honey, there is a professor), nor have the sun shine on their computer screens.  The next photo shows some actual student work space.  Happily, the students have overcome the architecture!

 The final photo shows office space for Ph.D students in yet another building.  But Ph.D. students are not willing to sit in rows with tidy desk tops, no space to store their work, food, and projects, and with people staring at them through glass windows. Therefore, few of them are in these rooms. 

In my opinion, many of our new buildings smack a bit too much of control and fantasies of how professionals should conduct themselves, rather than showing an understanding of the actual lives of students and others employed in the rather messy educational process . Alumni from many years ago speak fondly of the feel of the more poorly maintained, but informal physical campus.  The new buildings are impressive, but where’s the fun?  What’s to love?  Institutions have to learn better to grow and maintain the feeling of informality and smaller size.

 Of course, this progression in size, wealth, and fame is typical of fortunate organizations, and is in a sense a reflection of the American way.  And I am proud to have played a small part in it in the case of Stanford.  But there is much to be said for smaller organizations that can exist with less control, and therefore less overhead and reporting.  I am hoping that Stanford will continue to improve and enjoy the long success of universities such as Oxford, Cambridge, and even Harvard.  But individuals, organizations, and even nations seem to go through a cycle of climbing to “greatness”, and then going through the process of slowly declining and being forced to watch others take over leadership.  I sometimes think it would be nice if so much, including most economic theories, did not depend on growth.  But it seems that most of us are not strong enough to put limits on ourselves in favor of an environment that we can easily control—the human condition.  So I will continue to enjoy the ride.

 

 

 

 

Big Shows of Outstanding Products

I am a fan of huge shows —the kind that leave you sure that you haven’t seen everything  no matter how much time you spend.  I have been to many of them—the War and Peace Show and the Farnborough Air Show in England, the Tri State Gas Engine and Tractor show in Portland, Indiana, COMDEX, the AACA annual antique car show in Hershey, Pennsylvania, the Iowa State Fair, the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan, and so on.

 But strangely enough, for years I have been neglecting one in my own back yard – the annual historic car races/show in Monterey California. Many people I know are regular attendees and participants, but they tend to possess rare and valuable show cars, and lots of money, so I figure it would be a playground for extreme show car snobs.

 But I was wrong.  It does have a few of them, but the very large attendance is mostly people like me (car fans, but drivers of several year old usually dirty Toyotas and such things). I do like cars. I grew up and lived in Southern California and  during the 1950’s and 60’s I was a fan of all sorts of automotive competitions, from oval track racing, to road racing, to destruction derbies, to drag racing. I have also put my time into “sports” cars.  I have owned 1956 Austin Healey, a 1960 Triumph TR3, a 1959 Porsche 356a, a 1975 Alfa Romeo Spider, and a 1970 E-type Jaguar. I bought them all used and needing a bit of work, and they were all fun. I still own the Alfa and the E-type (definitely not ready for Monterey), and put in my allotted time nursing them.  In fact both of them need work right now, so I will probably renew my intimate acquaintance with them in a week or two.  I must admit that I like to work on ailing cars, and cars like these give one the opportunity.

 If you like cars, and people who like cars, and can visit this event, it is well worth it, although you should be prepared to bite your lip when you pay the admission price (you need the "pit" pass).  I was motivated to attend the show by a friend/ex office partner/ex student, named Matt Ohline, who is a serious car buff, and always drives responsive machinery.  He has a wife, two kids, and a good job as an engineer, but no fortune that would enable him to own the cars he drools over.  He contacted me and invited me to be his guest at the show  and was clearly the best of all guides, since he attends each year.   I drooled with him.   Suffice it to say I will be there next year, because, guess what, when we left at the end of the day I felt that I had not seen everything.

 The photos in this post are of swell cars that were at the show.  The first one is Matt's choice for the most beautiful car in the world. The final one is a huge racing machine outfitted with a Hall Scott engine (also huge).  I was particularly interested, since I own one of the engines, which saw its original service in a fire truck.  I could build a ………………….. No Jim, don’t go there—just go to car shows with Matt.

Good Product: The Portable Pressure Washer

I have had a small portable pressure washer for many years, and finally completely wore it out.  I decided to try living without one, and soon realized it had become part of me. If you do not have one, these machines use a small gasoline engine (or electric if you prefer) and a pressure pump to propel  a relatively small stream of water at very  high speed, as opposed to that available from a garden hose nozzle.  The result is tremendously increased cleaning ability – a stream of water that can quickly cut through not only dirt and dust, but baked mud, flaking paint, hardened grease, and many other stubborn types of filth, using nothing but water (and a bit of detergent in case of stubborn resistance).  And not only that, as a good Californian I appreciate the fact that it does so with less water than I would waste with a hose, scrub brush, etc.

 I probably especially appreciate it because of my hobby of rescuing old machinery, because alternate approaches to cleaning keep me drenched in toxic liquids, depressed from endless scraping, and disappointed with the end result.  The photo below shows my new washer —nothing special— a sale at Lowes. 
  But it is even better than my old one and comes complete with four nozzles ranging from gentle to “don’t get your hand in the stream.  These are tools, not toys, and not to be used for water fights or cleaning the mud off of one’s bare feet.  The next photo shows most of the mechanical portion of my McCormick Daisy reaper restoration project, which I have mentioned in past posts.  Through its stay on a friend’s farm, it became covered with mud, clots of grease, dust, and leaves.  I timed how long it took to clean it until it sparkled again—under a minute— and it required less water than flushing a toilet or the amount of cold water that has to be run before the hot water appears in the upstairs shower of our 110 year old house (being also a Californian, my wife collects it, hauls it down stairs, and puts it on her garden.)

Homemade "Popsicles*", an Outstanding Product

My brother John is still growing fruit and vegetables on the remaining acres of the family farm in Rialto in Southern California.  In fact, he seems to be living on the last orange grove in an area that at one time was totally planted in citrus.  When I occasionally visit him, I always bring home a large amount of produce, in particular fresh oranges.  These are oranges straight off of the tree, and have a much different taste than oranges that have been processed for sale in grocery stores, and especially from concentrated frozen orange juice.   Having grown up on an orange grove, I obviously ate them and drank their juice in all known forms.  In the process I learned much about them, and am highly skilled at peeling them, segregating the parts without getting orange juice all over myself, and the gentle art of poking a hole through the rind with my finger and squeezing the orange to extract the juice.  In fact, I enjoy eating part of the peel when I eat one.  And I make frequent use of a high quality juicer (Philips).

 I seem to have a great liking of cold things to eat and drink—ice cream,  margaritas, “slushies” of various sorts, frozen fruits, gin and tonics, ice tea, sorbets, or just straight ice cubes, which to the horror of my wife (and dentist) I happily chew up when my drink is gone—a sin I inherited from my mother,  so it is in my gene pool, rather than a bad habit.

 When I was a kid, I loved popsicles, and the habit still exists, but now I make my own (simple because the world is full of “molds”, sticks, and other such equipment).  When I was a kid there was usually frozen fresh orange juice in an ice cube tray in the refrigerator, which I used to eat constantly, and even better, fresh orange juice popsicles —easy to make, given the many molds available in the world—just pour the juice into the mold and stick in the freezer. See photo below of a tacky plastic mold that produces “modern” ones with easily washable plastic stick complete with drip holders (useful for young grandchildren).   And above, of course, the final product above. And unlike many child-hood treats I have given up (cotton candy, cookie batter, licorice), I still make them –

 But part of the fun, if one likes icy things, is experimenting with the limitless numbers of flavors available by not only using varieties of juices fruits, and flavorings, but also reaching out to unlikely combinations.  Some have escaped me (chicken, salsa), some are difficult (chocolate), but I become even more challenged, rather than discouraged, and my failures can usually be melted, or even heated, leading to interesting taste experiences.

 If you are not addicted to this food form, I recommend it, especially in the summer in California.

 *Popsicle is probably a trade name, so I should probably be using “frozen juice on a stick” or something like that, but hey, having your trade name used generically is the big time.  Do you have a Kleenex?  Where can I Xerox this?  Who made your iPhone?