Many of my readers have read (perhaps ad nauseum?) about my dog, Gus. But I have another dog, whose story I have kept quiet to spare my readers…this week I am going to tell it.

Annie is a beautiful white cockapoo who was rescued from a puppy mill. She is probably 16 now, although the vet says that she is the healthiest 7 year old dog he has ever seen. She has a few cataracts and hearing loss (which has always been selective); but she loves to be by my side or watch Annie TV (watching the birds, squirrels, and bunnies run around the yard). She has a “nails on the chalkboard” bark when a dog or a person approaches. It is a fearful howl designed to keep everything away.

Annie is not a normal dog, nor is she a normal rescue dog. She never will be, but she fits into my household just fine. She lives a happy life, she loves squeaky toys, being petted, bouncing around the house joyfully, and Gus. But when people come, she barks and hides; only after watching Gus get affection does she try to approach visitors.

She is an anxious dog who is frightened by novelty and rain. She is terrified of people walking or in a standing position. If someone is seated, and Gus has demonstrated that person is “safe,” she will walk to that person in reverse and allow that person to pet her backside (as long as she doesn’t have to see the person). She longs for love and affection but is fearful of receiving it. The images from her puppyhood are never far from her present.

Annie came to me through a rescue organization in NJ that I volunteered for. All of the other rescue groups passed on Annie because she was essentially feral. I reluctantly agreed to take her, I already had four dogs (two of my own and two from an elderly friend who passed away) and a busy life; but I was the only real option. The other fosters were taking 8-10 dogs and we knew that Annie was going to need more attention than they could give.

Annie was born in a puppy mill to a puppy mill mother who was so psychologically damaged that she couldn’t teach Annie the basics. Unfortunately for Annie, she was a beautiful, a white cockapoo with big brown eyes. She was larger than most dogs and the puppy miller knew that she would produce a lot of very saleable babies. She was sold to another puppy mill. She fetched a good price.

Annie’s new home was the back of tractor trailer stuffed with dogs in cages. It had no electricity, light, air conditioning, or heat. In this dark, filthy, deafening home she lived on the top cage, there were two cages below her. The dogs barked incessantly, trying to alert someone, anyone, to their plight. Annie stayed in the back of her crate and trembled. There were no trays underneath the cages, allowing the poo and pee from the dogs in the above crates to rain down on dogs in the lower crates. Her feet are splayed from never being able to stand on a solid surface. After three heats, she was still too traumatized to mate, so she was moved to the bottom crate and food was withheld to punish her. When she was covered with feces and urine, she was yanked out and hosed down no matter the weather. Since she was a nonshed, her fur would eventually become completely matted.

A courageous organization goes to puppy mills and talks them out of their dogs. In puppy mills, females are typically killed after six years (because they produce fewer puppies) and males are killed after 10 years. These brave rescuers convinced the puppy miller to let them have Annie, because Annie would never produce those “beautiful babies.”

Annie arrived with severely matted fur all over her body, her eyes were matted shut, she was unable to move, and her butt was so matted she could not poop. Our organization took her, vetted her, shaved her down; took care of her physical needs. It is the volunteer’s job to work on emotional needs.

One of the reasons that I was reluctant to take Annie was that we have an unwritten rule in fostering, if the dogs can’t be rehabilitated, they become ours.

Annie had a long way to go. She was at 60% of her body weight and feral. She bit vigorously and continuously. When she was not attacking, she was running and hiding, always trying to escape. She was terrified of humans, dogs, the outdoors (which she had never seen), and the world in general. Grass was scary, bunnies and birds, everything was there to hurt her. When I took her home in the backseat of the car, fluids came out of every orifice. After I put her in the house, I got distracted and made a cardinal error; I took her leash off. It took me an hour to catch her; she bit me more than 20 times.

I worked with her slowly, but her formative years had taken their toll. She never learned cause and effect. She learned that no matter what she did, her life would be one of abuse and neglect. Even her crate was terrifying. It was the scene of her tortured life. Not understanding cause and effect makes it difficult to housetrain and teach a dog to live in a home.

It was hard to get her to eat quality food. She ate boiled potatoes (a staple in puppy mills), but it took weeks to get her to eat meat and other foods that are natural to animals. Her instincts had left her, replaced by terror.

After a couple of months, she could have been adopted to a very dog experienced and understanding home. There was an adopter who desperately wanted to take her and after a month, our leader relented. I explained for 2 hours how to care for Annie.

When the new owner returned to her home, it took her less than 15 minutes to ignore my instructions. Annie escaped into 950 acres of watershed, filled with bears, foxes, and an occasional coyote. We put up posters warning people not to go near her and call us if they saw her. Eventually when dogs get hungry, they will circle back to where they escaped. Eleven days after she took off we were able to trap her; but she was never going to be placed up for adoption again.

But here was the surprise, we expected her to return to being feral. But as soon as she saw me, she wagged her tail. She had bonded with a human. We had suspected that she would have attachment disorder; but despite her previous abuse, she was willing to bond cautiously to a human.

It has not been the easiest of journeys. It took six years to housetrain her. She may never understand the cause/effect linkages and food is not a motivator. She is suspicious of every treat, food, and toy. She is not a normal dog, she cannot understand my needs, so frozen in her past trauma. If I am not there, her fears take over. It was hard to travel, if I boarded her, she just shivered in the back of the crate. I was her touchstone. If I was there, everything was okay if I was not, nothing was okay.

After my other dogs passed away, I adopted Gus, and she bonded to him. He modeled how to connect with humans. She watched Gus reach out to strangers and she decided to try it. (She can still not face strangers, but she backs up to them to let them pet her back.) I was lucky enough to find a friend who is patient with her and Annie now is comfortable with her in my absence.

Annie had too sweet a disposition for what happened to her. Another dog may have been more resilient. But Annie was too trusting, too loving, and too kind for that treatment. Had she not had this early life, she would have been the best dog that anyone ever had.

Annie’s story is a typical puppy mill parent story. Some millers keep their dogs in pens in barns, which is a little more humane than crates, but the indifference is the same. If you are not sure if your dog is from a puppy mill, click on the link below to see the signs. (You can assume that all puppy stores and most puppies available on the internet are from a puppy mill.) And if you did accidentally buy your puppy from a puppy mill, consider donating to a rescue organization.

https://www.zoetispetcare.com/blog/article/how-identify-puppy-mill

But this story is not about puppy mills. It is about Annie’s journey. How she went from a fearful, feral dog, to a loving, sweet, happy, gal. How she never gave up. She taught me how animals and people who are abused in their youth bear permanent scars and how fragile trust can be.

She also taught me about resiliency. The Annie that I first met had no prospect of a happy life. She could only see terror and pain. But she was willing to open up to another world.

After caring for Annie, I now understand the permanent scars that remain after childhood abuse, especially sexual abuse by trusted institutions such as the Catholic church and the Boy Scouts. But Annie’s resiliency is in everyone, and most of these victims have been able to recover. Yet those scars remain and can re-emerge at any time. The path may be long, hard, and painful, but their ability to move past their past makes them an inspiration to all of us.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

CRISPR is one of the most important scientific inventions that you may not have heard of. No, it is not one of those great drawers in a refrigerator that keeps your fruits and vegetables fresh. Instead it is one of the most significant breakthroughs in our time. It could eventually cure genetic diseases, cancer, viral infections, and end the organ transplant shortage.

CRISPR (Clusters of Regularly Interspaced Short Palindromic Repeats) is highly technical, I was only able to get a modicum of understanding by reviewing an explanation intended for 14-year olds. But basically, CRISPR is a potential a gene-editing tool that can add, delete, and edit genes in the genome.

While CRISPR DNA is actually billions of years old, it was only recently detected. Scientists discovered that ancient bacteria included DNA segment palindromic repeats separated by “spacers” of DNA, the latter didn’t seem to apply to the bacteria’s genetic structure. Scientists soon realized that these “spacers” were snippets of DNA from previous viral invaders. (A quick explanation, viruses invade our healthy cells and use the fuel from our cells to reproduce and ultimately destroy healthy cells.) These “spacers” allowed the cell to create RNA which matched a snippet of the original viral invader’s DNA. The “spacer” DNA helped it recognize the virus, create an RNA with a protein called Cas 9 to snip the virus from the cell.

Jennifer Doudna, PhD and Emmanuelle Charpentier, PhD were awarded the Nobel Prize in Chemistry for the discovery of CRISPR and the Cas 9 protein.

Why is this so important? Scientists have known for some time how to repair a genetic defect. However, they haven’t been able to deliver the corrected gene to the appropriate genetic location. And that is not all. After the correct location is found, the DNA must then be “broken” and replaced with the corrected genetic structure (through RNA). The DNA can then repair itself with the corrected genetic material. Before CRISPR, there was no mechanism for finding the proper location and replacing it with the corrected gene. Scientists had to hope the corrected gene would attach to the correct sequence which is about a 1-in-25,000 chance. Not good odds.

But CRISPR and Cas 9 have changed those odds. Cas 9 is an RNA programmable protein that can find, snip, and replace the DNA at the matched DNA sequence. Operationally, the cell uses the RNA to guide the Cas9 protein to the “spacers” that sit next to the desired DNA. The protein then “cuts” the DNA sequence that needs to be modified and replaces it with the correct genetic sequence.

Wow.

That is the holy grail of gene therapy.

The applications are staggering. In 2019, researchers tested the technology on a patient with sickle cell anemia. (Sickle cell anemia is a hereditary disease found primarily in people whose ancestors lived in malaria-friendly climates. A single inherited sickle cell gene improves resistance to malaria; but two sickle cell mutations result in sickle cell anemia, which is a deadly disease requiring frequent medical intervention.) A bone-marrow transplant was required to inject the corrected gene; but to date, she has been “cured.”

CRISPR has already been successful in treating some types of leukemia. There are some FDA approved bone and blood cancer treatments that relied on CRISPR to “reset” cancerous cells back into healthy cells. Recently, a laboratory study using CRISPR was able to change cancerous muscle cells back to noncancerous muscle cells.

Other genetic diseases that are being investigated with CRISPR technology are Huntington’s, Ducheme muscular dystrophy, childhood blindness, and inflammation in chronic pain conditions. CRISPR solutions are being studied for HIV, Zika, Lyme and Malaria.

A start-up company is changing the genetic sequence of pigs’ organs to enable them to be a viable substitute for human organs. These genetic changes are designed to prevent our immune systems from rejecting the implanted organs. If successful, pig’s organs could be transplanted into humans and people would no longer die while waiting for an organ transplant.

As with any breakthrough technology there are serious concerns. To date, the CRISPR technique can only correct 50-80% of the cells. Scientists cannot predict what will happen when some cells are corrected and others are not. In addition, there is the possibility that the Cas 9 protein will cut the DNA at the wrong location. The unforeseen consequences are considerable, after all a technology that is so powerful can also be very dangerous.

The biggest concern with ethicists is the potential experimentation on human embryos. CRISPR could be an ideal solution for eradicating genetic diseases such as sickle cell anemia, Downs syndrome, congenital blindness, and Tay Sachs in the embryonic stage. While those are admirable applications, there are others that are not. China reported that they already done an unspecified embryo change in a set of twins.

So look for rapid advances in medicine from this technology. Hopefully, managing this potentially life changing technology with its dark underside will not become a “cutting edge” crisis.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

This is a tough time of the year to be a gardener. Yeah, it’s hot, but that is just the cherry on the top of a melting sundae.

This is the time of year when we deadhead (remove spent blossoms), toss annuals who have given up in the blistering heat, pull weeds that thrive in this weather, trim some bushes, clean out our beds and stage a frontal assault on aggressive perennials.

In my opinion, being a gardener requires three traits: optimism, persistence, and poor memory. And this time of year we need all three.

My summer hydrangeas are just a shriveled memory. It was a good year, now I begin the task of deadheading hundreds of blossoms. My pink astilbe flower spikes look like rusty sticks. The abundant yellow, maroon, and orange flowering daylilies are gone. Their dried up leaves look like straw. It is time to cut the dried flower stems, rip out the withered leaves, and cut off the irises’ seed pods.

And there are the roses, they didn’t have a good year. This year they witnessed the worst invasion of Japanese beetles that I have seen, sometimes I had to pick four off a single leaf. Several years ago, I applied an organic bacteria to my soil to permanently make my soil hostile to grubs (it takes 2 years of multiple applications, but it works); so all of these ugly jewel-like beetles are coming from neighboring plots. They test my organic resolve.

My hosta looks like Swiss cheese as greedy slugs, beetles, and black bugs have made them into an eyesore.

My lawn is grass in name only, it is actually a collection of grasses, green, and brown weeds. The weeds spread weekly into the neatly edged beds. Crabgrass continues to thwart my organic gardening ambitions. Other grasses, weeds, seedlings, dandelions, and those damn violets pop up in the perennial beds despite the summer heat and late summer drought. While my chosen perennials bend to the elements, these unwelcome guests thrive in their place.

By now, the invasive perennials have taken over all of the beds. I planted none of these. They were probably planted a hundred years ago and will last another hundred years. There is no getting rid of them, all I can do is try to keep them contained.

English Ivy is my worst offender. (I have a saying, “anyone who brings you English Ivy is NOT your friend.”) Three times a year, I yank it out as far as I can, knowing that it will recover within a couple of months. Vinca (also called periwinkle) vines have spread long, skinny ugly trails through the beds. Gooseneck loosestrife has now completely overrun my side and back gardens. Their white goose-head shaped flower heads have lost their tiny petals, and now look like green branches coming out of the ground, choking the hydrangea, hosta, daylilies, and astilbe. I yank them out and cut them back, but like the terminator, they’ll be back.

One of the worst offenders is one that I receive so many compliments on. Oenothera speciosa (pink Missouri primrose) is the weediest of them all. For about two weeks my garden is saturated in pretty pale pink blossoms. The rest of year, they transform into a bitter enemy of all perennials that try to share a bed with them. Hardier than any weed, they appear everywhere. One time I transplanted some astilbe into another bed, and guess who came along with it? Weekly weeding is a must.

This is where the gardener’s critical trait of persistence must take over. Refusing to fight these demons is fatal to these beds as all other flowers will succumb to their unrelenting assaults.

My garden is tired. The echinacea blossoms are seed cones now. Despite their ungainly appearance, I don’t cut them because goldfinches love them. My rudbeckias (Black-eyed Susans) are hanging on, the only color left in the garden bed.

By now, many annuals have had it. The petunias are begging to be put out of their misery. Even caladiums, which are a tropical plant, are wilting in the heat.

The crepe myrtles are blooming, but they are better seen from a distance. They are messy and spread small petals over my walkways. Every morning I use a blower to clear the patio and walkways, knowing that tomorrow morning it will look like I haven’t been there. This is where the key traits of poor memory and persistence are required.

My composter is full of past summer victories and greedy loosestrife.

So all that remains are the limelight hydrangeas, a few stella-de-oro daylilies, geraniums, impatiens, begonias, and coleus. The limelights are stunning, but the rest of the plants are just hanging on.

Every morning I follow the same fruitless routine, get started before the heat, yank and cut, yank and cut, yank and cut. Stuff the compost bin. Fill up the trash bins with plant remains. Wipe off the sweat. Yank and cut and yank and cut yank and cut.

This morning, I tripped over a ubiquitous vinca vine. While falling, I noticed that the purple blossoms on the liriope are beginning to emerge. How beautiful, I think, they will look great next to my three-season azaleas.

There is that optimism requirement.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

The Barbie movie is overwhelmingly popular among female audiences for many reasons:

• It is a fun and fanciful comedy with a good score, stunning sets, and humorous choreography. It is a cinematographic confection of pinks and bright colors.
• It offers nostalgia for all of us who played with Barbies.
• There are funny characters. We have all seen or participated in creating the Weird Barbie character, played by (who else?) Kate McKinnon. In our youth, we might have cut Barbie’s hair in the mistaken belief that it would grow back. Or we drew on their faces using permanent markers unaware that they were, indeed, permanent. The Weird Barbie character is a real life concoction of those mistakes.
• Barbie offers inside jokes, clever puns, and references to historical dolls from the Barbie franchise. We can sit back and enjoy the experience while paying close attention to the dialog.
• It is funny. The very talented actors seem to be enjoying themselves and have great comedic timing.
• It is a delightful experience for all generations of women. I saw mothers, grandmothers, and their daughters in pink coming together to bond, laugh, and enjoy the movie. Perhaps later they discussed the important messages that were surreptitiously delivered.
• It turns the Barbie franchise, oft criticized by feminists, into a feminist story.
• It delivers important messages about women and the struggles that we have faced.

I know of only one male friend who saw the movie. He was a good sport, but never having played with Barbies (his loss); he didn’t get many of the underpinnings of the plot, inside jokes, and characters. Wanting to learn more, he researched the underlying meanings, sent me some columns and suggested that I write this column.

Let’s be clear, this movie is a reversal of Hollywood Standard Operating Procedure. In a mind-blowing change, the woman, Greta Gerwig, who was the director and the co-author is getting most of the credit. The other screen writer, her partner Noah Baumbach, is rarely mentioned. Women directors are relatively new to Hollywood after having been shut out for decades. The Me Too movement and a scathing documentary exposed the old boy director’s network and recently opened the door for female directors. Women have come bursting through.

But despite the feminist messages (which I loved) and fun of the film, overall I didn’t love Barbie. Because I didn’t like how the male characters, Ken (played by Ryan Gosling) and Allan (played by Michael Cera) were marginalized and dismissed.

(Other feminists disagree. They believe that the Ken character should be marginalized. In the movie, he doggedly pursues Barbie to go out with him even though she is not particularly interested. He is also the villain who tried to change Barbie Land into a patriarchy where Barbies gave up their careers and catered to men.)

But it slowly dawned on me that marginalization is one of the many messages that Gerwig is trying to deliver, namely, to think about the way Hollywood has often treated female characters. I have been so conditioned that I didn’t notice the way how actresses were (still today) downgraded in Hollywood, until I saw these male characters sidelined in the same way.

For those who haven’t seen the movie, it begins in Barbie Land, a paradise where women run the world, supportive of each other, and enjoy spending time together. Barbies are the doctors, astronauts, architects, and even president. They believe that Barbie Land mirrors the real world. But when Barbie suddenly thinks of death (an unacceptable thought in Barbie Land) and notices cellulite, she goes to the real world for help. Ken begs to tag along and once they get there, they discover that the real world is a patriarchy, the opposite of Barbie Land. The real world is run by men, not women. In the movie, even Mattel, the creator of Barbie, is run only by men; the CEO played by (again, who else), Will Ferrell.

In Barbie Land, men are extras; Ken was a handsome himbo (a male bimbo) trying to get Barbie’s attention and Alan was a not so handsome good guy.

Think how well these reflect the characters that women often portray? In most films, men are the protagonists and sensual women are the supporting cast. Pretty in the cinema seems to be sexual…women are barely clothed (or not), with big breasts, full lips, and shapely butts. Sadly, young women have been brainwashed by this ideal and cosmetic procedures in this demographic are thriving. Breast augmentation (1% of US population, mostly cosmetic), lip fillers, Botox, and butt enhancements are common procedures. When the heroines do show courage (which they rarely did before the 1960s) it is in the service of assisting the male lead.

In Hollywood, pretty women are rarely smart (since they are primed for sex, no time for brains). A numbing example was the television show Big Bang Theory. Another stereotypical character is the “helpmate” woman. Unless she is a future love interest, this character is either marginally attractive or unusual looking. Her job is to aid the male hero on his quest. And these are the exact stereotypes that Gerwig used for the men in the movie. Ryan Gosling, as Ken, was eye candy and not particularly smart. Allan, an average looking guy, played by Michael Cera, helped the real life woman (played by America Ferrera) return Barbie Land to its original matriarchy.

I had been so conditioned that I didn’t even notice these demeaning stereotypes; until they were done in the reverse.

The genius of Greta Gerwig is that she hides her messages in plain sight. In this comedy, women can get a new message…we are not caricatures. Pretty is more than sexual. Pretty women can be smart. Pretty women can be successful. Pretty women can be curvy. Pretty women don’t need to get the guy. Women can define their own beauty (via the real-life characters in the movie). In Barbie, women advocate for themselves, they are strong, they are the heroes of the story.

What a great message for young girls. And it is just one of the many messages that Barbie offers, all wrapped up in pink cotton candy bow.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

I haven’t forgotten COVID. I still wear a mask and rarely dine inside a restaurant. For two reasons. One, I am at high risk and second, I have enjoyed these past years of health. Before I wore masks, I had 1-2 colds per MONTH. It feels good not to be sick.

But this past weekend I had guests, so I relaxed my standards. We dined at several local restaurants and even attended an outdoor concert with my family.

You know how this ends.

I got COVID. And I am not alone. Three close friends also got it, all from different points of origin, one from the airport, another from a ballgame, another from who knows where…and me, from a family member. All of us had been vaccinated and boosted.

My May booster must have worn off while this new variant of COVID is ascendant. My fellow sufferers have also struggled and had to eventually take Paxlovid.

The CDC recently announced that there is a new dominant variant, called EG.5. It is a mutation from the Omicron variant, and it is rapidly invading, up 5% in a week. Experts believe that since it derived from the Omicron strain, existing vaccines, boosters, and antiviral medicines should be effective. But scientists have also discovered that this variant is capable of evading antibodies and infecting people who were vaccinated months ago. (New vaccines that incorporate this variant should be available in September.)

For the third summer in a row, there is an uptick in hospitalizations. Upticks normally occur in Autumn when kids return to school, but COVID refuses to read the rule book and likes to get an early start.

Experts are advising that we should get vaccines for flu, COVID booster, and RSV as soon as they become available, because this combination of viruses foretells a tough fall season. Despite getting vaccinated, we may still get a milder form of the disease. These respiratory virus vaccines were designed to keep us out of the hospital but are not as good at preventing milder infections.

While experts aren’t as concerned about this variant, I can say anecdotally that my group has experienced severe and very unpleasant symptoms. One of my friends has already rebounded, and the rest of us still have residual coughs.

But curiously none of my infected friends’ spouses got COVID. My visitors tested negative as well. As did my entire family.

Some experts believe that some people that have been exposed may have been infected, but their vaccine protection reduced their viral load to undetectable. Nevertheless the CDC still recommends that if you have been exposed, or if you have symptoms, but test negative, you should isolate or wear a mask in public for 10 days.

Enough about them, let’s talk about me. It took me two days after the first symptoms appeared before that second bright pink line appeared on the test strip. For the first two days the vaccine antibodies were doing their best, but by the late evening hours of Day Two, the second line was no longer a whisper.

As for symptoms, all of us reported mild/moderate headaches, fever, upper respiratory congestion, difficulty breathing, sore throat, chest pain, brain fog, and lots and lots of coughing. I got my first fever in 50 years (fevers are your immune system’s response and my immune system prefers to attack me instead of foreign agents). Symptoms persist long after the medicine.

This is a bad one.

Unfortunately my doctor wasn’t available the day that I realized I needed Paxlovid. A quick Google search revealed a number of telehealth solutions. I chose the University of Maryland and within 20 minutes of completing the appointment application online, I was connected to a telehealth Physician’s Assistant who quickly called in the medicines to the local pharmacy. She assured me Paxlovid has been very effective, and her patients felt better within 48 hours.

One of my big worries was my dog, Gus. Gus knows when something isn’t right. Gus also believes that cuddles and snuggles are a universal cure. (Gus clearly has no medical training.) After each coughing fit, he would snuggle next to me, imploring me with his soft, brown eyes to get better. Dogs can get COVID and given Gus’s advanced age and heart condition, I tried to keep him away. He wasn’t having it. I relaxed when I learned that the risk of pet infections (especially dogs) is low.

It has been a week now and while I am better, I still don’t feel great. Lesson learned, I am going back to masking and take out.

But I have learned a lot.

Despite our imperfect, messed up healthcare system, we have come a long way. Self-administered test kits that provide results in 15 minutes are ubiquitous. Vaccines that prevent or minimize the virus’s impact (for hospitalizations) are readily available. Once infected, there is an effective anti-viral medicine (Paxlovid) to prevent permanent damage and hospitalization. Universal telehealth care is available within an hour. Thanks to scientists and the government’s response we have tools that we didn’t have in 2020. While this virus is nasty, it is now beatable.

And I also learned that good things don’t change. People are wonderful. Every day, I had numerous offers of assistance. Friends and family members brought me groceries. Another friend helped me get healthcare. A family member picked up my prescriptions. And other friends made me chicken soup. Even today, friends and family still check on me. (And I lost 3 pounds, but I do not recommend this as a weight loss solution.)

With family and friends like these, it’s easy to find the silver lining.

Disclaimer: This was written with COVID brain, so the author is not responsible of any typos, grammatical errors, partial sentences, extra words, weird phrasing, or incomplete thoughts.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

All secrets become deep. All secrets become dark. That’s the nature of secrets. Cory Doctorow (Science Fiction Writer)

Secrets can be dangerous. Recent news stories have demonstrated the destructive power of secrets.

The New York Times Magazine published an article by David Quammen about the origin of COVID-19; focusing on the three primary theories: (a) an accidental animal-human transmission from the Wuhan markets, (b) an accidental leak from Wuhan Institute of Virology, or (c) a deliberately manipulated virus from a Wuhan biological weapons facility.

While Quammen provided a thorough restating of the facts and hypotheses, it remains unlikely that we will ever know what brought this epidemic into the world. China has a history of lying about COVID 19. There are lies of omission (which are basically secrets) and lies of commission. China lied when they vastly underreported their death toll from COVID; and they kept the virus secret until it had been transmitted to the world. So, even if China eventually tells the truth, we probably won’t believe them.

Lies and secrets, they are like a cancer in the soul. They eat away what is good and leave only destruction behind. Cassandra Clare (American Author)

A series of Congressional hearings about UFOs, now called UAPs (Unidentified Aerial Phenomena) were held recently. The Air Force has lied about possessing evidence, evaluating evidence, and being the sole repository of evidence. So, even if the Air Force provided the America public with all the data that they have recovered about each unexplained occurrence, their past behavior would strain their credulity.

Do nothing secretly; for time sees and hears all things and discloses all. Sophocles

Despite what we have been led to believe there were many early sightings by credible sources (ignoring the well-known Area 51 incident). In the 1940s, pilots reported a number of incidents over a two week period; in 1952 a UFO was sighted in Washington DC; and there were a number of UFO sightings in the Hudson Valley in the 1980s.

To evaluate these incidents, the Air Force commissioned Project Blue Book. They gave the leadership position to a young professor from Ohio State, Dr. Hynek. Originally a skeptic, Hynek was able to explain approximately 80% of the incidents. But he was surprised when the Air Force was not interested in researching the remaining 20%. As more and more sightings were reported, the workload grew too large and the Air Force closed the program, concluding that there was no reason to continue. They appointed a commission led by a skeptic that concluded that there were no credible sightings (despite their report citing a number of credible cases). The Air Force chose to use a strategy of mocking those who reported sightings, and most of the media and the public participated.

Sightings continued, some in Arizona and Texas were witnessed independently by almost 100 people. Uninterested, the Air Force farmed out the reports to a volunteer civilian organization.

Recently, a whistle blower made public that there are videos of UFOs taken by pilots, the FAA, and Homeland Security. The videos recorded aircraft that have the ability to move faster than our aircraft, turn on a dime, split in half, go underwater, and disappear.

The secret to strong security: less reliance on secrets. Dr. Whitfield Diffie (cryptographer)

Who knows what this is, or if it is even true…but what this isn’t is a mockery. Senators Reid and later Gillibrand have insisted on including funding in the military budget to enable renown scientists to study these phenomena, which is what is what has been needed. Well-known scientists such as Dr. Avi Loeb have indicated that they want to be a part of the study.

But therein lies the problem, since the Air Force has been keeping secrets for so long, can anyone trust that they will declassify and/or turn over all of the relevant evidence? Other agencies, such as the FAA and Homeland Security also have evidence. A whistle blower claimed that they also have materials from objects that crashed, but, of course, that is not verifiable. To date, three unexplainable videos have been released…the most interesting shows a craft moving at high speed, going underwater and emerging from the water as two objects.

Yet, the shaming continues.

Of course, most are not saying that these are actual UFOs, rather they are events that require further investigation. These images and sightings could be glitches with the recording technology, advanced foreign technology, elaborate hoaxes, or unknown atmospheric phenomena. The point is that they should be researched instead of mocked.

Three things cannot stay hidden: the sun, the moon and the truth. –Buddha

And that is the real danger of secrets. Because of China’s secrecy, we may never know the actual origin of the deadly virus that put the world on lockdown. Regarding UFOs, many will never be convinced that sightings are NOT alien craft (because, after all, you cannot prove the null hypothesis).

Secrets bind and separate in strict accordance with who’s in them. Lionel Shriver (Writer)

But documents are now classified at a rate of 3 per second. And these can include newspaper articles, hotel receipts, and other public documents. The method to declassify documents is time-consuming and given the rate of classifications, now impossible without an advanced tool such as AI (Artificial Intelligence). With the discovery of classified documents in the possession of Trump, Biden, and Pence, it makes it clear to me that we need to revamp the classification and declassification process. Making declassified documents available to historians, scientists, and the general public is critical for us to learn and understand our past.

Secrets are made to be found out with time. Charles Sanford (historian)

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

My mornings start at 5:30 AM if I can convince my dog, Gus, to sleep in. The moment I make the slightest movement, I can hear the little thump on the floor when Gus leaps off the bed. Gus, a little 12-pound Maltese mix, can hardly contain himself, and he can’t stop making excited barks and spinning around the room. After all, the BEST DAY EVER has begun. The breakfast waiting for him downstairs is going to be the BEST BREAKFAST EVER (even though, of course, it is the same breakfast that he has had for the last five years). Bunnies and squirrels, and dog urine scents await in the nature park, and of course, snuggles, lots and lots of snuggles. Perhaps there will even be someone on the nature trail to pet him. OOOh, the possibilities.

I place him back on the bed and try to sleep. He sits over me, motionless, his soft brown eyes trying to catch mine. He has my number. After all, why should we wait to begin this glorious day.

I have had many dogs in my life, both as fosters and my own, but I have never had a dog with as much joie de vivre as this little guy. And at such an early hour, sigh.

By 5:30, it is hopeless. So I roll out of bed and begin my morning routine. Despite his advanced age and heart condition, Gus’s excitement and enthusiasm overwhelm the bedroom. He bounces back and forth between the bedroom and bathroom, spinning in excitement. Let’s get this day started!

My other elderly dog, Annie, had hoped that this might be the morning that she gets more shuteye…but she can’t contain his enthusiasm either. She is patient. The two have been together for years and have helped each other learn to trust. He gives her comfort; she gives him someone to boss around.

Gus’s body is too long for the steep stairs, so he bounces down diagonally like he is riding a pogo stick. Annie, always a fancy mover, shows more grace and balance, but is no hurry. Her breakfast will be there.

The next part of our routine is one of his many favorites. BREAKFAST followed by a dental TREAT, the most delicious one EVER. He inhales his breakfast without bothering to chew while Annie sniffs delicately and slowly approaches her food. After gulping his meal in 30 seconds, Gus sits next to her and eyes her bowl, hoping for a diversion. Annie is a very slow eater, and there are no treats until she finishes. Maybe something might cause her to look away and he can sneak in a couple of bites. Gus is on a strict diet because of his ailing heart, she is a 16 year old with a 7-year-old body.

Gus’s next pleasure awaits if I can just sip my tea a little faster. Like Annie, I seem to be unaware of how amazing this day is going to be.

It is a warm, humid, summer morning. In the past, I might have dreaded the hot, sticky day that follows. But now I absorb the sensuousness of the morning, the afternoon will come soon enough.

The clouds to the west are an ominous grey, hinting at a brief rain shower to feed my thirsty garden. The warm air envelops me like a womb, the cooling breezes swirl around me as we begin our walk to the nature trail. Distant chimes tinkle like school bells of old, telling us to wake up, a school day awaits. Today, they offer only a quaint memory.

On our way to the trail, the bunnies, eyeing Gus and Annie, become motionless. Gus is low to the ground, so his vision is limited by his height, but it is just the right height to spy bunnies and squirrels. The bunnies remain stationary but not frightened, they have learned not to fear leashed dogs.

At the nature trail, the squirrels dash up the trees and taunt the dogs as we stroll by. Gus lifts his head, periodically, sniffing the trail for the scent of people who want to pet him. Because in Gus’s world view, everyone wants to pet him.

I stop at the covered bridge to absorb the stillness of the morning while I scour the waterscape. I can hear the Pterodactyl squawks of the Great Blue Herons in the rookery above. This is the time of year that there is a lot of racket in the rookery, and I suspect that the chicks are now teenagers; and the battles have begun. In the creek, I spot a muskrat with reeds in her mouth, leaving a shallow V-shaped wave in her wake.

The gentle breeze now swirls with a light metallic scent. Maybe the darker cumulus clouds will bring a morning shower.

A pair of bluebirds are perched on the electrical wires above. What is it about bluebirds that make us smile? Maybe it is their song, their beautiful blue feathers, their orange chests, or their pudgy little bodies. But I never tire of watching them. They are blessedly abundant on the Eastern Shore.

A mated pair of cardinals fly across the asphalt pathway on the other side of the bridge, showing off their bright red feathers, reddish beaks, and their crowns. If I am lucky, I might see a bright yellow male goldfinch or perhaps the most of beautiful of birds, a male indigo bunting. He claims his territory at the very top of the tallest tree warbling his scratchy music box song.

Gus desperately wants to run, another one of his FAVORITE things. If he could, he would run as fast and as far as he could. His favorite game is self-invented, called “come on, Gus.” When he is home and off leash, he waits for me to realize that he is no longer following Annie and me. I turn around, crouch down and call “come on, Gus.” He races at top speed and jumps into my arms, or if he is feeling his oats, at the last minute, skirts around me and circles back. World’s best game.

But soon I can hear the tell-tale cough. Gus has an enlarged heart, congestive heart failure, and he is already past his life expectancy for this illness. I think that it is appropriate that this is his nemesis. His heart is just too big.

Gus was the dog that I adopted out of kindness. He was a nasty, biting, snarling, angry middle-aged boy who had been in the wrong home for him. The shelter convinced me that he was unadoptable and only someone with my expertise could take him. So I did him a favor.

HARDLY. All of that nasty behavior disappeared as soon as he felt safe. In turn, he changed the trajectory of my life. When PTSD episodes emerge from my past trauma, he jumps up on the sofa to snuggle. He has brought my daughter and me closer, his loving soft, brown, doe-like eyes melt our hearts, every time.

But it is time to go back home, to keep him around as long as possible. So I inhale the moist, soothing air, shake my hair in the breeze, and focus on the symphony of the birds (trying to tune out the discordant rhythm section of the squabbling herons). Smelling the newly cut grass, the scent of the occasional non-stop rose, I close my eyes and slowly breathe in the summer morning.

Gus is now sitting next to me; he knows it is time to be picked up. As I lift him, his eyes search for mine. His eyes are full of love and gratitude and trust, but mostly gratitude. Every day, he thanks me for inviting him into my home. I smile back and give him a little kiss on his head. His soft, fluffy white body snuggles in, and he rests his head on my shoulder. We head back home as Annie trails respectfully on the leash.

It doesn’t matter what the humid day will bring, I am living in the now, enjoying this beautiful summer morning, filled with bright colors of green, red, yellow, blue, and white, the symphonies of songbirds, the encasing warmth of the breeze. Clutching onto my 12-pound teacher for as long as I can.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

While taking an IQ test in grade school, I was stumped on a question assessing the ability to distinguish right from left. We were presented drawings of half of an object and required to answer if it was the left or right side. For example, a valentine heart torn in half, was it the right or left side that I was viewing?

Most drawings were pretty straightforward, but I stumbled on one (that I discovered many years later was a jacket lapel). As a farmgirl, I didn’t see men’s jackets very often. I had no idea what that drawing was. I stared at it, racking my brain as to what it could be. I finally decided that it was a poorly drawn calf’s rear leg…but the incomplete drawing didn’t make it clear if it was the right or left leg.

The man who created the test was probably a psychologist or psychometrician who regularly wore a suit, so a lapel was an obvious choice for him. Yet, rural students, girls, and people who lived in poverty, such as African Americans, would have been as perplexed as I was.

And that is what psychologists and educational test developers discovered in the late 1960s. They began to recognize that differences in IQ were not due to race, socioeconomic status, gender, or even age, but to cultural biases in the test questions. So, test developers began their search to create non-culturally biased IQ tests. And that opened an even more important door…the recognition that there were many different types of intelligence.

Intelligence or IQ assessments are based on academic-oriented skills that are needed the first 20 or so years of life. So, academic skills became the effective declaration of intelligence.

The 1970s and 1980s saw a gradual recognition of multiple types of intelligence, with arguably the most significant being the identification of Emotional Intelligence (called EQ) in the 1990s. Simply put, emotional intelligence is the ability to understand your emotions and the emotions of others. People with high EQs are extremely influential and do well in the “game of life.”

Today, educators and psychometricians recognize that there are many different types of intelligence, logical and mathematical abilities, mechanical skills, verbal skills, musical talents, and the list goes on and on.

I remember learning this lesson in the 1980s. My type of intelligence had been well rewarded with scholarships and grants. I had completed my PhD in psychology and statistics and was actively recruited by universities and research institutions including Bell Laboratories. You didn’t apply for jobs at Bell Laboratories, they found you. So I arrived at Bell Labs right after graduate school, handed a catalog to purchase equipment to build my own lab, given an assistant and told, just do whatever interests you. Pretty heady stuff for someone in her mid-twenties.

A couple of years into my career, the Communications Workers of America went on strike. That meant that most of us in the department, including secretaries, assistants, scientists, and management were farmed out to do “strike duty.” Which is why that summer, I found myself in Grand Rapids, Michigan working as a long distance operator.

We were given a few hours of training and placed in front of a complicated push-button console and told to keep the phone systems operating.

It was a large room, with heavily waxed linoleum floors and awash in bright fluorescent lights that produced a loud, low monotonous hum. Our equipment console was 5’ tall and 6’ long with an array of over 70 push buttons encased in a large steel grey metal housing. There were about 30 of us in the room, all staring at this complicated device. Not only were there many different buttons, but they had separate sequencing, and some had to be pressed simultaneously. Each button represented a connection to local switches, emergency services, international switches, and collect call payments. The console presented a daunting display of functions with illogical sequencing, and none of us ever got very good at it in the 6 weeks that we were assigned strike duty.

Each morning we would walk past the picketers and enter a large nondescript 7-story building. There were no altercations or angry words as both sides realized that we were simply pawns in other people’s chess game. We took the elevators to the 5th floor and sat at our assigned consoles, ready for the 12-hour onslaught of frustrated and angry customers.

It was brutal, and we frequently got it wrong. We made so many errors that the company eventually realized that they were losing huge amounts of money as long as we were in charge of putting calls through.

Also, we weren’t particularly serious. While we gave it our best shot, we knew that there would be no consequences for our behavior. Bored by the job and frustrated at our incompetence, we began to play pranks on each other, hit balloons into the air, anything to stop the monotony. Eventually, the frustrated and overwhelmed supervisor disappeared into her office.

Remember the days of calling the operator to make a prank call? Well, any child who called during the strike to ask us: “If we had Prince Albert in a can?” got a surprise. We decided to have fun and immediately called the kids back and asked to speak to their mothers. The kids hung up quickly and the calls brightened our day.

Not all was fun. I remember one older, irate caller who would call repeatedly and terrorize us. Claiming he was authorized (which meant that he was handicapped), he would berate the women operators while we tried to connect his call. He would scream, call us unrepeatable names, and demand to talk to the president about our stupidity. Flustered, we made even more errors. He called so many times during the day to scream at us that ultimately everyone was a recipient of one of his calls. Finally, one of the more courageous men in the office decided this had to stop. When the call hit his console, he informed the “gentleman” that his behavior would not be tolerated. A series of invectives followed, and our friend disconnected the “gentleman,” but kept the line open so that the “gentleman” could not make any calls. Our friend reconnected hourly to request an apology. When the insults followed, our friend disconnected leaving the line open. The “gentleman” never did get to make a call that day. (Of course, a real employee would NEVER be allowed to do that.)

And that is how the 6 weeks progressed, we unwittingly disconnected people, sent calls to the wrong state or country, missed payments, and continued our inept, but well-intentioned efforts. We grew weary of being away from home and working 12-hour shifts, seven days a week. Each day, the rumors of a purported agreement swirled around the cold, air-conditioned office and gave us hope that the next day would be our last.

Finally, the strike was settled. We were notified that on noon of the next day the workers would return to their positions. At noon, we promptly stood up from our console and our replacement slipped into our chairs.

The chaos that had saturated that room for 6 weeks disappeared, replaced by the smooth hum of calls and connections. The soundtrack of the room shifted from Stravinsky to Delibes’s Flower Duet. The supervisor emerged from her office.

I watched for 20 minutes as these women flawlessly operated the machines that had so confounded us; pleasantly spoke to their callers; and watched the call metrics on the board rise. I was awed at their quiet mastery of the console, the confident rhythm of their movements.

I walked silently and a little dazed out of the building. My freedom was at hand. I packed my suitcase and headed home.

And I never forgot how these workers who probably had only a high school education had given me an education on intelligence.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

I subscribe to more papers than I could or would read. I subscribe to four Maryland papers, including two local ones (The Talbot Spy and The Star Democrat), two Florida papers, The Washington Post, The New York Times, several investigative magazines, PBS Frontline, and I also make an annual donation to Wikipedia.

A waste one would think. But not to me, I consider it a donation to democracy. Because it is no secret that unbiased news is in financial difficulty.

Even if I wanted to read all of these papers, most are online and are harder to navigate. During my newsprint days, my husband and I would pour over The New York Times on Saturday and Sunday. (In New Jersey, we got features such as the Book Review, NYT Magazine, crossword puzzles on Saturday, and the time sensitive sections on Sunday.) The jump to online has made it less likely that I will meander through the newspaper and discover articles that an online search might miss.

Thomas Jefferson famously said, “The only security of all is in a free press.” Yet, in my opinion, investigative journalism in newspapers and documentaries is much more important than a free press. Free press enables biased media to report fictious events and theories such as wackadoodle conspiracy theories, like the faked moon landing. Fox News commentators admitted in depositions that they aided and abetted the lie that the 2020 presidential election was stolen despite knowing that the 2020 election was fair.

And that is why I believe that unbiased investigative journalism is so critical. The list of issues that have been exposed is exemplary: Ida Tarbell who exposed the Standard Oil monopoly; exposés on child abuse in the Catholic Church; abuse in the judicial system; fraud and corruption in government; the dangers of drinking water in Flint, Michigan; and uncovering the horrors of Jim Crow; all of these stories have exposed weak flanks in our Democratic (and religious) institutions. They have enabled us to make necessary corrections. If not for investigative journalism, these abuses might have remained hidden.

The need to report unbiased, independent news is more critical today than any other time. Sadly, the Internet has become a primary source of misinformation and crazy conspiracy theories (e.g., Antifa—that Democrats are eating and selling children). And unfortunately, there is no end in sight. Fictitious stories, unsubstantiated conspiracy theories, and uninformed opinions threaten the core of our democracy.

Why do we pay attention to them? Because doing our own research is time-consuming and complex. Instead, we rely on our favorite “experts.” And no one is immune. When I was actively volunteering in animal rescue, I parroted the common narrative that black dogs are the least likely dogs to get adopted. But it wasn’t true. A journalist decided to investigate this theory and discovered that it was merely someone’s conjecture that had been repeated enough times to become “fact.”

Sadly, it is human nature to seek out simpler stories and rely on single sources for information. These stories are more interesting, more salacious, and easier to grasp. Let’s face it, stories of conjoined alien twins in the National Inquirer are easier to understand than the Star Democrat’s reporting of Lynn Mielke’s excellent summary of the controversies surrounding the Lakeside sewer map. But I ask you, which is more important?

Our desire to read stories of alien abductions, Hollywood divorces, conspiracies, and salacious gossip over more complex, factually based reporting, is in our genetics. Daniel Kahneman wrote Thinking Fast and Slow to explain how our “fast brain” hijacks the slower, meticulous analytic brain. In his summary of decades of psychological research, Kahneman illustrated how we effectively use two brains…one that quickly assesses a threat and absorbs knowledge and the other that meticulously analyzes the data. Most of the time we use the former. And that leads to an overconfidence that convinces us that our decisions are well-informed.

In actuality, we make errors both gathering and evaluating data. We ignore data that we don’t want and overweight data that we agree with. Errors and biases in both judgment and analyses of incomplete data results in poor decision making.

Kahneman is right, our brains are more interested in serial killers than an investigation into the merits of bail for misdemeanor offenses. It takes an effort to learn both sides.

When our democracy was first formed, its novelty made voters pay attention. It was important to be educated about events to ensure that our democracy survived. Citizens attended debates lasting for hours, listened to long speeches, and kept apprised of events through publications. Yet, due to difficulties with transportation to polling stations, voter turnout did not peak until the mid-1800s. At that time, voter turnout hovered around 80% and remained high until the 1920s. The 2020 election saw a 67% voter turnout, the largest since 1960.

America has been a democracy for almost 250 years, and until January 6, 2021, most of us took the institution for granted. We now recognize that some voters get their information from social media, where unbiased, accurate information is in short supply. On social media, facts are malleable and inconvenient facts are dismissed as “fake news.”.

“Trump isn’t the first wannabe dictator who accused the press of being fake news and the enemy of the people. Hitler called the press Lügenpresse, German for fake news.” Oliver Markus Malloy

When Al Gore conceded the election (even though he won the popular vote and most agree he won the electoral college), he recognized that democracy was more important than his ambitions. Trump did not. The events of January 6th made us all aware of how tenuous our democracy actually is.

But as long as there is unbiased, investigative journalism, maybe our democratic government stands a chance.

Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.