Posts by Peggy
The timing makes the poison
In 1976, somebody had a good idea: let’s protect people from toxic compounds. Then, the law designed to do that got pummeled by the asbestos industry. We’ve not had the courage, since, to revisit the issue.
Toxicologists used to say, the dose makes the poison. Now that 5 to 15 percent of children have neurodevelopmental disorders — including autism — they are learning that the timing makes the poison, too.
The EPA is building a roster of about 200 chemicals that pose the greatest risk to our health.
They aren’t getting very far with it.
Why do so many advances we make become the very things that seem to do us in? Why aren’t we smart enough to avoid that?
Overheard in the Wolfe House #52
Sam (via phone from work at Albertsons): I’m going to be a half-hour late. I just wanted you to know.
Peggy: Oh, ok.
Sam: It just took me that long to go through my voice mail.
Peggy: It did?
Sam: Yes, for the messages you and Michael left. The things to buy.
Peggy: Yes, we kept trying to tell you to not pay attention to the previous message.
Sam: It was a real pile-up, Mom.
Overheard in the Wolfe House #51
Peggy (interrupting Sam): uh, hang on, I just burned my fingers.
Sam: Wait – how – on that handle there? (pointing to the Dutch oven sitting on the stove top).
Peggy: Yes, I’m cleaning the oven. I didn’t expect it to heat the top of the stove that much.
Sam: Oh, ok, it’s not my fault then.
Overheard in the Wolfe House #50
Sam: My schedule is getting so busy.
Peggy: Do we need to re-print the calendar?
Sam: Yes, I’m getting in demand.
Always
Mark’s can-fix-it talent lives on in Sam, who just repaired the computer printer. Mark’s “visualize anything” lives on in Paige, who just caught a connecting flight in Kansas City in her stocking feet. Mark’s broad shoulders live on in Michael, who just split the Christmas errand frenzy with me today. Mark’s heart lives in mine, forever.
Overheard in the Wolfe House #49
Peggy (walking in the front door): Christmas presents!
Sam: Uh, better get wrapping.
Peggy: Nope, unwrapping. It was the company Christmas party today … so what did you find?
Sam: Cocoa, and peppermint bark.
Peggy: Have at it.
Sam: Can you dip the bark in the cocoa?
Peggy: I like the way you think, Sam.
Overheard in the Wolfe House #48
Sam (in a stage whisper, as he bounds up the stairs): Noooooooooo
Peggy (fearing for the worst): What’s the matter?
Sam: I forgot to brush my teeth.
You always pay
An obscure piece of news — a story about a doctor winning an award — caught my eye today.
It wasn’t the startling rate of autism, which has increased exponentially since my son, Sam, was diagnosed almost 20 years ago. (It’s now 1 in 80).
It wasn’t Dr. Philip Landrigan’s beautiful characterization about the brain. (“The human brain is capable of doing calculus and writing symphonies and enjoying the beauty of the sunset, but the cost of that is exquisite vulnerability,” he said.)
It wasn’t that the writer of the article assumed the villain in this unfolding health crises is one or more environmental triggers, though that could ultimately prove to be true.
It was the estimate of how much the U.S. saves each year in health care costs since we removed lead from gasoline: $200 billion.
China thought they could develop like we did, go-go-go, and clean up later. We got away with the “clean up later” model because people didn’t know.
But we’re still paying for it — in ways we cannot even measure. Millions born with brains that mean they must struggle more than their fair share, for one. Health care costs that, in a generation, went from affordable to not.
We should never put the responsibility on another generation, hoping technology will catch up. You always pay, one way or another.
Still looking
I spent the past day and a half in Austin. Every time I go, I meet the nicest, smartest, most compassionate people.
The kind of people that wouldn’t string out our kids for the sake of politics, the kind of people that wouldn’t balance the budget on the most fragile in our state.
But there is a crack in the universe there somewhere, you know, I know it. It’s the one where all the other people in Austin apparently are, the ones that make some of the stupidest public policies ever.
I haven’t found it yet.
Angel Voices
When I see my children, all grown or nearly grown, I can scarcely remember them as the babies they were. But every once in a while, I get a rocket shot back, like I did tonight.
Sam was remembering his first experiences with computers as being on video games when he was in elementary school. I reminded him that his very first experience with html was as a three-year-old playing “Cosmic Osmo” on the computer.
As the memory re-lit in him, his face was almost as if he were a toddler again. And back I went.
Timeless.
Christmas is nearly here.