Jack the Ripper in the News: The nature of proof, science, and credible sources

By Judy Wearing

Was Aaron Kosminski Jack the Ripper? 

Short answer: not quite sure

Long answer: This is a great case to think about how the source of information affects its believability, and how readers like us can make sense of a world where information is King but we can’t tell if the King is Truthful or not. It’s a question of the criteria we use to make judgments about who, and what, to believe.

The case: Russell Edwards has in his possession a shawl reported to be that of Jack the Ripper victim, Catherine Eddowes, who was killed just after 1 am in a public square near Whitechapel. Her throat was slit, her face mutilated, and parts of her bowels ripped out of her body. Nasty stuff. The stuff of legend, fiction, movies, books, and others’ fame and fortune. Owning a scarf purported to be from the scene of this crime is one thing, but Russell Edwards, a businessman and author, had it tested for mitochondrial DNA in a bid to find forensic evidence to lead to the murderer’s identity. Mitochondrial DNA is DNA found within the mitochondria, a component of  our body’s cells. Mitochondria are the site of energy production – like a power generating station. How this cell organelle came to contain DNA in the first place is intriguing in itself – it is thought that the organelle was once an independent living bacteria that was ingested by a larger unicellular organism that was the ancestor of all animals. But that’s an aside. The main point is that mDNA is useful in determining relatedness; it is only passed down from mother to daughter and it is relatively stable from generation to generation. Also, it can be sequenced from very small quantities of organic matter.

Human mDNA
(Mitochondrial DNA en by derivative work Shanel (talk)
Mitochondrial_DNA_de.svg translation by Knopfkind;
layout by jhc - Mitochondrial_DNA_de.svg, wiki commons)

            

Russell Edwards enlisted the help of a molecular biologist, Jari Louhelainen, who found mDNA on the shawl that was a perfect match to an ancestor of Aaron Kosminski. Aaron Kosminski, a poor Polish immigrant who ended up in a psychiatric hospital two years after the Ripper murders, was one of several main suspects in the case. The conclusion is that someone with Aaron Kosminski’s mDNA left cells on that shawl. Edwards broke the news that he had the first proof that Kosminski was the Ripper.

The problems: Not everyone has jumped on Edwards’ bandwagon. Naysayers have had plenty of comment. They point out that the shawl was not mentioned at the time of the murder, and its connection to Catherine Eddowes is not definitive. They also point out that ancestors of Kosminski have handled the shawl, so the mDNA found might not belong to Aaron himself, but one of his descendants. Or, it might indicate that Aaron had contact with Eddowes, like any number of people living in that area at that time might have. And, they point out that Aaron was not institutionalized until nearly two years after the last Ripper murder, and his mental illness does not seem to match the m.o. of a slasher and dasher. 

However, one of the most interesting issue relating Edwards’ findings, in my mind, is how he announced it: the evidence was not submitted to a scientific journal for peer review. Normally, scholarly work is reviewed by two people in the field who look for holes in the work, alternative explanations to explain the result, for faults in methods or statistics, or anything else that might make it suspect.  The system is not perfect, by any means. For one, sometimes two people in a field resist a new idea that threatens current understanding. Sometimes they miss something. Sometimes, the scientist(s) writing the paper have outright lied. The evidence of Kosminski and the shawl, however, was announced to The Daily Mail, a British newspaper whose pages are heavily filled with murder, divorce, and celebrity gossip. 

Personally, I love the paradoxes inherent in this controversy. When the news first broke, media reports spoke of the DNA evidence as relatively convincing. I went to Wikipedia for more information, and there found a much more balanced view of the story, with plenty of background information and more than enough reason to put doubt in my mind of the definitive proof of this new evidence.

Wikipedia is not generally considered a reputable source, and some teachers frown on its use in a bibliography. And yet, in my own work as a popular science author, in reading thousands upon thousands of scientific journal articles and reputable books published by reputable publishers, sometimes tracking down minute pieces of information few seemingly care about, I’ve learned that the credibility of sources are often fuzzy.   

I use Wikipedia, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. It often has excellent quality information written in an understandable way, in a breadth that is hard to match. However, I always check with secondary sources for agreement – the more important the info, the more sources I check. And I tend to look up, read, and cite the references used in Wikipedia in my work. There is some hypocrisy in our society’s view of Wikipedia as an unacceptable source of information, when books – compilations of information from elsewhere is deemed acceptable. It has amazed me to find a single piece of information, say an anecdote about the first hairdresser in history, Monsieur Champagne of 18^th century Paris, repeated in numerous books all referencing each without any reference to empirical evidence. So I treat information I read in books the same as I do information I read on Wikipedia. I use other clues to help with my judgement of its accuracy.

There is also the amateur status of Russell Edwards, which is front and centre in the media that influence judgement of this evidence. Amateurs tend to be dismissed as sources of information, and yet there are some amateur enthusiasts who have great breadth of knowledge in a particular area. I recall one particularly ‘obsessed’ amateur scholar of a group of tiny ocean creatures, foraminifera, who was the go-to person for identification. Amateurs may not carry the same biases that people entrenched in a field might. In a sense, Henry Ford was an amateur, so was Alexander Bell. Training does not always make someone smarter or better. What is interesting about this case is that Edwards’ release of his new evidence coincides with the release of his book, . Edwards is not just enhancing our understanding of history, he’s not just an amateur sleuth, he’s a businessman, and he’s profiting. His motives make his information suspect. The motives behind any source of information can be highly influential and should at all times be considered in any case where the truth is important. This is the basis of propaganda.

I’ve also read enough peer-reviewed scientific papers to know that it sometimes reviewers and authors and experiments and statistics paint an inaccurate picture. This is not criticism – it a valid, even important part of the science. It is disturbing, however, to notice that it is easy to believe information of any kind if it is presented as having a scientific basis. Science alone is not truth. Science is an endeavour of human beings. It is, however, generally founded on dedication to finding and understanding reality as closely as possible. It is the best we’ve got when it comes to understanding the natural world, including Traditional Knowledge – which is based on empirical observations passed down from generation to generation.

All of which does naught to help clear up whether Edwards’ new mDNA evidence is enough to proclaim the Ripper identified. The waters of this murder case are still muddy with doubt, with good reason. Which brings up another aspect of science in the news: just because something is not proven does not mean that it is false. The statement, “there is no conclusive evidence that Aaron Kominski was Jack the Ripper” is not the same as “Aaron Kosminski was not Jack the Ripper.” He might have been, we just don’t know enough to say so yet. I should say, I don’t know enough to believe so yet.

The Singing Lice (that are not lice)

Lepinotus patruelis, a common bark louse. Photo by David Jones

By Judy Wearing

“I think I have insects in my house,” the Bavarian woman living in England told the secretary at the Department of Zoology where I worked. “I hear these knocking sounds all the time. I think it is an insect. Do you have anyone who could come and check it out for me and tell me what it is?”

The deathwatch beetle, which hits its head against wood to call for a mate.

Photo by Josef Dvořák.

One candidate for the cause of the sounds she was hearing was the deathwatch beetle, a small insect with a hard head that burrows into wood beams. The beetle knocks on wood to attract mates, making a noise that sounds a little bit like a miniature woodpecker. People don’t want deathwatch beetles in their houses, because when the larvae burrow/eat their way into wood beams they leave tunnels behind. The tunnels weaken the beam and can cause structural damage.

I went to this woman’s house looking for another kind of insect, however. I was looking for Psocoptera, a group of tiny insects otherwise known as bark and book lice, or barkflies. Measuring from 1 to 2 millimetres in length, these obscure creatures are not lice at all, but rather distant cousins. They have long antennae, and many species lack wings. They feed on tiny bits of this and that: algae, crumbs of other insect carcasses, and fungal spores. They do not bite anything, and frankly, they can seem rather boring. You might find them on logs and tree trunks, the undersides of mushrooms, or other damp places – if you look closely enough. But, they are easy to ignore, and largely go unnoticed.

 

Trogium pulsatorium, whose mating call sounds like the ticking of a clock.

Some book and bark lice have a remarkable habit: they ‘sing’. One species, Trogium pulsatorium, creamy white from head to toe and small enough to fit on the end of a pin, produces a noise that sounds exactly like the ticking of a clock. I'm inclined to think this creature is the original deathwatch, rather than the woodpecker-like beetle. The death watch was a sound in people's houses that terrorized Medieval Britain. The ghostly ticking of a clock was thought to mark the final hours of someone in the household. The female bark louse makes this ticking noise by vibrating its abdomen. Like the noise of the deathwatch beetle, it is a mating call.

Lepinotus patruelis female, who 'sings' to attract mates by vibrating her abdomen.
Photo by David Jones

Another singing barklouse, Lepinotus patruelis, is slightly more colourful. Females are dark brown, and nearly 2 mm in length, so their rear ends might dangle off the head of a pin. The males are smaller and golden brown. In this species, when males vibrate their abdomens, they make a sound like a quacking duck. Quack, quack, quack – four to six times. They do this several times a minute when calling for a mate. When females vibrate their abdomens, they make a series of clicks like dragging a fingernail across the teeth of a comb. The ‘songs’ are used by both males and females to attract mates. Both sexes, especially females, keep singing when a mate draws near. And females seem to compete with each other, just like male crickets do, by singing at each other in the presence of a male. To hear these noises in the laboratory, I used a listening device, a sound magnifier, sold at a local electronics shop. The insects are pretty tiny, so it is not surprising that their sounds are not audible to the naked ear. If, or how, the Bavarian woman could hear these insects added to the mystery.

I searched out places in her main rooms where these bark lice might hide. In the kitchen, around the counter there were lots of bread crumbs and some mold spores in the corners of the window sill. In the living room, there were plenty of tropical house plants, and the air was warm and moist. Perfect conditions for these insects: damp with lots of food. As I sat on the sofa with a cup of tea in hand, I heard the sound of a fingernail running across a comb. I listened and heard it again. It was a female Lepinotus patruelis, calling to attract a mate.

And I could hear it loud and clear! I followed the persistent noises to a large tropical plant in the corner, and began searching among the leaves. I found her nestled in the crux of a large, curved leaf – she had found a natural amplifier and was using it to broadcast her song to the whole room.

This feat, of finding an amplifier to broadcast their sound makes these bark lice the smallest known creature to make an audible noise (to my knowledge). But this broadcasting skill is not the only unusual feature of the singing behaviour. It is also highly unusual for females of any species to be the ones calling for mates, let alone competing in 'singing competitions.' But that is another story, for another blog.

References:

Wearing, J. (1996) Reproductive biology of Lepinotus patruelis (Psocoptera): Implications for courtship theory. (Unpublished doctoral dissertation) University of Oxford, UK.

Death Watch Beetle (Xestobium rufovillosum)

http://www.arkive.org/death-watch-beetle/xestobium-rufovillosum/video-09a.html

Winning Authors, Touring Authors, Teaching Authors... We've got 'em all!

By Claire Eamer

It's the season, apparently, when Sci/Why authors come out of hibernation and flaunt their accomplishments. I did a quick whip-round of the Sci/Why bloggers and friends of Sci/Why, and discovered a flurry of activity. Here are the highlights.

First of all - we have a winner! Sci/Why blogger Shar Levine and her writing partner, Leslie Johnstone, have won the Canadian Science Writers' Association's 2013 Science in Society Youth Book Award for their down-and-dirty science activity book, Dirty Science: 25 Experiments with Soil. We are all, needless to say, very proud of them.

The 2014 roster of authors touring during TD Canadian Children's Book Week, May 3-10, includes a couple of Sci/Why bloggers. Helaine Becker will be touring in Manitoba, telling kids all about Zoobots and entertaining them with her Ode to Underwear. Claire Eamer will be visiting schools and libraries in Nunavut and talking about her book Before the World Was Ready: Stories of Daring Genius in Science.

Sci/Why blogger Marie Powell recently placed runner-up in the 2014 City of Regina Writing Awards. She'll lead a Channelling Creativity workshop on Tuesday, May 7, at Regina's Central Library. You can also catch her every second Thursday and third Wednesday at the Prince of Wales branch library, leading her ongoing Write for the Heart programs.

Blogger Jan Thornhill has been busy too. Her new book, Winter's Coming: A Story of Seasonal Change, is about to go to press. It's a companion volume for Is This Panama?: A Migration Story. And Jan has discovered a passion for fungi - to the point where she has launched a fungi blog called Weird and Wonderful Wild Mushrooms.

Our travelling-est blogger, Margriet Ruurs, has taken time off book writing to go touring the world over the past few months. You can find her adventures at her Globetrotting Grandparents blog. Recent entries include history in Holland, Turkish Delight in Istanbul, and the amazing archaeological sites of Petra, Jordan.

Paula Johanson, who's happiest in a kayak, has still managed the time to produce a couple of new books: one on Love Poetry, and another, called What is Energy? and due out in August. You can follow Paula's kayak adventures at the Kayak Yak blog.

Sci/Why's first Blog Boss, L.E. Carmichael has a couple of new books out for older kids who are dealing with health issues, either their own or someone else's: Living With Scoliosis and Living With Obesity.

Our Alberta blogger and astronomy enthusiast, Joan Marie Galat, will be leading a writing workshop at the Calgary Young Writers' Conference on April 26.

Sci/Why friend (she came up with the name!) Pippa Wysong can be found on Saturday, May 10, at her Quarantine Tent vaccine education event at the University of Toronto campus. It's part of the national event, Science Rendezvous. Here's a short video of the 2013 Tent event.

Finally, Sci/Why blogger Judy Wearing informs us that she's in the first year of a second (second!!) PhD in education, writing papers about critical thinking in science education and the relationship between fear and learning. She also says she'll have some book news to announce, but it's still a Big Hairy Secret. Keep an eye on Sci/Why, where all will be revealed... unveiled... whatever... soon!

“Potbelly Hill” gives birth to new theories of civilization

By Judy Wearing

Tall, flat stones arranged in circles stand straight, their limestone edges sharply sculpted. Some are six metres in height, and decorated with a menagerie of carvings: lions, gazelles, foxes, donkeys, bulls, reptiles, insects, and birds. The pillars are enclosed inside circular walls. There are four such enclosures, back to back, each surrounding up to eight pillars each. Sixteen more enclosures remain out of sight, under the earth. These 'rooms,' with their rings of standing stones, were buried at Gobekli Tepe (potbelly hill), a man-made mound 15 metres high, located in Southern Turkey. These awesome monuments were made without metal. They were sculpted with stone tools, and transported hundreds of feet from a quarry without beasts of burden or wheels. At the time they were built, writing had not yet been invented. Neither had pottery. Their discovery has changed the way archaeologists think about human civilization.

Gobekli Tepe rivals Stonehenge in its complexity, but predates it by some six thousand years, hailing to 9600 - 8800 BC. It is older than the pyramids and the ancient cities of Ur and Catalhӧyuk. It is the oldest known building project on Earth. But it is not its age per se, its engineering, or even its artistry that make Gobekli Tepe so special. It is that the people who created and used it were nomadic hunter-gatherers living before the invention of agriculture. There is no local source of water, no traces of housing, cemeteries, domesticated animals or plants. The people who built this 'temple' did not live here, nor anywhere else permanently.

The existence of Gobekli Tepe turns the common understanding of the development of human civilization on its head. The old way of thinking has humans in Mesopotamia discovering that wild grains can be saved and planted, and wild animals captured and contained. This ‘Neolithic revolution’ encouraged people to settle in one place, growing and keeping food instead of hunting and gathering it. Then, as a consequence of the new stability, came increased food supply, growth of community, cooperation, division of labour, extra time to devote to art and architecture, religion, organized cemeteries, public buildings, etc. Gobekli Tepe, however, was built by a number of people over a significant amount of time, organized, cooperating, and practicing a common  religion -- all without the existence of stable, permanent settlements.

Besides demonstrating that long-held beliefs can be wrong, and that early human societies were more complex than previously thought, Gobekli Tepe is a spectacular site in its own right. What people were doing here is still a mystery, and the lack of writing means there is no voice from the past to tell us what these structures meant to their culture. There are some intriguing clues, however. For one, some of the T-shaped stones have belts and arms carved on them, suggesting they are stylized representations of people. For another, what look like benches are built into the walls – for visitors to rest awhile, dead or alive, in the company of the stone statues.

Some believe that Gobekli Tepe’s stone circles were sanctuaries to link the world of the living with the world of the dead. Today, they still function as a link to the world of the dead, the only connection we have to the culture that lived and died in that part of Turkey more than 11,000 years ago. The stones still tell stories of their builders, whispering secrets of our distant relatives.

My Stinky Sneakers

    Ewww...What is that smell? Were my socks washed in skunk juice? Did my feet turn into moldy cheese I don’t think so. It is my stinky sneakers.

I hold my nose when I take off my sneakers. My mom holds her nose too. My dog sniffs and quivers with delight. Why are my sneakers so smelly?

My stinky sneakers were not dropped in the garbage. They did not come from a manure factory. My sneakers stink because they have tiny creatures called bacteria (back-teer-ee-ah) living in them. It is not the sneakers that smell, it is the bacteria living in them. More precisely, it is not the bacteria in my sneakers that smell, it is their farts.

Your old shoes probably have smelly bacteria too.  But no matter how hard you or I look in our shoes, we will not see the bacteria. They are too small. We cannot see everything that is real.

Bacteria don’t just live in my sneakers… They live all over me, all over my body, inside and out. Bacteria live everywhere. On animals, on plants, in the air, in the soil, in the water. Bacteria live deep in the ground, on the ocean floor, on the top of Mount Everest, in the clouds, in the Antarctic ice.

The bacteria that live on my body are body bacteria. They like it warm, the temperature of me. Not all bacteria living on me are stinky. Some of them keep me healthy. I need them to help me make vitamins and keep my skin clean. But a few of the bacteria that live on my body can make me sick. Sometimes, my throat gets sore because too many bacteria are growing in my mouth.

Most bacteria just hang around, living on me like I live on the Earth. The stinky bacteria living in my sneakers are like that. There is more than one kind of bacteria living in my stinky sneakers. They have big names like Staphylococcus (Staff – ee – low –cock – us) and Propionibacteria (Pro – pee – on –ee – back – teer – ee – a). Stahylococcus are very small, and are shaped like a marble. Propionibacteria are shaped like jellybeans. These kinds of bacteria like to live where it is warm and dark. My sneakers are a perfect home.

My sneakers have something else that these bacteria love..lots of sweat to eat. Feet make a lot of sweat. Most people’s feet make more than a cup of sweat, every day. The sweat my feet makes soaks into my socks and into my sneakers. Sweat is mostly water, but there is also a little bit of salt and a little bit of sugar. Sneaker bacteria eat this salt and this sugar. It is their favorite food.

The more sweat in my sneakers, the more bacteria food. The bacteria grow and make even more bacteria. If there was a straight line of bacteria from my toe to my heel, there would be sixty thousand bacteria in a row. Lots of sweat makes crowds of bacteria. My sneakers are like a giant bacteria concert, like the Superbowl, or Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

My sweat does not smell. But when the bacteria in my stinky sneakers eat it, they sure leave behind smells when they finish dinner. In a way, it is like lots of minuscule bacteria farts. Phew!

Scientists are trying to grow a new kind of bacteria that eats sweat but does not make bad smells. This kind of bacteria would live in sneakers and clothes and eat up all the sweat and dirt. My sneakers would stay clean and never need to be washed. My mom says these scientists should hurry up.

Stinky sneakers mean that I have been playing and running. Stinky sneakers mean that I have been exercising and staying healthy. Stinky sneakers give my bacteria a place to live and food to eat.

When I get home, I take my stinky sneakers off. And I put my smelly socks in the laundry basket. And then I do the stink test.  I lift my leg in the air, point my toes at my sister and say, “smell my feet.” If she holds her nose or runs away, my feet are stinky too. And then I know…

...it is time to take a bath.

The Wonders of Sticky Tape

On Christmas Eve, one hundred years ago, right where you are now, a child just like you might have been wrapping a present. To do so, they would need some brown paper, scissors, and a burning candle. First, the paper was cut and folded around the present. Then, hot wax from the candle was dripped between the paper’s edges. The paper was held together with a finger until the wax cooled and became smooth and hard. The wax had turned from liquid to solid. The solid wax stuck to the paper, and kept the edges together. A bit of ribbon was added to make the package pretty.  

People do not usually use wrap gifts with candle wax anymore. It is dangerous, and messy. In 1930, an American inventor named Richard Drew made wrapping gifts simpler and safer when he invented “sticky tape.”  Part of his job for the company 3M was to play with sticky stuff and see what he could invent with it. Sticky tape was the result. Now, all over the world, whenever people want two pieces of paper to stay together, they use a piece of tape. No candle required.

Tape is a long strip of plastic with a layer of glue on one side. Only one side of tape – the side with the glue – is sticky. The other side has to be smooth so the glue does not stick to it, and we can unroll it. The smooth side is the side that we touch with our fingers. When Richard Drew was thinking about how to make tape, a clear, thin plastic called cellophane had just been invented. Cellophane, also known as plastic wrap, was first used to cover leftovers in the kitchen. It is cellophane that Richard Drew used to make his see-through, sticky tape.

Tape might be simple to use, but it is not simple to make. Richard Drew had to be very patient and he tried many recipes in his search for the perfect glue. More than thirty different ingredients are in sticky tape glue. Some of these ingredients are oils and some are plastics. All these ingredients were mixed together and tested until the glue was just right.

Glue that is too sticky would not come off the roll. Glue that is not sticky enough would not hold things together.  Sticky tape glue works so well because it gets stickier when it is pushed down with your fingers. It is “pressure sensitive.” It comes easily off the roll, and then when you press it onto the paper, it stays there.

When fingers apply pressure to tape, it affects the molecules in the glue – it squishes them against the surface, causing them to spread out, just like squishing a jelly sandwich makes the jelly spread out. The glue – and the jelly – is flowing slowly, like a liquid. The harder the molecules are pressed against the surface, the more they flow, and the more they stick.

Tape sticks best to paper, glass, and metal. It does not stick as well to plastic like yogurt cups. Try it yourself; is it easier to get a piece of tape off glass, or a yogurt container? The next time you wrap a present, remember you are squishing molecules with your finger. You and your fingers are an important part of the tape’s stickiness.

The science of sticky tape is complicated. It has taken scientists a long time to understand how pressure sensitive glue works, and they still don’t have all the answers. There have been whole books written about the subject! This is one invention that works well, even though we do not fully understand how. It reminds us that even simple things can be full of surprises. Just like that Christmas present waiting for you under the tree.

Creativity

            She reached up, touching the cold ceiling above her head, relishing the grain of stone beneath her fingertips. The lamp flickered. Shadows raced across the cave walls, spirits running through time. She hoped there was enough fat in the lamp. It would be difficult to find their way out, and she was afraid of what might press close in the darkness.

He was coming toward her. She was silent. It was easy to be, here; the walls were always talking. He stood beside her, holding a half clam shell filled with red, thin like new blood. He held it close to her hand, up near the rock. He put the end of a bone of a dove into the red, and blew, through the hollow.  His breath mingled with the fluid. It bubbled and whistled. The spirits whistled in reply. 

She felt the red against her hand’s flesh, cool and soothing, not hot like the blood of a kill, the blood of death. Her hand was steeped in it, her knuckles smooth under the coating. The light of the lamp flared and for a moment, her skin glowed. The red pulsed through her, inside her, and outside her. She peeled her fingers away from the rock with sadness, breaking the union between the past and the present. On the pale rock she’d left an imprint, a pale hand, five rays. A part of her to remain with the spirit shadows, a manifestation of her moment.

All of us share this imaginary CroMagnon woman’s compulsion to create, though we cannot understand the significance of her hand print, made deep in a cave some 40,000 years ago. We can say, however, that just like her hand print, what we create also leaves an imprint of ourselves on the physical world. At its core, creativity is about self-expression. Creativity is also, at its core, a manipulation of the world around us. Not only do we make our inner self external when we create, but we also interact with the external in a personal way. Creation is an act of giving and also an act of receiving.

I create because it is a way to give that is comfortable; it does not require thanks, and it has no strings attached. It is safe. When someone judges my hand print, they are judging not just my gift but my desire to give it. 

I create because the parts of me made external become a part of my world, a friendly part, that I can interact with, and receive from. I have forged connections with my surroundings, I am not so isolated. When someone judges my hand print, they are putting a value on the parts of me made external. They are changing the dynamic of my interaction with them.

Judging a creative product is important. To give requires a receiver. And understanding what we have expressed of ourselves is aided by understanding what others have perceived. However, it is never a task to be taken lightly. Even the simplest of creations may be imbued with meaning for the creator, and that meaning is not always accessible to others, like hand prints on a cave wall.

Math, Religion, and Chimpanzees

Photo credit: Aaron Logan

The farmhouse was old. The sixteen foot dining table we were seated at was too. This was a typical gathering with my in-laws, deeply committed Christians. It was during one such dinner that a someone said, "chimps share over 99% of our DNA because they were created by God to test our faith."

By this time, I`d just spent several years of graduate school in the same department as the famed atheist Richard Dawkins. When I passed by his office, I used to stop to read the latest hate mail taped to his door, presumably sent by Christians who believed damning Dawkins to Hell was the best way to help him avoid it. So, while it was a shock at first, I was getting used to the fact that a few of Earth`s modern citizens believe humans walked alongside dinosaurs.

In that Canadian dining room, face-to-face with similarly twisted logic, I realized the root of the "evolution vs. religion debate" is fear. The idea that humans came into being just like all the other beasts lovingly housed on the Ark threatens some Christians` identity in a way that is so terrifying they`ll do mental gymnastics to avoid it, and a few feel pushed to more aggressive defense tactics.

I was glad of this insight when, as a student at teacher`s college, I was charged with teaching evolution to a class of grade 12s in a public high school in a large Ontario city. The experienced science teacher whose class I was borrowing, whose job it was to mentor me, confessed that he'd had a difficult time with the subject, though he'd not succumbed to the temptation of reducing the unit to a brief overview delivered in as little time as possible, as had some of his colleagues. In the photocopying room on the first day, a fellow student teacher exclaimed above the whizzing, flashing 21st century technology, "you`re allowed to teach that?"

This was going to be harder than I thought.

First, I asked the students to indicate if they believed in evolution - anonymously. About half of them indicated so. Then, I taught my heart out, while trying to calm potential fears: I mentioned the polls of scientists, half of whom report belief in a Higher Power; the same stats as the rest of the population. I suggested belief in God is not reliant on science for proof or disproof; indeed it cannot be. I told them about Christians who study evolution, and I compared the issue of evolution in our society to the long since (largely) resolved issue of the Earth being round, not flat.

Three weeks later, I repeated my survey. A little more than half were convinced. From this I concluded:

1. The fear of evolution runs deep;
2. High school is much too late to teach evolution – students have already made up their minds based on only God-knows-what; and,
3. I had failed.

Recently, I’ve decided I might have been complicating the issue. Now, on the rare occasion that anyone asks, "what is evolution?" I say, "evolution is simply math." We have genes. Genes vary, so we`re all different. Any combination of genes that is more likely to survive and reproduce is… (Drum Roll)…more likely to survive and reproduce. I figure it is pretty hard to argue with that, though I`m sure someone will.

Alas, if only our ideas evolved as efficiently as our genes do.

Children and Dogs

This summer, my family and I spent a lot of time with small children who were relatives of one stripe or another. During several occasions, I noticed all of the toddlers had one in common: they were dog crazy. In June, an 18 month old and a four year old, along with their parents, came camping with us and our two Jack Russells. The bond was instant. The four year old spend virtually every waking moment cohorting with FrankieTexas as she calls them, squashing their names together into one. She never took her hand off the handle of the leash, she sat with them, cuddled with them, even French kissed them amidst an avalanche of giggles. After about 24 hours, the dogs lay stretched out in the grass and fine ash surrounding the fire pit, exhausted. Their little keeper held onto the leash, threatening to drag them on a walk the moment they were able to stand. I wondered if the attraction is about the dogs being about the same size? Though I was assured that the little girl is just as enthralled with an aunt and uncle’s Rhodesian ridgeback, who is nearly twice as tall as she is. Perhaps it is just my niece’s personality, I thought; an animal lover who is starting early. This idea was supported by the behaviour of the 18 month old, who was terrified rather than enamoured, despite no scary past experiences with canines. She’s slight of build, delicate in fact, with delicate features to match. She’s sweet, always smiling and usually gets fought over among the motherly segment of family gatherings. The entire camping trip, she spent all her time in her mother’s arms pointing at their adorable noses saying “doggie,” “ruffruff,” “bite me,” and most often “no.” She cried and whined and yelled “no” much louder if she was put down in their vicinity. Clearly, not all children like dogs. Several weeks later, another four year old came to visit. Shy, unspeaking and most interested in engineering feats – how to nail boards together and that sort of thing – he, too, surprised me by quietly taking the leash out of my hand. He spent the next two hours taking the dogs for walks around and around the house. Being mechanically minded, his main focus was the leash. During breaks, he tangled and untangled the leads around chair legs, and clipped and unclipped them to their collars. He discussed the best way to hold them, and the relative strength of leather versus nylon. He couldn’t remember their names, but he loved them just the same. Not long after, me and Frankie and Texas were at yet another family get together. A bigger one this time; all of the young ones were gathered in one place, a small, pleasant backyard. Unlike home, the dogs could not wander off into the fields to find the perfect patch of timothy grass to poop on. And so, it was to my utter embarrassment that my brother –in- law found a large pile of dog poo while standing barefoot on the manicured lawn. A cousin laughed at my genuine astonishment – I don’t know how it happened, I don’t know how it could be my dogs, I kept a close eye on them the entire time, they were never off their leashes. But, here it was. And two more piles close by. I felt all 30 pairs of eyes watch as I bent and picked it up. I’m not a dog person, I told myself. This was my husband’s idea. As soon as their time is up, that’s it. No more dogs. Then, the eighteen month old arrived. Approaching in her mother’s arms, she pointed at their poo-sniffing noses and said, “doggie” and “ruff-ruff.” And immediately, and delicately, reached out to grasp the leash in my hand. “You want to hold onto Texas?” I asked in astonishment. She nodded, wriggled to get down, and proceeded on wobbly feet to take them for a walk around the yard. I patted Frankie and said “good boy,” and he cocked his head in the way he does that makes his ears flop and makes me laugh. My dog poo-hardened heart melted. His tail wagged and the back half of his body wagged with it. And I wondered yet again, why it is that we have such a strong and seemingly innate connection with these meat-eating troublemakers.

Santa’s White Hair

Santa's hair and long beard are white as snow. But as a boy, his hair was probably a different color. Just like boys the world over, his head would have been topped with shades of brown, red, or yellow.

Hair color originates inside the skin on the head, where hairs are attached. Pull on a hair firmly and slowly until it comes out, and you'll notice a small white tube clinging to the end of it. This tube is a clump of cells that fit inside a narrow hole in your scalp, a hair follicle. Hair grows in hair follicles, and the cells that line hair follicles supply the growing hair with color.

A hair grows as cells are added to its bottom. These cells contain a strong protein called keratin, which gives hair its structure. Fingernails are made of keratin too. As more and more cells rich in keratin are added to the bottom of the hair, the older cells are pushed higher in the follicle tube, towards the surface of the scalp. By the time a hair cell has been pushed through the entire follicle tube to the surface of the head, it is dead. Hair is not alive, which is why it does not hurt to cut it! The more cells that are added, the longer the hair grows.

In case you are wondering…Hair grows about 1 cm every month.

Hair does not keep growing and growing forever. Every two to seven years the follicle stops adding keratin cells. The hair stays attached for a few months and then it falls out. Every day,

50 to 100 hairs fall out of a person’s head. New ones start to grow in their place.

Hair color of all shades are the result of the presence of one chemical, melanin, which is transferred to hair cells inside the follicle. Melanin is also found in skin. Dark skin has more melanin than pale skin. When people get a tan, their skin cells are producing extra melanin. Similarly, the darker the hair, the more melanin its cells contain. Black hair has the most melanin, red hair has less melanin, and blond hair has less still. Gray hair has even less melanin, and pure white hair, like Santa’s, has none.

As people get older, especially when they have lived for fifty years or more, the color cells start to disappear, and there is less melanin to transfer to the growing hairs. We are not sure why these cells disappear. For some people it happens slowly over many years. For other people it happens quickly. Hairs still keep growing, they just don’t have much color in them any more.

Santa's white hair tells us a lot about him. It is a sure sign that Santa is probably well over 50. (It is unusual, but occasionally a young person has no melanin in their hair.) As well as being white, Santa’s hair is thick and shiny. This tells us that Santa is healthy and eats plenty of good food. Also, when a person goes out in the sun a lot, their white hair gets stained yellow. Santa’s bright white hair tells us that he does not spend a lot of time on the beach. Christmas keeps him much too busy for that!

What Really Counts

Ever have that feeling of too many coincidences? As though life is trying to teach you a lesson, and the same question comes up over and over again until you learn it? This has happened to me this past month; time and time again, the question “what really counts?” keeps rearing its head.

It started with an incident in my teenager’s English class. He gave an oral presentation about a historical novel, which happened to be – with the teacher’s permission – a romance. Of the steamy variety, with plenty of heaving breasts and burning britches. The teacher said his presentation was “brilliant,” filled with hilarious metaphors laced with innuendo that communicated the book’s flavour, but he also gave it a low grade because the innuendo was “inappropriate.” It was the dichotomy in the teacher’s reaction – his high opinion of the presenter’s abilities coupled with a low grade – that made me ponder. What message does this leave the student about what really counts? Competent, or even innovative, use of words to communicate effectively? No. Social conformity? Perhaps.

A week later, what really counts in science class, as opposed to English class, came up in discussion with a group of high school science teachers in Alberta. When I asked them what really matters, what they wanted their students to graduate high school with, they said lofty things: an appreciation of nature; a desire to learn about their world; an understanding of how to analyze, reason, use deductive logic; an ability to assess evidence and conclusions presented in media; and, good citizenship. What are science students tested on, however? Largely facts. Science teachers and science students alike are left to figure out for themselves what really counts.

The question of how much school itself counts was raised for me a couple of years ago when I wrote Edison’s Concrete Piano. Many of the sixteen great inventors I studied did not have regular schooling. Edison and Einstein’s difficulties fitting the education mold are relatively well known. Buckminster Fuller was the same. But many other greats also had irregular schooling because they were ill (e.g., James Watt and Nikola Tesla) or because they were homeschooled (e.g., Danny Hillis). I always thought the lack of school aided success because they managed to avoid some negative influence, but a new friend suggested what really counted towards these inventors' success was what they were gaining, not avoiding, by staying at home – such as countless hours tinkering in the garage.

The question of what really counts got personal the other day when I inadvertently heard that a co-worker was being paid more than me for similar work. Now, the day before, I was perfectly content with my pay rate, so it wasn’t the money that mattered. It all turned out to be a mistake but not before I realized just how much it matters to me that I am respected by others. Maybe too much.

But the biggest question about what really counts came with the privilege of spending a few hours with a colleague recently diagnosed with stage four cancer. The world seen through her eyes, even just a peek of it, gives a clear, lasting view of what matters. And it isn’t grades or grading, how much money we make, or even how much we are respected. It is how we take care of ourselves, and how positive a force we are in the lives of others. And, perhaps most acutely, it is the wonder of our existence as we interact with our Earth. It is the glint of sun on a frosted windshield and the ardent pink of an Echinacea petal. It is the soft divot at the edge of a smile, the air rushing in and out of our nostrils, and the thousands of other exquisite experiences we take for granted each and every day.

Eyebrows: An example of how little we know about ourselves

I’ve been reading and writing about eyebrows this week. I’m learning a lot. It has made me think, with amazement, how human beings (like me) are so oblivious to our own biology in so many ways. I mean, eyebrows are just two strips of hair; they’re kind of boring, perhaps even a little gross. Even though I look at eyebrows dozens or even hundreds of times a day, I’ve never paid them much attention before. All this time, I had no idea how important they are to everyday life.

For one, they are crucial for communicating emotion– more so than words. Our eyebrows tell others when we are angry, sad, afraid and happy. We also use them in conversation, like visual punctuation, as well as to convey empathy. And we send specific messages with them; raising our eyebrows quickly, known as the eyebrow flash,is something that cultures around the world do automatically to send signals. The message can be “hello,” or “yes,” or “I’m flirting with you.”

Detail, portrait of a man with raised eyebrows, Giovanni Battista Moroni

Eyebrows talk, and we are very good at understanding what they are saying, without thinking. But there is more. Eyebrows are crucial for us to recognize faces and determine the identity of its owner. That is one reason why we first look at the eyebrows and eyes when we see a face. People’s eyebrows give us even more information – whether they are male or female, and to some extent how old they are.

THICK EYEBROWS ON A YOUNg male

We also seem to read information from eyebrows about people’s personalities, though there is no evidence (and it is unlikely) that eyebrow shape and personality are actually related. We judge a face with thin eyebrows to be happier, weaker, and more intelligent. Thick eyebrows are judged as stubborn, strong, even mean. This makes me wonder if there is a biological reason for people in so many cultures, especially women, altering their brows to make them thinner. Could it be that we are unconsciously changing what our faces communicate to the world?

Female eyebrow, thinned and tattooed

So here I am, looking at my own eyebrows in the mirror several times a day, using them to detect the emotions and identity of the faces of everyone I meet, and moving them up and down and in and out to send signals to people without being aware of it. My mind pays attention to eyebrows when I’m speaking to people and when I’m watching actors on a screen, and registers and understands the signals they convey without my knowledge.

My conscious mind can try to fake emotions using my eyebrows, but this uses a different part of my brain, and like most of us I am not very good at faking it. The movements we make when deliberately “making a face” are faster, bigger, and last longer. Most people have little difficulty telling the difference between when we are faking a frown and when we really mean it.

Studying the science of eyebrows has made it very clear that my brain is causing me to behave in ways that I do not know about. This makes me wonder what else I’m doing that I have no control over. It makes me uncomfortable to think that I’m an animal, a product of evolution, and that I respond to my environment – including other people – in such complex ways without my knowledge.

It is also marvellous to realize how little we understand about our own biology. Eyebrows are right under our noses (well, actually above our noses), are utterly unique to our species, and yet are not fully understood. From a purely selfish perspective, this means there is plenty of intrigue and mystery left to explore, and plenty still to write about.