The learning uncertainty principle

The other evening I was having dinner with my sister’s family, including my niece who was home from college for a visit. My niece is a charming education major and already has a teaching certificate, having taught for a couple of years in a prep school in England. My niece knew that I’ve been teaching at Eastern Michigan University and asked: “Uncle Tom, what’s your theory of teaching?”
“My theory of what?”
“You know, your theory of teaching,” she said. “How do you think your students learn? What’s the basis for the way you teach your students?” “What do you assume when you attempt to reach your kids with the things they need to know?”

I had to admit; no one’s ever asked me that question before. I’d been teaching for 5 years with classes as big as 120 and no one ever asked me about my theory of teaching. Unlike my niece, I never had a course in education. Fact is by State law, I’m not qualified to even teach Kindergarten -- but here I am teaching college students.
I realized my niece was right, I really should have some sort of “theory” for what I do. How can I possibly be an educator if I don’t have a theory? I needed one.

How can I get myself a “theory of teaching”? I decided that there were only two practical ways. (1) I could spend semesters in attending boring education courses, reading a bunch of books, and doing research or (2) I could invent something.
Being a seasoned university professor, I chose option #2. I’ve been teaching for a number of years; I’ll just make something up based on what I’ve been doing, give a name, and proclaim it my theory of teaching – having no real idea what I’m talking about. So here it is: my uncertainty principle of learning.

Most of you may recall from your studies of quantum mechanics that the German scientist, Werner Heisenberg, got the Nobel Prize for his “Uncertainty Principle of Physics” in 1933. This important principle deals with the location and measurement of sub-atomic particles. Among other things, it states that it’s impossible to accurately measure both the precise location of a particle and its momentum at the same time. You can do one or the other – you can determine where a particle is or you can say something about its direction and velocity; but not both. They’re referred to as conjugate variables.
Likewise, you can say nothing about either the location or momentum of a particle when it is not being measured – in between times its simply referred to as a “cloud of possibilities” … well really a “probabilities” but “possibilities” sound more democratic.

“Clouds of possibilities”: I like that! That’s how I think of my students -- clouds of possibilities. My meeting with them for a couple of hours each week does little to dispel these clouds. I know little about where they’re coming from, where they are in their lives from day to day, or where they’re going.
However as an educator, from time to time I’m required to locate these students in learning space -- to say something about what they know and whether they have actually learned anything. I have to assign grades that reflect their knowledge.
Or more accurately, grades that reflect how well they’ve psyched out their instructor. As every thoughtful educator knows, assigning a grade reflects a student’s skill in duplicating what the educator imagines the student should know -- not necessarily the truth. Every student since Socrates or Confucius has scored well by imitating the ignorance of their teachers.
Another aspect of the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle of Physics is that in measuring either the location or momentum of a particle, you change it. In other words, the process of measuring a thing, affects it. I firmly believe this to be true with students. Exams are important assessment tools, but you can’t test students without changing them. In reality, it’s the only time you have their full attention and the questions you ask and their answers impart knowledge. Exam questions signal what’s important to you as an educator – what’s not asked has no immediate value.

Given that students try to get good grades, or at least pass a course with minimum effort or disruption to their lives, the questions asked on exams clearly shape what students remember. If they get a good question right, they remember it. If they get it wrong, they sometimes figure there may be a better answer.
It’s quite impossible to test a student without changing that student. Assessing and educating students are conjugate pairs. I decided some time ago I can do one or the other well, but not both. I’ve chosen educating and given up the idea of accurately assessing student knowledge. I focus on using exams to further educate students -- to impart as much potentially useful knowledge as possible. For me the “test” is a teaching tool; not for assessment. I really don’t care what grade a student gets and neither will he or she in 10 years. The only important thing is: has the student learned something related to the subject being taught.
How do I do that? I ask irritatingly, open-ended questions; questions that require both knowledge and thought and often don’t have a right or wrong answer -- questions for which the answers cannot be memorized. I ask students to reassemble what they know in order the discover things they often didn’t know they knew. In the process, they invent their own learning.
For example rather than asking a simple question about the shape and size of Europe, I might ask how Europe’s many peninsulas have contributed to the fact that its rose as a world dominating power in the 17th century. In thinking about that question, some students might get to the notion that it has something to do with the fact that peninsulas are easy to defend and hard to conquer and therefore Europe has always been a land of competing states. Some may come to realize that Europe came to dominate the world because, in part, of its unusual geography.

The bottom line: there’s no such thing as teaching -- only in helping clouds of possibilities, a.k.a. students, on their paths to achieve certain goals. Where they end up within their space of possibilities is anybody guess, but my job is to facilitate that process as best I can. That’s Wagner’s uncertainty principle of learning.

Combatting the happiness crisis

In these difficult times, it’s easy to loose track of how happy we are. To be sure, there is a great deal of unhappiness in the world and even in our lives.
But recent research shows that Americans and others are generally happier today than previous generations.

In spite of the uncertainty of our current economic situation, most of us will not loose our jobs, most of us will not suffer the loss of a young or middle-aged loved one, most of us will have a roof over our heads and enough to eat – no matter how tenuous our current situation, we fully expect to be happier in the future.

Almost all Americans, and majorities in other countries, are surprisingly happy. Ninety percent of Americans report themselves to be "very happy" or "fairly happy". Ironically, almost everyone thinks they’re happier than the average person.

As nearly as I can tell, most Americans are high on the happiness scale and this has been true for some time. Perhaps our ancestors preferred happy people as mates, driving happiness upwards through natural selection.
However, it’s a serious problem with people becoming happier and happier. We are reaching a level where “happiness” is not only abundant, but most of us expect it. For the first time in history, happiness seems to be out of control.

Something must be done about all this happiness! Happiness is undermining the motivational fabric of our society. I’m here to alert you to this crisis. I’m here to suggest ways to stop happiness “dead in its tracts”.

Throughout history it was axiomatic that life was miserable – oppression, famine, ill health, tedious back-breaking labor, frequent and early death, and outdoor toilets being the lot for most. The only consolation was that in the next life, the Great Hereafter, things would be nicer – if you didn’t complain too much about this life.
When our founding fathers said: “Man is endowed by his Creator with certain inalienable rights and among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”, they didn’t intend that people would rush out and find happiness, let alone capture large amounts of it -– only snippets, a little bit at a time, just enough to keep us motivated.

Today, there’s a new academic field called “happiness research” dedicated to identifying and measuring “happiness” – or at least, our perceptions of happiness. You could argue that “happiness” is an abstract idea, impossible to measure directly, but happiness research simply asks people whether they “think” they’re happy or not. It also asks them whether they expect to be happy in the future.

Over the past 10 years or so, various surveys asked large numbers of people in different countries to judge their own happiness levels – from deeply depressed to moderately happy to insanely ecstatic. It turns out most peoples around the world rate themselves happier today than just 10 years ago … and they expect to be even happier in the future. Clearly, there’s an epidemic of bliss sweeping our world!

One happiness researcher, Geoffrey Miller reports that:
(1) Individuals differ in their happiness, but these differences appear to be quite stable across life spans. Some happiness may be due to genetic rather than environmental factors. In other words, some of us are born happy, others not (as shown by studies of identical twins reared apart.)
(2) Major life events (such as winning the lottery or the death of a loved one) have only temporary affects – one usually recovers to their typical state within six months to a year, even after very happy or very sad events. Each person appears to have a happiness "set-point" that is pretty resistant to change over a lifetime.
(3) Some of the "usual conditions" often used to explain individual differences in happiness seem to have little effect. A person's age, sex, race, income, nationality, and education level have at most, only small correlations with perceptions of happiness, typically explaining less than 2% of the variance between people. Important exceptions of course, are hunger, disease, and economic and social strife. Poor people are generally less happy but once they reach a certain minimum standard of living, additional increases in material wealth has little effect – which of course, means that in the past we continued to pursue more and more happiness no matter how happy we already were.

This recent happiness research undermine the fundamental tenets of our society. Few people today recognize the serious social implications of too much happiness.

Popular culture is dominated by advertisements that offer us things that are claimed to increase our happiness if we buy them. But happiness research shows that such claims are bogus; in reality we are seldom happier after we buy something than before it. Retail products should carry a warning: “This product might make you feel better for a very short period, but it’ll not make you a happier person”.

This research undermines the very basis of our consumer society. If we all realized that we can’t become happier with a new car, a new house, a new job, a new spouse, American society would come crashing down. There’d be no motivation to trade up, to trade the perfectly functional old for something (or someone) wonderfully new! All material and relational progress would come to an end.

Pretty soon everyone one would be satisfied with their own lot in life. People will stop struggling to become happier by improving their lives. It’s unnatural, uneconomic, unpatriotic!

People, arm yourselves against those who make us happy: suppress the outlandish urge to be “happier”! Stamp it out; wherever you can. Offer your friends and family an alternative to happiness – miserablness. It’s the only kind thing to do.

Please support my campaign to spreading “miserableness” where ever one goes -- in schools, factories, churches, and homes. Make our great country the unhappy place it once was… and, with your help, can be again.
Have our schools set confusing and unobtainable goals, promote greedy and domineering bosses in the workplace, get our churches to preach hell and damnation, make people feel guilty about things that improve their lives.
Studies have shown that happiness is wildly contagious. Happy people infect others. We must be on guard, ever vigilant. We must spot outbreaks of happiness early, surround them, isolate them, and then stamp them out with miserableness before they have a chance to spread.

You need to do your part. Be miserable… in your homes and workplaces. Do your best to make your family and friends miserable too. Be a good example of unhappiness and discontent to your friends and neighbors. Please, please us help solve this, our happiness crisis!

Hey dude, where’s our wall?

I was in OfficeMax the other day, making copies of an exam for the Michigan geography class I teach. I noticed that someone had left a sheet of paper… a map in the copy machine. Obviously he or she had made copies and left the original behind. It appeared to be some sort of map of Michigan that said “White House Top Secret” on the top.

Being a bit curious, I looked at this map. It was a pretty ordinary map of the Lower Peninsula of Michigan except for a sharp, red line drawn along the eastern edge of Michigan with some dates attached.

I was thinking to myself, “this is not a very interesting map” when a well dressed young man in his late 20s came charging up to me and said in an excited voice “Don’t look at that! It’s secret…Give it back or I’ll have you sent to Guantanamo.”

Well, I think of myself as an accommodating person, but suddenly this map became more interesting… and just the way he said “Guantanamo” was slightly annoying. So holding the map tightly I said: “Hmm …seems to show some sort of fence or wall along Michigan’s border with Canada. But there’s no wall there...”

No, no, no! Your not suppose to see that! The young man had a rather pained expression on his face. “I’m from Homeland Security and I’ll have to have you arrested. This is about national security!”

Well the thought of being sent to Guantanamo just for looking at a map did give me pause, but I figured I’d try something: “So you guys are planning to build a wall between the US and Canada? Great idea! Keep out those pesky Canadian terrorists. Excellent. Keep up the good work!”

The young man seemed surprised at my comment. “So you actually like our plan to build a wall on Michigan’s unguarded eastern flank? We thought some people here might resist the idea of having a 10 ft. concrete and steel wall along Michigan’s coast.”

“Hell yes, I like it!” I said, “Best damn thing you guys can do… spend $500 million to employ 20,000 laid-off auto workers to build and man this wall. We got lots of unemployed people in the area who’d be interested in jobs as security guards -- even bring their own guns. Why should Texans get all the billions of dollars appropriated by Congress for “secure fences”… we’re just as vulnerable as they are. Any damn terrorist can just row across Lake Huron and sneak into Michigan -- probably happens every day."

“Some 7500 Canadians a day cross our border with Windsor to work in the US. No wonder, there’s no jobs in Detroit! Canadian’s are buying up our strategic supplies of beer and tobacco, they are working for our companies, corrupting our children with tales of health care for all. We have to draw the line."

"Seal up the tunnel and blow-up the Ambassador and Blue Water bridges I say. When Homeland Security built a fence between southern California and Mexico, crime in California went down 35%. Building a wall between Windsor and Detroit is just the ticket for reducing Detroit’s high crime rates!”

This Homeland Security guy looked at me somewhat quizzically and asked: “So you wouldn’t be upset having this security wall and armed guards along the Detroit River, Lake St Clare, and Lake Huron?”

“Are you kidding?” I replied, “We’ve been trying to get the Corps of Engineers to build us seawalls for years. This is just the ticket! And it solves another ongoing problem … the court battles over who gets access to Michigan’s beaches: the public or cottage-owners. This way only the US military and invading Canadians can get to the beaches.”

“Well I’m glad you see it that way! It’s been really good to talk to a true American who recognizes our need to defend our country from immigrant terrorists – foreigners attempting to settle here with the hopes of being able to work hard and get ahead. Incidentally, I need my map back.”

“Sure, sure!” I said, quickly running off 3 more copies that I can sell to local immigrant smugglers and terrorist organizations.

About that time I threw Brad's mother-in-law out the window over the Himilayas

Recently I read where the intrepid Bostonian mountain climber, map maker, and natural history museum director, Bradford Washburn, had passed away at the age of 96. I remember well Brad and his devoted wife Barbara, but most of all I remember the time I threw his mother-in-law out the window high over the Himalayas.

We first met in Katmandu, Nepal, some 25 years ago. Although small and wiry in stature with bright blue eyes, there was nothing small about Brad’s goals or his ability to charm others into helping him fulfill his aspirations – which he pursued with relentlessly organized determination. Brad had come to Katmandu to take aerial photos of nearby Mount Everest in order to make a new topographic map of this, the greatest of all mountains.

I was a young technical advisor living in Katmandu under contract to the US assistance agency, USAID. One morning I received an urgent message to come to the American Ambassador's office at once. Bad news! The Ambassador doesn’t ask to see fellow Americans unless there’s trouble. But this time he looked relieved when I walked through his office door. With him was a short, well dressed man with a hooked nose who didn’t wait to be introduced. Charging up to me, he put his finger in my chest, and announced in a gruff Boston accent: “I’m Bradford Washburn, Chairman of the Boston Museum of Science and I’m here to make the best damn map of Mount Everest. Who are you?”

I managed to stutter: “I’m the American remote sensing advisor to His Majesty’s Government of Nepal”.

“Just the guy I’m looking for! ... need you’re help in taking aerial pictures of Mt Everest.”

“Humm…” I said, “The Government here doesn’t like people taking pictures of their mountains from airplanes”. But to the visible relief of the Ambassador, I said I do what I could and he gracefully shooed us both out of his office.

With some trepidation I helped clear Mr. Washburn’s aerial camera through customs by taking personal responsibility. (The Himalayas divide Nepal from China and it’s forbidden to take aerial photos at the risk of being arrested as spy.) Since I had cleared Mr. Washburn’s camera, I was now responsible. I carefully explained to him that if he took his pictures, I’d be arrested and shot. In a concerned and very kindly voice, he explained to me that he didn’t like it, but he’d just have to take that chance.

Well, Mr. Washburn did take his pictures and made his map, which was published by the National Geographic, and to my surprise, I wasn’t shot. However, it took four years to get all the permissions needed, so I got to know Bradford Washburn quite well. To make a long story short, Brad persistently hounded Nepalese government officials every fall for four years. He’d arrive in Katmandu in October and for 6 weeks, we’d make the rounds to different government offices. Worn down, the officials finally said he could take his pictures over Mt. Everest if the Chinese government would agree – knowing well that the Chinese would never agree. However, Brad got the Chinese officials to agree to the same terms: China would give permission if Nepal would agree. In the end, it's not clear that either agreed first but Brad simply declared that the other had and so, took the pictures he needed to make his “best damn map”.

During those years, Brad asked if I’d look after his camera and other gear when he returned to the US. I agreed to store his gear under the front stairs at my house, not knowing that it included in a silvery tobacco pouch with the ashes of his mother-in-law – evidently an avid mountain climber, who upon death wanted her ashes conveniently located in the Himalayas.

Well, continuing to make the story short, Brad returned to Katmandu in the fall of 1984 and hired a small plane to fly us high over the mountains. While Brad and Barbara said a few appropriate words of remembrance, I launched his mother-in-law out the window.

Well, the old lady went down like a rock! Having gone through three monsoons under my front stairs, mother-in-law had retained moisture and put on weight. If she had arrived in Katmandu light and fluffy, she was decidedly composed when she became airborne and disappeared behind the plane.

I had visions of reading a headline in the next morning’s Katmandu Times: “Unsuspecting mountain climber beaned by Bradford Washburn’s mother-in-law”. I was sure I’d be shot for giving the lucrative mountain climbing business an unfortunate reputation. Good News! The next day there were no reports of unexpected things falling out of the Nepal sky. All I can suggest is, somewhere on the slopes of the Himalayas, Bradford Washburn’s mother-in-law lies in peaceful repose.

About the Boomers

We have a problem …perhaps the most serious problem confronting our society today! Between 1946 and 1964, America’s population experienced a sudden surge. During this period 76 million little Americans were born -- more births than at any equivalent time in our history.

The Americans born during this period constitute almost 40% of our voting-age population. Most of the critical problems that beset by our society are a direct result of this bulge in America’s population known as “the Baby Boom”.

What should we do about this burgeoning generation that distorts our society...eats our fast food, clogs our highways, burns our gas, and overloads our recreation sites? Keep in mind that most of the Boomers are not yet retired! What’s life going to be like when they reach full maturity and hit the roads and casinos full time?

The Baby Boomers are now destroying what little remains of our youth-oriented culture. Once we were the land of the young and free and reckless – pioneers ready to explore new frontiers and cheerfully fight enemies, real and imagined. Now we’re afraid to soap windows on Halloween, blow-up mailboxes on the 4^th of July, or just shoot the crap out of stop signs after hunting season.

What we have today is a timid, flabby, aging, self-gratifying, bulge in our collective civic body -- gobbling up our country’s material wealth and then refusing to pass it on to younger generations. Previous Americans lived and gracefully died at ages where their children could live to enjoy their inheritances. Today’s Baby Boomers are refusing to die at an alarming rate! When the last Baby Boomer reaches 65 in 2030, she will ravenously consume stuff for another 22 years. Can we afford such nonsense?

Of course, it’s the young people who bear the brunt of their parents and grandparents grab for all the good stuff-- occupying the best places, bankrupting Medicare, marginalizing Social Security, and generally turn our country into an old people’s home. When I was born, the number of workers for each retired person was ten. Today it’s three. Soon, only two people will be supporting every retiree in lifestyles that include vacations in the Bahamas, shopping trips to Paris and Tijuana, ocean cruises, fine beer, bottled water, and sushi. And then, when they finally get ready to die, they’ll blow the rest on luxury nursing homes and on cryogenically freezing their heads.

Friends, we must act now. We must encourage our Baby Boomers to cheerfully self-destruct.

Here’s my 5 point plan:

#1: A recent study reports that the number of motorcyclists 45 years old and older killed in crashes nearly quadrupled over the past 5 years. Good news: crashes by seniors increased 60%. My plan: all Baby Boomers will be encouraged to ride motorcycles. Motorcycles will be available to Baby Boomers a low, government subsidized prices; helmets will be entirely optional for seniors. Not only might this reduce the congestion on our highways and the need for large parking lots, but we could see a reduction in the most aggressive (road-raged) Baby Boomers.

#2: Since most Baby Boomers are very patriotic and were not provided with a foreign war to fight during much of their adult lives, all Baby Boomers signing-up for Social Security will also automatically be registered for the Seniors Draft. While perhaps only the heartiest will pass the physical, these are precisely the ones we’d like to send off to war in order to save Social Security.

#3. As we all know, ours is a fast-paced digital age and should be governed by the most mentally fit. All Baby Boomers seeking high political office will be required to achieve “Level 3” in the popular computer game: Grand Theft Auto. This may not only reduce the number of Baby Boomers in government and the average age of the Supreme Court, but could help instill a certain up-to-date moral flexibility in our leaders.

#4. The great age of “drugs, sex, and rock-n-roll” arrived just as the first Baby Boomers were reaching adulthood. As fun as unprotected sex and hallucinogenic drugs were, they were soon found to be health hazards and declined in popularity when its was conclusively shown that LSD doesn't provide immunity from the laws of gravity. However, in an effort to rekindle this “age of love and irresponsibility”, municipalities will sponsor free raves at retirement homes (rooftops being the preferred venue) wherein fun drugs and alcohol will be freely available.

#5. And finally, all elevators will be required to play the soothing music of Montivanti and other 50s orchestras. While today’s seniors rather enjoy this music and young people are quite impervious to it, Boomers brought up on the Stones and Dillon, are destroyed by it! Studies at a respected Midwest University have shown that when trapped for 17 minutes in an elevator with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir repeatedly singing “Whistle while You Work”, 3 out of 5 Baby Boomers happily commit suicide. (Three additional minutes of Perry Como singing “hot diggity dog” will finish off the remaining two.)

Yes people, aging Baby Boomers represents a serious threat to our society and our way of life. But with perseverance and imagination we can still save our country by encouraging Baby Boomers to cheerfully self-destruct. Please help support my 5 point plan.

My vegeterrorist

In these dark days of our war on terrorism we all have to do our part. We have to guard against those who would subvert our American way of life – no matter whether they’re friends or even family. I want you to know that my wife and I take this responsibility seriously.

Last fall, after graduating with honors from high school, our only child went off to an expensive liberal-arts college in the East. We were pleased and very proud. We scrimped and saved all our lives to provide our daughter with this wonderful opportunity. We were quite prepared for the possibility that she might return educated as a communist, a radical feminist, or even a lesbian -- after all, what are elite Eastern colleges for? But to our dismay, she did not come back even as a socialist -- and she seems to like boys. But we were devastated when she announced that she’d become a vegetarian.

A vegetarian! Can you imagine? Both her mother and I are good card-carrying carnivores. Our daughter had a normal upbringing of Big Macs, Kentucky fried chicken, Ball Park franks, and All-beef burritos. At an early age and while growing up, she gave no hint of this addiction to plants that was to overtake her in college. When she left home, naturally we assumed that she’d continue her all-American flesh-eating ways. But nooo…she goes and becomes a vegetarian!

Friends, where did we go wrong? What could we have done to save her? We asked our daughter, “Why, oh why are you a vegetarian?” Is it a protest against the meat packing industry? Is it out of a sense of solidarity with the animal kingdom? Is it because you’re a health nut or want to lose weight? Or have you joined some religious cult? Is it because you hate your parents?

“No” she said thoughtfully, “it’s none of those good reasons. I just don’t want to eat meat anymore.”

Needless-to-say, we were shocked! We know it’s un-American to be a vegetarian. Besides the obvious affront to cowboys and the American West, and rugged barbequing Americans everywhere, vegetarians are linked to sissy protests over animal rights and endangered species. Some may be lulled into thinking that vegetarians are harmless, but we know different. We see clearly that vegetarians are a directly challenge to our God-given duty to inflict violence, pain, and death on who ever needs it.

Vegetarians are often opposed to hunting deer, rabbits, and the occasional baby seal, to baiting traps and poisoning coyotes or stray cats, to harpooning whales and porpoises, to chopping down ancient forests, and to executing prisoners. Why, they may even question our duty to bomb remote Asian villages when necessary! And we all know where that kind of thinking leads…it leads directly to a world over run with deer, rabbits, whales, big trees, criminals, and Afghanis.

Yes, vegetarians are a serious threat to our American way of life. When our daughter announced that she’d become a vegetarian, her mother and I realized we had to do something, but we discovered to our dismay that there are no organizations for deprogramming vegetarians. We couldn’t take her to someone who would help her over this addiction to plants. Not only are there no vegetarian deprogramming organizations, there’s not a single support group to help the friends and family members of vegetarians to cope with their confusion and pain. No counseling was available; we were on our own.

After much anguish and indecision, my wife and I finally decided we had to do something. We turned to Homeland Security. They kindly agreed to arrest her as a “terrorist”. Our hope is that six months or so of solitary confinement in some remote detention center without being charged with a crime or having access to legal council, our daughter will rethink this vegetarian business and learn to respect her right to live in “the land of the free”. She’ll come to see it’s her duty to eat hamburgers and hotdogs and things with lots of fat.

Friends, it was difficult to turn in our only daughter over to the Federal marshals, but we saw our duty and did it! There’s no telling how many people she might have infected with her plant-eating ways; how many other lives would have been ruined. Yes, we had to draw the line: communism, feminism, lesbianism OK, but eating only plants— too weird!

Each day that goes by with our daughter locked up is difficult, but my wife and I are trying to make the best of it. We try to look on the bright side -- saving a bundle in tuition bills. With this extra money we’re eating some great steaks, chops, and roasts at Michigan’s best restaurants. We’re doing our part. We’ve each gained 10 pounds. But keep in mind, it’s what every good American must do in this time of “war on terror”. We’re helping to protect you from vegeterrorists!

Free Windsor!

I only know what I read in the newspapers. As it happens, I usually read my morning paper over a cup of coffee at Starbucks across the street from my office. I’d like to tell you about an encounter I had there several months ago that ended up changing my life.

I was peacefully reading my Free Press this morning. The news of the day was not good: American troops in Iraq and Afghanistan; dire predictions about the escalating cost of the war; and long lines at the Ambassador Bridge and the Tunnel connecting Windsor with Detroit. Evidently, because of heightened security, customs officials were being extra careful about people and things coming from Canada into the United States. The lines of trucks and cars are sometimes quite long, involving hours of waiting and costing American business time and money.

While I was quietly reading, a middle-aged, somewhat overweight gentleman sitting at the next table leaned over and in a gruff voice said: “You know who’s responsible don’t you?”

“Responsible for what?” I said.

“Responsible for the long lines at the Bridge and Tunnel, what do you think!”

Well, I didn’t want to appear out of touch, so I said: “U.S. Customs.” This guy looked at me with distain and shook his head. So I said: “Homeland security”.

“Nope” he said, “you aint even warm.”

“Osama bin Laden?” I said with some frustration.

“No! George Washington’s responsible!”

Well, there are times you find yourself in conversations that you’re sure are not headed anywhere useful, and this was one. But being somewhat impetuous, just for the heck of it, I asked: “OK, why is George Washington responsible for the long lines at Detroit’s Bridge and Tunnel?”

“Well, when ol Gen’l George defeated them Redcoats in the Revolutionary War, he allowed ‘em to slip back up in ta Canada. He didn’t hot-pusue’em and finish’em off when he had the chance. ‘Ol George wimped out before finishing the job! Now we got this mess of Redcoats on our northern flank, and every so often they break out and come down ‘ere an’ burn down our White House!”

Well, I was pretty sure that that hadn’t happened in a while, and besides, I said, “What’s that got to do with the long lines at the Bridge and Tunnel?”

This guy squinted at me, scrunched over closer like he was going to let me in on the secret of the universe and whispered: “Them redcoats swindled us out of South Detroit an’ we’re gonna to get it back! Them poor folks over there have been terrorized long enough.”

Now this new revelation raised a number of questions in my mind… chief of which was how can I get rid of this guy. “First of all” I said, “there IS no South Detroit. There’s an East Detroit, there’s a Westland, there’s a Down River, but no South Detroit! And even if there were, what makes you think its people are being terrorized?”

He sneered and said “have you ever looked at a map o’ Detroit?”

I said “sure, lots of times.”

“Well what’s that big town directly across the river from Detroit’s City Hall?”

“Hmm… Windsor,” I said.

“Hah! That what the Redcoats call it! Me and my buddies know it by its true name: ‘South Detroit’! Many of the folks who live there, leave their homes everyday to work in the Detroit. They acquire such necessities as beer, gasoline, and tobacco in Detroit and smuggle ‘em back to their starving kids each evening. It’s heartbreaking to realize that for over 200 years, the good people of South Detroit have had to endure this oppression. How much longer can we allow them to live under the yoke of the British tyranny? How much longer must they wait to be free?”

I was skeptical. I knew that the Windsor Tunnel and Ambassador Bridge weren’t 200 years old and had this idea that in the war on terror, the British are actually on our side. I’d heard enough. I went back to my newspaper, hoping this guy would take the hint and disappear.

But he persisted, “Don’t you want to know how we’re goin’a do it?”

Before I could stop myself, I said “Do what?”

“Take back South Detroit…what’d think? We got the freedom fighters all lined up.”

At this point it occurred to me that perhaps it was my civic duty to hear more. If not Homeland Security, then there might be some mental health officials out looking for this guy.

“Well I suppose you’re going to write to your Congressman to negotiate the return of Windsor…er South Detroit to the U.S.”

He looked at me like I was crazy. “Are you crazy? Congress‘s had 200 years to do som’in about this injustice and it ain’t done noth’in! It’s worthless!”

Well, I knew that wasn’t true! Indignantly I informed him: “We have the best darn Congress that money can buy. Just ask a any lobbyist!”

“No” he said, “Even if Congress tried, we’d prob’ly just get stuck with some worthless property up on Lake Superior in exchange for South Detroit. Me and 300 Michigan patriots are gonna do the job ourselves.”

“We got it all figger’d out. We’ll liberate South Detroit with our Expeditionary Force. We’re gonna disguise ourselves as Walleye fishermen, rent boats on Belle Isle, and attack the South Detroit waterfront. You wouldn’t believe it,” he said. “Our reconnaissance tells us that the redcoats left their entire waterfront wide open to attack! Yes sir, well jus row across the river like Gen’l George did crossin’ the Potomac to save Washington!”

I thought about it for a moment and realized he might be right. It’s unlikely that the Windsor police were trained to repell an invasion by 300 heavily armed Walleye fishermen landing on their waterfront.

“Our boys will spread out and seize South Detroit’s key installations -- night clubs, casinos, and the Hiram Walker distillery. By evening, all South Detroit will be safe in American hands. The grateful people will cheer us as their liberators and gladly reimburse us for our travel expenses.”

I must say, felt a little uneasy about this whole idea. So I asked, “You sure all this is necessary just to reduce the lines at the Tunnel and Bridge?”

“You don’t get it, do you? This ain’t ‘bout traffic! This here’s ‘bout liberty, freedom and globalization the American way! Lots’a Americans go ta Windsor to fritter away their money on gambling and low cost drugs. Only American companies should be allowed to profit from our ignorant, our impulsive, our huddled masses yearning to be well.”

Triumphantly razing his finger, this guy declared “Detroit can no longer exist half Canadian and half free! By reclaiming South Detroit, we strike a new blow for freedom-lovin’ American companies everywhere. Once Detroit is united under the American flag, our companies will experience a new burst of profit, conceived in market access, and dedicated to the proposition that all men (and women) are fair game!”

Well, friends, it’s been some months since I had this chance encounter at Starbucks. I must admit, it has changed my life. No, I’ve not joined the Michigan volunteers to aid in their pursuit of a pre-emptive strike against the Windsor’s redcoats.

No, it’s far more serious than that: I don’t read my morning paper at Starbucks any more!