Guest Post: Coming of Age in a Trash Forest

My friend Taya and I were out at her parents’ country place, about twelve acres in the western foothills of the Cascades. I was maybe eight, visiting for the first time. Taya was taking me on a tour. We were struggling along, as short-legged people do through dense, early successional Northwest forest. She stopped and took hold of a small sapling. “This,” she said, “is the difference between our land and a park.” And then, shockingly, she stepped on the sapling until it was bowed in two and then snapped it with her boot, killing it dead. Or maybe she ripped it out of the ground with her two hands—she was a very strong girl, I remember. I don’t remember the details of the act. But I do remember that she killed a tree and also the sensation of my mind being blown right out my ears. (Taya’s childhood arbor-cide didn’t presage sociopathy or anything close to it. She’s now a vet.)

I was a city kid, so well schooled in the “leave no trace” ethos of wilderness preservation by school and camp that the idea of killing a tree…it wasn’t that it was wrong. It was that I had never even considered the possibility. Nature was, to me, inviolate, unchanging, ancient and pure. Pristine. It was better than God—less judgmental, more fun to play in, but just as serious and Big. Continue reading

You Don’t Live in the Twitterverse: a Plea to Ground Yourself in Place

A local network. Image by See-ming Lee via Wikimedia Commons.

He surely didn’t know it, but journalist David Dobbs recently put his finger on a problem that’s been bugging me for some time. Writing in his Wired blog, Dobbs made the observation that,

In my own life, many if not most of my most vital social connections — bonds of mutual benefit and regard — are with people outside my local geographic communities.

Dobbs made these remarks in a piece about Dunbar’s number, a theory developed by evolutionary anthropologist Robin Dunbar, who defines his eponymous number this way. “It’s the number of people that you can have a personal, reciprocated relationship with.” For humans, the Dunbar number equates to roughly 150 relationships. “You can have extra friends beyond the 150, but they’re not personalized friends…they’re just voyeurs into your little world,” Dunbar says.

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The baby brain revolution arrives – not a moment too soon

When you hear that someone has had a stroke, what type of patient are you likely to picture? Probably an elderly person with an illness, such as heart disease.

But the patient might be a lot younger than you’d think: after the elderly, babies around the time of their birth are next most likely to suffer a stroke – a disruption in blood flow to the brain that kills cells by starving them of oxygen. Most babies who survive a stroke develop lifelong problems with speech, hearing, learning, and movement; stroke is the leading cause of the incurable movement disorder cerebral palsy.

Yet despite the emotional and financial cost of caring for these children, few researchers are looking for treatments for them. That’s perplexing in light of the past decade’s revolution in neuroscience: researchers have realized that the brain, once thought incapable of repairing itself, can grow new brain cells, or neurons. They’re investigating how to harness that ability to treat conditions that afflict adults, such as Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s disease. But few researchers are studying how this astonishing flexibility could be enlisted to help children with brain diseases.

That’s partly because neuroscience research on babies and children is difficult – with good reason. Kids can’t give their own consent to be test subjects; their parents are reluctant to let doctors do anything that might harm their children, or add time and stress to their lives; and it’s hard to study babies’ brains in any meaningful way. One of the major ways that scientists study the brain is by collecting samples from deceased patients, but parents who have lost their children are often understandably too distraught to agree to donate their baby’s tissue to a brain bank.

David Rowitch, a neuroscientist at the University of California San Francisco, is trying to change this. Rowitch is not only a neuroscientist; he’s also a pediatrician who specializes in treating the most fragile infants. In 2008, Rowitch and other doctors at UCSF opened one of the world’s only infant intensive care nurseries focused on preventing and treating newborn brain injuries. He has also developed a pediatric brain bank – a collection of brain tissue from 100 deceased babies and children, some of whom died before birth.

The brain bank is small, but uniquely designed to explore the development and ailments of the youngest brains. Its tissues are collected soon after death and are better preserved than brain tissue in other pediatric brain banks. The tissue includes regions where neurons are born before they migrate elsewhere in the brain. Tissue banking is controversial and unethical when tissue donors don’t realize that their cells are being studied in research. But Rowitch’s team always explains to families what this brain bank is for and how it will be used. And while it is heartbreaking to think of babies dying, and may seem macabre to collect tissue from them, it’s essential if researchers want to find treatments for the ailments that have claimed their lives.

Rowitch has just showed this in a paper published in Nature Neuroscience. Drawing on the brain bank, he and his colleagues examined samples of brain tissue from babies who died after suffering brain injuries due to lack of oxygen. He found that patches of damaged tissue in their brains expressed a certain gene found in cells that make a protective substance called myelin. But the cells weren’t making myelin, and the brain tissue surrounding them had died. Rowitch thought he knew why: the gene affected in the myelin-making cells is part of a molecular developmental pathway – the so-called Wnt (pronounced “wint”) pathway – that seemed to be stuck.

Rowitch wondered what would happen if he coaxed this Wnt developmental pathway to restart itself. So he treated mice with similarly damaged brain cells with a drug designed to do that. The brain cells started making myelin again, effectively repairing the damage.

Rowitch needs to do a lot more work to show whether drugs could help human babies – not just mice – with brain injury. But the paper is a hopeful demonstration that baby brain injuries might one day be repaired. And it’s part of a growing movement among pediatricians and neuroscientists to look again at childhood conditions such as cerebral palsy that are caused by brain damage. Maybe they aren’t untreatable, as has been thought for so long.

The brain regeneration revolution is finally trickling down to the littlest among us. It’s about time.

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Image: A newborn takes her hearing test. kandinski/flickr.

Voyeurism and Facebook

I spy with my little eye . . .

Several years ago, my mom decided to move from Grand Forks, North Dakota — a city of 50,000 — to Lakota, North Dakota — a town of about 700 people. She had grown up in small towns and had no desire to return to one. But Lakota happened to be the midway point between her job in Grand Forks and my stepfather’s new job in Minnewaukan. So my mom began house hunting.

At one house, the owner was watching television. But the show didn’t look like a regular television program. It seemed almost like a home video. My mom asked the woman what she was watching. She replied, “Oh, that’s the camera down on Main Street.” Lakota, North Dakota, has a video camera planted at one end of Main Street. The footage from that camera ends up on TV, allowing residents to get a real-time, birds-eye view of the town’s tiny business district. No lie.

Why on earth would anyone want to watch what’s happening on Main Street? Because we are natural-born voyeurs. Given the opportunity to peer into others lives, most of us will grab the binoculars rather than closing the shades.

Facebook, like Lakota’s Main Street camera, encourages our voyeuristic tendencies. “People can peruse the profiles of various users, read about other users’ interests, read their friends’ comments on their walls or view their friends. People can even scroll through a user’s photo albums and see all of the pictures that that user has uploaded of themselves and all of the pictures that other users have uploaded with that user in it. Profiles can link to other, sometimes more personal, Web sites about the user. Some profiles link to other photo albums or to online journals,” wrote Brett Bumgarner in a 2007 study. Dozens of my Facebook “friends” are high school classmates I haven’t spoken to since graduation. I friended them to be polite. But that doesn’t explain why I read their status updates and flip through pictures of their kids’ little league games. Facebook has turned me into a busybody. I am the homeowner watching the Main Street camera channel. Continue reading

Abstruse Goose: Math Doesn’t Suck

AG’s little mouseover says, “. . .except algebraic geometry.  Algebraic geometry pretty much sucks.”  I’m going to have to take his word for it, I’m profoundly innumerate.  Moreover, if AG hadn’t added the caption, I would have said this cartoon was about physics.  Physics is the science, the knowledge; math is just the language — or at least that’s what physicists tell me.  Could physicists be wrong?

Also:  AG’s hidden title for this cartoon is “my favorite Danica,” and after some determined googling, I discovered Danica McKellar and her book about math written to encourage teenaged girls:  when girls are children, their math scores are pretty much the same as boys’; but when girls become teens, their scores lag behind.  The subject attracts considerable scholarly literature but I haven’t the heart to read it.  I’ll make it up instead. Continue reading

The Benefits of War?

In the festive spirit of LWON’s first birthday celebration, Jessa asked me the following question: “ Squirrel it however you like — War: What is it good for?” The answer follows.

What is war good for? Absolutely nothing. Listen to me–I’ll say it again: absolutely nothing. Huh.

And yet …

Edwin Starr had it absolutely right, of course, in his 1970 hit song, War.* War is nothing but a heartbreaker, an enemy of all mankind—spend too much time doing it, or even thinking about it deeply, and it will truly blow your mind. But is that the whole story? Hardly.

War is an evolved human trait, as much a part of our genetic endowment as our large brains and bipedal gait. (Don’t buy the argument? Buy the book! Or if you’re cheap, read the basics for free. Lazy, too? Try the video version. Sheesh, already.) And it’s a funny thing about evolved traits—they may not be pretty, but by definition, have to be good for something. Or at least, to have been good for something, once upon a time. Otherwise the behavioral predispositions that make war possible–violent aggression and competitiveness, the ability to toggle empathy on and off, among others–wouldn’t have become fixed into our genetic endowment. Continue reading

Avastin and the Power of Hope

This week, an FDA panel unanimously voted to revoke its approval of Avastin (bevacizumab) for breast cancer. The decision evoked cheers from some groups and jeers from others.  At least one group derided the decision as the work of a  “death panel.”

Initially hailed as a wonder drug, Avastin is a monoclonal antibody first approved for use against lung and colon cancer. Its maker, Roche (under its Genentech division), hoped that it would prove similarly useful for breast cancer. The FDA granted provisional approval of the drug for metastatic breast cancer in 2008 under the accelerated approval program.

But in an unusual move, the drug was granted this accelerated approval based on what researchers call a “surrogate” endpoint. Instead of measuring overall survival rates, Roche submitted data showing that Avastin slowed “progression-free survival.” What that means is that the drug slowed the time between new MRI findings, but it did not improve survival times. To repeat — the drug has never been shown to extend the lives of breast cancer patients. Still, the hope remained that the drug could nonetheless improve quality of life in people with breast cancer.

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Guest Post: Drought in the Garden of the Gods

When I first moved to New Mexico from the east coast I asked somebody how to tell the difference between a juniper and a piñon pine. Easy, they said: most of the junipers are alive and the piñons are all dead.

Across the Southwest, piñon pines have been dying off over the past twenty years due to a long drought cycle that has left the plants water-stressed and vulnerable to insects. Under such prolonged dry conditions, the trees cannot make enough sap to defend themselves against the piñon bark beetle and ecologists estimate between 40 and 90 percent of piñons have died, leaving behind a lot of flammable deadwood.  Continue reading