Mass Casualty

The first I knew of the horrific crash at the Reno Air Races today was when my friend Arthur Chenin called me a little before 6:00 and said, "You should go back to the hospital." I'd only gotten back from my afternoon volunteer shift a few hours earlier.

I tried calling the ED to see if I was needed, but of course couldn't get through, so I threw my scrubs and ID badge back on and just drove down there. The ED itself was like something out of Breugel: More staff than I've ever seen in the department, because everyone had been called in, and much, much more seriously injured patients than I've ever seen in the department. As I commented later to Gary, the place made ER look like Sesame Street. I've never seen that much blood. The doctors all already had thousand-yard stares. One of them spotted me, plucked at my sleeve, and pulled me into a room where a patient was surrounded by at least five staff members, and somebody was saying "the CT looked really bad, we should go on to the next person," and I left that room and spotted a staff chaplain and asked him what to do and he told me just to go around letting people know we were there, but I couldn't get into any of the rooms because the beds were circled by so many medical people, and anyway those patients weren't conscious or in any shape to ask for chaplaincy services. I did speak briefly to a fellow in one of the minor-injury rooms -- he had a cut finger -- who, with a buddy, was watching the disaster coverage on the news, both of them wide-eyed, and I introduced myself but they didn't need anything, and I warned them that they'd probably have to wait much longer than usual to be seen, and they said, "Of course, of course, don't worry about it. Thank you for talking to us."

So I left again, spotted another staff chaplain, and followed her into the waiting room, thinking to find family members there, and indeed there were dazed and bruised and bloodied people, and other people frowning down at cell phones, but the staff chaplain and the nurses had it covered, so I went back into the ED and asked what I should do and someone said, "Go downstairs. They're setting up waiting areas for the victims' families in the auditoriums."

I went down there. I helped move tables and chairs around. Dietary was bringing in beverages and snacks, so I ate some myself, thinking I might need my strength. Various other chaplains wandered in: hospital chaplains, hospice chaplains, law-enforcement chaplains. I think every chaplain in Northern Nevada had converged on the place. We stood around chatting, and a few family members and other bystanders showed up, and we chatted with them, but at any one time, there were more chaplains in the room than chaplainees, and that was before a phalanx of smartly uniformed Trauma Intervention Program volunteers marched through the door.

To be sure, I heard my share of horrors. Several people said, "Body parts were everywhere." Someone said, "I had to step around brains." Someone said, "I saw a shoe with only a foot in it." Lots of survivors' guilt: "I heard a voice in my head telling me to get out of there, and I did, but now four of my friends are in the hospital." "I got up to go to the bathroom, and when I came back, my box wasn't there anymore." I talked to someone who saw the pilot as the plane crashed: "You could tell he was trying really hard to wrestle that plane away from the grandstand and back towards the tarmac." I talked to two people who said, "We were on either side of our buddy, and a piece of metal came flying towards us, and he got hit and we didn't." I talked to someone who knew one friend was dead and didn't know about other friends; I talked to several people who had loved ones in surgery ("Oh, he got off really lightly, he only lost a finger, he'll be fine"); I talked to people who didn't actually know if their loved ones had been brought to this hospital and were desperately trying to get information.

Most surreal moments: 1) The snippets of Brahms' lullaby that came over the PA twice, alerting us that babies had just been born in the midst of the carnage. 2) The Code Blue that came over the PA for a room in the ED. Every emergency responder in the hospital's already there: you need to call a Code to summon them?

I told the people who came to the auditorium to take good care of themselves, told them to watch out for signs of PTSD (repetitive thoughts, nightmares, etc.), told them that clergy and therapists and journaling can help. I listened a lot. But, for the most part, there was nothing for me to do that fifty other people in the building couldn't do as well or better, so after three hours, I left.

As selfish as it may sound to put it this way, here's what I learned from this experience:

1. I've always wondered if I could handle trauma. After tonight, I think I could.

2. I must really like being a chaplain, because I wanted to do more tonight, not less (not, God knows, that I don't mourn and grieve the occasion).

3. In a mass disaster, every helping resource in the area shows up, and I trust those resources will continue to be available to everyone touched by this horror -- and the psychological toll alone will be huge -- in the coming months. So, weird as it sounds, the work I did during my much quieter afternoon shift today seems more important, because those folks weren't on the news. Nobody else was rushing to their side. The suicidal patient who sobbed and hugged me and was so grateful for prayer didn't have every chaplain in northern Nevada showing up to offer help. My weekly conversations with ordinary ED patients are (usually) much less dramatic than the ones I had tonight, but they're also less redundant.

Which is all a way of saying that my quiet little niche is fine with me, thanks.

And now I'm going to have a very delayed dinner. Rice Krispie Treats and peanuts just don't count as a meal.

Lotsa Stuff

Hi, everybody! Sorry not to have posted in a few days; I'm spending a lot of time over at FB these days. It really is a fun way to keep in touch with people.

A few items of note:

* For those of you in Reno: On Saturday August 13 at 2:30, I'll be giving a talk and reading at the Nevada Historical Society. This is part of a Worldcon promotion. The curator says that after my talk, "we will show the bad sci-fi movie 'Godmonster of Indian Flats' for Nevada-themed sci-fi." Mark your calendars! Bring popcorn!

* I now have 71,000 words of the rough draft, with completion of same estimated around August 10.

* I love weaving on my new Cricket loom and can't wait to try different techniques. My first scarf was short and ugly; the second, currently in progress, is longer and less ugly.

* It's really wonderful to be going into August without having to worry about prepping fall classes. I needed this sabbatical!

* Caprica is well; she goes to the vet for her FIV/FLV tests tomorrow, and, we hope, will be "released to GenPop," as Gary puts it, soon thereafter.

* Last night we watched a TV special about the Serengeti. As a baby elephant and mom traipsed across the screen, James Earl Jones praised the devotion of elephants and said, "The bond between mother and daughter can last fifty years." My first thought was, "Lucky elephant. I only had my mother for forty-nine." I'm doing better, but still miss her.

* There was a wildfire across the street two nights ago, about half a mile away. We watched it from Gary's study; when someone started pounding on our front door, I thought maybe we were being evacuated, but no, it was two friends who'd come over to watch the fire. Summer sport in Reno! (Cars lined the street, too.) Luckily, they got it under control quickly, and there was never any threat to structures.

I think that's about it. Hope you're all well!

My Worldcon Schedule

Worldcon begins on August 17 and will be held at the Convention Center. I don't see the knitting panel here, but will make inquiries. Note that I'm moderating both the Nevada-as-setting panel and the religion panel, which should be interesting. I've moderated faith discussions at WisCon, so I hope this will go as well. In any case, I'll be busy that weekend!

Wed 12:00 - 13:00, Welcome to Reno (Panel), A02 (RSCC)

An introduction of what to see and do in Reno by locals!

Arthur Chenin (M), Karyn de Dufour, Margaret McGaffey Fisk, Richard Hescox, Mignon Fogarty, Susan Palwick

Wed 18:00 - 19:00, Nevada as a Setting for SF & Fantasy(Panel), A03 (RSCC)

Nevada's mountains and deserts have provided a fertile landscape for writers and movie makers for over 150 years. Join regional writers to learn more about the books and movies that helped to define this area.

Susan Palwick (M), Colin Fisk, Connie Willis, Mignon Fogarty, Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Thu 11:00 - 12:00, When Faith and Science Meet (Panel), A09 (RSCC

Many SF tales, from Arthur C. Clarke's "The Star" to Walter Miller's A Canticle for Leibowitz to Mary Doria Russell's The Sparrow, deal with the intersection of unexpected discoveries on the faith of the characters. Cultural discourse often presents religious faith and science as polar opposites, and certainly there's a long history of conflict between them. But many people of many faiths have happily and successfully reconciled their beliefs with a scientific worldview, and SF/F is no stranger to spirituality, either. Both Joanna Russ and David Hartwell have described SF/F as essentially religious. This panel will present a civil conversation -- between people who respect both faith and science -- about how the two inform each other, both in SF/F and in the rest of the world.

Susan Palwick (M), Eric James Stone, Laurel Anne Hill, Moshe Feder, Norman Cates

Thu 14:30 - 15:00, Reading: Susan Palwick (Reading), A14 (RSCC)

I'll probably read some short chapters from Mending the Moon about my invented comic book, Comrade Cosmos.

Thu 22:00 - 23:00, Short Talks about Art (Talk), A03 (RSCC)

Susan Palwick, Light and Shadow: Family, Pulp Fiction, and the West.

Kelley Caspari, Susan Palwick

I'll be reading a short essay, originally published in NYRSF three hundred years ago, about my grandfather Jerome Rozen, a well-known pulp artist who painted some of the original covers for The Shadow.

Fri 11:00 - 12:00, KaffeeKlatsch: Fri 11:00 (KaffeeKlatsch), KK1(RSCC)

Howard Tayler, Susan Palwick, Ken Scholes

Sat 12:00 - 13:00, River and Echo: The Evolution from Victim to Hero (Panel), A05 (RSCC)

Irene Radford (M), Lee Martindale, Susan Palwick, Charles Oberndorf

The description got cut off, but I think the title works fine. As a longtime Whedonphile, I'm delighted to be on this panel.

Sat 14:00 - 15:00, Autographing: Sat 14:00 (Autographing), Hall 2 Autographs (RSCC)

My Very Own Zoo

Because our weather's been so nice, I've been spending hours every day sitting in the shade on our deck, writing and weaving and knitting. This is more deck time than I've done before, and it's made me very attuned to the wildlife in our yard.

We have finches and quail, of course, as always, and this time of year, we have quail chicks, who are very cute. We have doves. At one point we had quite a lot of pretty yellow butterflies, although I haven't seen any for a few days. We have rabbits: evidently there's a warren in one corner of our large and messy backyard, and last week I saw either three bunnies or one bunny three times. My gardener friends would consider this a catastrophe, but I don't garden and I love rabbits, and I'm happy that they love our messy yard.

On Sunday, a friend and former student -- a student from my very first semester at UNR, in fact -- stopped by with her little boy, who's fourteen months old and very cute. They were down for the weekend from Portland, where she and her husband live now, so I hadn't met the baby before. While the rest of us ate Gary's homemade scones and fruit salad, Will conducted experiments with gravity and grapes, and had a fine time.

At one point, his mother glanced up at the ugly power lines running along our yard and said, "Hey, look, a hawk." Sure enough, a red-tailed hawk was perched on the power pole, being harassed by a much smaller bird who did pendulum passes past the hawk.

"The hawk has a bunch of feathers in its mouth," said Pam, who has much better eyes than I do.

"I bet it ate a baby bird and the mother's trying to drive the hawk away from the nest," I said.

"Who knew that our backyard was a nature special?" said Gary.

Our yard is notably unlovely, dirt and weeds, although there are a few clumps of pretty flowering peavine. We're on a third of an acre, and a fair amount of that is a Sierra Pacific easement -- remember the power lines? -- so between the prohibitive cost of landscaping and the fact that the power company has the right to come in and tear up anything we put in, we've left it alone. The patches of weeds spread out every year, and I'm enjoying the process of watching the yard turn into a meadow. I suspect this is also why critters like our yard.

Before too long, though, most of the weeds will be gone. We're getting into fire season -- there have already been wildfires near here -- and every year when the weeds start to dry out, Gary tears them up to reduce the amount of flammable material and create a defensible zone around the house. (To our relief and pleasure, the current weeds don't seem to be cheatgrass, an invasive species that's extremely flammable, and that we battled for quite a few years.)

I'm grateful for Gary's hard work tearing up the weeds, but I'll miss our meadow, and I hope the bunnies will still like it here when the cover's gone.

Wild Horses Framed by Train Window

Wild Horses from Window of V&T Train

View from the V&T Train to Virginia City

Random Updates

Our local paper's been updating Amtrak crash news several times a day. The death toll's now at least six, with five passengers still unaccounted for.

The conductor who died was a 68-year old woman named Laurette Lee who lived in South Lake Tahoe. She sounds like a genuine character. You can read moving tributes to her here and here.

The truck driver's name hasn't been released yet, but that part of the story keeps getting stranger. He was leading a three-truck convoy: the other two saw the train and expected him to stop, but he didn't. He tried to brake, though, because there were major skid marks. So the "unconscious at the wheel" theory is out, and I guess we're back to the distraction theory, although everyone said the train was very visible. You can see a long way in the desert.

I don't think I'd be following this so closely if I hadn't met one of the people on the train, but now I feel connected to the story. I hope the guy I talked to is okay, and I really hope the person he carried to safety is okay.

In writing news, I've been churning out 1,800 words a day (a bit over six pages) for almost three weeks now. That's a lot, at least for me, but I have to maintain this pace if I'm going to have a complete draft by August. No one's holding a gun to my head -- my editor's very understanding and patient -- but I want the blasted manuscript off my desk and on someone else's, and I know I'll have to do at least one rewrite after I finish the draft.

At church today, I got a key for the next knitting night this Wednesday. One of the people who was there last week can't make it for the next two weeks, though, so I hope other people show up!

No Kahlua yet. Last night I felt like tea instead. Tonight my back's bothering me -- I worked out for an hour both yesterday and today, and may have overdone it -- and I took a Relafen, which I don't want to mix with alcohol. But the Kahlua will keep.

My pretty twin-leaf lace scarf is done. Time to go block it!

The Train

I was at the hospital today when "Code Triage Standby" came over the loudspeaker. This means, more or less, "get ready for a possible mass casualty." No one knew what had happened, but I checked the news on my BlackBerry and saw this story, which many of you have probably already heard about. Our local ambulance company gave the accident their highest emergency rating, and we heard that 150 people had been injured; although we knew the worst injuries wouldn't come to our hospital, we still expected a fair number.

As it turned out, the Code Triage Standby was cancelled, and we wound up getting only one patient. The most severely injured were airlifted to trauma centers; the most minimally injured were treated at the scene, which is about an hour from us. The paramedics who brought in our one patient told us he was the last person to be transported.

He had very minor physical injuries too, even though he was only one car away from the collision, but he was very shaken up. He'd felt the heat and smelled the smoke from the fire, and he helped carry another passenger -- someone much more severely injured, who wound up being airlifted -- away from the burning train. That person's blood was on his clothing; he repeatedly described the injuries. When he asked me for prayer, he wanted to pray for the other passenger.

He cried while we prayed. So did I. I told him to be sure to ask for help coping with this when he gets home. He has to take another train to get there; he was worried about getting back to the Amtrak station, whether they'd honor his ticket.

I'd never want to get on a train again (and it's not like Amtrak ever runs on time even without a huge honking disruption). I kind of hope Amtrak puts him on a bus, or, better yet, buys him a plane ticket. The accident wasn't their fault, but still.

The accident's really weird. How the heck do you run into the fourth car of a train? How do you not see the train? As Gary pointed out, most drivers of smaller vehicles who get hit by trains do so when they're racing across the tracks when the train's coming and don't make it in time, but in that case, they're hit by the front of the train.

The truck driver's dead, so I guess we'll never know, unless an autopsy turns up interesting toxicology. Gary said, "What do you want to bet he was on his cell phone?" but I dunno. Even if you're on the phone, how do you not see a train? It just doesn't make sense.

I've now, as of today's shift, volunteered 1,000 hours in the ER. I wish that milestone had been marked much, much less dramatically.

Another Renoversary

Gary has been here in Reno fourteen years today. Happy anniversary, Gar! And happy summer, everyone else!

Renoversary

Fourteen years ago today, I arrived in Reno (several weeks ahead of Gary, who was still back East finishing up his own job and supervising movers).

What a long, strange trip it's been!

Carpe Diem

I woke up this morning to a shaken e-mail from the head of the faculty senate, announcing that UNR President Milt Glick died of a massive stroke last night. Gary and I had seen him and his wife the night before at a concert. He looked great.

The mind reels. I can't help but wonder what role the state budget crisis played in this. The guy's been under incomprehensible pressure. Our bodies feel these things.

My immediate response -- surprise, surprise -- was to book a cruise in November for Gary's sixtieth birthday. It's a fourteen-day circle Hawaii trip, again on Holland America (on the same boat as our other two cruises, in fact; someday we'll get off the Oosterdam!). This goes well beyond decadent into financially irresponsible, but as I told Gary, "Life is short, and you only turn sixty once." And this cruise has been near the top of our wishlist.

We love Hawaii; we've already been to three of the four ports on the itinerary, but that means that we'll be able to make excellent use of our time without paying for shore excursions. I'm already looking forward to snorkeling again in our favorite spot in Waikiki, and then eating at one of our favorite Thai restaurants.

Gary cried when he found out. I asked if he was mad at me, but he's not: we have the money, after all. As he said, it's not like we'll be living in a refrigerator carton because of this.

I called my sister and said, "I just did something completely financially irresponsible."

"You booked a cruise," she said, without missing a beat.

What, me, predictable?

This is an expensive little addiction I've developed, but it's better for my health than other addictions. And at least now, having booked our next cruise, I can stop obsessively searching the cruise websites, which will give me more time to do more useful things.

Whatta Week (and it's only Tuesday!)

Yesterday UNR announced a new list of possible budget cuts, including the elimination of the Philosophy Department. The mood at work is not good. My personal mood isn't stellar right now either. Monday will be a year since Mom died, so I've been very aware of the events that led up to that.

Maybe it wasn't too surprising, then, that today I woke up with a migraine. I haven't had one of those for years. I did what I usually do: have a bland breakfast, take Tylenol, drink some coffee, and hope it doesn't all come back up.

It came back up. It kept coming back up. The tiny sips of water I took to try to rehydrate came up too. All in all, we had four very unpleasant episodes of Coming Back Up, between which I lay in bed, literally moaning in pain. This was very unusual. Usually stuff comes back up once, I take a nap, and when I wake up I feel all better. Not today.

So I made other arrangements for the class I was supposed to teach today, covering for a colleague who's on bereavement leave after a very tragic loss (have I mentioned that the mood at work isn't good?), and -- after a phone call to a nurse hotline, which advised me to be seen within four hours, and to my primary-care doc, who couldn't get me in today -- arranged for a friend to drive me to a local Urgent Care. The Urgent Care I usually go to is moderately far away, so I was pleased to discover that my medical group has one much closer, right across the street from the assisted-living place where Dad used to live. (It's a measure of how whacked-out I was by the migraine that at first I didn't even recognize the name of the street.)

I'm not sure I'll be going back there, though.

Here's the procedure I'm used to: you walk in, you're checked in right away, you're seen by a triage nurse within a few minutes, and then you're sent out to wait more minutes or hours, depending on what else is going on. At this place, I didn't even get checked in for half an hour. There appeared to be no triage nurse. Half an hour after I was checked in, I felt cruddy enough to actually lie down across two seats in the waiting room, at which point my friend Linda went up to the desk and said, "My friend really feels awful. When will she be seen?"

Well, after that they took me immediately back to a room, let me lie down, gave me a blanket, cooed over me, and dimmed the lights. A medical assistant took my vitals, which were fine, and then a Nurse Practitioner came in, asked me what was going on, and gave me the most thorough physical I've had in years. She actually touched my body! My primary-care doc never does that anymore. She decided that I could use some IV rehydration, which was exactly why I'd gone in.

Then the fun started. The medical assistant tried to start an IV in my right arm and blew the vein. This was a slow, bizarre process: she had to go in and out of the room about fifty times to collect the supplies even to start the thing, and then she kept anxiously peering at various bits of paraphernalia, and I kept anxiously peering at her long, painted fingernails, which, for hygiene reasons, would never be allowed in the hospital where I volunteer. After she'd placed the IV, she had another staff member come in and inspect her work. The two of them peered, poked, prodded, bit their lips while staring up at the IV bag, which wasn't dripping properly, ascertained from me that the IV site was indeed burning, and decided to pull the IV and start again.

Medical assistant #2 decided to start the new IV in my right hand. (Both of them had assured me cheerfully that I had nice fat veins.) This was an inordinately painful process that didn't work out any better than the first one had, so they pulled that, too.

Then the Nurse Practitioner showed up. All three of them examined my left arm, making helpful comments like, "These are nasty veins." I commented that the downside of Urgent Care is that they probably don't have to start many IVs and therefore aren't adept at it. The Nurse Practitioner told me that they start lots of IVs! Two or three a day! (I thought, but didn't say, lady, where I usually hang out, that would be two or three a minute.) The NP decided that she was going to attempt the IV in the left arm; she'd been an ICU nurse before she became an NP, she told me, and was very good at IVs.

She got the needle in fine, but then she couldn't get the IV tube attached to it. "This is a new kind," she said. "I don't know how this works." Oh, terrific. She finally, with a lot of painful twisting of the needle, got the tube connected. Everyone recommenced staring anxiously at the IV bag, which once again refused to drip properly, and I complained about burning at this IV site too, so IV #3 was a bust. (I now have very colorful bruises on both arms, especially the left one.)

"We're not going to poke you again," the NP said soothingly, as MA #1 brought me a warm blanket. (I'd told her that they needed blanket warmers like the ER has; she put my blanket in a microwave to warm it up for me, which was very sweet.) "We're just going to give you a GI cocktail and a lot of water to drink and see if you keep it down."

I kept it down. My head still hurt like nobody's business -- probably, at this point, because I'd had nothing to eat all day and it was almost dinnertime -- so the NP decided to give me a shot of Toradol. She was very patient with the questions I fired at her after researching the drug on my BlackBerry. About half an hour after the injection -- three and a half hours after getting to the Urgent Care place -- I was finally feeling a bit better, and they let me leave.

I don't believe there was a doctor in the building. I only saw four staff members: NP, the two MAs, and a young woman whose role I never determined, but who looked about twelve. They were all very sweet; they all apologized copiously for the blown veins, praised me for my sense of humor through the ordeal, and told me repeatedly that they hope I feel better.

I still don't think I'll be going back there.

I'm now, as per NP's orders, pushing diluted Gatorade. If I can't get a certain amount of that down by 9 PM, or if I start vomiting again, I'm to go to an Emergency Room, where the staff will presumably be better at starting IVs. I don't think I'll need to go to the ER, although I'm not sure I'll be going to work tomorrow.

I'm going to bed early, that's for sure.

On the bright side:

My friend Inez can come to WorldCon after all!

An acquaintance from college called last night, and we had a long and pleasant chat.

I've actually started knitting my first sweater! It's for a baby, but it's still a sweater!

Gary's Better, Thanks

I figured I should post to this effect, since a friend e-mailed to ask me. He's fever-free and fine, for which I'm very grateful.

The weather's getting warmer, finally.

Summer's coming.

Work's grim right now: ongoing budget issues, a colleague in the midst of a personal tragedy, widespread exhaustion and plummeting morale.

But summer's coming.

Exuberant Ocean

Today was our first day in PV and also our first snorkel excursion. The cruise terminal is across the street from a mall and a Wal-Mart; we'd think we were back in the States, if it weren't for the huge Mexican flag flying at a nearby park.

The snorkel excursion was quite delightful, though. We love our wetsuits -- the water was cold, so they were welcome! -- and Gary could see some fish even without a corrective mask. (HAL had told me the excursion company would have some, but they didn't.) The water here's not nearly as clear as it is in Hawai'i, but we still saw a lot of pretty fish. Other snorkelers and divers saw manta rays and an octopus; we missed those, but we'll be snorkeling again in Cabo the day after tomorrow, so maybe we'll have better luck there.

Above the water, though, things were hopping, literally! We saw several diving whales, lots of dolphins, and baby manta rays flinging themselves out of the water and diving back in. Groups of them did this, as if they were trying to imitate the dolphins. I asked one of our guides why they jump out of the water -- it's not like they need to breathe -- and he said they're building up their muscles so they'll be strong enough to migrate to Argentina. (I'm not sure if they mate down there, or what.) It sure looked like they were just playing for the sheer joy of it, though.

Very cool. I'd never known that baby mantas did that, and it was definitely the highlight of the day.

We also stopped at one of the Marietas Islands to lounge on the beach for a while. That was lovely, and we were surrounded by blue-footed boobies, who nest there.

Unfortunately, the guides on the boat insisted on doing tourist shtick on the way back: playing loud dance music and trying to get everyone into conga lines, that kind of thing. I guess it comes with the territory, but I don't know why these outfits can't just shut up and let people enjoy the scenery.

It was a nice day, despite the conga lines, but we were very glad to get back to the ship, take showers, and change into dry clothing. Dinner was welcome, too: neither of us had found the tour-boat lunch very appetizing, so we'd skipped it, and we were starving. The food's been exceptionally good this trip; Gary thinks it's even better than it was on our cruise to Alaska. (We eat in the dining room, not the buffet, but we have open seating, so we can eat whenever we want.)

Last night at dinner, we were seated at a table for six, since we'd gotten there too late for a two-top. It turned out another couple at the table was from Reno. Then it turned out that they both work at UNR. Then it turned out that they're good family friends of one of my former masters students. Talk about small worlds!

I'm not sure what we'll do tomorrow. Maybe a whale watch, if we can find one without shtick. Maybe some shopping, if we can figure out how to get to something other than Wal-Mart.

News Flash! Social Work Reprieved!

From the homepage of the UNR Social Work Program:

Message from Dr. Denise M. Montcalm, Director UNR School of Social Work:

A short while ago, we received word from Provost Johnson that, because UNLV is proposing ”curricular review” of their social work programs, he is retracting the proposal to close the School of Social Work at UNR. This action reflects the President’s and the Provost’s commitment to ensuring “… that Nevada students have an opportunity to obtain a social work degree in Nevada.”

Thanks be to God! I'm unclear on the relationship between UNLV's curricular review and what's happening here -- it sounds like UNLV thinks they'll close their programs, so we get to keep ours so there will still be one in the state -- but it's good news. We'll take it!

Meanwhile, In Las Vegas . . .

UNLV's President has released his own budget recommendations. These include, but are by no means limited to, the loss of twelve departments, thirty-three degree programs, and 120 faculty positions (some tenured). There's lots more, but I'll let you read the list for yourself.

The mood at UNR today was somber, as you'd expect. I was careful to be good to myself: I swam for forty-five minutes this afternoon, practiced the viola for forty-five minutes this evening, and ate a square of dark chocolate after dinner. It's very important to find things to enjoy right now.

And, hey, it's Mardi Gras! Talking on the phone with my sister -- who's embroiled in her own very grim job woes in the Philadelphia public-school system, and who says higher ed in Pennsylvania's being gutted too -- I commented, "Yeah, tomorrow's Ash Wednesday. Nevada's giving up education for Lent." Liz usually finds church references annoying, but she chortled at that one.

If only the cuts were slated to last a mere forty days.

Today I talked to my friend Katharine in the music department. She's trying to figure out some way to set up a UNR-only version of Craig's List, internal to the university, so that faculty who, say, have extra rooms to lend or rent in their houses can share that info with other faculty who may need to find inexpensive housing. I think that's a great idea; one of the problems right now is that faculty who aren't currently threatened are feeling a certain level of survivor's guilt, and also simply don't know what to say to their less fortunate colleagues, who feel even more isolated as a result. So everybody's miserable, and anything that anyone can do to restore helpful, civil communication will be invaluable. (I spent an evening last year being guilt-tripped by someone who'd been laid off in the first round of cuts. Although my heart ached for this person, I didn't -- and don't -- agree with the premise that I should quit my own job in solidarity. That's not going to restore anyone else's position, unfortunately. A more focused discussion of what kind of material help this person needed, and how the rest of us could offer it, would have been more helpful all around.)

I've tried to think about what I'd do if my own job were on the chopping block, but the prospect fills me with blithering terror rather than productive energy, so for the moment, I'm backing off that issue. If I have to confront it, I'll confront it when I have to.

I don't know if our cruise next week is perfectly timed or howlingly irresponsible, but it's mostly already paid for, so we're going. Who knows when we'll get another chance?

I'll attempt to give up apocalyptic anxiety for Lent. Well, no, that's probably too ambitious. How about this: during Lent, I'll attempt to spend at least forty-five minutes a day free of apocalyptic anxiety.

Notes on Previous

To those who've asked: as far as I know, my job's relatively safe. I'm in a department that a) teaches every student who comes through the university (via entering composition classes, although some students do elect to take those at our local community college) and b) has a large number of majors. As of now, the university can't fire tenured faculty, as long as those faculty are actually doing their jobs, unless it eliminates entire programs or declares financial exigency (bankruptcy, essentially).

UNLV is preparing for the possibility of exigency, but Glick has said he won't consider that option for UNR. I hope he doesn't change his mind. If we have any surviving university at all, I can't imagine closure of the English Department.

On the other hand, before last year, I couldn't have imagined the current evisceration of foreign languages, either. Our only remaining foreign-language degree program is Spanish. We lost German and Italian last year; French was saved, barely, only to be cut this year.

Losing Theater and Dance is a hard blow, but there's been speculation about that for a while now, so it's not a complete shock. My friends in the Music Department are very nervous. They have more majors than T&D did, though, so I hope they're safer.

It kills me that the School of Social Work's being shut down. This is already a terrible state for anyone who needs social services, right down there with Mississippi, and it's about to get worse.

The poor get poorer.

Letter from the President of UNR

Dear Colleague,

Today, the University notified faculty and staff in programs and departments that are being proposed for closure, reorganization or reduction. The proposals announced represent an annual budget reduction of $26 million and the elimination of 225 positions. Of these positions, 150 are currently filled and the remaining have been held open in anticipation of possible budget cuts.

I am deeply saddened about the ramifications of this news, and what it means to the lives of the people who were notified today. Our University is first and foremost a people enterprise. Whenever we eliminate positions, we diminish what we are and what we represent to our state. My sincere wish is that the notifications made today will somehow be alleviated in the future. The reality remains, however, that the proposed reductions announced today are a first step in anticipation of a budget reduction that could reach as high as $59 million by July 2012. The final budget reduction will be determined through the budget process now underway within the Nevada State Legislature. The round of proposed reductions announced today follows significant reductions already made by the University. Since 2009, the University’s annual general fund appropriation has been cut $44 million, or 20 percent. More than 400 budgeted positions have already been eliminated and more than 100 faculty and staff have lost jobs. Twenty-three programs have previously been closed and 29 services and programs sharply reduced. Coinciding with these cuts, undergraduate tuition and fees have increased 28 percent over the past two years.

The decision to propose elimination, reorganization or reduction of the programs notified today was not easy, as the budget picture in Carson City is far from clear. The final budget reduction may include additional factors such as across-the-board salary reductions proposed in the state executive budget and possible further increases in tuition and fees as determined by the Board of Regents. Even with several unknowns, we nonetheless are facing a tight budget timeline. The Board of Regents and members of the Nevada State Legislature have already made requests of us to detail how we could accomplish such a budget reduction. The projected reductions are of such magnitude that today’s announcement was made with a desire to provide faculty and staff directly impacted with as much notice as possible if such a large budget reduction indeed comes to pass. I believe it is imperative that we look ahead and begin this process, however painful it could be, now.

As with all of our previous budget cuts, we have attempted to maintain the University’s core strengths, which include a strong research program and quality degree programs. We have attempted to preserve access for our future students and to ensure their success on our campus. However, there is no denying that these proposals will have a dramatic impact on our campus. Cuts implemented previously, cuts announced today and cuts still to come represent the greatest challenge the University of Nevada, Reno has ever faced in its more than 130-year history. I’ve mentioned in numerous Town Hall meetings that sustained budget cuts would change the very nature of our University. The news announced today, sadly, affirms this new path.

Today’s plans include reductions in administrative, support and academic areas. Reductions will be made within the Office of the President, Office of the Provost, Student Services, Office of the Vice President for Research, Finance and Administration, Development and Alumni Relations, Information Technologies, Libraries, and Athletics.

Services and programs proposed by the Provost after consultation with Deans and Vice Presidents for reduction include the following among others:

Significant reduction in University of Nevada Cooperative Extension: Following a projected $5.5 million cut, some presence along with educational services would continue in all Nevada counties through federal, county and limited state funding. The statewide 4-H program would continue.

Significant reduction in the Bureau of Mining and Geology: Following a projected $1.1 million cut, the role of the Nevada State Geologist and related services, which are defined by Nevada Revised Statutes, would continue;

Additional and significant reduction in Student Services including reductions in Disability Resource Center, Center for Cultural Diversity, Student Success Services, Student Conduct, Recruitment and Admissions and Records. Also, additional student services will move to fee-based support;

Closure of the School of Social Work and related degrees;

Closure of academic programs and degrees in theater and dance;

Closure of the degree major in French;

Reductions to the University of Nevada School of Medicine;

Closure of the Special Collections Department within the University Libraries: Current collections would remain archived;

Closure of the Assessment Office;

Additional and significant reduction in University-wide information technology services and the libraries’ materials budget;

Additional and significant reduction in the Facilities Department which will further impact custodial and maintenance services at all University campuses and facilities.

In addition to these proposed reductions, it was also announced that an assessment of college mergers will be initiated. Specific proposals have not yet been determined.

The Provost’s proposals for closing or reducing academic programs and restructuring colleges and departments will be reviewed through a formal Academic Planning Process, which will be initiated March 7 and will provide for a period of further review and input. During this time, units will respond to proposed closures; Faculty Senate will review and make recommendations for or against plans to the Office of the President; the President will make final recommendations to the Board of Regents; Board of Regents will make final decisions on program closures in early June. Academic program closures will be effective June 30, 2012. Closures and reductions in administration and support services will be effective sooner.

To find out more about how this process will work, please visit: www.unr.edu/curricular-review-2011.

I wish to make clear to the campus community that we will continue to make a strong case to the Governor, the Legislature and the citizens of our state about our vital importance to the people and economy of the state of Nevada. We appreciate all that you, as individuals and citizens of our state, can do in this regard. A strong higher education system is the cornerstone by which Nevada can chart a wise and clear future, one that diversifies and improves the state’s economy.

As we have faced previous budget cuts, you have all shown great support for one another. Please continue to do so. The character, collegiality and hard work of our faculty, staff and students during these difficult times have all been clear affirmation of the values that make our University so special – and so central to realizing the promise of Nevada.

Additional information is available at www.unr.edu/budget2011.

Sincerely,

Milt Glick


Milton D. Glick, President

Message from Mom

It's been a stressful week, not just for me but for almost everyone I've encountered. (Gary's remained imperturbable, but that's his great gift.) The general level of anxiety right now reminds me a little of what life felt like after 9/11: everyone was jumpy, uncertain, scared, and didn't know what was going to happen next. People right now are worried about their jobs, having health problems, and desperately trying to figure out if and how they can live on less.

Sunday at church we had a guest preacher who, homilizing on the famous "consider the lilies of the field" parable, airily informed us that we shouldn't worry about money, because God will provide, and then added that anxiety's "a sin." I like this guy; I really do. He's a sweet man. But it was one of the most pastorally clueless homilies I've ever heard. I actually went up to him afterwards and said, "C'mon: Nevada has the highest unemployment rate in the country. The state economy's a disaster. Are you really telling people not to worry?"

He didn't answer.

The anxiety-as-sin thing pushed my buttons, too. Well, actually, from a psychiatric standpoint, anxiety's an illness (which then contributes to other illnesses). Do you think shaming sick people makes them feel better?

In a tiny triumph of tact, I didn't say that.

Sigh.

None of this what what I intended to talk about when I started this post.

So, yeah, anyway: bad week. Today I sat down to take care of some chores I thought would take only a few minutes. First on the list was calling Verizon to see why Gary's cellphone had gone inexplicably dead.

I think I spent an hour with the customer-service rep. The phone number I gave her -- the one on the cellphone -- didn't match the phone's serial number, and I couldn't come up with any of the right answers to the security questions (even though I was using my standard responses), and, well, it was a mess. We eventually managed to figure out what had happened. Remember those phones I got Dad and Fran when they came here? When Fran left and Dad died, Gary took one, which we converted to a prepaid account. I thought we'd thrown the other out. Well, the discarded phone was the one on the account; Gary -- who never uses his phone -- had been hiking with the wrong cellphone in his backback, and only when he tried to use it to find me in a mall last week did we discover that it wasn't working.

The very patient customer-service rep programmed the defunct phone with a new number, and we started up a new prepaid account. Finally! A working phone! Yay!

Since I'd already spent far too much time with Verizon, I decided I might as well deal with all my wireless issues at once. The voicemail on my Blackberry has been on the fritz for a while -- I can't get into it and people can't leave me messages -- so I called Verizon back to get that straightened out. This was much easier to resolve than the other issue, thank goodness.

When I got into my voicemail, I had two old messages. The first one was a beloved voice saying, "Susan, this is your mother. Nothing important; I just called to chat. Bye, love." She left me that message a few months before she died. After she died, I carefully saved it, but when I upgraded to my new Blackberry, it vanished, even though the Verizon people had promised me it wouldn't.

Today I got it back, and (in tears) carefully saved it again. I'm terrified I'll lose it if I don't remember to save it periodically; it's my only recording of her voice. Does anyone reading this know how to back up cellphone voicemail messages?

When Gary got home from his hike, I filled him in on the Verizon fiasco. He shook his head, opened a desk drawer, and pulled out my father's phone, decorated with the familiar Winnie-the-Pooh sticker (which I thought we'd removed when Gary took over the phone). That made me tear up, too. "If you'd asked me," Gary said, "it would have been much simpler."

But I thought we'd thrown it out. I really did.

In less convoluted news, the new Kindle arrived today snd seems to be working fine. Let's hope that the third time's the charm and this one won't go wonky on me!