dan

Similar and Different

How do we measure success?

In a meeting this past week, a group of municipal staff, Regional Water Board staff, and consultants reviewed a framework for local trash reduction plans. Each of 75-odd Bay Area cities, towns, and county governments will need to prepare these plans to reduce and eliminate&#8212by 2024&#8212trash in stormwater.

Back in 2009, most of these same folks worked on requirements for interim (short-term) plans to reduce trash by 40% by 2014. Those plans have been in effect for 3 years. What have we learned (or not learned)?

Here comes the crazy: We all know those numbers can’t be met. They certainly can’t be met in the places with the toughest trash problems, and not in the midst of a recession and financial crisis.

We could make some progress, though. We could make a difference, if we marshaled what resources we have and agreed to learn as we go along.
Even that is hard, because we also need to uphold the fiction of those numbers. For Water Board staff those numbers are a bulwark from political and legal pressures brought by environmental advocates and by other regulators. For local governments, the numbers are protection from enforcement actions and lawsuits.

Beginning in 2009, we created &#8220baseline&#8221 estimates of existing trash and ways to credit activities&#8212like street sweeping, public education, and creek cleanups&#8212toward the 40% goal. Recently we’ve agreed it didn’t work because the estimates are too imprecise.

But that’s not the half of it. There’s also a conceptual error here, one that goes to the core of what scientific understanding is all about.
Things are similar; this makes science possible. Things are different; this makes science necessary. (Paraphrasing from here.)

Urban trash is similar and different. Trash in storm drains is correlated to land use and to average household income. Sweeping streets more frequently does, ceteris paribus, pick up more trash. But the correlations aren’t strong enough to be the basis for directing local cleanup efforts. You’d be taking shots in the dark.

Generalizing from particulars is fine. But assuming any and all particular instances conform to the generality? Unless the correlations are very tight&#8212something that doesn’t happen much in nature or in stormwater&#8212that practice will yield wrong results much of the time.

Wrong as in creating perverse incentives to sweep streets that are already clean, to install capture devices where trash isn’t, and to overlook obvious trash sources that weren’t anticipated and weren’t assigned &#8220credits&#8221.

Two More Years

Sending in my check to renew my Professional Engineer’s License, my 11th 2-year renewal. It’s like the best cereal box prize ever. Especially the secret decoder ring.

Whatever the hell

Hunter is consistently the best read at DailyKos. Bitter, sarcastic, and self-amused, his satire seems a perfect balance to the jaw-dropping outrages that are politics and media in the US today.

Today he comments on birtherism (the belief that President Obama was not born in the United States). Noting the prevalence of this belief dropped in April 2011, after Obama released his long-form birth certificate, but has now increased again, Hunter writes:

&#8230releasing actual factual information about something only changes public knowledge about that thing for a short period of time, then folks go back to believing whatever the hell they want to believe.

Exactly. It would be harder, I think, to identify the set of conditions under which public knowledge could actually be changed by presentation of facts.

Cars out to get me

Not to be paranoid about it.
Jack, from whom I sublease this storefront space on Solano Avenue, called me Saturday afternoon. I was at home, so I rode the single-speed over, just in time to take a few pictures as it was all being boarded up.
There’s angle parking in front. Apparently an elderly driver was backing out of the space, and as happens all too often, collided with a vehicle coming down the street. The driver panicked, shifted from reverse into drive, and hit the gas, accelerating over the curb, across the sidewalk and into the nail salon next door to my office.
Meanwhile, in the nail salon, a customer had just arisen from the couch and headed for the restroom. The car slammed into the couch and pushed it through the wall into the real estate office next door.Couch pushed through wall
Next door, debris filled the vestibule. The frame of the street front door was mangled, and the glass shattered. Flying debris left a ding in the door to my office, which was otherwise unscathed.
Debris in the vestibule outside my officeSo here I am, working a few feet away from the debris, which hasn’t been cleaned up, and without my view out on to the Avenue. The new chipboard they used to board the place up, heated by the sun on the outside, is off-gassing. Time to get out of here and start my vacation week now.

Los Tocayos Carlos

In the first days of November 2004 I spent three days working for the John Kerry campaign in Albuquerque. My then-wife Jennifer and I joined with Jim Liebman to GOTV on the city’s northwest side. We parted from him in sadness after watching the returns that evening.

Nearly eight years later, I was glad to see his long-awaited book&#8212part of his lifelong efforts in opposition to the death penalty&#8212managed to get a little press.

Three somewhat random observations:

  1. Innocents like Carlos DeLuna will continue to be wrongly executed long as Americans continue to support the death penalty.
  2. Eyewitnesses can be dead wrong.
  3. If you ever wanted an example of how one person can make a difference, and what it takes to do so, I present you Jim Liebman. Heck, he even took on reforming the New York City Public School system.

Strange Ride

In the last couple of weeks, I’ve ridden the single-speed to work a few times, and around town on errands.

I can now put Zoe in a rear-rack-mounted seat on the old hybrid&#8212much to her delight&#8212and make it at least as far as the preschool.

However, today, almost 8 weeks after the crash, was the first time I’ve put on my cycling shoes and taken the road bike around the hills.

It’s a different experience. In addition to the speed and agility of the bike, and the feeling of the road flying by under the skinny tires, there’s the workout: the sustained elevation in heart rate and breathing, the leg and arm muscles working close to their peak, the abdomen and back providing the balance and counterpoint.

Today it felt weird, and wrong. I was fatigued, then strong, then queasy.

Usually, climbing tires out the quadriceps and gluteus muscles. Today, my knees and calves and ankles and toes felt painfully out of alignment. Usually, a sustained climb brings a general weakness as blood sugar dwindles. Today, with each turn of the crank, the out-of-line, out-of-sync feeling in my lower legs, and the knocks and vibrations of the road, brought back the spacey out-of-it feeling I associate with the brain injury. Usually, an hour or two later I feel pleasantly tired and relaxed. Tonight, I feel a bit raw and needing quiet.

Neighborhood Watch

I’ve always been wary of Neighborhood Watch groups, crime prevention councils, and the like.

This helps me understand why.

Homeowners in George Zimmerman’s subdivision could be liable for damages from the wrongful death of Trayvon Martin.

The potential levy reflects the moral hazard in getting involved in this kind of activity&#8212including just attending a meeting.

I like and trust my neighbors. I think it’s a good idea to keep an eye out for each other, and for trouble.

However, the popular misperceptions of crime, and criminals, and the fears that go with those perceptions, are volatile and toxic. I think neighborhood anti-crime groups can stir up those fears and misperceptions.

The resulting danger outweighs any benefit those groups might have.

A nice potluck or planting party serves the same purpose of building community cohesion, without the hazard of stirring up the George Zimmerman in any of us&#8212or in all of us.

Shaking my head

The current statewide stormwater Phase II NPDES permit was issued in 2003 and expired in 2008. It’s been extended administratively while State Water Resources Control Board staff drafts an update.

This permit tells smaller California cities and towns what they must do to reduce the amount of pollutants discharged from their streets, gutters, and drainage pipes.

Tomorrow I’m headed to Sacramento for an all-day meeting to discuss one permit provision&#8212the provision governing how land development projects must be built so that runoff impacts are minimized.

This is my living, and I’m glad to donate a day, serving no client, to assist the State with this project.

But the meeting participants didn’t get the latest draft of the provision until this morning. And it is a very rough draft, with placeholders and sentences that trail off. There are proposed requirements that clearly haven’t been thought through. And this is four years after this permit should have been written, reviewed, debated, settled, and adopted.

I’m embarrassed for Water Board staff, who I know are capable and have good intent.

I can’t help but try to imagine what level of political and bureaucratic dysfunction, what kind of organizational and management clusterf*ck, could be going on behind the scenes at the Water Board.

Tomorrow I’ll put that imagining aside and, once again, focus on the issues: why the proposed criteria don’t make technical sense and can’t be implemented consistently, why the objective of the required studies is unclear and unattainable, how developers’ engineers will game the weak language, why this is an invitation to lawsuits against the Water Boards and the cities. And on. And on.

Neighborhood Stroll

A few blocks of walking late last night has left my left calf and MCL singing. Most surprisingly, it also made me tired, the way an hour’s run or a 3-hour bike ride used to, before the February 9 crash.

I don’t know how hard to push myself. Each time, I’ll have to guess whether a little more effort will help strengthen or just re-injure the damaged tissue.

Mostly, it just felt good to move again.