Sunday, December 31, 2017

#25 geeky sons, non-flowing glass, health policy, health costs, Christie mysteries, money and happiness, death of a white elephant




            Celebrate the new year well.  I admonish you to have a good year!

            A minor procedural note on these messages.  I decided recently that I wanted one hard copy of each of them.  In the process of printing them, I realized that some of the earlier messages were longer than more recent ones.  What I do now is cut them off at 10 pages (plus or minus a page or so) in a Word document and then paste the Word document into an email.  So the length will be fairly uniform (except for travelogues, which seem to go on forever).

            If I haven't made it clear before, I will now:  I welcome and enjoy any comments, observations, disagreements you may have with what I write.  I'm glad to report them, and as you know, sometimes I incorporate your comments later.

* * *

This made me laugh.  "Older dads have 'geekier' sons."  Researchers jointly from Britain and the U.S. (King's College London and Mount Sinai School of Medicine) collected information on 15,000 pairs of twins; the data were for when the twins were 12 years old.  (It's not clear to me why they used twins; the study could have been done with any male offspring with a wide range of paternal ages at birth of the sons.  Maybe it was just an offshoot of other research on twins.)

When the twins were 12 years old, they completed online tests that measured 'geek-like' traits, including non-verbal IQ, strong focus on the subject of interest and levels of social aloofness. Parents were also asked whether their child cares about how they are perceived by their peers and if they have any interests that take up substantial majority of their time. Using this information, the researchers computed a 'geek index' for every child in the study.

As you would expect in such research, they controlled for socio-economic status, education, and employment. 

What they found was that older fathers had sons who were "more intelligent, more focused on their interests [,] and less concerned about fitting in."   Those characteristics are the ones they decided make a boy a geek.  In addition, those boys did better on STEM subject school tests a number of years after their geekiness was ascertained.  So while there are disadvantages to being the child of an older father (e.g., autism, schizophrenia), it seems there may also be advantages—if you want a son who's a geek. 

I'm not sure I accept the definition they use; Elliott and I have the same sense, that guys who get better grades in school aren't necessarily considered geeks.  But they had their reasons; they defined the term as they did

based on considerations of what could be ‘adaptive’ in the modern environment.  We hypothesised that high IQ; ability to retain strong focus on the subject of interest; and some degree of social aloofness are likely to be particularly beneficial in the knowledge-driven economy.  Although these traits are continuously distributed in the population, ethnographic literature groups them under an umbrella-term ‘geek’ (‘intelligent outcast’; ‘labelled because of their expertise and lack of social skills’; ‘socially awkward and overly intellectual ( . . . ) prone to obsessive interests. Therefore, we labelled our composite measure of non-verbal intelligence, restrictive interests and reduced need to fit in with the peer group as ‘geek index.’

            There are reasons why the environment could play a role:  the older fathers may be further along in a career, a higher income, and thus able to provide higher quality educational opportunities and a "more enriched environment."  I suppose—but I've never thought parental income or social/educational/economic status might be a factor in geekiness.  If anything, at least in my experience, geeks are more likely to come from slightly lower SES backgrounds (but that's an impression, not data).  Moreover, if those 15,000 twins came from across the economic spectrum, and they controlled for SES, that should have been eliminated as a factor.

            The researchers hypothesize that there could be a link between geekiness and autism (i.e., an overlapping genetic effect), on top of the demonstrated link between autism and higher IQ.  Push the geekiness too far (get a different balance of genes) and you may get autism.

            I only mention this research because it describes Elliott and me to a "T."  I didn't qualify as an "older" father by their definition because they looked at sons of fathers who were over 50 (I was 39 when Elliott was born, so probably older than the American average, but not 50).  The characteristics of the sons fit Elliott, I think:  he's above-average in intelligence (we have no IQ score), he focuses intensely on his interests, and he does well in school tests (once he got beyond high school).

            I have occasionally expressed regret to Elliott that I wasn't about 10 years younger when he was born; I would have had more time and energy for him.  His response has been something to the effect that, "that's OK, because if you hadn't had me when you did, whenever it was, I wouldn't be here."  True enough.

* * *

            We all know that glass is really a liquid and flows, over time, right?  It's true—but perhaps not the way we think (or at least not the way I did).  Writing in the Journal of the American Ceramic Society (who knew?), Penn State material science faculty took a look at medieval stained glass (in their case, in Westminster Abbey, glass dating from 1286) and analyzed the flow rate.  They observed that it is a misconception that glass in these windows would "flow" noticeably in less than a millenium at a temperature way below that required to make glass liquid. 

This result confirms that the long-lasting myth about the flow of glasses at room temperature is still just that:  a myth.  The thickness variation within the cathedral glasses is related to the medieval manufacturing methods used before the modern glass industry developed.

            They did learn, through sophisticated materials science tests, that the estimated rate of flow for medieval glass was *much* faster than had been previously estimated.  In order to be sure I understood what they found, I wrote to the corresponding author of the article.  Professor Mauro wrote back.  "We actually found that the glass flows at a rate 16 orders of magnitude faster, which means 1016 times faster or 10,000,000,000,000,000 times faster.  Despite this huge difference, the glass still doesn’t flow on a human time scale."  So even though it flows 10 quadrillion times faster than earlier thought, it still only flows about a nanometer every billion years.

            This conclusion applies equally to the glass in old houses that's thicker on the bottom than on the top, Professor Mauro told me.  It's the manufacturing process, not flow.

* * *

No surprise to me, but I imagine that to some outside higher education it could be:  that there is a professor of Political Science at the University of Michigan who focuses on the politics of health policy in Europe.  Professor Greer wrote an article this year, in the (British) Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine, about the impact of "populist" politics on public health policy.  According to the sciencedaily.com summary, his conclusion isn't positive.

The populist radical right is a threat to core values of medicine and public health, even within a functioning democratic system. . . .  Populism, he says, sits badly with the evidence-based style of public health, citing comments made by Mike Pence, the new United States Vice President, who has endorsed "gay conversion" therapy that purports to make patients heterosexual and has said that "smoking doesn't kill."

            The so-called populists don't like social (that is, taxpayer) support for health care or adopting laws to promote public health.  They incline to "welfare chauvinism" in order to exclude coverage from people they do not like, people who don't fit in their idea of populism (such as immigrants or people who have a different skin color).  Professor Greer notes that public health professionals around the world have been committed not only to health but also human rights; he "warns medical and public health professionals to be very careful about working with radical right parties and governments" because doing so would likely contradict "our commitments to human rights."

            At least as far as health policy played out in Congress in 2017, I would say Professor Greer is correct.  I'm not sure, however, that the health care debate here is colored by xenophobia as much as by a total misunderstanding on the right about how health care works and to what extent it's about the health of the society, not just individuals.

* * *

Related to the forgoing, 2020 is a mildly worrisome year and 2040 even more so.  In 2020, "20% of the population of the world’s richest countries will be older than 65—a magic number because, starting in the mid-1900s, it’s the age when people stop working, . . . collect pensions, and consume lots of health care."  It's the latter fact that bulks large in the calculations of economists in particular; in 2040 the percentage of the population at or over 85 in developed countries will grow to nearly 6% (up from about 1% in 1990).   Here's a bar graph on health-care spending (U.S.).



            What creates fears is that cause of death is evolving, from cancer/cardio/strokes to degenerative diseases, especially Alzheimer's.  As more and more people are afflicted, in much older age, with varieties of dementia, the cost of care skyrockets.

            Here's from British Politics and Policy at LSE (London School of Economics) for Britain:

Over the last 20 years, men’s life expectancy at age 65 has increased by 4.7 years and women’s by 4.1 years.  However, not all of these extra years are ones spent independent.  Indeed we have seen from the Office for National Statistics that trends in healthy life expectancy and disability-free life expectancy are not keeping pace with gains in life expectancy with a resulting increase in the years with ill-health and disability.  But it is difficult to equate these measures with the amount of care that older people may need.

Our recent research is the first to be able to show that only about a third (36%) of the increase in men’s life expectancy was spent independent whilst for women it was only 5%.  Most of the gain in women’s life expectancy (58%) was with low level dependency, requiring care less than daily.  More worryingly 20-30% of the increase in life expectancy at age 65 over the last 20 years has been years requiring 24hr care.  So the social care crisis is not just an issue of more older people but also that those older people are requiring significant amounts of care for longer than their counterparts 20 years ago.

What those of us advancing in age worry about:  we may live longer, but the increase in life's length isn't necessarily accompanied by an increase in independent living.

            At the same time, these changes in demography have implications for retirement. 

            Otto von Bismarck, the minister-president of Prussia 1862 – 1890, was worried about the rise of Marxism in Germany.  As one way to forestall support for it, he introduced a plan to provide an income to the elderly (defined as age 65).  The average lifespan at the time in Germany was 58, so it wasn't much of a benefit for most.  What it did do, however, was two things:  set the modern state on the path to providing old-age benefits and (arbitrarily) set the retirement age at 65.

            There are examples of retirement benefits earlier, as far back as the Romans, especially for soldiers.  The U.S. provided retirement income to military personnel after the Civil War.  The widespread adoption of state/worker-funded retirement plans bloomed after Bismarck, and as lifespans increased, more and more people reached retirement age and could receive the benefits of these plans.

            Some would argue that we (industrialized, developed countries) can't afford state-sponsored/funded retirement benefits, or at least that they have to be reduced.  Some would argue the tax should be increased to continue to fund the benefit at a reasonable level.  I'm squarely in the latter camp.

* * *

            (There are spoilers here, if you don't know the plot lines for two murder mysteries.)

            We went to see the latest iteration of Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express with the detective Hercule Poirot.  I liked it; Kathy was ho-hum about it.  This is the second "major" filming of her novel, and starred Kenneth Branagh as Poirot, with Johnny Depp, Michelle Pfeiffer, Penélope Cruz, Dame Judi Dench, Leslie Odom Jr., Daisy Ridley, Willem Dafoe, and others.

The 1974 version had Albert Finney as Hercule Poirot and starred Lauren Bacall, Ingrid Bergman, Sean Connery, John Gielgud, Vanessa Redgrave, Michael York, Jacqueline Bisset, Anthony Perkins and Wendy Hiller.  There have been other film/TV versions as well, none of them all that good, with the exception of David Suchet's performance in the long-running British TV version that included every Poirot mystery written.

The other Christie mystery that's been filmed repeatedly is And Then There Were None (aka Ten Little Indians).  Kathy and I watched both the 1945 and 1965 versions of And Then There Were None.  The 1945 version was, by today's lights, pretty hokey; the 1965 version somewhat less so.  The cast of the 1945 film didn't have many leading actors and actresses (at least not that I recognized):  Barry Fitzgerald, Walter Huston, Louis Hayward, Roland Young, June Duprez, Mischa Auer, C. Aubrey Smith, Judith Anderson, Richard Haydn and Queenie Leonard.  The 1965 edition (titled Ten Little Indians), however, was another all-star cast:  Hugh O'Brian, Shirley Eaton, Fabian, Leo Genn, Stanley Holloway, Wilfrid Hyde-White, Daliah Lavi, Dennis Price, Marianne Hoppe, and Mario Adorf.

I wonder what it is about murder mysteries that attracts such well-known actors and actresses to play bit parts in these movies.  Maybe it's just those murder mysteries. 

It occurs to me that Christie sort of flipped the plot between the two.  In the train mystery, a whole group of people murder the bad guy.  In Ten Little Indians, one guy gathers a group of bad people on an isolated island and kills them, one by one, including himself at the end.

As with Pygmalion and "My Fair Lady," the movies of And Then There Were None changed the ending to make it happier.  In the book, everyone dies.  In the movie, a nice youngish couple survives.  Phooey.  (As I have probably mentioned before, Professor Ed Fogelman, in a first-year poli sci course I took in 1970, commented that the English knew that Professor Higgins would never become romantically involved with Liza Doolittle—the English class structure is far too rigid for that.  It was the Americans who changed the ending for the movie.  In the case of the murder mystery, however, it was Agatha Christie herself who changed the ending when the novel was re-done as a play.)

As I suppose I must expect from time to time, Ten Little Indians reminded me of Krystin.  (I mentioned this trip and books on tape in my memorial statement for Krystin.)  On a road trip the two of us took many years ago to join Pat and Elliott for one of Pat's family gatherings on the East Coast (Pat and Elliott flew out), we drove from Minneapolis to Lexington, KY, the first day.  During that very long drive, we listened to books on tape, and the first one (and the only complete one) was Ten Little Indians.  I believe that started Krystin's lifelong interest in reading murder mysteries; she was reading a series by Camilla Lackberg at the time she died.  One of the books I took from Krystin's bookshelf was Ten Little Indians.  (We started but did not finish Huckleberry Finn and Little Women.  Neither of us liked either one.)

I'm debating whether to order the DVDs of Suchet playing Poirot; there are 33 disks, it costs $165, and has 86 hours of viewing.  There appears to be general consensus that Suchet is by far the best Poirot.

* * *

            Following up on my discussion of Legos, this image captures the experience of every parent whose children have had Legos.



* * *

            On that recurring question of whether money can buy happiness:  more recent social science research says it can.  It has been known for some time that spending on experiences rather than material objects results in longer-lasting happiness.  As one writer put it, "a new table is easier to get used to than a trip to Chile."  Moreover, it appears that it's easier to get over a bad experience than the purchase of an object one later regrets buying.  Maybe that's because the experience can fade in memory while the damn object reminds us daily of the mistake we made (unless, of course, we get rid of it—or put it in the basement).

            The more recent take on spending suggests that using money for social experiences brings more happiness than spending on solitary activities.  In the case of the latter, it turns out they bring no more happiness than the purchase of objects.  Even introverts like being with other people; extraverts more so.  The two groups spend differently, but if they spend according to type, they'll be happier.

            The lesson seems to be that money can indeed buy happiness if you know how to spend it right.  That said, "more than income, investments, or debt, the amount of cash in one’s checking account correlates with life satisfaction"  (clearly a first-world, middle/upper class circumstance).  So if the checking account is reasonably healthy after the holidays, spend socially according to your personality type.  If you know what it is—and believe it to be true.

* * *

            I've prattled on about de-Christmasing the house in earlier years and won't repeat the thoughts here.  But we had one sad story (not really) this year.  Many, many years ago, my partner Ann Sonnesyn and I won the traveling trophy in our bridge group (which "trophy" must always be a white elephant).  That year it was an electric poinsettia, made with plastic leaves and pipe cleaners, stuck in styrofoam.  Really tacky.  In honor of our rare bridge victory, however, I have proudly displayed it every year at Christmas since we won it (probably in the late 1970s or early 1980s). 

            I realized this year, after I'd set it on top of the grandfather clock, that the wiring for the red light bulbs was a little frayed—and that the darn thing could probably burst into flames at any moment.  So down it came, and after a futile attempt at re-wiring it, into the garbage it went.  I told Pat that it had bitten the dust; she responded "Can't say I'm shocked.  It lived a somewhat static life but created many bright memories."  Uff da.

Gary





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